justwhatis

[electric-plants]

insane to finally go through dragonspine to get all the crimson agates only to be blocked by a weekly limit AGAIN

[pyjamaart]

I never needed such help / This is my SOS

(Content warning: self harm) (If you don't have a problem with that, huge Drillman essay under the read more lol)

When I said that I wanted to draw Drillman some more, this really wasn't what I had in mind.

This week, I've been shopping for music on various second hand sites, which made me realize I don't physically own one of my all time favorite albums: "Squaring The Circle" by Sneaker Pimps. I had to change that immediately. (As well as buying like 15 other CDs and vinyls, lol.) As I was listening to it once again, I realized just how much the song "SOS" reminded me of Drillman and his struggles.

If you don't want to look it up, here are some of the lyrics:

"I look much smaller seen from inside out/Far too small to see myself/Down on reflection, cast in hate and in doubt/Flawed and flaws I add myself"

"Oh mirror mirror hanging on the wall/Please just show me someone else/My hopes were low and I got so much so less/Nothing left to save myself"

Listen, this dude got some major problems with his self esteem. He feels like an embarrassment because he was forced into a life he never wanted by his father. Now he seeks revenge on the company that bought his families business, along with him and apparently his bodily autonomy. Think about that for a minute. How fucked would it be if your parents wanted you to be a doctor, but a requirement for that would be to have your hand surgically removed and replaced with a scalpel. That's the exact situation Drillman found himself in.

Now a lot of people probably think "Well why doesn't he just ask Dr. Light to give him a new pair of hands then, if he's this miserable?" This is where we get to one of Drillmans biggest problems: the refusal to ask for help in any way. And even after the finale of the season, why would he go to the Lights for help in the first place? Wasn't it Aki who thought the best way to help him through his problems was hypnotism? And in the process embarrassing him in front of the whole city, ruining the last bit of reputation he may have had? (For real though, that episode is so hard for me to watch. I just feel so so bad for him, since I really struggle with social anxiety myself.)

As the guys from the Youtube channel "The D-Pad" (who reviewed all of the MMFC episodes) fittingly commented: "This would be like fucking Vietnam for him." And they were right. Obviously, Drillman is horrified that Aki would humiliate him like this and lashes out, solidifying his opinion that asking for help is a bad idea.

In that episode, there's this one moment that really stuck with me. At around the 8 minute mark, while Drillman is having a breakdown over the terrible "music" Aki made him perform, there's this one shot where he takes a moment to look at the drills that replaced his hands in frustration. The camera perspective makes it seem as if we are experiencing this brief scene through his eyes. It's actually quite upsetting. (A link to the moment I'm talking about: youtu.be/OC_jdhoeTrE?si=ZPzAXu…)

This is also a perfect moment for me to gush over the voice acting for this scene. Andrew McNee did such a fantastic job of conveying Drillmans distress and anger through his voice. That reminds me, giving him a British accent was honestly such a good decision.

The reason he doesn't talk at all throughout most of his first appearance is probably because the writers wanted to surprise their audience a little. As in, you see this big, imposing construction robot and think "Oh man, what a brute. He probably has a pretty deep voice." And then he actually starts to speak and it's this sophisticated, well-articulated British voice instead. Quite the whiplash.

To get back to the original topic, I'm honestly still upset that they didn't give Drillman a redemption arc at the end of the show. This probably would have happened in season 2, as Mega Man even says at some point "I know deep down your inner bits are good", proving to me that the writers definitely had something in mind regarding Drillmans character arc.

And now that all of that is out of the way, we can finally get into headcanon territory.

You might have seen this image while browsing the tags and asked yourself, "Why is this Mega Man Fully Charged artwork littered with content warnings?" And well, now that you're here and reading this, you probably know why. I can't say I've ever made myself sick with a drawing before. That's a first for me.

My headcanon is, that after the finale of the show, Drillman is just utterly lost. Lord Obsidian, who sought him out specifically because he knew of Drillmans problems and offered him a place to stay and a way to get revenge on the people he thought responsible for his predicament, turned out to be a horribly racist human who was just using him to achieve his own devious goals. After getting his ass kicked by the Lights, the same people who had not only humiliated him in front of the whole city, but who had also left him stuck to his abusive father for an entire day (I bet that ride to the police station was horrible for all the people involved, most of all the police bots who had to hear the Drillmen yell at each other the whole time), Sgt. Night is detained by the police. We don't actually see what happens after that, because that's where the show ends.

I'd like to think that the Lights actually try to talk to the robot masters once everything is over, telling them all the horrible things their so-called "leader" has said and done. And most importantly, what he thinks of robots: That they're nothing but tools to him. That once they had gotten him his Mega key, he would have wiped their minds and turned them into mindless machines.  

I'm guessing none of the robot masters would take these news well, but most of all Drillman. I think that after he ran away from Skyraisers Inc. and fought Mega Man for the first time, he was really relieved to have some place to stay and a new goal, maybe even a robot to look up to. That being Lord Obsidian of course. Who knows what lies he told Drillman and the others? Kinda sad that we never really got to see what the robot masters who stayed with Lord Obsidian did the entire day. When they weren't causing havoc in the city, that is.

None of them seemed really friendly with each other in the finale, now that I think about it. I guess "Obsidians robot sanctuary" wasn't really a great place to stay at after all. But still better than being homeless, like that one maniac living in the forest all by himself. Speaking of Woodman, in my AU, he and Drillman already knew each other at this point. This also reminds me of something I forgot to mention in my last post. While I'd love to see them interact in any way, because they're both my favorite characters, I don't ship them in any way whatsoever. I'd also like to think that Woodman and Drillmans father were schoolmates back in the day, maybe even friends? (I'm still holding onto those 30 years).

Anyway, after all the former robot comrades part ways, now without a leader, what was Drillman supposed to do? Once again betrayed by a trusted figure, feeling useless and without purpose, still with these stupid drills mounted to his body... Still too ashamed to ask for help. After all that has happened in the past few hours he begins spiraling, which ultimately leads him to make a very unfortunate decision. Trying to get at least some of the freedom in his life back, he attempts to get rid of the drills making up his body on his own, using the same tools that have haunted him all this time to finally rid himself of this burden.

He regrets this just seconds after, when he's left with an unresponsive limb, metal and wires exposed and oil splattered all over his orange plating. All he can do is stare at the stained drill in front of him in horror.

"I never needed such help/This is my SOS"

Jesus Christ that got dark. Sorry. I mentioned in my last post that Drillman possibly has really bad body dysmorphia, which I'm also trying to convey here. Don't worry, he really gets his hands back after this. Maybe the Lights find him after that and the good Doctor offers to fix him up. By which I mean not only his arm. Because apparently, Dr. Light also doubles as robot psychologist. I just really need Drillman to get his happy ending. He really really deserves it after everything he had to go trough over the course of the show. 

I also need him to have a DJing redemption, besides the normal redemption. I've seen people headcanon that he exclusively likes classical music, but I personally don't believe that. He'd be the kind of music nerd who would say stuff like "I listen to everything" and then you look at his playlists and he actually listens to everything. Maybe not experimental noise rock, though. I can just imagine Aki and Suna helping him put on an actual show, this time without any hypnotizing bullshit, as a way for Aki to apologize for the dread he's caused Drillman during that incident. Drillman would be highly suspicious at first, but actually goes along with it in the end. Maybe they'd also take Fireman along, who Dr. Light also blessed with a brand new pair of hands. The punchline at the end would be that Drillman would have so much anxiety about embarrassing himself again, that he forgets to make an actual set list for the gig. In the end, he exclusively plays Lady Gaga songs, which no one complains about.

Alright then, enough yapping from me. I've really been writing this essay since 8pm. And now it's 2am. My god. I just have a lot of feelings about Drillman.

But now I really gotta go to bed. Stay safe peeps. I hope you actually read the content warnings. Jenny out.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Because There Was a Boat—Brand new sect leader JC is heavily dependent on MY for advice and MY is LIVING for it. Can be platonic, but I think some dubious MY/JC would be interesting!

ao3

There was something deeply gratifying about being Sect Leader Jiang’s aide, Meng Yao reflected.

It was something he hadn’t ever realized he’d wanted, caring for someone like that – he’d sworn a million times over that he’d be a son of Lanling Jin, high above the common people as he’d been low beneath them as the son of a whore, and after the fiasco at Jinlin Tower he’d resigned himself to having to bow his neck down to someone if it gave him the in he needed to manipulate them.

Even now, he was, technically, a servant.

He didn’t care.

Not when Jiang Cheng woke up every morning with eyes reddened by nightmares and all the tears that he didn’t shed during the day, when he communicated only through scowls and grimaces and growled out threats – except for Meng Yao.

Meng Yao got his smiles.

He got the adorably reddening cheeks, the ducked head, the shuffled feet; he got the eager gaze of praise me, praise me – he held the entire fate of the Jiang sect in his palm every day, determining whether they would rejoice or despair, and all for the price of a single nod of satisfaction or an off-hand word of praise that would make Jiang Cheng bloom like a flower in spring or, in their absence, fade away into a dried up sourpuss, full of spit and vinegar and viciousness.

Meng Yao was older than Jiang Cheng, if only by a little, and Jiang Cheng took him as an elder at once, for all that he continued to conscientiously refer to him by name as if he could hide the way that his Meng Yao rang the exact same way on the ear as shixiong might.

Meng Yao’s usual set of tricks were worthless on him, but that didn’t matter – for all that Jiang Cheng was immune to all but the most direct flirtation, manipulating him was so easy as to not justify anything complicated. He was the one in control, even if Jiang Cheng was the well-born one, the rich one, the blessed one whose birth was within the confines of a proper marriage bed…he might almost have thanked Jiang Cheng’s father for having tormented his son into such vulnerability, making him the perfect mark, if only he didn’t hate him so much on Jiang Cheng’s behalf.

As it was, though, Meng Yao’s control was unquestionable: if after a few weeks of efficient work, Jiang Cheng was leaning on him hard, then after a month he was invaluable. After two Jiang Cheng sincerely told him that he didn’t know what he’d do absent his help; after three, he was willing to swear that they’d all fall apart without him.

Meng Yao had control of the Jiang sect, control over his destiny, control even over what anyone dared to say about him…

And over Jiang Cheng, too.

“Sect Leader Jiang is tired,” he murmured, starting to pick up papers that Jiang Cheng didn’t need to look at, not really. It was all things that Meng Yao could do for him, even if it required forging his signature a few times, and anyway he didn’t really need to know about the extra strings Meng Yao was pulling back in Yunping City, the ones that were just for himself. “He should go to sleep.”

“I can do more,” Jiang Cheng said stubbornly, stifling a yawn. “If I get through half this pile, I could finish the rest tomorrow.”

Except, of course, tomorrow would bring a new set of paperwork and decisions to be made, the haphazard sect army he’d put together requiring both an able general and an even more able quartermaster – truly, it was lucky for Jiang Cheng that Meng Yao had found him, or else he would have torn himself apart trying to do it all.

“If you go to sleep, you’ll see that the work is less than you thought,” Meng Yao said.

“Because you’ll do a bunch at night! Don’t think I don’t know how hard you work, Meng Yao!” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “If you can do it…”

Meng Yao reached out and brushed his fingers down Jiang Cheng’s cheek, and smiled as the other man choked on his tongue, forgetting what he was going to say at once.

Jiang Cheng had cheekbones a whore would kill for, Meng Yao thought to himself, and wondered what Jiang Cheng would make of the comparison if he made it – he’d probably take it as an insult, when Meng Yao meant it as a compliment.

“You have circles under your eyes,” he said, blatantly ignoring the fact that his hand was nowhere near Jiang Cheng’s eyes. Instead, he traced his fingers down and caught him by the chin, and Jiang Cheng let him.

Such a good boy, always so eager to take direction.

One day, when Meng Yao was master of Lanling Jin the way he’d sworn he’d be, he’d invite Jiang Cheng into his chambers and dress him up in the most garish of clothing, all gaudy gold and purple, and he’d paint his face like he’d seen the sisters at the brothel paint theirs, white face and red lips – he swiped his thumb across Jiang Cheng’s lower lip, and allowed his smile to widen when Jiang Cheng’s throat worked as he swallowed – and when Jiang Cheng was twisting with humiliation and shame, eyes averted and misty with the tears that came too easily to him, he’d praise him until he learned to like it.

“Meng Yao cannot permit his sect leader to tire himself out,” he said, voice gentle, as if he didn’t notice that Jiang Cheng was flushed and breathing hard. “I care too much for you to allow it.”

Jiang Cheng was sitting very still in the manner of a prey seeking to conceal its vulnerable belly before a predator, trying to hide how the simple straightforward statement tore down all his defenses.

“So you’ll go to sleep,” Meng Yao concluded. “Won’t you?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

He probably would have nodded if Meng Yao had told him he needed to get on his knees and service him. He probably would thank Meng Yao for allowing him the privilege.

“Good,” Meng Yao said, because it was a little too early to press his luck that way. Even if Jiang Cheng would be willing, Meng Yao didn’t yet have the reputation or ability to hold off the scurrilous rumors that would inevitably follow along, and that would only hurt Jiang Cheng’s feelings – and wasn’t it Meng Yao’s job to take care of his things? “I’m glad.”

He pulled back his fingers, and it was as if Jiang Cheng’s brain didn’t start working again until Meng Yao’s hands were firmly behind his back. When it did, Jiang Cheng looked down at the paperwork, looking lost.

“I have a mission tomorrow,” he mumbled. “Hanguang-jun said he found another lead, about Wei Wuxian. I was going to take some disciples…”

Meng Yao had never met Wei Wuxian, and accordingly didn’t know yet if he was someone else he was going to need to manipulate to get his way – another soft touch like Jiang Cheng – or if he was someone like Jiang Fengmian, whose premature death was the only reason Meng Yao hadn’t murdered him.

Still, Jiang Cheng liked him, and Meng Yao…Meng Yao wanted Jiang Cheng happy.

It was a startlingly selfless thought, for him.

Of course, whether this Wei Wuxian would actually make Jiang Cheng happy was a different question.

“I’ll make sure it gets done,” Meng Yao promised, and Jiang Cheng looked relieved. “You focus on finding Wei Wuxian, and bringing him back home. You know I’ll support you in whatever you do.”

As long as it’s the right move, Meng Yao thought behind his smile. As long as it’s what I want you to do.

Jiang Cheng smiled up at him, heartbreakingly sincere.

“I know I could count on you,” he said happily. “You’ll like him, I’m sure, and he’ll like you!”

Meng Yao was unsure of the former, but moderately sure of the latter. Most people liked him, eventually.

“You’ll bring him back,” he said again, because he knew it was what Jiang Cheng wanted to hear. He reached out again, this time running his fingers through his hair – a massive overreach, an affront to the dignity of any man, but a gesture of affection to which Jiang Cheng submitted himself at once. It was like raising a puppy. “Even if he’s hurt, we’ll just care for him, you and I, won’t we?”

“We will!”

“Good. I have faith in you, Sect Leader Jiang. You’ll find him and you’ll bring him back for sure this time.”

And as for what happens next…well, that’s up to Wei Wuxian, isn’t it?

Truly, he thought. Truly gratifying.

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

keying cars, stealing hearts

inspired by meet ugly 06 from this post

in a moment of stupidity, I keyed what I thought was my ex’s car only to be surprised when you come screaming towards me

read it here or on ao3

“You should key his car.” Lup hands her brother a mug of her special hot cocoa. It’s a sugary-sweet monstrosity, topped with a heaping pile of whipped cream and caramel drizzle.

“I’m not going to do that.” Taako reaches up to accept the mug, and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders slips off.

Lup sets her own mug down on the coffee table and dutifully fixes the blanket. “Why not?”

Taako watches through swollen eyes as his sister picks her mug back up and sits next to him on their couch, folding her legs out to the side so that her knees are pointed towards him. “Because that would be crazy, first of all, and I’m not trying to get a reputation as a crazy ex. Second of all, he would totally know it was me, and he would make me pay to fix it, and cha’boy doesn’t have the fucking funds to do that.” He looks down into his mug, watching as the whipped cream begins to melt and cave in. When he speaks again, his voice is the tiniest bit softer. “And, you know, I still care about him, kinda.”

Lup scoffs. “Well, I don’t. I hope he burns in hell.” She rests her head on his shoulder. “If I ever see his car again, I’ll key it myself.”

This gets a snort out of Taako. He tilts his head so that it leans on hers.

“Whatever you say, Lulu.”

Lup wasn’t joking.

Taako could usually tell when she was joking, so she took his lack of protest to her vow as an endorsement. Not that she needs his endorsement, but she would’ve dropped the matter if he’d asked her to.

But only if he’d specifically asked her to, because she really, really wants to vandalize that punk bitch Sazed’s whole shit. No one gets to fuck with her brother and walk away consequence-free, not on her watch. The thought of it makes her fume.

So that’s why, when she sees Sazed’s car parked outside the grocery store about a month after that conversation with Taako, she runs over to it without hesitation.

She’s pretty sure it’s Sazed’s, anyway. It occurs to her for a split second that she’d only ever been in Sazed’s car a couple times, and she could easily be mistaken. You’d think a pretentious rat like him would cover his car in obnoxious-but-easily-identifiable bumper stickers, but he’d been obsessed with keeping the body paint in mint condition (he’d yelled at her once for leaning on it too hard or something like that, the douche). She notices the dashboard Hula dancer he’d had was missing.

But, she reasons, he could’ve easily taken it out; maybe he’d finally realized how tacky it was. And what other tool would keep a bright blue sedan like this? No, it’s gotta be Sazed’s.

She casts a few glances around in all directions, and, once she’s ensured that no one is watching her, ducks down by the driver’s side front tire and flips up the hood on her sweatshirt. She digs her key ring out of her purse and drags a few different keys across the front fender. With perhaps too much delight, she examines the marks she’d left and picks the key best suited to finish the job.

Quickly, she runs through a short list of insults in her head, words that are both true of Sazed and that would be embarrassing for people to see scrawled into the side of his car. She settles on “scumbag” and gleefully gets to work.

She’s about three-quarters of the way done with her little masterpiece when she’s interrupted by an unfamiliar voice from her right. “What the fuck?!?”

Lup whips her head towards the voice and catches half a face full of hood. Frantically, she paws at the hood with her free hand until it falls, leaving her face fully unconcealed.

She looks up and confirms that the heavyset man staring at her over an armful of paper grocery bags is not Sazed. His dark chestnut hair is a bit tousled, and paired with his wide-eyed expression, he looks like he’s having an off day.

He’s handsome, Lup realizes, and very much endangering her scheme. She tries to gather her composure before speaking. “So, like, I could run the whole gamut of excuses, ‘It’s not what it looks like!’ and stuff like that, but I don’t have the time and, frankly, bud, it’s none of your business.”

The stranger shakes his head incredulously. “None of my-? You’re keying my car!”

“Your car? I thought…” Panic starts to settle in Lup’s gut. “Y-you’re lying. You’re goofing ass.”

The man exhales through his teeth. “This is ridiculous.” He shifts his groceries so that he’s supporting them all with one arm and pulls a key ring out of the pocket of his jeans. He presses a button on a thick fob, and the car’s trunk pops open. He throws Lup a pointed look before setting his groceries inside.

She gapes. “There’s no way two whole dudes in this city drive Toyota Corollas this exact color.”

“It’s a popular car!” The man slams the trunk closed. “And this is a Camry!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?”

“It says it right there!”

He motions jerkily towards a spot under the left taillight, and Lup crawls over to look. Sure enough, it reads “CAMRY.” Huh. She remembers the moment of doubt she’d had earlier and silently admonishes herself for not being a bit more cautious. “I may have, um, made a mistake.”

“I’ll say!” The stranger walks over and sits next to the car, examining the damage. After a moment, he hisses and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “Damnit.”

Lup scoots next to him; to her surprise, he lets her. She looks up at her handiwork. The man had caught her before she had finished, and the side of the car now reads “SCUMB”. She lets a bit of silence pass before asking, “Can I at least finish it?”

The man balks at her. “What? No! Why would you-? No!”

Lup shrugs. “Fine. If you want to drive the scumb car, it’s no skin off my back.”

“I’d rather drive the scumb car than have everyone who sees my car think I’m a scumbag.”

“They’d think that anyway. It looks like your car was vandalized by an idiot who doesn’t know how to spell ‘scum.’ Which, for the record, is not what happened. I can spell.”

“Okay, whatever. I’d still rather leave it as ‘scumb.’” Lup swears she sees the man smile just the tiniest bit, and something stirs in her chest. She wants to make him smile again, she realizes.

For a second, she feels silly for thinking that about a stranger whose property she’s just defaced.

And then, she gets a crazy idea.

“You know what?” She roots around in her purse for a pen and an old fast food receipt. She holds the receipt up against the car and begins writing her number. “If you don’t call the police on me, I’ll- “

“Pay to get my car repainted?”

“Ha!” She points the pen at him. “No. I don’t have that kind of money. But I will buy you a drink sometime.” She offers the receipt to the man; he takes it and flushes. It’s adorable, and Lup feels heat rise in her own cheeks. She shifts a bit. “Um, but you have to promise not to call the police.”

The man stares at the receipt for a moment before raising an eyebrow up at Lup. “Are you… asking me out? Because, clearly, you’re not someone whose heart I’d ever want to be in a position to break.

“Oh, that?” Lup shakes her head furiously. “No, no, that was meant for my brother’s ex, not, like, one of mine.”

He lets out a low whistle. “If that’s what you’re willing to do for your brother, I’d hate to see what happens to anyone who scorns you.”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out, handsome.” She winks, then quickly adds, “That was a joke. You don’t have to say yes to the drink if you don’t want. Uh, I’d still appreciate it if you didn’t call the cops, though.”

The man looks down at the receipt again for what feels like the longest time. Lup starts feeling fidgety; she can’t remember the last time something made her this antsy. She twirls a drawstring on her hoodie around her finger.

Finally, the man looks at her again. “Make it two drinks?”

Lup beams at him. “Deal.”

[angstmongertina]

A Moment of Peace

I started this around the time the closed beta came out and didn’t actually finish until literally the night the game is released but oh well lol. But hey, I did finish before the game is released, at least?

Also, I used the name Artem because I didn't want to have to figure out how to deal with the Lawyer Zuo vs. Artem usage between Chinese and English.... and also because I couldn't remember Celestine's Chinese name lol.

Cross-posted on AO3.

Sometimes, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Actually, if she is to be perfectly honest with herself, most of the time, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Within the firm, she already has a reputation for putting in long hours. After all, as a relative newcomer to the Stellis legal scene, still only a few years out of law school herself, she knows that she still has plenty of work to do in order to establish herself in the field, to climb the ranks of the legal world and prove to the rest of Stellis City, as well as herself, that she deserves to be at Themis.

And even so, Artem still far outpaces her work ethic, leaving her to wonder more than once whether he ever actually leaves the building.

As such, it isn’t exactly surprising for her to leave the room and find the light still on in his office as she makes her way to the break room, an empty mug in one hand and her pile of notes in the other. After all, as she juggles between her cases and the upcoming attorney test, he is left picking up her slack, and while he might have volunteered more than once for the task with his usual calm expression, the concept of putting even more on his already full plate still sits poorly in her stomach.

Particularly since she has no clue where he’s even managing to squeeze the time to help her out of, given the seemingly endless collection of cases vying for his attention.

Pursing her lips, she contemplates the coffee machine for one, long, moment before shaking her head with more reluctance than she cares to admit against the siren call of caffeine. Instead, she reaches for the box of chamomile, a not-so-subtle gift from Celestine soon after her sudden and unexpected trip to the hospital—yet another of the now too many to count times that she has found herself in Artem’s debt—and prepares two mugs, breathing in the warm comforting aroma.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that she’s at home, decompressing after a productive day without a care in the world…

With a sigh, she shakes her head again, this time to clear the daydream from her mind. Soon, perhaps, but she has a mission to complete first.

Tucking her notes under her arm, she makes her careful way to his office, nudging the door lightly with her shoulder before stepping inside. “Artem?”

She’s not surprised to find him still hunched over his desk, hard at work despite the late hour. In fact, the only visible signs of the time are his jacket, carefully lain aside on the couch, and his head propped up in one hand as he makes notes on whatever document he is in the process of perusing. At her voice, he looks up, blinking a few times at her before he jerks upright and she can’t help but follow his hands with her gaze as they reach for his tie, fidgeting with it slightly before drifting down to tug at his shirt cuffs.

“I… Eliana?”

With a jolt, she snaps her eyes back up to find his lips set into his usual faint smile, though with something unfamiliar twisting their corners, something that disappears the next instant as his face smooths back out to inscrutability with truly enviable ease. “What are you still doing here?”

She blinks. For just a split second, his expression was odd, almost shy, although that conclusion makes absolutely no sense, and she shakes her head, though whether it’s at his question or to dislodge her irrelevant, uncontrolled thoughts, she can’t say. Instead, she sets her shoulders, pushing it to the back of her mind, and offers him a smile of her own. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first…”

She glances down and he starts again, eyes widening as he follows her gaze. ”Oh, right. My apologies. Please, come in.”

As he moves to rise to his feet, she steps forward, reaching out an arm to wave him off before remembering and freezing too late. She can only watch, muttering a silent prayer to the god of fluids, as the tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug before settling back down, thankfully—if barely—avoiding spilling over.

She does not miss the noise from the desk that sounds suspiciously like a muffled chuckle.

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she contemplates his desk and the neat piles of notes and evidence before turning instead to the couch and his comparatively less cluttered coffee table. While papers still pepper the surface, as they inevitably do during complicated cases, it is easy enough to push them gently to the side, making a point to keep them at least somewhat organized.

“What are you—?”

She looks up, meeting his bemused gaze with a cheerful smile. “Giving you a hand. I’m your partner, after all.”

One eyebrow quirked, he huffs something that might have been a laugh. “Oh? How so? I need to—”

“Take a break,” she interjects smoothly. “Celestine told me that she came in early and even so, you got in before she did this morning.”

Something crosses his face, so quickly that she can’t identify it, before he releases a gentle sigh, though with a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Of course she did. Meddling as always.”

“She’s concerned about you. As am I.” Before he can so much as open his mouth, she shakes her head. “I know the report needs to be finished and I’m here to help, but first, you need to take a break.”

When he only frowns, she sighs herself, though hers is with more reluctance than anything, particularly as she recalls the advice Celestine had seen fit to gift her with, wearing an impish smirk all the while.

But with Artem’s own diligence working against her… Well, desperate times and all.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she tilts her head, aiming for her most beseeching expression. “Don’t you trust me?”

It works just as well as, if not better than, Celestine promised; she can see the exact moment her words register, his eyes widening to an almost comical extent as a flush darkens his cheeks. Her resolve nearly crumbles on the spot, held together only by the knowledge that she is putting on the pressure for his own good.

“I… You…” He coughs, shaking his head as his face somehow manages to redden even more, beyond what she thought was even possible. “Of course I…” He sighs again, this time ringing of defeat, and mutters something under his breath, too low for her to make out.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, fidgeting once more with his tie before standing and stretching. “You’re right, of course.”

“Then come here.” She puts down the mugs, setting them side by side on the table, before plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to her.

He sighs again, though it is belied by the warmth of his smile as he makes his way over, sitting down beside her with a long, slow exhale.

Glancing at him, she can’t help but frown. This close, it’s hard to miss the faint dark circles under his eyes, the strain tucked away in the corners of his mouth, the subtle signs of how much work he has been shouldering to help her. That Celestine noticed before she did, that she, his partner, needed it pointed out to her, is enough to make guilt, cold and swirling, pool in her gut.

“What’s the matter?”

And now he’s looking over her, brows pinched together with concern, and she almost denies everything on reflex before catching herself. Instead, she lets the worry she feels filter into her expression as she turns to face him fully.

“How late have you been staying? Are you that busy right now?”

The questions seem to catch him off guard; he shifts, a fleeting look of guilt, or perhaps shame, darting across his face before he smiles, a small, almost helpless curl of his mouth.

“I… would be lying if I said that I have a light load at the moment.”

It is not a direct admission, but also not prevarication either, and she can’t decide whether to be grateful or worried that he is even willing to admit how swamped he is, albeit in a roundabout sort of way. Grateful, since acknowledging the fact allows her to help, and worried because… Well, he must truly and rapidly be approaching overwhelmed to admit to such a thing so readily.

Taking a deep breath, she stamps down on the urge to apologize, though whether for forcing the admission or for not noticing earlier, not even she’s sure. Instead, she reaches for her mug, cradling its warmth between her palms before taking a slow sip. The warm, gentle fragrance fills her senses and she lets out a slow sigh of relief, feeling the stress of the day dissipate with the curling steam.

“You sound like you needed that.”

She feels her mouth curl into a smile without conscious thought and nods at the way he holds his, with almost reverence in his expression. “You as well.”

He inclined his head, a hint of a smile on his own lips. “Touché. It is very good though.”

“Celestine gave it to me, as a welcome back gift after…” She waves her hand vaguely, fighting the heat that, for some reason, wants to rise in her face every time she remembers that frantic, foolish trip to the hospital.

“Ah. Right.” Is it her imagination or do his cheeks also seem to flush as he takes another sip? “Well, it’s very good. And you could definitely use it.”

She clears her throat, determinedly putting it out of mind. “So could you, considering you’re still here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” His expression is almost a smirk as he nods towards her notes. “Still studying, I presume.”

“Oh. Yes.” She sighs again, putting her strangely loud pulse at his expression out of her mind and instead contemplating the pile of papers with something that feels vaguely like exasperation mixed with a hint of despair. “There’s just so much to review.”

But before she can actually pick them up, he reaches over, snagging them before she can, and flips through her scribbled comments and answers.

“Hey!”

She makes a grab for them but he turns away, just enough to be slightly out of reach, as he flips through them, his brow furrowed in either disapproval or concentration. “There is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He turns a page, scanning over the script with his typical intense scrutiny before nodding. “Thorough and carefully thought out, just as you’ve always done. I have no doubt you’ll—”

He cuts himself off when she leans over until her weight is practically resting on his side. Frozen as he is, she is finally able to reclaim the packet and grins at him, though whether she’s flushed from exertion, the small victory, or their sudden closeness, she can’t be sure.

“You…”

“You are supposed to be resting, not taking precious time to help me with studying.” He’s still just watching her, sea blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and what on anyone else, she would call embarrassment, and part of her wants to twist away, to hide both the papers and her red cheeks from his piercing gaze, but something about his presence, his closeness, has her pinned into place; she’s not sure she can even if she tried. “I can...”

“You can study later as well.” His lips curl into a smile, small but true, and she can feel her breath catch in her throat at the tenderness shining in it, can feel her heart hammering in her chest, so loud that it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. “If I need a break, then so do you. I know you have been just as diligent in the past weeks.”

“I… will.”

“Good.” His smile widens, full of gentleness and approval and something more, something that she doesn’t dare—that she can’t dare—put a name to, but which shines like the sun, filling her with warmth, bringing heat to her cheeks, even as she has to avert her gaze from its brilliant radiance.

Still, the quiet that settles over them, a soft blanket against the threat of another late night, is calm, comfortable. She cradles the cup between her palms, feels the heat radiating out with the steam that curls in the air before her, pale and ephemeral in the silence that she is loathe to break.

Not now, while the weight of the day slowly dissipates from her shoulders, while her breathing settles and calms, matching the steady inhales at her side. The office, the city, the rest of the world even, fade away until there is nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and the warmth of the man beside her, his rich cedar scent mixing with the fragrance of her tea, his quiet breathing aligned with her own, his constant care and steadiness.

In this moment, it would be easy, so easy, to just lean her head down a little and let it drop onto his shoulder.

And so she does.

For a heartbeat, he tenses under its weight and she nearly recoils, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she can, he relaxes again, even as his exhale ruffles her hair. “And you were planning on going back to studying immediately?”

“Mm.”

She feels more than hears the low rumble of his chuckle, feels the warmth of his shoulder against her cheek shifting as he settles more comfortably. Feels her heartbeat speed up as a gentle weight presses against her temple, a soft sigh sounding in her ear.

Feels a smile tug on her lips as she closes her eyes and lets herself rest.

[bubblyani]

Bail Out: 04

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 04: Thank You

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault.  However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne,  surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your  choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 9000+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: This ended up longer than expected. But no regrets at all. I appreciate all the feedback I received so far from all of you. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter LIST

The apartment remained still with silence, unchanging even with your own entrance. You certainly had many reasons to be thankful for that night. You were alive, you were safe. A taxi finally was kind enough to bring you back home. Yet, being grateful for that kindness was the last thing on your mind. Especially after what you secretly witnessed that night.

No wonder the skin over your left wrist was noticeably red, and stung with pain. Clearly the obvious response, when you have pinched yourself from disbelief countless times during the taxi ride. With the apartment all to yourself, you felt enough freedom to piece every puzzle together. You took in a deep breath.

How was it possible that Bruce Wayne, is Batman? And more importantly, how did you not even notice?

The thought kept running through your mind on a loop. Even when you slumped on the couch, even when you carelessly you kicked your shoes off. Where did they go flying? You simply did not care. The dress pants comforted your legs as you sat cross legged.You scoffed with disbelief.

The reasons for your defense were valid. You would gladly shout them from any rooftop. He was clever, he knew what he was doing. He was never fully revealed, and the understanding of light and shadow had assisted him in concealing himself amidst the darkness and the faint city lights that shone. Even paying attention to his voice, he had concealed himself in every possible way.

Should this not be a happy surprise for you? You thought. Bruce Wayne, the man you admired, the man you had secretly fallen for, was indeed The Dark Knight. The caped crusader of Gotham City, safeguarding it to the fullest of his capabilities.

But at that very moment, it came to your realization that the glory and the pride of it, was certainly not what you were focused about. That was definitely not the reason you felt your heart clench, breaking into two. Definitely not the reason you felt your nose grow sour, your eyes well up with tears. For that was just it.

How dare you not consider the darkness behind that confident smirk of his? How dare you not empathize with the man, constantly haunted by his past personal loss, victimized by the criminal underbelly of the city ? The man who seemingly and eventually was driven by his personal vengeance and pain to rid the city of all crime whichever way possible? All in the form of a vigilante? The man who still may be silently concealing his pain, burden and struggle all his life, whilst carrying such heavy responsibility on behalf of all others?

How could you not consider that side to the man you had fallen for? How could you be so insensitive?

You tasted the salty tears, whilst they trickled down like a waterfall. The guilt forced your face to contort with exaggeration as your heart gave out, and you broke into sobs. You sobbed loud, and with no shame.

A part of you was tempted to wonder why must you weep so much for him? Could this be real love? Even unrequited, could it still be so? Was that the reason for your heart to save such generous space inside, just for you to store in the purest form of all love, affection and concern, all for Bruce Wayne?

As your shoulders shook uncontrollably, as you felt the unavoidable stream of snot exit your nostrils, the difficulty of setting this man free from your heart was evident. Forgetting him would be impossible. Even more so now. For now, your love for him had increased in hundred folds. From now on, he would always be in the center of your affections somehow, for always. Even if he would never consider loving you back.

If he only knew how grateful you were to him every single time. If he knew of your sheer willingness to do anything in your power, just to him help him return somehow. Just to ease his pain one way or another.

The sudden vibration over your left thigh, caused you to shift your focus elsewhere. Sniffing, you pulled your phone out of your left pocket. You gasped.

But it was a gasp of happiness. It exited involuntarily from your lips the moment you laid eyes on the screen. The moment you read the message that caused you to chuckle, feel your heart warm even further, and cry out even louder with emotion.

"Hey! I'm HOME !”

Allison's voice boomed with the door opening. However her voice instantly quieted the moment she found you on the couch, bawling holding the phone. Overwhelmed with emotion, you did not seem to care of her discovery.

“Sweetie…” Allison murmured worriedly, closing the door slowly before taking a few steps, "Whats wrong?”

Looking at her, the tears kept flowing as you wondered. Was it your place to let her decipher the entirety of your tears? Or was it your responsibility to do was right? And reveal only that truly mattered? You chose the latter instantly.

“Lillian had the baby…” You said, mid-sob, “And it’s a girl…” you added, smiling as you bawled without limits. Never had you cried this way in simply ages. Allison covered her mouth with surprise. “Oh my god…” She began, however furrowing her eyebrows soon after, “Didn’t think it would make you this emotional but this is great…why you crying?”  Her curiosity did not leave her. “I’M JUST HAPPY!…” Your sobs grew even louder. “Awww Sweetie!” Cooing with affection, Allison certainly felt maternal at that moment when she proceeded to comfort you. And you were not lying, you really were happy for Lillian. Exhilarated and relieved of her safe delivery. No wonder your tears suddenly had a diverse taste. No wonder your sobs grew so much stronger.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alfred Pennyworth stood strong and silent, permitting the container floor to lower down, and descend in to a large concrete chamber. The entire ceiling of said chamber hung low, illuminated with white fluorescent lights.

Walking past the Bat Pod parked in the middle, he found Bruce Wayne. He found him standing by the CCTV monitors and keyboards, with one hand pressing an ice pack over his right cheek, while the other held the black cowl mask, the one which seemed to be broken and had lost all its glory. 

Suffice to say, there was indeed more to the eccentric billionaire than meets the eye. In the form of a secret identity, that must be protected at all cost, for the sake of this city: The Batman.

“Why are you doing this, Master Wayne?”

Alfred inquired, forcing Bruce to turn his head.

“Fixing my face?” Bruce answered back with another inquiry, his bare torso revealing fresh bruises, “Well, you know why, Alfred”

His stoic face unchanged, the older man took the ice pack from Bruce’s face.

“You know me well enough, to know that was not what I was asking…” he said, urging the young man to sit down, “Why are you so adamant on saving this one woman?” He kept inquiring, subtly keeping the ice pack over bruise on his cheek.

“She’s an innocent civilian…”

Taking the ice pack away, Alfred shot him a glance.

“Many innocent civilians get hurt all over the city, Sir” He stated, keeping the pack on the table, “However, you’ve been making sure she was of out of harm’s way, ever since you met her…” he said, grabbing a thin tube of medicine. “I wasn’t so successful, to be exact…” Bruce answered, grunting as Alfred dabbed the cooling gel over his cheek. “Nevertheless, you saved her, every single time” he said, “…and at a cost too…” Bruce did not reply, for he knew Alfred was right.

Ever since her presence entered his life with a ‘bruising’ reputation, Bruce Wayne had a feeling this woman had left the territory of safety, especially when she angered one of the most powerful men in Gotham City. Thus, ever since then, her safety was all that seemed important to him.

“Did Fox send you the tracker?” That inquiry rang in his memory so clearly. The inquiry he made to Alfred on the night of the Annual Charity Dinner. Fixing his bowtie, he accepted the small, black box from the butler’s hands. “Following someone, Sir?” Alfred questioned, putting his hands behind his as he stood smartly. Tilting his head, Bruce smiled: “More like, keeping a watchful eye…” he answered.

Bruce was careful, and inconspicuous. Little did anyone realize the sole reason for his attendance at the Dinner was for the safety of one woman. The tracker being in the shape of a pen, Bruce did not have any difficulty whatsoever to put it into her handbag. Certainly no difficulty, when he found her quite intoxicated at the VIP guest room in the Hotel.

And what a relief the tracker was placed. If not, the opportunity to rescue her from a group of muggers that night would have never been possible.

Although success was in his grasp, the guilt that soon followed took over him like a fever. Savior he can be, but never keen on playing stalker. In fact, the guilt overpowered sleep that night. Thankfully, other than guilt, he also had her wallet. An adequate excuse to visit her indeed. As luck would have it, she was always so cooperative involuntarily, providing him ample time to take the tracker out of her bag while she clumsily put her shoes back on. Surprisingly, her magnetic conversation and sense of humor tempted him to linger a little while longer, which provided him with some interesting information. And he would be lying if he did not enjoy it.

“Working Late, Sir?” Alfred’s curiosity was justified when he phoned him today. Especially when Bruce Wayne decided to stay back at work.

“Something like that…” Bruce answered, to which the butler chuckled from the other side of the line. “That will be a surprise, even for Mr. Fox”

His decision was all worthwhile, when he managed to rescue her once again from a much more dangerous form of attack early tonight.

“Nevertheless you saved her…every single time” Blinking the flashbacks away, Alfred’s current words echoed in his ears. Bruce sighed.

“Petty as it was...She stood up for me, Alfred” He replied hoarsely, getting up, “It’s not like I had many people standing up for me in my life…” he continued, as he stared at the several screens before him, one played the ‘The Bruiser’ viral clip on loop.

“Being Bruce Wayne, didn’t exactly open doors of trust or loyalty with many people around me” He said, “But she just…” pausing, he took his time before continuing, “…acted so recklessly, just for all that…just for me…”

Hands rested in his hips, where the elastic waistband of his pants hung, “And I feel like…I owe it to her…” his voice grew soft, “...especially when I have a feeling of who was responsible for all those attacks”

The security staff apprehended her on the video, while she hung her head low in embarrassment. The sight of it made him breath deep.

“I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her...” Bruce said firmly. Alfred could do nothing but smile softly.

“Something tells me this is more than you just being a Good Samaritan, Sir…” He said. All the sudden, Bruce chuckled quietly, turning to him. “I’ll let you be the judge of that…” he replied, shaking his head.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the two empty bottles rested on the coffee table, you watched Allison come over to you, proudly holding on to two more beer bottles that she got from the fridge. Taking one from her hand, you smiled sheepishly.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You slurred jokingly. Squinting, Allison threw you an appalled look in such dramatic fashion.   “Me?” She asked, “NOOO!!” she replied as she sat on the other corner of the couch, “Sweetie, We’re celebrating, remember?” “Yes! We are…” nodding, you cried out loud, raising your bottle to the air, “To LILLIAN’S BABY!!” Allison’s bottle joined in unison, which followed with cheers and whoops. A huge sip from the chilled bottle brought you comfort. “Ahhh...she’s gonna be a cute, cute baby…” you breathed, staring lovingly  at the wall, “…with chubby cheeks and all…” you added, pinching your own cheek. Suddenly, you heard Allison begin to snigger. “What?” You inquired, looking her way. Keeping her bottle on her stomach, Allison lazily permitted her legs to lie over the coffee table. “Just..” She began, “I’m gonna miss this place when I finally move out…” An emptiness hit you on the heart in a flash, forcing you to turn to her. “You’re gonna leave?” You breathed. Glancing at your concerned expression, Allison’s smile disappeared. “Sweetie…” she said, her eyes catching your own, “I'm not expecting you to let me stay here forever…” taking a gulp from her bottle, she continued, “And besides, I owe you so…much…money” Shaking your head, you waved your hand fiercely with dismissal. “Ah! Fuck it” You replied, sitting back to stare at the wall again. Allison’s expression grew cold. “Sweetie…” her voice lowered, “You should be living in a fucking penthouse by now” “Mid grade penthouse…” you corrected her, still looking away, “…the better ones are too expensive" you muttered softly to yourself. “Whatever…” Allison replied, her gaze still on you, “But instead…you’re stuck here in this crappy apartment...with me-” “How dare you?” You inquired in a dramatic British accent, finally looking back at her, “This is cozy-” “Will you let me fucking finish?” Holding your hand out in defense, you slowly nodded. “Sorry….” You muttered, to which Allison sighed. “I’m gonna pay you back…”she promised with resolution, “And you’re gonna get out of here…” a smile appeared on her face, “You deserve a good life. You’re too good to me, Sweetie…” she said, rubbing your arm with affection, “We never should have been at the bar that night.” Silent, you took another sip. Allison sighed once again, looking at the window on your side. “You never should have stood up for me” she added, her deep voice echoing in the room.

Recollection of that fateful day she mentioned was inevitable. That day was your birthday, two years ago. Newly promoted to Senior Manager, the idea of celebrating both your birthday and promotion together with Allison seemed perfect. Celebrations did not necessarily require a group of people, in your opinion. Your ideal night of celebrating was nothing fancy. Fueling oneself with intoxication at the bar would soon be followed by a jam session at the karaoke bar. And food was definitely in the plan. You loved your Korean Barbecue.   But when a Loan Shark dropped by the bar in search of Allison, you had a feeling those epic plans had to take a rain check. Surrounded by thugs, he exuded fear. “Allison, baby…” His drawl made your skin curl, addressing your friend, “You’ve been keeping me waiting long enough…I need my…money” he growled in procession.   Debt, you disliked that word. Unfortunately, Allison was knee deep in it, with interest as well. Her partying personality definitely did not encourage her to be responsible as you were in life, and this was proof. His threats of violence and possible death were akin to sharp shooting bullets. Unwilling to remember this night bathed in blood, your intoxicated self became Allison’s bulletproof vest. “Sir! Sir! SIR!...” standing bravely in front of your roommate,  you slurred out loud, “Worry no more!” your assurance was dramatic, making his eyebrows furrow. “We got your money...” you claimed, to Allison’s shock, “All I ask you is…” you paused, in all seriousness, causing everyone in the bar to hold their breath in silence: “Do you take Checks?” As you wrote off the amount, you wrote off your chances of moving into a better apartment, and a better life. Yet, you were far from regretful. 

“Well!” you said, shaking that memory away as you were intoxicated with chilled beer, “No one was gonna ruin my birthday with my Bestie!” Your words were filled with pride, and every word was said from the heart. “You said the exact same thing that day…” Allison said, making you look back at her. Emptying your bottle with one last swig, you moved the bottle from your hand to the table. “And I still mean it…” you assured. Allison’s eyes, they grew warm. Warm to the point they shone with tears. Slowly standing up, she began to walk over to you. “Ali, what’s with that look?” You inquired, as she sat right next to you, “Wait what are you-Ahahah!” With your giggles, it was certainly too late to answer, when her tight hug surprised you. “Awww Sweetie…” Allison cried, her tone muffled with her face pressed against your hair. “Ali…” you began, as your giggles paused, “I think I'm gonna hurl-” “What? Eww! ” Allison yelled, moving away as if she touched fire. Only when she saw you guffaw, did she realize there really was nothing to hurl. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding...come here…” You giggled, pulling her pouty self over for another hug, “Awww…..What would I do without you, Ali?” And right you were. Life was just so much richer, with your best friend beside you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unknown Number

Those two words stared at you from the phone screen in your Recent Calls. Whilst walking down the lobby of Wayne Tower the next morning, you were relieved no hangover haunted you .Which left you ample time to let him haunt you instead. The elevators seemed to be surprisingly busy today, forcing you to stand in front of one. Still staring at the phone, you could not help but wonder.  Would that number still work if you were to contact him somehow? This strange curiosity made you restless. For you longed to act one single urge: Thank Him.   Selecting the ‘Message’ option, you mindlessly began to form a text:

Thank you for last night

Your eyebrows were raised. Maybe the wording should not end so ambiguously. In fact it seemed too perverted. You scoffed, never did you expect of considering sending ‘a text’ to Batman himself. The mere idea was simply ridiculous. But, did not hurt to try. Pressing the backspace button a few times, you stared at the only words that remained:

Thank you

Finally, you smiled. With your thumb twirling around the screen, you typed away to complete it:

Thank You again.

Taking a deep breath, your thumb moved over to send, only to be responded with the following message:

Cannot be Sent.

Shaking your head slowly, you sighed. Of course, it could not be sent. It was an unknown, untraceable number for a valid reason. Bruce Wayne was smart, thus you respecting him even more. It was a failed attempt, yet you commended yourself for taking a step of bravery. Ding!   Seemed your focus had taken you further enough to ignore all that surrounded you. For the sound of the elevator tempted you to finally look up from your phone. A gasp left you, when the free elevator was in the midst of closing with just one woman inside it. “Wait!” You cried out, “Stop!” You said, running towards the door. The woman however, stood still with a cold stare whilst the doors fully closed before her. Leaving you behind. Embarrassed and annoyed, You huffed. “Rude” You muttered under your breath with a sigh. It was certainly one of those unfortunate days you would encounter a bad egg. Not that rude folk were rare in Gotham. It was certainly the opposite. But still, Wayne Tower had only a few. Just before you could wallow in it, the other elevator luckily opened up to your rescue a few seconds later. Heading to the 8th floor, you felt your luck had changed back. Life gifted you a second chance. But the moment you finally stepped out of the elevator, it was clear it was playing a prank of you. “Ma’am…Can I help you?” You called out confidently, addressing the woman who stood peeping through the main door with suspicion. The same, cold woman who deprived you of the elevator earlier. The moment she turned, you spotted the Visitor Name Tag on her, standing at the same height as you did. Her loose, brunette hair reached up to her shoulders, framing her rectangular shaped face. Her entire presence, it exuded confidence. And simultaneously, her aura exuded an impression you just could not stand. “Ah!” She said, nonchalantly. Her tone was simply too casual, given the fact she just was rude to you earlier, “You work in HR?” “Why else would I be here?” You replied, suddenly aware of the sass that included in your tone. Too late, it was out of your control. However, she smiled. “Then perfect…”, her plump lips revealing a perfect set of teeth in between, “I’m Clara Bennett…” as she extended her hand: “Your new HR Consultant” Taking her hand for a firm shake, you silently prayed for Lillian’s support to hover over you like a guardian angel.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moment Clara Bennett set foot in to Wayne Enterprises, Lillian Foster’s absence was noticed. Assigning a Consultant to oversee the process in the HR Department seemed quite sudden, and frankly very offensive. Especially since no form of corruption or disruption of operations had occurred in the recent past.   You were clearly at fault here. It was evident that this could be the company making amends with Henderson Incorporated by making an example out of you. Such a shame it had to be for a you could not professionally take credit for.   Being the first day without the presence of the Head, a Departmental Briefing was in order. But with Clara’s appearance, you were hesitant to carry forward.

“No please…” Clara insisted, politely, “Please proceed. I’ll be more than happy to listen in…” Her introduction was made, formalities met as everyone gathered around the Oval Table in the Conference Room. Though she flashed her smile, you could not help but feel a sense of threat by her. This was not the type of threat in relation to appearances or the usual nonsense. Granted, she was a beautiful Mixed, Hispanic with attractive features and a confident personality. But it was the coldness that was brought along with it that sent signals of warning to you. Yet, then again, this could possibly be your first impression whispering you in the ear and poisoning your mind.

“Right…” You began, “…moving on to other matters. First of all..." wearing a huge grin, you continued, "The news is true...Lillian did have her baby. And it's a girl..." The cheers and applause that followed could make anyone wonder if you just announced the score of a NFL match. Happiness was infused in your system. No matter what, it was a relief to observe everyone’s love and respect for Lillian. It certainly proved the strength and effectiveness of her leadership. Something you aspired for have yourself. "Yes, we should all be very happy that they are both safe and well..." you added, chuckling out loud as the applause continued, "But now, on to business..." The crowd quickly grew silent. Pride came over you to have that effect on them. "As I recall...there were some tasks that were pending from Lillian's side, which I hope everyone was patient with… " you eyed all those who sat, who collectively nodded, "But Good News, before she left, she had given her decisions after discussing with Management...” you declared, opening your notebook, “...and I will update them all point...by poin-"

A loud cough. An unpleasant one exited Clara’s lips in interruption, causing all heads to turn. You looked her way in a flash.

"Ms. Bennett...Are you alright?" You asked, concerned. Clara nodded, with her hand on her mouth. "Yes...carry on..." her answer may have been polite, yet her smile seemed restrained. Ignoring it, you looked back at your colleagues. "As I was saying..." You paused, "What? why the smiles..." You inquired, for all of them merely smiled at you with excitement. Inciting laughter as he raised his hand like schoolboy, Greg cleared his throat before he responded: "If I can speak freely...” he said,”...and If Clara doesn’t mind ...” he looked at her, who kept her tight smile preserved, “It's just strange for us to see you doing this Briefing instead of Lillian..." Chuckling back, you nodded in agreement. “I know..." You said, "Believe me, it's weird for me too..." You added, maintaining eye contact with possibly everyone you looked at, "But I hope we all can get through this time working harder than before..." With your years of experience, you were skilled in maneuvering your voice into the seriousness that was required for a pleasant persuasion, changing the aura in the room to a more understanding one. Many nodded in agreement. "Okay..." you said, proceeding to look at your notes "Regarding the Counseling Team Idea making Monthly rounds....” cheerfully, you clasped your hands together, “Good News! Mr. Fox loves the idea...It's a GO!" Your cheer and enthusiasm had translated into a few cheers amongst the group who seemingly had suggested, while the others were quite impressed. "Great Idea everyone..." Your smile expanded, giving thumbs up to the younger colleagues, "This is why we need more younger minds in this department-”

Another cough. A longer, irritating cough filled the room. With no surprise whatsoever, you turned to Clara. And this time, it felt quite personal.   "Do you need a cough drop or something, Ms. Bennett? Cause I can personally get you one..." "No…No don’t mind me..." Clara shook her hand, "Please carry on with your...uh..." she paused, shooting a glance at the table, then yourself, "…briefing..." as her smiled died for a split second.

Though anger bubbled within your core, a smile was all that you could maintain. The show must go on. You resumed the Briefing, providing the updates necessary. You were hell bent on effectiveness and speed, making sure no man was left bored or uninterested. Thus, leading to a successful finish.

"Ms. Bennett...”

Clara turned, upon hearing your call. With the rest already vacated, the conference room was left with no one but the two of you, “May I speak to you in private?"

Looking around, She nodded. With the door open, your hands remained folded as you stood before her.

"The little cough stunt...", you began, smiling, "I know what that means...“ you said, although your smile was nowhere close to friendly, “...something is definitely not sitting right with you..." you raised your eyebrows,  "Am I right?”

You were no fool. You would rather trim the hedge before the worst. Though Clara opened her mouth, no words escaped. Ultimately chuckling, she put her hands on her hips, looking right at you:

"Look...” she began, “I don’t want to be the bad guy on the very first day but...." "But?” you inquired, showing your palms, “Please, I would really appreciate your feedback..."

The tension was high, and so was your impatience. Clara simply shrugged. “I'm just….” pausing, she sighed, “...a little disappointed in your communicative skills as a leader..." You froze. "Oh...." You muttered monotonously, "I see..." Confused, you folded your arms again, lost in mid-thought as she began to leave. Only a few seconds later, it suddenly hit you.

"Wait a second..." You uttered, forcing her to stop, "In what way exactly?" You inquired. Suddenly her opinion had affected you more than one had realized. Clara looked at you as if you were a science project, difficult to comprehend.

"You're too...." She said, eyes squinting “...amiable..." her answer seemed resolute, "...and that shows weakness..."

The moment she finally left the room, you had never felt so insulted. In all your years working in Wayne Enterprises, no one in Management had criticized your skills in this manner, not even Lillian. What on earth did she just observe, for her to make that sort of assumption?

The heavy, hurried footsteps of Greg approaching the Conference Room shook your from these toxic thoughts.

"Boss..." He panted; You turned to him in shock as he continued:

"We got a problem!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Arguments and disagreements, a usual element in the average universal workplace. And mediating said disagreements was definitely a skill you were trained for from the beginning.

But to stop actual altercations? You would have to think twice on that. 

Making your way down to the lobby with Greg by your side, a huge crowd was in your sight in the middle of the lobby. When security calls in to say an HR colleague was involved, no one would have blamed your impatience as you made your way through the crowd to the front. You gasped:

"Oh my god...Is that Caleb?" You cried to yourself.

Caleb Brown, one of your juniors, was never a troublesome kid. An innocent new recruit, he impressed you always with his patience. Yet for some unexpected reason, there he was, standing head to head with another staffer, hands tightly on each other’s collars.

"Gentleman...” Your voice was calm when you addressed them, “Come on...Whatever this is, let’s settle this like adults-HEY HEY!”

Calmness was difficult to maintain, for the atmosphere grew violent. Caleb met the floor in an instant when the other stronger young man pushed with him anger. Kneeling next to him, you held him by the shoulders.

"Caleb...” you breathed, “You're okay-HEY! Caleb NO!..." Your reflexes acted out in a flash, restraining him when he attempted to get back up in defense. Embarrassed, he looked at you, "Why not?” he hissed, “You fought back when Henderson talked shit about Wayne! " Your face tensed. Touché, Caleb! “That's nothing to do with this..." you answered curtly and quietly. “But why can’t we fight back when this jerk talks shit about us?" Caleb asked, louder than expected, amplifying the conversation. Caleb’s opponent, seemingly not from your department , laughed out loud.

“What did I tell you, everybody? Like Senior, like Junior, right?” He slurred out in the voice of an entertainer “Why am I not surprised about this Bruiser bitch?”

The curious buzz grew louder. Your cheeks heated up, uncomfortable to the fullest. The fact The Bruiser reputation kept following you like a shadow was more than you could take. Regardless, that man’s attitude was far from professional.   “Alright… ENOUGH!” Your thundering voice sliced through the buzz, shushing the entire crowd. Aggressive may be, yet full of control.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you...” your voice grew calm with expertise , “...but this is not the professional way to do things…And you!” you exaggerated, pointing at the rude young man, “That was certainly not the way to address anyone here…let alone your superiors…” You continued, as pin drop silence ruled the lobby. Taking a deep breath, your gaze turned deadly, “This is very disappointing....Both of you…upstairs for Mediation…now!”

Pointing towards the elevator, you watched the two young men follow Greg upstairs. With the crowd dispersing, the fear in the atmosphere was evident more than ever. As much as it assisted you, it frustrated you as well. Could this actually mean the Bruiser reputation was taking a bigger toll on your career at Wayne Enterprises?

You sighed heavily, the moment you saw Clara within your sights, standing next to the Elevator, with possibly a judgmental look on her face.

So much for a professional first impression.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Ted!” You said, answering the phone, “How did it go?” With the mini altercation yesterday in needing of a resolution, you were desperate for assistance. Being the current leader of HR, it should have been your rightful place to take unbiased charge of the conflict resolution. However, with Caleb involved, your participation was simply a symbol of biased treatment. Thus, Ted Hawthorne from Legal was called in to undertake the Mediation. And from his tone, it was clear it went well.

“Well, thanks to this little fiasco…” Ted replied, “…we managed to do some good after all…” “Mind elaborating?” You inquired, sneakily watching Clara engage with the junior staff outside your office. “The other junior guy…” Ted continued, “Leonard Attwell…He was drunk at the time, hence the badmouthing and the altercation” “What on earth?…” you gasped, “Those are so many violations altogether…” “Exactly, so long story short…we caught a bad apple…” “Thanks so much for coming in, Ted” you replied, sighing with relief,  “Now we can finally start the formal process on him…” “No problem, kid” Hanging up, you kept watching Clara making her rounds. With the incident she witnessed yesterday, it would not be surprising if she was on her personal mission dig dirt on you and the department itself. Shaking your head, you proceeded to skim through a few Survey Reports. The moment the phone rang once again, you were pleasantly surprised by the sight of the extension. “Hey! Jessica” you answered cheerfully, “How are you?”


“Hey! uh…” Jessica’s response echoed in your ears,“It’s Mr. Fox. He wants to see you” Your eyes widened. “Shit…” you muttered inaudibly, as your eyes closed shut with desperation.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lucius Fox, was never the unpleasant person in your eyes. Ever since he was promoted to CEO a few years ago, he certainly displayed an unorthodox and humble quality to the most powerful position in the company. Yet, his wish to see you caused some concerns. Given your recent troubles at work.

“Thank You, Jessica…” Addressing his assistance at the door, he guided you into his office, “Please take a seat”. he said, as you both sat down. It was indeed an honor to be in his presence once again after a while. “You know…” he began, “ I realized I remember you from somewhere…” “Sir?” “Ah yes! ” he smiled, the velvet voice soothing your ears, “Weren’t you the Manager who recommended that Restaurant? When Dr. Kim visited…” “Oh…right…yes” You nodded, shyly.

Few years ago, when Fox was just the Head of Applied Sciences and Mr. Earle was CEO, you had dropped by one day to acquire certain clarifications on a project that required HR approval. Except when you did, you had stumbled on to Fox conversing with an Elite Group of Scientists from South Korea. Greeting them with the little Korean you knew, Fox was pleased when you even went out of your way to recommend your favorite Korean Restaurant at the Diamond District to them.

Fox laughed out loud, surely reminiscing that moment himself. “Fantastic Barbecue meat…” he exclaimed, “And the Soju* helped them improve their English.” He chuckled, “I have a feeling that night really strengthened ties between us” As much as you wanted laugh and share this merriment, concern took over your thinking space. “Mr. Fox-” you began meekly. “You must be wondering why I asked you up here...” Fox began, to which you nodded, “More or less, yes” Smiling, He took his glasses off. “I wish to thank you for diligently working on behalf of Lillian...” You smiled shyly. Being a kind gentleman, he contained a reliable sense in him. And still in charge of the Applied Sciences Department, a part you wondered if he was ever in relation to Bruce Wayne’s secret activities. “And er…” he went on, “…regarding the assault incident with Mr. Henderson-” Suddenly your heartbeat increased with panic. “I know” you nodded frantically, prepared to face the gallows “…it was highly inappropriate-” “Quite the contrary…” Fox replied, “Personally I believe that man needed to be taught a lesson…”   You never intended to drop your jaw, yet it did. Fox smiled. “…but then again… that opinion will not cross these walls” he said, looking at you. Chuckles from both sides soon followed.

“Of course…” you agreed, pointing at yourself, “ HR…confidential…” imitating closing your mouth as a zip, “It’s safe with me” you added, nodding. Given his pleasant nature, you wished you had known him better before.

“Speaking of Confidential…” Fox began, bending to his side“…there is another reason I called you up here…” he said, opening a drawer,  “A favor, more like…” Now highly curious, you leaned forward:

“Sir?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Okay...Breathe!” You muttered to yourself, as soon as the doors of the elevator opened. When Lucius Fox requests you to take a certain black box over to Bruce Wayne’s  penthouse, you could not refuse. Personally, you did not want to either. Yet, it raised one burning question.

“Why me?” You remembered inquiring in an instant, genuinely curious. Clasping his hands together, Fox smiled. “I’ve heard of your talent...”He said, “…with confidentiality...even from Ms. Foster. And so I don’t think I can trust this with anyone else but you...”

Pressing your pink lips together, you returned to the present as you stepped into the Wayne Penthouse. Ever since the fire that broke out at Wayne Manor, all were aware that Bruce Wayne stayed at his penthouse.

The click of your heels were louder than usual. And it was quite strange. “Mr.Wayne? Hello?” You cried out, looking around “ Anyone here?”

To your disappointment, no one seemed to occupy the place. Yet that certainly did not forbid you from your breath being taken away, for it was Bruce Wayne’s home. The penthouse was indeed gorgeous. And gigantic, of course, the he dream home you aspired to have. Maybe a tad bit fancier but nevertheless, you were awestruck. Putting your handbag and the other bag on the marble kitchen counter, your feet guided you around with your hands behind your back.

Fascinated by the loud clicks your heels emitted, you were suddenly urged to vocalize a number of distinct sounds.You snapped your fingers, eagerly listening to the effects that bounced back. Impressed by the sound effects, you felt at ease. You were entranced to the point to of imagining yourself to be the owner of this wonderful residence. In your mind, you were the hostess, surrounding yourself with guests of all classes and colors in your evening party. Smiling at your imaginary guests, you raised your imaginary champagne glass:

“Good Evening Everyone…Thank you so m-” “Ahem!”

You quickly spun to find an elderly gentleman standing behind you. Dressed smartly, he seemed quite familiar. Embarrassed, you chuckled nervously: “Sorry just that…” you muttered, “The acoustics here are just…bonkers” That was your defense, and it was very weak. Your inner self cringed hard.

However, the older gentleman smiled. “Couldn’t agree more, Miss…” he replied, “Bonkers it is…” Chuckling, you stood straight. “You must be Mr. Pennyworth…” You said, extending your hand out to him. Holding it, he shook it firmly, “Please call me Alfred…Miss-” You offered him your name. “I was asked...” you began, walking over to the counter, “...by Mr. Fox to deliver this to Mr. Wayne.” You said, pulling out the black box from your bag, “... But since he’s not here, I guess I could entrust this to you” “I will make sure Mr. Wayne gets it” Alfred said, taking it from you. Though relief washed over you, it did not feel like the time to leave. “To be quite honest...” you paused, folding your arms “I don’t know why Mr. Fox even entrusted me with this in the first place…” You said with honesty. With the same small smile on his face, Alfred put the box inside his jacket. “Perhaps you are highly gifted with the power of Trust…” He pointed out. Chuckling, you tapped your foot. “No wonder I do this job…” “Would you like some tea?” Your eyes widened with surprise as Alfred suddenly asked, “Would appreciate the company” Moved by his amiability, you smiled brightly, “Sure, why not”

Sitting by the marble counter, you willingly offered to serve him the tea in return, pouring it and fixing up with milk. Given the look on his face, it was safe to say Alfred Pennyworth enjoyed being treated. The conversation that took place in between consisted of your work history at Wayne enterprises, and his own history with the Wayne family. You were more than fascinated.

“...and I’ve been looking after Master Wayne ever since” Alfred said. Stirring the tea with a small spoon, you beamed. “Wow! Mr.Wayne is so lucky…” you began, “..to have someone like you by his side all this time. I’m glad” you added, sipping your tea. With your recent, secret discovery about Bruce, You meant it in every way. Alfred chuckled. “I’m finding it quite difficult to believe you’re the one called ‘the Bruiser’ in the news” “Ah!” Setting the tea down on the counter,  your eyes averted his gaze.  “You saw…” “I’m afraid I did” Taking another huge sip for courage, you looked over at Alfred. “Now I that I have your attention Alfred, I just gotta ask” you said, keeping your hands over your lap gracefully, “ Did my...little stunt upset Mr.Wayne?” You inquired, “ I really hope I didn’t give him a bad impression” You realized how concerned you were. His expressions were subtle, Alfred’s. Thus, his response was difficult to decipher. Setting his own cup and saucer on the tray, he turned his gaze to you.

“I know it is not my place to say, but I certainly don’t think you did” He answered. For some reason, the fact that the closest person to Bruce Wayne thought this way, brought a sense of assurance to yourself. You smiled fully.

“You’re too polite, Alfred” You murmured gently. Tilting his head, Alfred was curious. “And what makes you say that?” “Cause …” you paused, eventually smirking “...you’re British” A weak line, yet both of you could not stop chuckling.

“Would you like a biscuit, Miss?"


“Why yes, thank you…”

Biting into a soft buttery cookie, happiness coursed through you like the air into your lungs. It certainly felt a privilege to feel comfort in Bruce Wayne’s home. In Batman’s home? No! In Bruce Wayne’s home. You saw Alfred look down.

“Going to a birthday party?” He asked, pointing at the wrapped box that hid inside a shimmery paper bag. Giggling, you looked at him.

“Funny enough, it’s something close…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unpopular opinion it way be but, you had nothing against Hospitals. Nothing bad nor good, you were simply neutral to them. Even the smell never bothered you. Once you acquired the necessary information from a friendly administrator, you walked through the hallway over to the area of the hospital rooms. Excited you were beyond all measure.

However, the excitement was suddenly cut off when your phone rang. It was a number you had not saved. 

“Hello?” You answered with confidence,“Yes, this is she...who is this?”

“Uh…this is Blake....” a male voice answered back, “Officer John Blake...”

The speed of your walk began to decrease. You remembered this voice. In fact you instantly remembered his face. The face of the officer who had to apprehend you that fateful Friday night.

“Oh wow...Officer...” you began, thoughts suddenly turning blank “Umm...” Truthfully, you were speechless. Suddenly, multi tasking seemed so difficult as you were trying to scan every patients room you passed by.

“Ma’am...are you okay?” Blake inquired through the line. Stopping on your tracks, you sighed.

“I don’t know...am I?” Your own responsive inquiry seemed dramatic. “I’m sorry Officer...” You sighed, “I normally don’t have the cops calling on me like this...” Concerned, you continued, “I feel like Gotham PD is now under the assumption that I’m up to no good all the time ...” you said as you continued to walk in long strides.

“Oh trust me...” he chuckled but seriously at the same time, “We know you are not...” “Pardon?” Now your curiousity grew even more. Clearing his throat, Blake seemingly decided to avoid going further. “Would it be possible to schedule a meeting tomorrow?” he asked, “It’s urgent.” Finally stopping in front of one particular room, you felt your concentration shift somewhere else. “Sure, Officer…” you breathed, “ Come by tomorrow whenever...” “Thanks...” Hanging up, you smiled brightly at what you saw in the hospital room. You smiled at the beautiful woman sitting on the bed, cradling a baby in her arms. Feeling your attention on her, she caught your gaze. Holding the baby close to her, she smiled: “Look, baby....” she whispered, “Guess which Aunty is here to see you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If chance had permitted, You would have gone to see Lillian the very next night after giving birth. But with her own family members crowding her room, she insisted you visit her the day after, giving ample peace and quiet for the both of you to freely converse. And also, for you to fawn over her baby girl.

“Awww honey…you shouldn’t have…”

Lillian said, opening your box to pull out a pair of comfy pajamas, while you were busy holding the precious infant in your arms. You adored the way her big eyes looked into yours. As you held her, you wished for all your love and energy to flow into this little human, giving her enough strength and confidence to start a life as any amazing woman should, comprised of self worth and self love.

“As long as you like it, Lillian…” you said, looking at your Boss. Even without makeup, she still looked so beautiful. “She looks like you, you know” you pointed out, giving the baby to her. Looking at the little one, Lillian tilted her head in doubt. “Mom says she’s got Mark’s nose though…” “Huh!…” you muttered, looking up in mid-thought, “…maybe…” “Eh!” Lillian replied, as you chuckled together. Your smile did not seem to fade, sitting on the chair next to the bed. Finally, Lillian looked at you in all seriousness. “So…how’s the Consultant?” Sighing heavily, you took your shoes off. “Difficult…” you said, “It’s like Life just decided to put someone right in my face, just to question my every move…” you used your hands in exaggeration,  “and…Get this! She says I’m too amiable for a leader…” you added, making Lillian furrow her eyebrows, “Apparently it…” you took a breath to raise your voice, “‘shows weakness’ ” imitating Clara with air quotes. Lillian laughed out loud. She was one of the very few people who laughed at your jokes and adored your expressions. Come to think of it, her display of appreciation was quite similar to Bruce Wayne’s. Oh no! The mere image of his amused expression warmed your heart once again. This man, seriously. You breathed deeply. The baby cried, moving her arms about. Cradling her effortlessly, Lillian looked at you with a smile. “Well…” she began, “ If your job is to eat a frog, it’s best to do it first thing in the morning” Pausing, she anticipated your own response. Suppressing a smile, you leaned forward as you continued it for her: “And if it’s your job to eat two frogs,” you quoted, coming to realization, “ it’s best to eat the biggest one first…” you said nodding,  “Mark Twain…” you stated. Lillian chuckled. “Atta girl…” she said, clapping her thigh with one hand. You shook her head, smiling. Lillian would always throw all these trivia at you throughout the years, you finally ended up catching them. A heavy feeling silently entered your heart, forcing you to sigh deeply. “Ever since that incident with Henderson…” you said, rubbing your hands together, “I feel like my life is going through some changes…” you clasped them together, “I can literally feel it…It’s insane…” you added, crossing your legs. Lillian merely shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?” she said, “Maybe you are going through something…” she continued, “Something important…” That just caused you more pressure. What exactly was important? Was almost getting killed twice have something to do with it? Which led you think, why were you even targeted that way? But you did not want to go down that rabbit hole of curiousity. Not now. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” A middle aged man knocked on the open door, capturing both of your attention,  “I got a special delivery for a Ms. Foster….” Dressed in a gray jumpsuit, he read out from his clipboard: “…. from Mr. Bruce Wayne” Your eyes widened. Lillian merely scoffed in disbelief. “What could he possibly brin-Oh my God!” She exclaimed, the moment he brought in a huge box on a handcart. With a dropped jaw, you stood up in a flash. “A Stanley’s Deluxe Baby Crib.” You breathed, clutching your chest, “That is one expensive crib” “Please, let us know when you head home, Ma’am. Mr.Wayne has already paid the Delivery and Installation Fees for the Crib” the man said politely, as you took the clipboard to sign behalf of Lillian. Getting up from the bed, she held the baby as she looked at the box with shock. Once you watched the man leave, you looked over to catch Lillian’s happy expression. “Never knew Mr.Wayne would be this generous…” you said, to which Lillian laughed joyfully. “Well, if this is how he’s gonna thank me for working 20 long years here, then I’ll take it…Ooooh look at this, baby! This gonna be your bed…Thanks to Uncle Wayne!!” she was gleeful, running her hand over the box. Chuckling, you felt nothing but peace at that very moment. Lillian deserved this. And you were relieved Bruce Wayne felt the same.

Leaving her to rest, you walked out of the room, when the phone vibrated. Taking a good look, you involuntarily found yourself sink down to one of the waiting chairs in order to process what you just received. A text message.

Did Ms. Foster like the gift? This is Bruce Wayne, by the way.

Smiling so brightly at the screen, you were in complete disbelief of what you read. Never did you imagine Bruce Wayne to text. But also, with all sorts of online Messenger applications that now existed for phones, you never expected a classic phone text in this day and age either. With both your thumbs ready, you formed a response.

Pleasure to make your acquaintance on text :).  And yes, she loved it. But how did you know?

Pressing send, you got up, pleased to even receive a text of the sorts as you resumed to walk. Except the phone vibrated once again with his response.

Alfred.

You beamed. His answer made perfect sense for you did disclose to Alfred of your plans. While walking, you replied soon after:

That’s kind of him.

You wrote. Except before sending, you were tempted to write further:

But, wait! How did you get my number?

Now standing in front of the hospital elevator, it did not take long for the phone to vibrate once again.

Alfred.

Liar, you thought, chuckling. But his effort to be inconspicuous was what you appreciated highly. His own humor as well. The elevator opened and even closed after a minute. Yet you did not leave. For you just kept staring at your phone. There he was, Bruce Wayne, the man behind the mask of Batman, forming something as simple as a text connection with you. When you longed to connected with the Dark Knight, this gets handed out to you in a silver platter. The only difference being, him not really knowing what you actually knew. However, a part of you wondered if this was the opportunity you should grasp before it could slip out of your fingers forever. Taking a deep breath, your thumbs got to work:

Thank you again Mr. Wayne

With confidence, You pressed send. Along with that message, you sent out your full gratitude not only for the man who bailed you out, but also for the man who saved your life twice. And when the phone vibrated once again,  it was certainly the icing on top to a surprisingly lovely day.

You’re welcome.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moonlight filtered over the huge, open balcony in the exquisite mansion without any discrimination. The waves of the swimming pool below reflected on the older man who stood by the edge of the balcony, sipping a glass of whiskey in his silk night robe. Even in his lonesome, he could not find a shred of happiness to fill his face. How could he, when he always fueled himself with hate? Born into privilege like any one in a rich family, Erik Henderson was the type to be spoiled rotten, and grow cruel in the process. Growing old in that privilege, he certainly perfected getting away with anything. He had the wife, the son yet he was never fulfilled. For all he wanted was power. That also included power in the corporate world. For example, dominating his rival: Wayne Enterprises.

Though his nose was healed, the embarrassment he faced that fateful Friday night by the hands of a mere nobody, still lingered in his mind much more deeper than a scar. Inhaling through his teeth aggressively, he stared at the sky, delving into his hate in silence.   

“You called?”

Startled, Henderson spun around to face a dark figure hidden in the shadows. With it’s robotic and undecipherable voice, it finally forced Henderson to calm himself down upon recognizing the figure.

“Jesus!” he spat. “Could you stop doing that, Alpha?” “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid…”  the voice replied, nodding in apology. Gulping down the drink, Henderson slammed it on the drink trolley. “Two times…” he said, showing two stubby fingers,  “Two fucking times…and still you couldn’t kill her?”he snarled angrily, “WHAT DID I PAY YOU FOR?” “Correction…” Alpha replied, politeness balanced, “You only paid a fragment of what was promised, Mr. Henderson” Huffing in anger, the old man rubbed his temples. “At first you said a simple mugging job would do the trick…” he said, “And when that didn’t work out, I at least thought the sniper and your assassin would finish the GODDAMN JOB…” He scoffed in disgust, “But all of them were no match for her. Not with that Batman in the way…” with his hands on hips, he turned around, “I forgot that bastard was around…” he muttered to himself.

“Perhaps, I can step in instead…” Alpha’s reply made him turn back. The moonlight merely highlighted the outlines of the figure dressed in dark camouflage attire. The way it had disguised itself, deciphering its identity was a dead end.

“Given my observation…” it began, this is becoming much more interesting than one expected…” folding its hands, it continued, “Only with your generous payment, of course…”

Grunting in acknowledgment, Henderson pointed at Alpha.

“As long as you can get rid of her…” he demanded,  “No HR bitch from Wayne Enterprises is going to insult Erik Henderson…and keep on living!”

——————————————————

Chapter 5 HERE

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[smutbymia]

i need streetracer!mark & streetracer!reader enemies to maybe something more than enemies. hot, smutty & angsty. just wanna escape reality and live the go mv aesthetic in my imagination.

you kept your black baseball cap low as you stood in the audience that gathered at the end of the racetrack tucked away on the outskirts of your town. It was situated away from the suburban areas where up until now the city’s streetracers could do their thing away from prying eyes.

Cars flew by every minute or so and you watched the action carefully, making mental notes on each driver. You would be competing against some of them soon enough and you needed to be prepared because the stakes were always stacked against you and you refused to be underestimated by a bunch of guys.

You had learned how to race from your older brother streetracer!taemin who was undefeated for almost a full year back in his high school days before moving to Europe to participate in the most prestigious Grand Prix competitions. He was probably the only reason the race officiators allowed you to compete in the first place. However, after seeing what you could do on a racetrack there was no denying that you were more than capable to compete against the other guys your age and older despite the fact that they still often underestimated your abilities.

You watched as the winner crossed the finish line before doing one more victory lap and pulling over. The crowd exploded into cheers with people collecting the bets they had placed at the beginning of the night.

streetracer!mark jumped out of the driver seat with a smile on his face before being surrounded by the 6 boys you recognized as his crew. That cocky bastard, you thought to yourself as you watched him slip on a windbreaker over the white t’shirt he had on. His black hair was slicked back out of his face, taming his curls, and he rocked matching joggers and a pair of white sneakers.

Soon he was lost in the crowd. Whatever, it wouldn’t be long until you would inevitably cross paths on the track in the next coming weeks. The number of racers competing in the competition were dwindling down quickly as they elimated those who couldn’t place on the leaderboard after each race. Of all the years you had known Mark, you hadn’t raced him once. He certainly watched you drive from time to time just as you watched him but you couldn’t stand each other.

You turned to walk away from the crowd when you felt a hand land firmly on your shoulder. You stopped in your tracks before the familiar voice spilled into your ear as their arm snaked around your shoulder when the owner placed themselves at your side.

“Enjoy the show?” Mark asked, sneering as he continued to push through the crowd, walking with you towards a section of the parking lot where other racers who had come to watch parked their cars.

You groaned in response as he chuckled. “It’s not too late to drop out of the competition. Besides, your brother worked so hard to build up his reputation here. You wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin that would you?” he taunted. You spun around to face him as you shoved his arm off of your shoulder. Mark stumbled back laughing, knowing that he had hit a nerve. You were now standing by your car in the corner of the lot, almost everyone else had left so far and whoever remained was further down near the track, leaving the two of you alone in the shadows with only the moon giving you the little bit of light it had.

“This is the third race in a row where you’ve lost time on the third lap,” you began, “seems like that car of yours can’t keep up these days and seems like it’s much too late to make any modifications.”

Marks face dropped, and you could see the anger growing behind his expression. “You think a little lost time is going to make a difference when I race you? Quit while you’re ahead and maybe I’ll be nice enough to make you my trophy girl,” he said as he stepped closer to you, gripping your chin roughly between his fingers.

“You can’t drive for shit comparing to me, and you know it. Maybe you should give up on riding in cars and ride me instead, princess,” he said as his gaze dropped to your lips and you watched as his mouth lifted slightly at the corners. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and you were praying it didn’t show.

You were enraged. He never saw you as an equal no matter what. Your hand flew across his cheek with a loud slap and he barely reacted other than the soft hiss that escaped his lips. “Feisty bitch,” he murmured through clenched teeth. He didn’t even bother to run his hand across the area to soothe his own skin. Instead he grabbed your other hand aggressively, catching you off guard. You raised your dominant hand again to deliver another slap to his cheek to get him away from you but stopped suddenly when he pulled the hand he had grabbed towards himself, pressing it against the thin layer of his joggers, allowing you to feel the erection that had grown in his pants.

“Go ahead baby, hit me again if you want to. You’re real sexy when you’re mad,” he dared you as he used your hand to palm himself through his pants while he leaned against the hood of your car. You caught him off guard when you slipped your hands into his joggers, wrapping your manicured fingers around his shaft.

He sucked in a quick breath as you gripped him firmly and jerked him off slowly. He pressed his palms against the hood of your car as he dropped his head back, letting out soft moans. Sure you hated him but you couldn’t deny that he sounded so pretty in that exact moment. If mark wanted to play then you’d play with him, you thought.

You leaned over to whisper in his ear as you continued to pump at his cock, pre-cum wetting your fingers. “Mark, baby...” you cooed, as you planted kisses and soft licks against his neck. The boy was coming undone right in front of your eyes. You watched as he gripped at the metal of the vehicle, letting out soft whimpers before he answered you.

“Y-yes, y/n?” he stammered, gazing up at you. You could have sworn you saw his eyes sparkle, and it softened your expression momentarily before you snapped out of it. You were in the middle of a game, whether mark knew it or not, and you were planning on winning.

“You’re so big,” you cooed, along with other words of praise. Mark had reached one of his hands around to grip at your ass underneath the skirt you wore , squeezing and massaging it.

“And so... so pathetic,” you whispered into his ear. You felt his hand on your ass go still. “Do you really think you can beat me? Because I think the only thing you’ll be able to think about is my hand around your dick and my tongue on your neck the next time you get in that car of yours to race me,” you taunted viciously as you pumped furiously at his cock.

“You... fucking... bitch,” he said in between moans. You were lucky that the entire lot was now deserted, all the racers and spectators long gone.

You watched as beads of sweat trickled down the side of marks forehead as he stared into your eyes with the darkest expression you had ever seen.

“Look at you, about to cum all over yourself like a little boy... and you haven’t even played with my pussy yet,” you pouted. “That doesn’t seem fair, you know. I deserve to have something to think about the next time we race too, don’t you think?” you fake whined as you released him from your grip and slipped your fingers into your mouth, tasting the pre cum he had released. Mark bit his bottom lip as he watched you lick your fingers clean. You pushed him flat against the hood of your car before climbing into his lap and straddling him against the cool metal. You circled your ass into his lap against his throbbing erection keeping him just as hard as you needed him to be as you peeled off your shirt and marks, leaving you both topless.

Mark layed back on the hood of the car again, but this time you moved up his body to position yourself overtop his face before shifting your panties to the side. “Give me something to think about Mark. This is the only chance you have to prove to me that you aren’t as pathetic as I think you are. Show me that you’re good for something after all,” you said as you roped your fingers through his hair. He grunted before placing his hands on your waist and forcing you down against his mouth not wasting even a second teasing you. He lapped at your soft flesh, running his tongue between every fold of your center.

You couldn’t help it as moans escaped your mouth as he devoured you delicately, sucking your clit into his mouth as he nursed it between his lips. You grinded against his mouth as your wetness dripped from your core and onto his chin. He hummed against your skin, savouring your taste. He licked long slow strips up and down the length of your pussy, stopping to lick softly at your clit before dipping his tongue into your hole. You threw your had back in ecstasy as he worked it in and out of you. You could feel yourself getting close, so you took the opportunity to pull away from him.

You positioned yourself back over his dick, sinking down onto him now that you were dripping wet. He slipped in an out of you with ease as you rode him.

“This is what you wanted, right baby?” you asked him as you captured his mouth in a wet kiss, licking at the juices you had left on his face. He moaned into your mouth as he left one of his hands on your hip, moving you against him as he thrusted up into you and used the other to rub your face sweetly, letting his thumb drag across your bottom lip whenever you broke your kiss.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” he said as he struggled to hold off his release. You layed against his chest still riding him as you bit at his ear, whispering naughty words into it to work him up even more.

“Please, daddy,” you begged in your sweetest voice. “I want you to cum inside of me so bad!”

Hearing you call him that drove Mark crazy as he quickened his pace, rocking the car with his thrusts.

You moaned desperately in his ear as you circled your hips against his, as he thrusted frantically up into you. You could feel your orgasm coming on as you broke character for a split second. “You’re going to m-make me cum so hard, Mark,” you said as you hovered above him, staring deeply into his eyes as you reached down to kiss him, biting and sucking at the flesh of his lips. Sure you were still toying with him but you couldn’t deny how fucking amazing he felt sliding in and out of you. He let his hand come down against your ass with a loud smack and it was enough to trigger your senses, sending you over the edge as you felt your orgasm ripple through you.

“Fuck, baby...” mark groaned as he dropped his head back against the hood of your car, as his eyes fell closed. His hips jerked as he released his warmth up into you, sending a bit of it spilling back down over himself.

You watched as his chest rose and fell over and over again as he caught his breath. When he opened his eyes again, this time it was you who smiled down at him with a smug expression on your face.

“Good luck getting that out of your mind before race day, you asshole,” you said, dipping your head down to plant a soft kiss against his lips. He looked flustered and soft; nothing like the boy who had approached you earlier. Mark didn’t say anything in response, instead opting to pull you closer to kiss you some more. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to think about now was going up against you on the racetrack. He had a bigger problem to worry about because his heart was beating in a way it hadn’t before and he was worried about what that could mean for him.

You, oblivious to this, got up from the hood of your car before slipping your shirt back over your head as mark nervously did the same. He was still leaning against your car as you stood between his legs. Mark had his arms wrapped around you, holding you a little closer and a little tighter than you expected. It was almost as if he had grown attached. “Come on , I’ll drive you home,” you said softly. His friends had long since left with his car, probably expecting him to have caught a ride with some other girl.

“F-fine, but I’m driving,” he said softly sounding a bit dejected. He planted a final kiss on your lips, soft and slow as he drew circles against your cheeks with his thumb as your face rested in his hand.

Mark seemed to have lost the edge he possesed earlier as his cheeks went pink and he rubbed at the nape of his neck.

You slipped him your car keys, having decided not to argue with him as you both clambered into the vehicle and drove off into the night back towards the city. He hoped desperately that you had gotten the message behind his kiss and silently prayed that you also felt even a fraction of the feelings he knew he was quickly developing for you, for him too.

Angels, thanks for reading and thanks to the anon who put in this request🥺 leave me something in my inbox, babies. Love u bye -mia

The feedback on this was so lovely. You guys asked for a second part and it’s here!

Click here for streetracer!mark (pt.2): 2 Fast

[illlidans]

Buy used car tips

Action 1: Establish Your Spending plan You can purchase a used vehicle with cash money or by getting a vehicle loan. Presume which way is the smartest. We just advise spending for an automobile with cash money. No vehicle repayments right here! Yes, that suggests you'll have a severe damage in your cost savings, yet you'll miss the stress of investing thousands of dollars on car loan repayments monthly. Isn't that outstanding? For instance, if you borrow $10,000 for an automobile with a 5% rates of interest as well as a term of five years, you'll end up investing an added $1,322.74 in passion. Not so inexpensive anymore! However prior to you lose hope, remember this: You can find reputable pre-owned vehicles in any type of cost variety. If you're battling monetarily, you can locate an automobile to obtain you from point A to factor B for as low as $1,000 to $2,000. It might not be rather, yet you'll get by. If you aren't satisfied with the vehicles you can manage, bear in mind that you can take all that money you reduce vehicle settlements every month as well as stash it away for an upgrade. Just make it a top priority in your budget! P.S. If you need a budgeting tool, provide ours a test-drive in a Ramsey+ complimentary trial. It'll help you get going on ending up being debt-free and also functioning your method to the cars and truck you really want. Step 2: Find Your Perfect Vehicle When you have actually established your budget plan, you can locate your excellent auto. Not your dream auto. Your ideal car. It's the one that ideal fits your way of living and your reasons for buying it. Prior to you state your commitment to your favored vehicle brand, go back as well as have a look at the kinds of vehicles and what each was created to do. Trucks, as an example, were designed to lug goods and also hefty materials. So unless you're hauling heavy cargo regularly (you know-- crushed rock, lumber, blocks), do not buy a truck. For a great traveler lorry, stick with choices that are portable as well as energy reliable, like cars, hatchbacks or hybrids. Narrow down your choices with this fast list. Read through these declarations and also pick three that relate to your situation the most. Use your solution to assist choose which sort of cars and truck is perfect for you. ____ I want a vehicle with a lot of freight space. ____ I desire an automobile that can fit even more people. ____ I want a lorry with far better gas economy. ____ I desire an automobile that's very easy to enter and out of. ____ I want a lorry that's risk-free. ____ I want a lorry that's much better for the environment. ____ I want my lorry to lug heavy cargo. ____ I want to go off-road or on harsh terrain. ____ I desire my lorry to be compact as well as light for city car park. ____ I desire my car to have lugging abilities. As you choose your perfect vehicle, you'll have to make some sacrifices as well. You won't discover an automobile that does whatever. So prepare your heart for that. Be honest with yourself regarding your wants as well as your requirements, and believe long term regarding exactly how you'll be utilizing your automobile. Want to Save a Little Money? Obviously you do. So think about features you do not need your vehicle to have. Not simply technology like in-dash GPS, Bluetooth connectivity and also backup video cameras-- yet the basics as well. What kind of standard points? Well, take cylinders, for instance. Today, a 2011 Kia Sorento with 6 cyndrical tubes prices around $8,350 to $10,750.4 The exact same Kia with a four-cylinder engine? $7,750 to $10,150 (as well as these numbers change almost day-to-day).5 Though it might not feel like a great deal, you can take that added (virtually) $600 as well as put it towards your car insurance policy. Tip: Unless you're hauling hefty freight, simply stick with 4 cylinders. What concerning the transmission? Stick shifts are typically cheaper than automatics, some versions also improve gas mileage, as well as last but not least-- they're simply ordinary enjoyable to drive. As well as do you actually require four-wheel drive (AWD), or can you get by with front- or rear-wheel drive (2WD)? Unless you reside in the hills or handle great deals of rain, snow as well as ice on your commute, stick to front- or rear-wheel drive if you're simply driving in the city. Bonus Tip: When you're comparing different automobiles, do not neglect to think of insurance costs also. Deal with an independent insurance coverage representative who can help you save without shedding on protection on your cars and truck. Action 3: Buy a Used Automobile Now that you understand how much you can spend and also what kind of cars and truck cares for your requirements, you can begin buying. But initially, let's talk about two areas you ought to stay away from. New automobile dealers. Although a lot of new car dealers market utilized cars, they're always a lot more costly. Buy-here, pay-here great deals. These great deals refer to car dealerships that not just offer autos (get here) yet additionally use vehicle loan (pay here). You have actually seen these places. They generally have multicolor pennant streamers strung between light posts as well as a 20-foot blow-up gorilla trembling a "sale" indicator. Yep, you understand the kind. Stay clear of these lots as well. Their cars have a lots of surprise charges, and they likewise typically have less than a 48-hour return policy. With a little bit much more looking, you can locate better utilized cars somewhere else. Here are 6 places to begin your search. CarMax has a significant online stock and a very detailed cars and truck inspection. Carvana, like CarMax, has a huge supply and also does careful vehicle inspections. The difference is that Carvana is entirely an on the internet vehicle buying experience. And also Carvana delivers the cars and truck to you! Craigslist doesn't bill you a purchase fee (like ebay.com does). eBay Motors markets cars and trucks with online auctions and buy-it-now straight acquisitions. Display room grass can be dangerous, yet sometimes, the very best deals come from purchasing from an exclusive proprietor. Independent utilized vehicle dealers are likewise a clever area to look. Certain, you need to discuss with aggressive sales people, however you can certainly locate an offer at a strong car dealership. Step 4: Identify the Utilized Car's Worth Currently it's time to identify if the used automobile you have actually picked deserves the price. Collect all the info you can on the cars and truck so you can talk the vendor down to a much better deal. 1. Start with Kelley Directory (KBB). KBB uses data collected from real sales purchases and also auction prices to give you an exact price variety for the made use of cars and truck. 2. Buy a car history report (VHR). A good VHR prices regarding $50 as well as consists of mishap history, possession background, and also a lots of various other records. A VHR eliminates a great deal of uncertainty regarding the used car because it will certainly reveal you if the automobile has actually been in any kind of mishaps or has actually already invested a great deal of time in the shop. Vehicle Background supplies a totally free fundamental record, however if you will drop a couple grand on a used vehicle, purchase a detailed record from CARFAX. You'll require the VIN number (usually discovered beneath the windshield on the driver's side). Pro suggestion: If the VIN number has been damaged off or eliminated, don't buy the auto. That's a big warning. Possibilities are, the secondhand vehicle has actually been taken or the seller is concealing something. 3. Determine the possession price. That's what you'll spend to preserve the vehicle (oil modifications, new tires, liquid purges) as well as what long-term fixings you must anticipate for the make and design you're taking a look at. You'll likewise require to understand the costs and availability of substitute parts since parts for some automobiles are extra costly than others. You can make use of Edmunds Real Price to Own device to get a great price quote. 4. Discover on-line discussion forums concentrated on the used cars and truck. Virtually every design has an online forum with strings extending back a great while. Seek common concerns that owners have had with the type of automobile you wish to get. 5. Check the automobile's recall history. Don't think the vendor has actually dealt with a used automobile's security recalls. Actually, over 70 million vehicles get on the roadway with open recalls on them.6 And yeah, you guessed it-- people still try to market those automobiles without getting the recall fixed. So what can you do? Examine the National Highway Web Traffic Administration for your automobile's recall background (if it has one). 6. Request an insurance quote. Used cars and trucks are normally less costly to guarantee than brand-new ones. Actually, a 5-year-old auto is about 14% less costly to insure than its brand-new equivalent.7 If you already have insurance, ask how much your premium will certainly alter if you buy a certain make and also model. Work with an independent insurance policy agent who will do the buying you. Tip 5: Inspect the Made Use Of Auto Yourself Even if you're not a mechanic, you can use this listing of advice from the Department of Motor Automobiles to check for signs of damage and misuse. While none of these things alone should quit you from acquiring the automobile (except for major damage, like a blown head gasket), a bunch of these can stop you from buying somebody else's cars and truck trouble. Under the Hood Examine the oil level as well as color. Oil dipsticks lie near the engine (generally a yellow stick). Oil must be light brown. If there's no oil in the engine, that's a good sign this is a bad deal. Check the shade of the oil under the oil cap (located on the engine). If it's milky-- what some mechanics call "mayonnaise"-- do not buy the used cars and truck. If the oil is milk like, it's combining with coolant, a common indication of a blown head gasket (in some cases a $3,500 fixing). Check the belts. Belts lie around the engine, occasionally on the engine's side, so you may need a flashlight for this action. Belts ought to be smooth with no fractures. Broken belts aren't a bargain breaker, but you'll require to replace them quickly. Examine the transmission liquid dipstick (generally a red stick). Transmission liquid ought to be pink or red. If it's black and also smells burned, that's a poor indication. Transmission replacements are costly, so if you locate that the vendor hasn't replaced the fluid in a while, reevaluate buying the used cars and truck. Check the degree of the coolant. It needs to be between minimum as well as optimum. The coolant tank is someplace near the radiator. If you can't find the reservoir, ask the seller where it's located. Caution: Don't open the coolant cap while the engine is hot or if the automobile is running. Check the brake fluid. Make sure it's at the highest level. Outdoors Check out the cars and truck's paint work. Look for damages and also scratches. Check the tires. They ought to all coincide (not mismatched), as well as they should have also put on across the width. Look for scuffs, splits and cuts along the sidewall. Check the spare tire too. Examine the tail pipeline. If it's black, that indicates the vehicle is shedding oil-- an additional poor indicator. Open and shut the doors, as well as the trunk, fuel door and gas cap. Ensure they all job. Inspect the lights. Ask the vendor to run the directional signal, fronts lights and brake lights as you make sure (outside the car) that they function. Inside Take a deep breath. If the cars and truck smells mildewy or if you see mold under the seats, there's a likelihood the car has water damage that could bring about expensive electric problems. If there's an air freshener or if the cars and truck scents suspiciously scented, open the windows and also leave them open as you examine drive the car. When you're done with the test drive, you'll have the ability to smell the car's natural scent. Check the endure the steering wheel, seats and also pedals. Minor wear can be anticipated-- particularly if it's an older cars and truck. Lock and also unlock all doors. Make sure they function. Check A/C as well as heating. Everybody takes these things for provided ... till they don't function. Idle the cars and truck and watch the temperature scale. You do not want to acquire a pre-owned vehicle that overheats. See to it the radiator followers kick on when the temperature starts increasing. Step 6: Opt For a Test Drive When you're taking the vehicle for your initial test-drive, turn off the stereo and ask your guests (perfectly) to stay peaceful so you can pay attention for any problems. Before you test-drive, choose a route with hills, bumps and, yep, even potholes. Even if you intend to make use of the automobile on highways and level roadways, examination the auto on harsh roads to get a feeling of just how it handles the roadway.

Utilize your test-drive to respond to these inquiries:

Feel Exactly how does it feel on level roads? Smooth or bumpy? Just how does it feel when it hits a bump or pothole? Does it rock aggressively? Does the auto battle to pick up speed? Do the equipments transform smoothly? Is the brake squishy or also delicate? How does your body really feel after the test drive? Was the seat uncomfortable?

Sound Does the engine sound smooth when you increase? Does the engine rattle, knock or grind when you still? Are there resonances or weird noises under the hood when you speed up over 60 MPH? Do the brakes squeak?

View Can you see out of the cars and truck easily? Do you need to stress your neck to check your blind spots? Does black smoke come out of the exhaust when you begin the car or increase? Is the RPM gauge constant when you idle? Does it rise and fall way too much?

Smell Transform the cooling to a modest setting. Do you scent burning oil? Action 7: Take the Made Use Of Vehicle to a Reliable Mechanic If the car has actually passed your individual examination, great. Currently allow's see if it passes the technician's examination. If the vendor does not want an auto mechanic to evaluate the vehicle, that's a negative sign. Constantly have a mechanic check a secondhand car, regardless of the condition. A great auto mechanic will inform if you will purchase a trustworthy previously owned cars and truck or if it has any type of issues.

When it pertains to assessments, you have two options:

Take the cars and truck to a trustworthy garage. Most cars and truck garages charge a flat charge for checking made use of automobiles. They'll place the automobile on the lift, check for corrosion and also corrosion, as well as tell you if the utilized auto has extreme fluid leakages. If you're working with a private seller who does not desire you to take the vehicle off his/her residential property, established a mobile assessment. A technician will pertain to the vehicle, execute the examination, and print out the results. If a technician tells you the car has problems that surpass its worth, kindly tell the vendor you're no longer interested, or utilize that knowledge to reduce the asking price. Tip 8: Usage Arrangement Skills If you have excellent factors to believe the vendor must decrease the asking cost, you can utilize everything you've just learned about utilized automobiles as ammo to work out a far better bargain. Arrangements can be tough for people who don't like to be confrontational. Bargain like a professional with these 3 ideas. 1. Bring your research to the table. Allow's say the vendor wants $3,000 for his previously owned Volkswagen Jetta. Kelley Directory claims the ordinary rate range for that Jetta is $2,800 to $3,000. But you observed that the tires are bald as well as a front lights does not function. And also you review online that this version has troubles with radiator followers. Your VHR reveals no owner has actually ever before replaced the radiator followers. Ah-ha! Now you have actually got something. Bring all this details to the seller-- factor in the cost of tires, a front lights and a radiator follower-- and supply less. 2. Pay in cash money. Inform the seller you'll be paying for your used car in cash money-- just don't expose how much money you have. When vendors sniff eco-friendly, they're most likely to agree on your terms. 3. Hold your horses. If the vendor does not budge, you can leave. You have all the acquiring power. Most of the moment, they need your money more than you require their vehicle.

This article is written by https://allamericanexporter.com/

[scapegrace74-blog]

Saorsa, Chapter 21

A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  This is the chapter where I deny readers a description of the wedding, and then turn around and deny them the wedding night.  Really, it has no redeeming value whatsoever, except that it advances the plot.   I’ll make it up to you next chapter - promise!

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging!  It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

Claire lay in the lord’s bed at Lallybroch, the warmth of her husband radiating against her back.  She could tell by his breathing that he was not asleep.  He lay perfectly still, a discrete distance separating them.

It occurred to her that Jamie was the second man with whom she’d shared this bed in the past six months, and both were her husband at the time.  She was married to a man who had not fathered the baby she carried and whom she knew only marginally better than the man who had.  She was an Englishwoman responsible for a minor Scottish estate, a nurse who had saved just one life, but that life was now tied to hers until parted by death.

Jamie had proposed using a far more pragmatic view of their circumstances, and she tried to adopt his approach.  She needed help of the exact sort that he could offer.  He had no-one, and she needed someone.  It was the least romantic reason for marriage that she could imagine, and yet just this afternoon they had stood in the village kirk and nervously recited their vows.

I, Claire Elizabeth Randall (only Jamie’s eyes had flinched), take thee, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, to be my lawfully wedded husband.

She’d worn an ivory dress in the old style, loosened slightly to allow for the gentle swelling below her waist, and clutched a posy of cowslip and thistle.  Jamie had worn his Fraser plaid, his long auburn curls gathered at his nape, his cobalt eyes fixed on her like she was the pivot point of the universe.   She’d suffered a hundred bouts of cold feet since that moment four weeks earlier when Jamie had made his hesitant, key-inspired proposal, but that one look at the altar warmed her to her toes.   She was making the right choice.

Still, the wedding had almost not taken place because of a technicality.  Jamie was, for all intents and purposes, an undocumented alien.  He had no birth certificate, no baptismal records they could reference, nothing to prove that he existed in any official capacity.   No-one could doubt he was a Scot, with his heavy burr, fluent Gaelic, and Norse pedigree written on every sharp angle of his face, but in 1943 that was not enough to seek permission to marry.

A frantic call to Ned Gowan, and a solution was proposed.  If Jamie presented himself at the Registrar’s Office in Edinburgh, he could claim to have lost his official documentation and apply for an emergency replacement.  

They drove south on a Tuesday.  Ned agreed to meet them at a tavern to describe his cleverly concocted backstory of a home birth, illiterate parents and a house fire.   The trip down the motorway had left Jamie shaken and moody, complaining about the noise and filth of the large industrial city.   Claire listened attentively to Ned and thanked him profusely for his help.   She was coming to like the cunning little lawyer.

Afterwards, it was too late to attend at the Registry.  They ate a simple meal and then Claire arranged for lodging upstairs at the tavern.   As she signed the guestbook as Mr. and Mrs. James Fraser, the tavern owner glanced at her gold wedding band (she’d yet to take it off) and swollen belly, then at Jamie’s bare left hand, and grunted.

Just inside the room, Jamie paced and glowered.  She tried to ignore him, gathering a basin of water from the common watercloset and shedding her uncomfortable shoes.  As she began to let down her hair, his pacing ceased.  He looked positively scandalized.

“Just what do ye think ye’re doing?”

“I’m getting ready for bed.  You should consider doing the same.”

“We canna sleep in the same bedchamber!  Not when we’re nae marrit.”  His voice was a low hiss, as though a priest was listening at the door.

“We’ve done so before, when you were ill.  And the purpose of this trip is so that we can be married, or had you forgotten?  Besides, we’re already registered as Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, and we cannot afford a second room.  Just take off your boots, wash up, and try not to hog all the blankets.”  She flounced onto the hard mattress, knowing she was antagonizing him, but preferring his ire to his brooding silence.

“Christ.  Claire…  Mistress Beauchamp…” he broke off, huffing like an angry bull.

“I prefer Sassenach, if you don’t mind,” she interrupted snidely.

“Tis no’ right, Claire, and ye ken it.  I willna risk yer reputation…”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie, would you listen to yourself?!  My reputation is mine to risk as I see fit, thank you very much.  This isn’t the eighteenth century, and I don’t need you to protect my honour.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d gone too far.  His head snapped back as though she’d struck him.

“Aye.  Ye’ve made that perfectly clear.  I canna be ought but who I am, Claire.  I’d rather ye no’ mock me fer it,” he said angrily, his eyes hardening.

“I’m not your property, James Fraser.  I took care of myself long before you were around to sermonize and disapprove of me,” she retorted.

“Do ye no’ want to be wed, then?”  Just one more step, and they would be hurtling down a route from which there would be no returning.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Claire conceded, quieter.  She reached out a hand, trying to pull him towards her and make some sort of amends.   He ignored the gesture, tearing a blanket and a limp pillow from the bed and throwing them to the floor on the farthest side of the room.   She considered protesting, but then merely shrugged.  It wasn’t as though the bed would be much more comfortable.

“Suit yourself.   Goodnight, Jamie.”  She dimmed the oil lamp and listened to the angry scuffle of his clothing being rearranged.  

Her eyes were just beginning to droop when the darkness spoke. “I dinna like the deceit.  Lyin’ about who my parents were, where I’m from, who ye are tae me.  It curdles my gut.”

She rose up on an elbow and tried to see him through the moonlight coming through the sooty window.  “You don’t have to go through with it.  We can call off the wedding and…”

“No,” he interrupted.  “No, Sassenach.  That’s nae what I want at all.  I ken what is needed tae marry ye, an’ I’ll do it.  I just wish it werena necessary tae build something true on top of sae much falsity.”

She lay silent for so long, Jamie must have assumed she’d fallen asleep.  With a barely uttered “G’night, Sassenach,” he rolled over and did not stir until dawn.  She lay awake, watching blue shadows creep across the plaster ceiling.

A similar scene now played out in their marital bed, except this time she was fairly certain Jamie was watching the shadows with her.  She could feel tension radiating off him like radio waves.  An unexpected brush against her shoulder made her jump.  She peered backwards, watching Jamie rise to loom over her in his nightshirt, the whorls of his chest hair peering through the open collar.  A shiver ran through her like an approaching storm.

“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, Claire.  I wasna planning to suddenly force myself on ye.”

“I never thought you would,” she responded honestly.  Of all the musings that kept her awake on her wedding night, having to manage the advances of a suddenly amorous bridegroom did not factor.   Jamie had never treated her with anything but the utmost decorum.  Even when the priest had invited him to kiss his new bride earlier today, he had done little more than carefully press his dry lips to hers for a breathless second, before pulling back and tucking his chin to his chest, grinning bashfully.

“I ken ye may have… questions,” Jamie continued.  “About how we shall get on as husband and wife.  And I’ll do what I can tae answer them fer ye.  But fer now, fer t’night, wi’ the bairn and all that’s happened tae ye…  Did ye want me tae sleep in my room?  Leave ye in peace?”

“This is your room now.  I want you to sleep here.   Everything else, we can work out later.”

“Aye.  T’morrow.  And all the days after that.  G’night then, Sassenach.”  He settled back against the pillows.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

[whatiwillsay]

submission: Hello I Did A Giant DWOHT analysis for you to share

Looking at it through a lens of it being about Kaylor but with the context of Swiftgron: (you can put the Read More wherever you want)

I loved you in secret1

First sight2, yeah we love without reason

[1]

Wildest Dreams: “I said ‘no one has to know what we do’”

Ready For It: “I-island breeze and lights down low / no one has to know”

Dress: “Our secret moments in a crowded room / They’ve got no idea about me and you”

King of My Heart: “Late in the night, the city’s asleep / Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep”

Secret love is a theme that seems explicitly connected to Karlie. There’s not much mention of it in any 1989 song except for Wildest Dreams, which I’d argue, was written early into Karlie and Taylor’s flirtationship where, after Dianna, Taylor was unconvinced that her love with another woman would lead to anything long-term. Wildest Dreams talks about her seeing her relationship with Karlie as a temporary thing that has to end eventually. Ready For It connects to this almost word for word. 

Dress talks about being in a situation with someone where you are both friends, and possibly hooking up, but that line between friendship and relationship hasn’t explicitly been crossed yet. I’m assuming the connection between “say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress” and “I only bought this dress so you could take it off” is on purpose. Taylor was making the most of their limited time together, still not seeing it going much further.

King of My Heart is clearly about Karlie, if not just for the connection to the city. It also connects to the timeline of how they got together, detailed in various songs across reputation and Lover, where they sit on the roof and have a serious conversation before they fully jump into things. 

So first line = about Karlie.

[2]

illicit affairs: “It’s born from just one single glance / but it dies and it dies and it dies, a million little times”

I haven’t been through illicit affairs thoroughly enough yet to confirm that it’s about Karlie, but I would say the song leans that way. 

However, “without reason” seems to connect to Wonderland in so many places, but especially given the context of the line before, specifically to “Didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ / Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? / Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

So, with that in mind, this line could refer to either Dianna or Karlie, but I’m going to go with Dianna, based on the line that follows:

Oh, twenty five3 years old

Oh, how were you to know? And

[3] Taylor was twenty five when Kissgate happened. However, Dianna was also both twenty five when she started dating Taylor, and twenty five when Shirtgate happened. I think this line could be taken as her talking to either herself or Dianna. 

However, it should be kept in mind that Taylor rarely refers to the ages of her lovers in her songs, preferring instead to refer reflexively to herself – “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty two” “I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything” “When you’re fifteen” “It’s like I’m seventeen, nobody understands.”

The “how were you to know” also seems to imply a sense of youthfulness and naivete. Whoever was twenty five wasn’t old enough to know what would happen. Perhaps here she’s reflecting on the fact that now, at the same age that Dianna was when they began dating, she seems to know just as little. While Dianna may have seemed older and more worldly to her when they started dating, now at the same age, Taylor has made the same mistakes she did. I think here she is talking both to Dianna and to herself.

My love had been frozen4

Deep blue, but you painted me golden5

Oh, and you held me close

Oh, how was I to know?6 I-

Okay, there is so much work that metaphor is doing in these three lines here, so let’s go through them one by one.

[4] Ice and frozen-ness as a theme doesn’t really show up until reputation. However, knowing that Dianna is often associated with water/a storm throughout Red and 1989 makes this line interesting. On one hand, Taylor could be saying here that whatever water/storm that was her love for Dianna had stopped moving, which is backed up by the fact that throughout the Speak Now album, Taylor refers to someone being “cold” when they are at a low point, or a relationship is dying. 

On the other hand, there’s the whole metaphor of the “fishbowl” from the Lover music video and that being a representation of glass closeting. 

Taylor confirmed that this room represents the 1989 Era.

Because of this, the water metaphors get a little tricky, ESPECIALLY as it connects to the songs New Years Day and Paper Rings, because an icy pool also shows up in those stories:

Paper Rings: “In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool / When you jumped in first, I went in too”

So jumping into a pool seems to be a symbol for commitment, Karlie and Taylor jumping into glass closeting together… except that makes no sense for the timeline. Kissgate happened nearly two months before this pool jumping incident. So that leaves us with two options:

New Years Day (and by extension, Paper Rings) are about Calvin Harris, who she was dating at the time this story takes place.

Taylor lied about this pool story. It isn’t real, but it IS a metaphor.

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: “It was so nice throwing big parties / Jump into the pool from the balcony / Everyone swimming in a champagne sea”

TIWWCHNT explicitly connects the year 2015 to Taylor throwing wild parties and “feeling so Gatsby,” as Taylor looks back on it as a time before Kissgate or #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty where she was having a carefree amount of fun and didn’t have to face consequences for things.

For me, this suggests that the pool/balcony story/metaphor takes place in 2014/15 rather than 2016, that it IS about glass closeting during the 1989 era, and that, metaphorically, it refers to jumping into things while Taylor was still grieving the loss of Dianna (hence, why the water is icy and cold).

[5] As we know from the song Red, losing Dianna the first time was a blue like Taylor had never known. While many people say blue is a romantic color representing Karlie/Joe, I don’t think this origins of the theme can be ignored, especially since Taylor brings the red/gold metaphor throughout even her most recent work. The “but” in the line is also doing a lot of work here, referencing some sort of contrast between the blue and what happens next. This gives this line two interpretations:

Taylor was still feeling the blue of losing Dianna when she met Karlie, but started dating her anyways.

Karlie herself was blue over something, but still found it in her to paint Taylor gold anyways.

I’m inclined to believe the first interpretation, as that lines up the most with the idea of Taylor’s love being frozen.

[6] Here Taylor repeats the sentiment, only this time referring to herself. To me, this means that the first “25” was indeed referring to Dianna, which I think confirms that the events of Kissgate made Taylor look back either on her relationship with Dianna and how it started OR, possibly, Dianna’s experience during Shirtgate, where afterwards she had to be shoved far back in the closet. 

This makes there a parallel set of questions here:

How were you (Dianna), at twenty five, supposed to know what would happen if you dated me/wore that shirt onstage?

How was I (Taylor), at twenty five, supposed to know that my glass closet with Karlie Kloss, who had healed my hurt from Dianna, was going to come crashing down so quickly?

Could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket7

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it8

I had a bad feeling

[7] While some wild Kaylors think this may refer to an actual locket, I think more likely this is a reference to glass closeting, as it is immediately juxtaposed with the image of someone’s (Karlie’s) hands in her pockets. This is a specifically physical gesture, and one that can be seen by other people. What is hidden is the romantic aspect of it, which is represented by the one locket Taylor can’t wear (a good metaphor considering she has matching necklaces with all her beards). This is the reality in which Taylor wanted to spend forever. 

[8] What I think is most interesting about this section of lyrics, though, is that it seems to imply Karlie was telling Taylor everything would be fine, despite Taylor worrying that what happened with her and Dianna (gossip mags outing them and them having to break up) would happen here. I think this is likely because Karlie’s one other big relationship, with Toni Garrn, was also done in a big glass closeting way, and Karlie was now with her (likely permanent) beard Josh. Karlie assumed things were going to be fine. Taylor, who had alternative bad experiences that ruined her relationship with Dianna, had a bad feeling.

And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis9

People started talking, putting us through our paces

I knew there was no one in the world who could take it10

I had a bad feeling

[9] This is nearly the exact same phrasing as in Ready For It: “Island breeze with lights down low, no one has to know.” The connection between those lyrics and this song implies that the events preceding Kissgate were still early in their relationship (more proof that there was some overlap with Dianna).

The word “scared” here also continues to play into Taylor’s obsession with deconstructing Christian/religious imagery (ex/ Don’t Blame Me). 

[10] Once again, this suggests Taylor is looking back on her relationship with Dianna here. She knows there is no one in the world who can take it, because she’s already been through it with someone else.  So, when whispers started up before Kissgate (keeping in mind Taylor’s team probably knew as soon as the L Chat started talking about them), Taylor could feel things start to go downhill again, despite what Karlie said.

But we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied11, hands tied

Yeah, we were dancing

Like it was the first time12, first time

Yeah we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

Yeah, we were dancing

And I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing13

[11] This imagery is so connected to the “invisible locket” in the first verse. I do not believe the first chorus refers to Kissgate specifically (I agree with Cam’s assertion on the podcast that Kaylors have this big tendency to assume Taylor is speaking about public moments in her songs). Rather, I think them “dancing with their hands tied” refers to having a relationship while glass closeting. They are doing something fun and wild, but not quite free, still limited in certain ways. However, after keeping her relationship with Dianna so (relatively) private and it still falling apart, I can see how glass closeting so openly with Karlie would’ve felt like “dancing” in comparison. 

[12] Here again is the implication of naivete. Taylor knows it is not the first time. She has experiences that tell her this is not wise, and indeed her intuition is saying the same, and yet she is acting as if she has learned nothing from her relationship with Dianna, or even Emily, for that matter. Once again, think back to Wonderland: “Didn’t it all seem new and exciting? / I felt your arms twisting around me / I should’ve slept with one eye open at night.” Taylor has already been through this with Dianna, caught up in the excitement, unable to listen to her intuition, going into things too quickly.

[13] This confirms that statement. Taylor’s intuition is telling her that they are getting too reckless in their glass closeting, but she is having too much fun dancing, despite the limitations, to really listen to it. And this is where the Kissgate imagery comes in, because with Josh Kushner (Karlie’s insurance) literally standing right behind them the whole night, the 1975 concert becomes the perfect (and public) representation of this, which is perhaps why Taylor chose dancing as a metaphor to begin with:

I loved you in spite of

Deep fears that the world would divide us14

So, baby can we dance

Oh, through an avalanche?15And

Say, say that we got it?

I’m a mess, but I’m the mess that you wanted16

Oh, ‘cause it’s gravity

Oh, keeping you with me,17 I–

[14] Here Taylor displays some awareness that outside circumstances had quite a lot of a role to play in the end of her relationships. This especially reminds me of how she framed her relationship with Dianna in Wonderland. It is no one’s fault. It is the circumstances of their relationship, and yet, despite that, they “pretended it could last forever.” 

Taylor admits this, too, in the 1: “If one thing had been different / Would everything be different today?” To me, this implies that it was not their incompatibility that broke them up, but the one circumstance of the setting of their relationship (whether it being gay – think Taylor’s laments in The Man – or them both being celebrities, you take your pick). 

[15] So, with the things that drove her and Dianna apart in mind, Taylor returns to the metaphor of the snowglobe from You Are In Love (“You two are dancing in a snow globe, round and round”), which itself is another representation, like the fishbowl, of a glass closet. Here, Taylor asks Karlie if they can keep dancing once the snowglobe is shaken and the snow starts flying. Think again of the metaphor of the New Year’s Eve party – Taylor associates their early glass closet relationship with snow and frozen-ness because thoughts of Dianna were still lingering, even up to this point. Even in little tiny frozen flakes, the water was still there.

[16] I think this line may refer to a conversation between Karlie and Taylor before Kissgate, where Taylor voiced these fears, a “mess” of anxiety, and became scared Karlie would leave her (think The Archer). 

This could also refer to Taylor still being “a mess” about Dianna when she got together with Karlie.

[17] Karlie is the sun. Taylor is merely orbiting. Throughout this song, the implication is that Taylor has been listening to Karlie, taking cues from her, following her plan, despite her own intuitions. Think hoax – “You knew you won, so what’s the point of keeping score?” – despite the games Karlie and Taylor were playing early in their relationship, and despite Taylor still having feelings for Dianna, Taylor fell for Karlie harder and faster than Karlie fell for her, and most likely this was why she jumped in headfirst without listening to her intuition.

[Pre-Chorus and Chorus repeat]

I’d kiss you as the lights went out18

Swaying as the room burned down19

I’d hold you as the water rushes in20

If I could dance with you again

[18] Reference to the supposed kiss during the 1975 concert. Now, while I don’t believe there was actually a kiss that night, I think here Taylor is lamenting that, in her regrets and in her mind, she wishes she actually had kissed Karlie openly that night, as the rest of these metaphors are merely hypothetical.

[19] Okay, so here we go. Karlie as the “fire” time! Let’s look at this progression of lyrics that lead up to this song, not looking at when these songs were written, but just how the metaphor progresses:

This Is What You Came For: “Lightning strikes everytime she moves”

Dress: “And, if I get burned, at least we were electrifying”

Wildest Dreams: “You see me in hindsight / tangled up with you all night / Burning it down”

I am not including Call It What You Want here and the most obvious metaphor, because that one clearly takes place post-#TaylorSwiftIsOverParty. 

Either way, it seems clear that Taylor saw their early relationship as something dangerous and electrifying, that the room “burning down” was an inevitability in Wildest Dreams (think Blank Space’s “So it’s gonna be forever, or it’s gonna go down in flames”). Here, it is almost implied that Taylor didn’t sway with her as the room burned down, that they both actively distanced themselves from “the room” and avoided getting burned:

[20] This line puzzles me the most, because immediately, in context, it reminds me of Clean, but clean wasn’t about facing media scrutiny with Dianna, Clean was about getting over Dianna. In Clean Taylor doesn’t hide away from the water the way she seems to have in the fire metaphor above. She let it wash over her. 

Perhaps a case could be made that the situation of Clean was something that needed to happen due to media scrutiny, and that then here Taylor references getting ready to be separated from Karlie and get over her, but that doesn’t work because the line specifically says she’d hold her as the water rushes in. Same works for applying any sort of metaphor for it to Dianna. 

However, I will admit that Wonderland’s “You held on tight to me / ‘Cause nothing’s as it seems / And spinning out of control” does paint a nice parallel to this lyric. Still, in Wonderland there was the difference of Dianna holding onto Taylor as things got out of control, whereas in this song, Taylor wishes she had been able to hold onto Karlie. This makes sense with the timeline, as Taylor didn’t consider herself “over” Dianna until nearly a year after their supposed February 2013 breakup date, and Style was certainly written somewhere in that year. Dianna kept trying to make things work, even after the article came out about them. Taylor wishes, in the aftermath of Kissgate, that she had done that too with Karlie.

So, perhaps, this is a metaphor for the fishbowl/snowglobe breaking? Certainly Kissgate shattered their glass closeting. The grieving theme of Clean could still work here, as Taylor grieves what was her relationship before that night happened, only this time the relationship doesn’t have to end, it just gets to evolve. If the glass closet breaks, the snow globe shatters, they would’ve been out of the closet. Taylor seems to regret that here, saying that, were she to have another chance, she’d come out with Karlie then, instead of the bearding with Calvin Harris that followed.

To me this also implies that this song was written with a lot of hindsight to that moment. We have no idea when this song was written, but I would guess it’s sometime in 2016 or late 2015, after Calvin entered the picture and Taylor was shoved back into the (non-glass) closet. I think that moment is what makes the most sense for why she would’ve been reflecting on Dianna so much, as she was back in a similar situation as she was when she was with Dianna bearding-wise.

So, in conclusion, I would say this song describes the beginning of the push and pull that would eventually break Karlie and Taylor up. Taylor looks back regretfully on the glass closeting and wishes she could return to those times, if not come out herself. Karlie, on the other hand, reveled in the glass closeting specifically because she had Josh as an airtight escape plan. Obviously this would all break them apart later, when Karlie chose that escape plan over dancing with Taylor again.

And then there’s the Dianna piece of it. In reflecting on her past relationship with Dianna, I think Taylor came to the conclusion (based on the parallels with Wonderland in this song), that Dianna would have also held onto her as the water rushed in. While I think it’s unlikely this would happen, the conclusion of Taylor’s fantasy here seems to imply that Dianna would’ve been more open to coming with Taylor in the way Karlie could/would not so in conclusion… Dianna is the red rose in the lakes confirmed?

I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah we love without reason

  [1]

Wildest Dreams: “I said ‘no one has to know what we do’”

Ready For It: “I-island breeze and lights down low / no one has to know”

Dress: “Our secret moments in a crowded room / They’ve got no idea about me and you”

King of My Heart: “Late in the night, the city’s asleep / Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep”

  Secret love is a theme that seems explicitly connected to Karlie. There’s not much mention of it in any 1989 song except for Wildest Dreams, which I’d argue, was written early into Karlie and Taylor’s flirtationship where, after Dianna, Taylor was unconvinced that her love with another woman would lead to anything long-term. Wildest Dreams talks about her seeing her relationship with Karlie as a temporary thing that has to end eventually. Ready For It connects to this almost word for word. 

  Dress talks about being in a situation with someone where you are both friends, and possibly hooking up, but that line between friendship and relationship hasn’t explicitly been crossed yet. I’m assuming the connection between “say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress” and “I only bought this dress so you could take it off” is on purpose. Taylor was making the most of their limited time together, still not seeing it going much further.

  King of My Heart is clearly about Karlie, if not just for the connection to the city. It also connects to the timeline of how they got together, detailed in various songs across reputation and Lover, where they sit on the roof and have a serious conversation before they fully jump into things. 

  So first line = about Karlie.

  [1]

illicit affairs: “It’s born from just one single glance / but it dies and it dies and it dies, a million little times”

  I haven’t been through illicit affairs thoroughly enough yet to confirm that it’s about Karlie, but I would say the song leans that way. 

  However, “without reason” seems to connect to Wonderland in so many places, but especially given the context of the line before, specifically to “Didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ / Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? / Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

So, with that in mind, this line could refer to either Dianna or Karlie, but I’m going to go with Dianna, based on the line that follows:

  Oh, twenty five years old

Oh, how were you to know? And

  [1] Taylor was twenty five when Kissgate happened. However, Dianna was also both twenty five when she started dating Taylor, and twenty five when Shirtgate happened. I think this line could be taken as her talking to either herself or Dianna. 

  However, it should be kept in mind that Taylor rarely refers to the ages of her lovers in her songs, preferring instead to refer reflexively to herself – “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty two” “I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything” “When you’re fifteen” “It’s like I’m seventeen, nobody understands.”

  The “how were you to know” also seems to imply a sense of youthfulness and naivete. Whoever was twenty five wasn’t old enough to know what would happen. Perhaps here she’s reflecting on the fact that now, at the same age that Dianna was when they began dating, she seems to know just as little. While Dianna may have seemed older and more worldly to her when they started dating, now at the same age, Taylor has made the same mistakes she did. I think here she is talking both to Dianna and to herself.

  My love had been frozen

Deep blue, but you painted me golden

Oh, and you held me close

Oh, how was I to know? I-

  Okay, there is so much work that metaphor is doing in these three lines here, so let’s go through them one by one.

  [1] Ice and frozen-ness as a theme doesn’t really show up until reputation. However, knowing that Dianna is often associated with water/a storm throughout Red and 1989 makes this line interesting. On one hand, Taylor could be saying here that whatever water/storm that was her love for Dianna had stopped moving, which is backed up by the fact that throughout the Speak Now album, Taylor refers to someone being “cold” when they are at a low point, or a relationship is dying. 

  On the other hand, there’s the whole metaphor of the “fishbowl” from the Lover music video and that being a representation of glass closeting. 

  Taylor confirmed that this room represents the 1989 Era.

  Because of this, the water metaphors get a little tricky, ESPECIALLY as it connects to the songs New Years Day and Paper Rings, because an icy pool also shows up in those stories:

  Paper Rings: “In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool / When you jumped in first, I went in too”

    So jumping into a pool seems to be a symbol for commitment, Karlie and Taylor jumping into glass closeting together… except that makes no sense for the timeline. Kissgate happened nearly two months before this pool jumping incident. So that leaves us with two options:

  New Years Day (and by extension, Paper Rings) are about Calvin Harris, who she was dating at the time this story takes place.

Taylor lied about this pool story. It isn’t real, but it IS a metaphor.

  This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: “It was so nice throwing big parties / Jump into the pool from the balcony / Everyone swimming in a champagne sea”

  TIWWCHNT explicitly connects the year 2015 to Taylor throwing wild parties and “feeling so Gatsby,” as Taylor looks back on it as a time before Kissgate or #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty where she was having a carefree amount of fun and didn’t have to face consequences for things.

  For me, this suggests that the pool/balcony story/metaphor takes place in 2014/15 rather than 2016, that it IS about glass closeting during the 1989 era, and that, metaphorically, it refers to jumping into things while Taylor was still grieving the loss of Dianna (hence, why the water is icy and cold).

  [2] As we know from the song Red, losing Dianna the first time was a blue like Taylor had never known. While many people say blue is a romantic color representing Karlie/Joe, I don’t think this origins of the theme can be ignored, especially since Taylor brings the red/gold metaphor throughout even her most recent work. The “but” in the line is also doing a lot of work here, referencing some sort of contrast between the blue and what happens next. This gives this line two interpretations:

Taylor was still feeling the blue of losing Dianna when she met Karlie, but started dating her anyways.

Karlie herself was blue over something, but still found it in her to paint Taylor gold anyways.

I’m inclined to believe the first interpretation, as that lines up the most with the idea of Taylor’s love being frozen.

  [1] Here Taylor repeats the sentiment, only this time referring to herself. To me, this means that the first “25” was indeed referring to Dianna, which I think confirms that the events of Kissgate made Taylor look back either on her relationship with Dianna and how it started OR, possibly, Dianna’s experience during Shirtgate, where afterwards she had to be shoved far back in the closet. 

  This makes there a parallel set of questions here:

How were you (Dianna), at twenty five, supposed to know what would happen if you dated me/wore that shirt onstage?

How was I (Taylor), at twenty five, supposed to know that my glass closet with Karlie Kloss, who had healed my hurt from Dianna, was going to come crashing down so quickly?

  Could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

  [1] While some wild Kaylors think this may refer to an actual locket, I think more likely this is a reference to glass closeting, as it is immediately juxtaposed with the image of someone’s (Karlie’s) hands in her pockets. This is a specifically physical gesture, and one that can be seen by other people. What is hidden is the romantic aspect of it, which is represented by the one locket Taylor can’t wear (a good metaphor considering she has matching necklaces with all her beards). This is the reality in which Taylor wanted to spend forever. 

  [2] What I think is most interesting about this section of lyrics, though, is that it seems to imply Karlie was telling Taylor everything would be fine, despite Taylor worrying that what happened with her and Dianna (gossip mags outing them and them having to break up) would happen here. I think this is likely because Karlie’s one other big relationship, with Toni Garrn, was also done in a big glass closeting way, and Karlie was now with her (likely permanent) beard Josh. Karlie assumed things were going to be fine. Taylor, who had alternative bad experiences that ruined her relationship with Dianna, had a bad feeling.

  And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis

People started talking, putting us through our paces

I knew there was no one in the world who could take it

I had a bad feeling

  [2] This is nearly the exact same phrasing as in Ready For It: “Island breeze with lights down low, no one has to know.” The connection between those lyrics and this song implies that the events preceding Kissgate were still early in their relationship (more proof that there was some overlap with Dianna).

  The word “scared” here also continues to play into Taylor’s obsession with deconstructing Christian/religious imagery (ex/ Don’t Blame Me). 

  [2] Once again, this suggests Taylor is looking back on her relationship with Dianna here. She knows there is no one in the world who can take it, because she’s already been through it with someone else.  So, when whispers started up before Kissgate (keeping in mind Taylor’s team probably knew as soon as the L Chat started talking about them), Taylor could feel things start to go downhill again, despite what Karlie said.

  But we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

Yeah, we were dancing

Like it was the first time, first time

Yeah we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

Yeah, we were dancing

And I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing

  [2] This imagery is so connected to the “invisible locket” in the first verse. I do not believe the first chorus refers to Kissgate specifically (I agree with Cam’s assertion on the podcast that Kaylors have this big tendency to assume Taylor is speaking about public moments in her songs). Rather, I think them “dancing with their hands tied” refers to having a relationship while glass closeting. They are doing something fun and wild, but not quite free, still limited in certain ways. However, after keeping her relationship with Dianna so (relatively) private and it still falling apart, I can see how glass closeting so openly with Karlie would’ve felt like “dancing” in comparison. 

  [2] Here again is the implication of naivete. Taylor knows it is not the first time. She has experiences that tell her this is not wise, and indeed her intuition is saying the same, and yet she is acting as if she has learned nothing from her relationship with Dianna, or even Emily, for that matter. Once again, think back to Wonderland: “Didn’t it all seem new and exciting? / I felt your arms twisting around me / I should’ve slept with one eye open at night.” Taylor has already been through this with Dianna, caught up in the excitement, unable to listen to her intuition, going into things too quickly.

  [3] This confirms that statement. Taylor’s intuition is telling her that they are getting too reckless in their glass closeting, but she is having too much fun dancing, despite the limitations, to really listen to it. And this is where the Kissgate imagery comes in, because with Josh Kushner (Karlie’s insurance) literally standing right behind them the whole night, the 1975 concert becomes the perfect (and public) representation of this, which is perhaps why Taylor chose dancing as a metaphor to begin with:

    I loved you in spite of

Deep fears that the world would divide us

So, baby can we dance

Oh, through an avalanche? And

Say, say that we got it?

I’m a mess, but I’m the mess that you wanted

Oh, ‘cause it’s gravity

Oh, keeping you with me, I–

  [3] Here Taylor displays some awareness that outside circumstances had quite a lot of a role to play in the end of her relationships. This especially reminds me of how she framed her relationship with Dianna in Wonderland. It is no one’s fault. It is the circumstances of their relationship, and yet, despite that, they “pretended it could last forever.” 

  Taylor admits this, too, in the 1: “If one thing had been different / Would everything be different today?” To me, this implies that it was not their incompatibility that broke them up, but the one circumstance of the setting of their relationship (whether it being gay – think Taylor’s laments in The Man – or them both being celebrities, you take your pick). 

  [3] So, with the things that drove her and Dianna apart in mind, Taylor returns to the metaphor of the snowglobe from You Are In Love (“You two are dancing in a snow globe, round and round”), which itself is another representation, like the fishbowl, of a glass closet. Here, Taylor asks Karlie if they can keep dancing once the snowglobe is shaken and the snow starts flying. Think again of the metaphor of the New Year’s Eve party – Taylor associates their early glass closet relationship with snow and frozen-ness because thoughts of Dianna were still lingering, even up to this point. Even in little tiny frozen flakes, the water was still there.

  [3] I think this line may refer to a conversation between Karlie and Taylor before Kissgate, where Taylor voiced these fears, a “mess” of anxiety, and became scared Karlie would leave her (think The Archer). 

  This could also refer to Taylor still being “a mess” about Dianna when she got together with Karlie.

  [3] Karlie is the sun. Taylor is merely orbiting. Throughout this song, the implication is that Taylor has been listening to Karlie, taking cues from her, following her plan, despite her own intuitions. Think hoax – “You knew you won, so what’s the point of keeping score?” – despite the games Karlie and Taylor were playing early in their relationship, and despite Taylor still having feelings for Dianna, Taylor fell for Karlie harder and faster than Karlie fell for her, and most likely this was why she jumped in headfirst without listening to her intuition.

  [Pre-Chorus and Chorus repeat]

  I’d kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I’d hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

  [3] Reference to the supposed kiss during the 1975 concert. Now, while I don’t believe there was actually a kiss that night, I think here Taylor is lamenting that, in her regrets and in her mind, she wishes she actually had kissed Karlie openly that night, as the rest of these metaphors are merely hypothetical.

  [4] Okay, so here we go. Karlie as the “fire” time! Let’s look at this progression of lyrics that lead up to this song, not looking at when these songs were written, but just how the metaphor progresses:

  This Is What You Came For: “Lightning strikes everytime she moves”

Dress: “And, if I get burned, at least we were electrifying”

Wildest Dreams: “You see me in hindsight / tangled up with you all night / Burning it down”

  I am not including Call It What You Want here and the most obvious metaphor, because that one clearly takes place post-#TaylorSwiftIsOverParty. 

  Either way, it seems clear that Taylor saw their early relationship as something dangerous and electrifying, that the room “burning down” was an inevitability in Wildest Dreams (think Blank Space’s “So it’s gonna be forever, or it’s gonna go down in flames”). Here, it is almost implied that Taylor didn’t sway with her as the room burned down, that they both actively distanced themselves from “the room” and avoided getting burned:

  [4] This line puzzles me the most, because immediately, in context, it reminds me of Clean, but clean wasn’t about facing media scrutiny with Dianna, Clean was about getting over Dianna. In Clean Taylor doesn’t hide away from the water the way she seems to have in the fire metaphor above. She let it wash over her. 

  Perhaps a case could be made that the situation of Clean was something that needed to happen due to media scrutiny, and that then here Taylor references getting ready to be separated from Karlie and get over her, but that doesn’t work because the line specifically says she’d hold her as the water rushes in. Same works for applying any sort of metaphor for it to Dianna. 

  However, I will admit that Wonderland’s “You held on tight to me / ‘Cause nothing’s as it seems / And spinning out of control” does paint a nice parallel to this lyric. Still, in Wonderland there was the difference of Dianna holding onto Taylor as things got out of control, whereas in this song, Taylor wishes she had been able to hold onto Karlie. This makes sense with the timeline, as Taylor didn’t consider herself “over” Dianna until nearly a year after their supposed February 2013 breakup date, and Style was certainly written somewhere in that year. Dianna kept trying to make things work, even after the article came out about them. Taylor wishes, in the aftermath of Kissgate, that she had done that too with Karlie.

  So, perhaps, this is a metaphor for the fishbowl/snowglobe breaking? Certainly Kissgate shattered their glass closeting. The grieving theme of Clean could still work here, as Taylor grieves what was her relationship before that night happened, only this time the relationship doesn’t have to end, it just gets to evolve. If the glass closet breaks, the snow globe shatters, they would’ve been out of the closet. Taylor seems to regret that here, saying that, were she to have another chance, she’d come out with Karlie then, instead of the bearding with Calvin Harris that followed.

  To me this also implies that this song was written with a lot of hindsight to that moment. We have no idea when this song was written, but I would guess it’s sometime in 2016 or late 2015, after Calvin entered the picture and Taylor was shoved back into the (non-glass) closet. I think that moment is what makes the most sense for why she would’ve been reflecting on Dianna so much, as she was back in a similar situation as she was when she was with Dianna bearding-wise.

  So, in conclusion, I would say this song describes the beginning of the push and pull that would eventually break Karlie and Taylor up. Taylor looks back regretfully on the glass closeting and wishes she could return to those times, if not come out herself. Karlie, on the other hand, reveled in the glass closeting specifically because she had Josh as an airtight escape plan. Obviously this would all break them apart later, when Karlie chose that escape plan over dancing with Taylor again.

  And then there’s the Dianna piece of it. In reflecting on her past relationship with Dianna, I think Taylor came to the conclusion (based on the parallels with Wonderland in this song), that Dianna would have also held onto her as the water rushed in. While I think it’s unlikely this would happen, the conclusion of Taylor’s fantasy here seems to imply that Dianna would’ve been more open to coming with Taylor in the way Karlie could/would not so in conclusion… Dianna is the red rose in the lakes confirmed?

[border-spam]

Leech Lord: Allies

Troy

Gar is about as native as a Pandoran can get, and has for years had a very soft spot for the bratty King.

He's old colonist, thinks his parents might have been with Atlas on one of the many failed corporate town setups that plagued Pandora 30-ish years ago. He was too young to remember who's banner they flew under when his family stepped out of the shuttle and onto the dust planes they’d been instructed to settle, just that things went wrong fast and anyone still alive 18 months later had needed to adapt quickly to what constitutes living on this planet.

He was drawn to the Holy City for the same reasons as most survivalists, it was an opportunity for safety and a roof over your head. Not needing to fight to eat or scrabble to stay alive is a blessing for most Pandorans, and he's one of the thousands who live within the walls who don't quite worship the twins as Gods, but praise them as holy... because the twins gave them a chance to have a home. Wether they are deities or not isn't a factor in the loyalty they've’ earned.

He's skilled with food. Knows how to spice spoiled flesh to hide the rot, pickle cactus root and delicate rock blossoms for long storage, or how long rakk wing needs to be slow roasted to turn from gamey string to meat that melts in the mouth.

Like most in the HC, he ended up where his skills have value and has ran the kitchens in the Grand Cathedral since its founding bricks were set.

It didn't take very long for him to find Troy in it one night - picking through ingredients and half finished dishes in the early AM.

While he'd expected to need to drop to his knees and grovel, the God King had seemed more embarrassed than anything, awkwardly explaining he hadn't eaten that day and asking if there was anything left from the after sermon banquet. 

His eager politeness had hit Gar hard, but his reaction to finding out the leftovers had been destroyed was what left a lasting impression.

Gar had thought the twins affluent spoiled little shits who'd hit things lucky on Pandora and been clever enough to know how to use their wealth to culture worship, so when Troy was genuinely upset to the point of disgust that food had been wasted like that? It changed his perception immediately.

This wasn't the reaction of some egotistical little shitbag from a wealthy background, this was the visceral panic and anger of someone who'd starved before, who understood the insult of food being destroyed when there were so many hungry... when he'd known hunger.

It took less than 24 hours for the kitchen policies to be changed and Gar's team to find out nothing was to be wasted. Uneaten and unused stock was to be transported at end of day to the Slums from now on, where it would "Bolster the flesh of the faithful."

Every time he finds Troy hunting through his kitchen at 4 am over the years, their chats grow a little longer.

By late COV, Gar's meals delivered to his sanctum are some of the only things God King Calypso still trusts enough to eat.

Tyreen

Xanshi Ur-Vendit is obsessed with the God Queen.

As her Saint of Marketing, he's got both her ear and a position of high authority within the organisation that he covets viciously, and takes great personal offense towards newer Saints he doesn't deem worthy of the title.

His pedigree speaks for itself, the man had quite a reputation on Promethea among the media departments of the high corporations. An expertly trained and cut-throat money maker that was the exact kind of egotistical, nasty piece of work that would be drawn to the God Queen's side.

Has direct tie in's with the esteemed Katagawa family, something he's used to his benefit throughout his career.

He fawns over her, she can do no wrong around him, and he spends as many hours of the day as he can trailing behind her heels like a lapdog, reaffirming her beauty and intelligence and infallibility with every breath he can manage between the underhanded threats he aims towards anyone possibly about to draw her attention away from him.

Hates Troy. Fucking hates him.

Too much of a hole-sucking little coward in his $60k three piece suit to actually do anything about it of course, but he takes plenty of his vitriol out on Troy's departments instead.

Marketing has such massive reach within the internal structure of the COV that he's able to throw his weight around far more than some of her other Saints, and regardless of if they actually like him, they tend to back Xan and his opinions automatically.

A huge amount of the conflict between departments and heads is driven by this imagined competitiveness, that Troy's people, Troy's chosen, must in some way be inferior to Tyreen's.

Xan is her right hand in his own mind, he's her holy knight. If she holds too much misplaced love for her brother to see how pathetic he is in comparison to her radiance, then it's up to Xan to keep Troy's people in place...

In reality? Tyreen isn't even invested in him enough to remember Xanshi's full name.

Seifa

Sei makes friends in low places far easier than higher ones, always has. People at the bottom of the ladder, folks who have struggled? They recognise each other. Doesn't matter where on the scales they currently stand, there's an unspoken nod, a side glance. You see your own - even if who you are has been lucky enough to change over time.

While she's never been in one place long enough to set up a friend network before that was tangible and not based on e-comms and data feeds, she's woven one since settling in the HC without really even noticing it was happening.

One-hand Jim in the King's Call, that high end rave bar near the cathedral grounds. Not so gruff now he's not drowning in debt, few more smiles while he's mixing cocktails.

Cleo in munitions stocks, breathing a bit easier since her son landed that underling role in the Mechanica, more food on the table with less worry.

Feliz and Irgo running deals in the western slum backstreets. Not competing against the HammerClaws for territory anymore since JK "got wind" of the shit they were cutting their gear with and had Vanguard waiting at their quarters for a polite discussion about unspoken laws. What Fe and Iggy are selling isn't exactly high quality but at least it won't rot your brain inside the skull.

Sei will tell you she's a lone wolf. She'll insist she’s a one woman show, runs shit on her own and doesn’t need others.

But watch closely when out with her in the city, check how often she buys a drink, how often it's not on an invisible tab the barstaff nod knowingly about as they hand her glass over with a smirk.

She's never asked to pay.

That should tell you plenty.

Seifa and Tyreen

- Early COV

"Ty, you ever wish you were born a guy?"

Of all the things Tyreen had expected to hear from Sei tonight, that... wasn’t it. She stopped reading the same piece of nonsensical math in the sheet she was holding to gawk at Seifa instead, staring at the other woman’s back as she continued to work on the data records they'd been passing between them all evening.

"No.. god. What, and look like Troy?" she snorted with a wince. "Nooooo thanks" Ty sighed as she leaned back and heard her stiff spine pop, waiting for a response that didn't come. She felt a pang of concern as Sei's shoulders sank a little lower in front of her, deflating.

This wasn’t normal, where was the bitchy retort, or joining in on insulting her brother? She shuffled together the files and stood, walking to her friend's side and sitting slowly next to her in the quiet of the twin's shared office. Sei still hadn’t responded, pretending to be completely absorbed by the notes she stared at. Ty cleared her throat with a cough.

"Uhhh.. why?"

Seifa silently reached to her side to take the offered files from Ty as she sat, pointedly not making eye contact, though the younger woman picked up on the redness in them easily enough.

"Sei, I need to have someone's hands cut off?" 

Ty pouted, hitting her mark as Seifa failed to completely hide a smirk in response.

"I need to have someone thrown into a pit? Huh? C'mon Sei, talk to me. You always tell me I need to talk more about things that me down, right?" she weedled, hands clasped over her heart as she faux whined, earning a quiet laugh from her companion.

"Oh god Tyreen SURE, if you'll shutup." Sei groaned, leaning back in her chair and running hands over her eyes. She was tired. Beyond tired, really. Always said she knew how to not outstay her welcome but had been wondering recently if that had ever been true. Day to day in the cult, managing people she’d never meet and holding the weight of more responsibility than she’d ever wanted was eating at her. Had been for some time. Nights like this helped, shooting shit with Tyreen, bitching, sometimes gently bullying Troy together if he’d decided to grace them with his janky presence, but still.. it was heavy, and Seifa was tired. 

"Ahh.. just the usual shit" she whispered, thumbing through the papers as Tyreen leaned a little closer, as much of a comforting presence as she could muster all things considered. An arm around the shoulder or gentle stroke of hair wasn’t an option. All Ty had was words and honestly, they weren’t exactly her forte.

“It's just like. Sometimes when I'm talking, and it's about something they think I shouldn't know shit about, like how Burgess is spending too much of your budget on expensive, low grade gear-assemblies when if we went off brand I can prove it would be better, they just zone out."

"It's like.. if they thought I had a cock, if I was 6'4, they'd be listening. " she added, eyes burning again.

She groaned, leaning over the table and resting her cheek across her folded arms.

"I got so angry. I'm used to dealing with it, it's always happened, but I just boiled over. This week has been.. long, I guess." she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Tyreen watched quietly. "I ate into him in front of like, 6 other people Ty, couple of heads were there. That doesn't help my reputation does it.. that's just making shit worse. I'm sabotaging myself. They think I'm a bitch already without me starting a fight and stirring the pot."

Tyreen shifted in her seat, eyes thoughtful as she rested her chin in her hands, elbow propped on the table edge.

"Nah. "

"Just sounds like they're dumb. I keep telling Troy we need people with actual brains leading this shit Sei, if you're getting ignored cause you have tits? Haha. Wait till they meet me in person. " she grinned, a genuine act peeking through her usual haughty persona as Seifa chuckled.

"I mean my rack is way bigger than yours, you're flat as a fuckin' plank in comparison."

Asks are Open!

[an-actual-angel]

Pretty Baby Chapter 4 & 5

Warning: Smut

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.”You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers. 

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KOFI

Chapter 4 - Little Trouble Girl

Into the night. The city was still very much alive and awake. Bright lights, passing vehicles, all of the regular hustle and bustle.

The quickest way to get to Emily would be to take a bus. No one would recognise you, you could be an android? No, they all look similar. They would ask questions about your make. You also feared your oversized jacket might make you look suspicious. You had no phone to order a self-driving taxi and payphones were a thing of the past. Androids didn’t need them, they could quite literally call one with their mind.

You had no other choice but to walk, and what a long walk it would be.

You had a rough idea about the general direction you were headed but were not 100% sure. You did think to use the maps at the bus stops that showed the bus routes for directions. Every now and then stopping at them to make sure you were headed the right way.

After a while your feet grew tired, it felt like you had been walking all night. You were still so far from the adoption centre. Your mind had wondered to your owners, would they be angry if they found out you had run away? Would they even notice you were gone?

It doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. The only thing that matters is finding Emily. There were tales of humans in the wild, forming tribe like societies far from the android civilisations. Maybe you two would be lucky enough to stumble upon one.

You didn’t have much of a plan when it came to breaking her out. You hadn’t really thought that far ahead. You wouldn’t be able to just waltz in and take her. You wouldn’t be strong enough to fight off androids or skilled enough to break in or sneak her out. Maybe you could start a fire? You knew the fire safety protocols like the back off your hand. Maybe when the humans had all been taken to the designated safe place outside the building you could sneak her away?

No, it’s too dangerous, too risky. You didn’t want anyone to end up hurt.

The streets all began to feel the same to you. Where you lost? You couldn’t seem to find another bus stop around and to add to that you felt exhausted. Maybe you should find somewhere to rest for the night and start again in the morning.

You would have to be cautious when picking a space to rest. Homelessness didn’t really exist in this android utopia. You would be spotted as a human immediately.

A dark alley behind an android restaurant was your choice. Sneaking behind a large trash can. It wasn’t ideal but it was sheltered. You supposed you ought to get used to sleeping rough anyway.

You rested your head on your backpack and snuggled in close to the black woollen coat you were wearing. Hoping for a better tomorrow, you allowed your eyes to shut.

...

You awoke a few hours later to the sound of heavy footsteps. Before you could think or have time to register the sound, hands gripped at your wrist pulling you upwards. A tall android wearing all white stood above you gripping your wrist almost too tight.

“I got it, Bill.” He shouted looking over his shoulder to another android dressed in similar attire.

Perhaps if it hadn’t of been so dark, you would have noticed the CCTV camera point to the exact spot you chose to lay for the night.

Great, somebody must have called the damn pound on you.

The two androids brought you to the “Animal Centre.” A place for lost and endangered animals and humans alike.

“You should be more careful.” One of them spoke. “A young thing like you, you could get hurt.”

Was that supposed to be helpful? You tried to pull your wrist away from his grip.

“Easy now.” He shushed you while directing you towards a glass cell. The other android, Bill, following behind with a small white device in his hand. The first android pushed you to sit down on a bench like bed while the other gripped your arm. You struggled, kicking and flailing your arms and legs around.

“It’s okay, we’re just trying to check your chip.” The android holding your arm spoke softly trying to calm you. The device beeped as he pressed it to your inner forearm.

Every human was chipped after birth. All your information put on the chip, which regularly got updated. another way of androids to keep tabs on humans.

“We got it. Now that wasn’t so bad huh?” He patted your shoulder, you flinching away from the touch. Both androids walked out of the cell, leaving you inside. It reminded you of being back at the adoption centre, being man-handled and put on display. Again.

“Don’t worry, we’ll contact your owners. You’ll be safe and home again in no time.” Bill smiled and walked away.

Your owners? Oh no.

___

The drive back to the house was quiet. Richard sat in the front seat not speaking a word. The tension, suffocatingly thick.

“Do not breathe a word of this to Connor.” Was all that was said to you upon his arrival to the shelter.

Your stomach was in knots. For some strange reason, you felt guilty. You looked over at Richard, his mouth a thin line and his brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered out, you’re voice slightly cracking.

He ignored you.

“I just wanted to see my friend.” Your shaky voice continued as you attempted to explain yourself.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this whole thing is?” He eventually spoke out. “We have a reputation in this city, and if our human is being seen running away…” He trailed off.

“Well maybe if you didn’t ignore me all the time.” You mumbled under your breath while looking out the window. Your fingers tracing over the door handle.

“You know my pet, my audio sensors are a lot more powerful than you would think.” His eyes darted to you.

Your shoulders tensed up as you gave him a guilty look. You felt exposed under his gaze.

“I understand you may be bored but you are being fed and kept safe.” You sighed at his response and rested your head against the car window.

“You can act upset all you want but you are still in trouble. Don’t think you are going to get out of this unpunished.”

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5 - He hit me and it felt like a kiss

The apartment was empty, apart from you and Richard. No one could save you from whatever act of punishment he decided to give you.

You feared the worst. Was he going to hurt you?

His grip was on the back of your neck, it wasn’t too tight but it was strong enough to guide you to where ever he wanted. With his other hand, he pulled a key from his coat pocket. A key to what exactly? Well, your question was soon answered with him leading you to his bedroom and unlocking the door.

A part of you was excited to finally see inside his room, another dreading it.

What was so bad it needed to be locked away?

Well, nothing apparently… The room looked normal. Well, over the top luxurious but nothing about it was strange or frightening.

The room was quite dim, the large curtains had still been pulled leaving the lamp sitting on his gold-accented bedside table to be the only light source. Your gaze had been drawn up to the abstract paintings that hung around the room. Everything was so immaculate and pristine, perhaps Richard locked his room to keep it in this condition? It was a theory anyway.

You were soon snapped out of your wonderment when Richard grabbed your wrist and pulled you down across his lap as he sat down on his plush bed. His strong hands positioning you to lay just right. It took a while for your mind to catch up to what was going on. You were still partly confused as he pushed your skirt up revealing your ass. You blushed hard as you felt the cool air graze your skin.

Was he about to-?

Smack. His firm hand hit against your cheek.

At first, you were stunned. Did he really decide on spanking you as a punishment? You used to get smacked when you misbehaved as a young child. This wouldn’t be too different? Would it?

Smack. It was a little harder than you remembered, but then again, less force was needed for a child’s punishment.

Smack. It actually was starting to hurt. Smack. You let out a soft whimper.

“After all we do for you…” Richard hissed at you.

“Feed you.” Smack.

“Give you a home.” Smack.

“You will obey.” He smacked upwards against your ass this time, the slight change in motion felt… strange.

“You will show respect.” He smacked you the same way and continued to do so.

You felt, different. This was different.

Smack. You felt a growing fluttering warmth inside.

Smack. Your breath hitched as you accidentally let out a low hum.

It even startled Richard but he shook it off and smacked you again.

A different type of whimper escaped your lips this time.

Richard’s brows furrowed. His LED flickered between yellow and red. It took him a minute before he understood. Oh.

You covertly peeked over your shoulder to figure out why he had suddenly stopped, completely oblivious to the absolute conundrum you had started in Richard’s mind. His hand hovered above your thigh as you could see the look of confusion on his face. Yet he was curious. His LED settled on yellow as he gently stroked his hand over your sore skin. You let out a soft hum to this interaction. Richard’s eyes dart over to your face, you hiding it just in time so he wouldn’t notice your staring.

He gives your ass cheeks as small experimental squeeze. He watches as your body relaxes into him. He is even more curious now. Richard strokes his hands down your legs, exploring the length and moving between your thighs. He hovers just above where your legs meet, almost waiting for permission to further his exploration.

When your hips move up to meet his touch, he accepts this as his invitation. Slowly he pulls down your underwear to your knees, no need to go any further. This is all just an experiment.

His long fingers brushing lightly against your soft folds. He lets out a small gasp at your wetness. Richard begins petting and stroking you ever so tenderly. You moaning against his lavish touches.

The sounds you make, Richard hasn’t heard anything like it before. He never really showed much interest in pornography or a sex life of his own even after deviating. He thought it to be too unnecessary and too messy, too human. But this time, just this once, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him.

He allows one of his digits to slip inside you. You exhale heavily in return. He pumps it gently inside you before adding another.

You purr into the sheets, still laying across his knees.

He likes the strange sounds you make.

He pumps his fingers into you faster now, allowing them to be fully slicked up. Still being careful not to go too hard against your delicate pussy.

Your mind felt hazy, almost like in a dream, this was new. It was different. It was exciting. What did it all mean?

His fingers curved upwards, touching that very delicate spot inside you.

You feel something building up and up until you are overcome with a new sense of warmth, tingling all over your body. Your muscles flop as you finish your song of moans. You lay still forgetting where you are, until hands grip at you again, this time more gentle.

Richard places you into his bed, pulling the soft black duvet over you. Your eyelids fluttering as you look up at him. His LED still yellow.

“Get some rest.” Was all he said before leaving you alone in his room. His getaway, quick. Was he embarrassed? Should you be? So many questions still on your mind, but your eyes were heavy and you felt overcome with tiredness now. You allowed your head to settle into the feathery pillow.

Your questions could wait till later.

________________________________________________________________

Notes// they're both fuckin virgins lol  Also, this is my first time writing anything smutty so, sorry if it's bad 😅

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[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Lovers and the Heroes (Jaskier x reader, Part 4.)

Description: Geralt of Rivia isn’t always there to watch over Jaskier, his best, yet incapable bard friend. Sometimes, when the Witcher knows that there is bad blood between the bard and someone else, he writes a contract and offers a job - silently watching over Jaskier traveling the roads.

Part Summary: You might have been too much into protecting the bard to notice the shadows lingering above you. But that wasn’t supposed to last for too long.

Warnings: Some murder and death. Some mild gore as well.

A/N: Inspired by Tomorrow I’ll leave Blaviken for Good and Everytime You Leave by Sonya Belousova and Giona Ostinelli from Netflix’s Witcher original soundtrack. Also, I got pretty emotional while writing this particular part. 

Word count: 2.7 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​ @marioverthere​

Series master list: H E R E

The sun was setting down and even if you knew that your contract will end as soon as both you and the bard enter the free city of Novigrad it still all felt like a whole infinity. At least one half felt like having all the time in the world, the more logical part of you knew that. The emotional side was afraid that you don't have enough time to do anything.

At the start, you had mostly neutral feelings towards Jaskier - the goal was keeping him alive. As the first day passed, he proved himself to be a good actor and to be a man who wouldn't let you do bullshit alone. The second day, Jaskier had shown you, that he can be a friend to you (not that you needed one) and that he really appreciates your help with his escort. And the other two days... Well... Let's say you got even closer.

Slowly, as you graced the roads to Novigrad, you started to talk. Hums and ahems started to form words, words like yes or no started to form sentences. Jaskier was a curious man and asked a lot - and for the first time in a long time, you had no problem with answering these questions. Sometimes you even asked him things. Like why did he like chose to be a traveling bard and if he had home, family, woman, someone to go back to. You got to the more harsh topics - like your family, your past, motivation, just those weird and mostly uncomfortable ones.

The bard was a pain in your ass, but he found his way to make you smile and feel more in ease on your travels. One time, he even bought you a small gift on the market - it was a pear, but for all you cared, he knew you liked them. You felt easier about yourself and your whole nature. When you saved his ass in the woods, you hoped that he won't become your friend - and no matter how hard you tried, the man just crossed all the lines you draw in front of him to stop him.

You didn't trust any man other than your king. Your former king, to be exact. But Jaskier seemed to be kindhearted and caring in general, making you think that maybe you were wrong about men. There were bad men, just as there were good ones and that was something completely unknown to you. It was only your personal fight going on inside your head that you saw all the darkness in the world, refusing to look into the light behind it.

You had all the time in the world left, yet it wasn't enough for you. You were so lost in your thoughts, that you hadn't noticed the footsteps noise right behind you. You just held a leather bag full of fresh food in your hands, continuing to make your way to the inn hidden in the woods, where you and the bard were safe.

Or at least you thought you were.

You knew that something's wrong when you felt a hand on your shoulders, pushing you down into the grass. Your hands let the bag go, as your back fell onto the ground. It hurt so bad.

The apples were in the grass around you, but you were too mesmerized by the woman kneeling on your chest. You couldn't move nor breathe; you just watched as the last rays of sunshine fell on her face.

It was her. Surely, it was her. You wouldn't change her face with anyone else. The blonde hair, fair skin, blue and green eyes. Her sharp features were full of small freckles and her lips were still as rosy as you remembered them. The only thing you didn't recognize was the scar on her face, continuing down on her body, under the light steel armor she had on.

"Iola? Iola? Is that... Is that you?" - You breathed out shakily and your eyes got watery. You rarely cried. But this was too intense for you. The woman kicked your hip and you moved away from her, catching your hurting side. - "I thought I lost you. That night in Redania. You fell off the tower to the flames. I've seen it." - You slowly got on your knees, looking at your former friend, mission partner and... Lover.

Your heart ached for her warm hug and kiss on the ear, just as she always used to kiss you when you two were all alone. You weren't Faltest's assassins at those moments. You were just two women in a loving embrace, falling asleep.

"I was there for more than a year and you didn't come back for me. Ivan did. I was so dumb that I was hoping... Oh, listen to this. I was hoping that you'll come back to save me." - Iola growled at you before she ran into you, trying to get you on the ground once again. Without a problem, since you knew the way she thought, moved and attacked, you maneuvered her attempt perfectly. The intuition was something that you had to master over the years - just as she did.

"Foltest needed me, Iola. He was my king and I was a soldier who was in his service. There was no room for a romantic relationship or lost lovers." - You told her with confusion. Iola opened her mouth and then laughed with total coldness. She was the one you saw behind Foltest’s chambers door. It had to be her.

"Foltest needed you? Oh, dear. Nice bedtime story, now try the one about Witchers and priestesses, will you? But look at you now - where did you end up? Look at yourself, Y/N. You're not that knight in shiny armor anymore, you're just a piece of shit." - Iola took another dagger from her back and played with the weapon in her palm. You mirrored her actions and took your dagger out as well.

Both of you leaped off the ground to take each down. There was only goal was set on both your minds - to kill each other. Your fight wasn't a kids game anymore as it was the day before. No. Now, you were both off to slice each other's throats in the worst way possible.

You were both trained by Temeria's top assassins who had tens, sometimes even hundreds of murders on their accounts. You would never give up without a fight. And that fight could take hours. But that wasn't a time to stop or to just call it off.

"You could find me yourself. I was here the whole time." - A low hiss came out of your lips when your daggers crossed under her throat. Iola looked into your eyes and exhaled loudly. Her blue eyes looked directly to yours just seconds before she pushed you off - and scratched your face in the meanwhile.

You stood so close that you could feel her warmth on your body, her moves and touches were delicate, as always. She moved like a dancer, performing the best and last show of her life. And she was still as beautiful as ever before. You didn't understand how could be tearing your eyes off someone so hard.

No matter how much you wanted to give up and get under her spell, you still reminded yourself that you're fighting for your life. There was a small moment when Iola tried to catch her breath - that played in your cards since in that small moment, she was pushed down onto her back.

You took the dagger back to your palm, pressing it onto her throat.

"It was you, all the time, wasn't it? The meeting of free bards, Foltest's castle, the horse chase... You fucking bitch." - You mumbled angrily and before you knew it, Iola pushed you down harshly, punching you to the nose. A loud crack could be heard and you felt hot blood brushing down our of your nose hole. You coughed our loud and before you could catch your breath, a low chuckle could be heard. - "Why the fuck would you come after me? You have literally any reason to do so."

"I won't let a woman who can destroy my king's reputation with spilling out a single secret running around the Continent." - Iola said without any motion in your voice before her wrists circled around your neck. - “I already killed the other three. Anyone will threaten Foltest with spilling out such a secret.” - You gasped for air, but your mind was somewhere else. 

A secret? King's secret? You knew exactly what secret Iola had on her mind. There were five secret keepers in Foltest’s service - you, her, Andrzej, Gregorz and Krzys. The men were obviously dead, just as Iola told you.

It was a strange secret, you needed to say, but you would never do that. Why would you tell Foltest's secret to anyone? You were loyal to your king - he gave you everything you had. Foltest gave you home, house, family, and love your father was supposed to give you.

You would never tell his secret to a living soul. You would rather die than telling anyone.

Everyone knew Foltest had a daughter - and that she turned into a monster called Striga, which lived in the old royal palace at the moment. Foltest wanted to save his baby girl - so he tried to find anyone that would've saved her. Some said Foltest paid Witchers, some said he was paying to knights, some were telling that Foltest picked a boy and his men led him to the castle and let Adda, his daughter, and the monster, eat him alive.

But that wasn't that much of a secret. Everyone who had ears knew that. But the secret was that... The mother of that poor girl was Foltest's very own sister. It was the daughter of the prince and the princess of Temeria. And if anyone would know, they would try to get Foltest off the throne.

Incest wasn't exactly a thing that made people like anyone.

So why on earth would you tell anyone? Iola's hands were still circled around your throat tightly as she tried to strangle you. You finally came back to your consciousness - you were coughing and tears were just bursting out of your eyes. With the last drops of hope, you reached a hand in your bag, taking the last throwing dagger between your fingers.

You pushed it directly into the veins on her forearm as you felt the steel cutting the muscles and smaller veins, the blood dripped onto your shirt. Iola was screaming with pain. The cut on her arm was showing everything - from her bones to the meat. It felt strange and in the next second, her grip started to ease as she yelled with pain. 

“Why have you done?” - She yelled at you as she tried to stop the bleeding, crawling off of you. Good question - what have you done? This woman was you another half for the long years you were serving in Temeria. She felt like home to you. Until she got obviously mad. You would even say that you fell in love with her.

“I was just protecting myself, Iola. You can't kill me. I have a contract to finish and nothing will stop me from doing so.” - You slowly stood up and looked below on her crying face covered in mud and blood. - “This never had to happen. And we both know that.” 

“I was only protecting the king and the kingdom.” - She stuttered and tried to keep the skin on her arm together. You ripped it with your dagger quite good, you needed to say. But it was making you sick, almost heartbroken in some way. The things could've been better. If she just didn't try to... Hunt you down and kill you like an animal. She could simply find you on your travels and tell you that she is alive. She could've felt like home to you once again. But she chose otherwise. - “And who is waiting for you, hm? That... That bard? That incapable idiot who can't even protect himself?”

“Listen to what you're saying!” - You yelled at her from the bottom of your lungs. It could be heard kilometers away from the place you two were at. - “Look at you now. You aren’t the knight in the shining armor saving her king anymore. You wanted to kill a person who has nothing to do with your cause just so would make come out of the shadows. It doesn't matter if you would be willing to kill a peasant, a noble or a bard. It still is their life and it is just as valuable as yours or mine.”

“I had to protect Temeria from traitors. You wouldn't do the same thing in my shoes?” - Iola breathed out and then threw up between her knees. Obviously, her blood pressure was off the charts. She could've tried to walk back to the nearest town, sure. But there were wolves and bandits in those woods and she hadn't got even the slightest chance of survival - or she would bleed out on the way.

“I might have my way of surviving, my love.” - You kneeled down and officially started to cry while you put your hands on her jaw. That skin, oh devil. It was warm and welcoming just like years ago. You took another dagger out without her even noticing. - “But taking an innocent life isn't a thing I would ever do.” 

You leaned in to kiss her forehead and whispered sweet words while slowly pushing the dagger behind her left collarbone. She looked into your eyes for a slight moment before life slowly faded away out of her body. Her heart stopped beating as soon as the dagger pierced through it. 

She was still beautiful in the sunset as your memory remembered her - now she was pale and lifeless, but her beauty didn't fade away. It was ripping your heart out. But this was quicker and less painful than wolves or bandits finding her. You sat there for a long time, beside her dead body and the good you put back the bag. You cleaned her and arranged her body into a different, more respectable position. 

The danger was not threatening you or Jaskier anymore, thanks to Gods - but for what cost? You would rather never see her again than killing her in self-defense. Why had your world have to be only black or white? Why couldn't you seem to find the grey area in the middle? Why everything always fucked up just when you felt the world may finally understand you?

Before leaving Iola resting under the stars and the full moon, you picked up a nearby forget me not flower, gently waving it into her hair so she would know, at least in the afterlife, that you will never forget her. At least all the nice things about her. You made her appear as a golden crown.

Before you left her on the ground all alone, you leaned in to kiss her once more on her cold forehead and took the necklace she had on - you had yours somewhere, but this hers was way more important to you. You knew that tomorrow, there will be only blood and the rest of her clothes laying on the ground.

Then you left.

And your only wish was that past will stay deep buried in those woods, just as Iola would.

[jeremys-blogs]

Spirits: Korra’s Missed Masterpiece

Ever since it first came out, Legend of Korra has had something of a mixed reputation. There have certainly been many people who like it for a variety of reasons, but there's always been this inescapable feeling that the show, as has often been said, "just isn't as good as the original". And as much as I myself may be fond of Korra, I too can't deny that its predecessor was simply a better cartoon. But when you have as high a standard as Avatar it would be difficult at best to live up to that mark, even when being made by the exact same people, so I personally feel that Korra gets a lot of unfair dislike simply for not being up to the same level as what came before, especially since it wouldn't be the first sequel to feel like it's not living up to expectations. But there is, however, one aspect of the show with which I have felt a frustration ever since I saw it, and that would be its second season, Spirits. Now I am by no means the first person to take issue with this particular Book, as it is commonly regarded by the audience as a low-point for the show, but my reasons are not quite what you might expect.

You see, the thing about Spirits is that it actually had a very strong start for me, and the conflict it looked like it was setting up was looking like it'd be everything I was hoping to get from a show that was setting itself up as a kind of mature and more complicated successor to Avatar. The Water Tribe Civil War, as a concept, could have served as an entire season-wide story in its own right and, if handled well, could have become possibly the best thing Korra ever did in its entire run. And my aforementioned frustration with it stems largely from the fact that this fascinating premise was ditched halfway through in favour of a story that, by comparison, I just wasn't as interested in. Oh, to be sure, finding out about a war of spirits and the origins of the Avatar was neat, and if you like that kind of thing, as many apparently did, then more power to you. But for me, the Civil War story just grabbed me in a far bigger way, and it has always disappointed me that, in the end, it was only a prelude to the story that the creators were apparently far more eager to tell, and was thus discarded as soon as that latter plot began.

To understand why the Civil War was so much better of a story for me, let's rundown everything that happened before the Spirits story took over. We have the tribe's leader come down for a festival, only for it to be interrupted by an angry spirit. This prompts that leader to start believing that his people down South are losing their ways, and that action must be taken in order to prevent this sort of thing from happening again. But his actions, like opening the spirit portal, begin to cause tension, especially since his own brother, Korra's father, is someone with whom he has a difficult history. Eventually, truths about Unalaq come to light, and Korra helps her side of the family and her home of the South, leading to an all-out Civil War, which is only fuelled by the likes of Varrick, who serves as a propagandist, war profiteer and saboteur of Asami's company, who is stirring things up back in Republic City, where Korra is struggling to find help for her people among the other nations. And with everything that's happened, along with personal issues, Korra goes elsewhere to find help, only to be intercepted by another spirit and seemingly taken out of the picture.

What interests me the most about the Civil War story, at least until Vaatu gets brought in, is that it's an incredibly complicated situation that, unlike other conflicts in the Avatar world, doesn't have an automatic side of good and evil. Sure, Unalaq was an incredibly manipulative person who got his own brother banished, but he was also right in saying that the South (and even the word as a whole) was less spiritual than it used to be. People have become less respectful of spirits than they were in Aang's day, and as we all saw from the young airbender's time, that could lead to some pretty bad stuff. The complexity only deepens when you consider Varrick's position. Yes, he's trying to help the South, but he's doing it by exaggerating things in his movies and even orchestrating terrorist attacks to drum up sympathy for their side. This isn't Ozai trying to conquer the world, this is a fight that's been brewing between two sides of the same country for a very long time, something that even the original Avatar show was willing to put light on. And because of that, it was a conflict that really made you think about who was really in the right and who was truly doing what was best in this situation.

Unfortunately, that complexity didn't last forever, for as I've already said, the Civil War was shunted to the side in order to make way for the real story at the heart of this season, Unalaq's plan to release Vaatu and become a Dark Avatar. Now, putting aside the fact that "Dark Avatar" just sounds like an idea you just shouldn't do on principal, it completely upends all the things I loved about where the season seemed to be going. What was once a grey situation where you had to sit and ponder what could be done about the two sides fighting, now it's a clear-cut battle of good vs evil where there's no possible way you could debate over who was right. Unalaq's position as a leader who could be argued to be doing the right thing given the circumstances is now just one more world-ending tyrant that needs stopping. All the stuff about the morality of war propaganda or Mako's investigation or the political situation of the other nations maybe getting involved is all out of the window, and the story ends with a monster battle representing literal light and darkness for the fate of humanity. Now, I love a good vs evil battle as much as the next fantasy fan, but given what had been built up beforehand, it can't help but feel like a let-down.

The situation becomes even more frustrating when you consider that this veering-off of the story also does no favours for Korra herself. Consider how things might have gone if they hadn't taken the road that they did. Unalaq is not some pure evil man hell-bent on becoming her destroyer, but her own family who, despite his admittedly underhanded treatment of her father and oppressive actions in the South, is still a man who can be reasoned with. This is not a situation that she can just charge into, go all Avatar State and save the day as Aang did. This is a delicate and more thoughtful scenario where simply being the most powerful person around might not be enough to resolve the conflict. It plays into what, I think, went into this show's initial conception, that this is a less simple world than what Aang had to deal with, and that Korra's starting ideas on how an Avatar can solve problems just won't cut it in this day and age. It's a matter that she'll have to take a different approach to, to adapt to like the waterbending of her people so often focuses on. A situation where she would be required to be less of a warrior and more of a diplomat or negotiator. It would have been a fascinating journey for her to go on, had the season not instead had her solve the problem by getting into one more big fight.

The first half of Spirits is, by far, my favourite part of Legend of Korra, having kept me engaged from start to finish and giving me a premise and story that got me thinking in a way the rest of the show never did. As someone who has always had a love of more complicated and nuanced conflicts, it was just great to see this world delve into a less black-and-white situation than what we were used to seeing from them. And as such it will forever disappoint me that we never really got to see this storyline shine the way that it should have done. A split between a nation, and even a family, for reasons that weren't about malevolence or conquest, could have gone down as the best thing Korra ever gave us, and instead it was left half finished in favour of a story that just didn't measure up to me. Again, I don't dislike the spirit storyline, or Korra as a whole. I like both of them and I don't want to be thought of as "just another hater" for it. But when I sit back and consider what we started the season off with, and what we could have had, I will forever remember Spirits as being both the best and worst of this divisive series 🤔

[angst-fairygodmother]

How about: “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you.” + “Who cares what they think?” for Valdo x reader? :3

A/N: A slight tweak of the exact wording of the prompt, but I think you’ll forgive me :) Word Count: 1772 Content Warning: a PG-13 level of swearing (exactly one), self-pity/self-depreciation

“Valdo Marx!” the high, somewhat nasally voice rang out over the banquet hall as some countess you couldn’t name approached. “It’s been so long since you’ve graced us with your presence. There were even rumors that you had died!” Her big, bright blue eyes batted coquettishly at him.

“Well,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “How dramatic. As you can see, I am quite alive and well. I simply took some time away from court to chase a particularly…ornery muse and create new material.”

You shot him a playful glare and caught his smirk at the descriptor.

“Will we hear some of it tonight?” she clasped his hand in both of hers and drew it to her chest entreatingly. “It would be oh so grand for you to perform.”

You rolled your eyes from beside him, familiar and bored of this courtly song and dance.

“I’m sure something can be arranged, my lady,” he acquiesced. “Although, I am here as a guest tonight, so I may have to talk it over with my dear Y/N.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, as if only just noticing you standing there. “Y/N? I’m unfamiliar with the name. Where is your family from?” the cock of her head reminded you of the little spaniels many nobles had recently decided it was fashionable to carry around.

“Nowhere,” you said tersely before smiling coldly. “I got here on my own merit. You’d be surprised the doors that open when you save a queen’s life.”

Valdo beamed proudly by your shoulder as the lady stammered and floundered for how to respond. It was true that you had been invited to court for as long as you wished to stay, and promised any number of lavish rewards after your quick thinking had halted an assassination attempt in the market earlier that day. And most of the court had been smart enough to catch the gossip quickly and pay you due respect.

“Yes, it was a quite the sight to witness,” he purred. “Had I more time before tonight, I would surely have crafted my greatest ballad yet about their daring rescue. And done without ever so much as a hair out of place. Such a clever thing, my Y/N. Nearly as clever as beautiful. I am so lucky to love them, and hardly deserving of it.”

You preened under his praise and the lady murmured some excuse to duck away, flushed with embarrassment.

“There was no need to tease her like that,” you scolded playfully as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Who was teasing, love? I meant every word of it. And she was the one who didn’t know who you were.”

“None of them actually know. Or care. I am a merely the newest, shiny little toy. Like the lapdogs. By next week, I’ll be back in the kennels, muzzled and forgotten in favor of something else when the novelty wears off.”

‘It’ll wear off for him to,’ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of your mind. ‘How long do you really think you can carry on this charade before Valdo Marx finds something prettier and more agreeable?’

“Muzzled? Now there’s a thought…” his eyebrows wagged salaciously and you slapped his chest just hard enough to make him gasp out a breath.

“Don’t you start, Valdo Marx,” you threatened, a finger pointed into his face.

“Oh, pearl of my heart, but it is so much fun to tease you.”

“I want to get through tonight with a modicum of dignity. And I’m frankly surprised that you don’t.”

“Dignity is all in the presentation, darling.”

“Speaking of,” you sighed and dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That very large and imposing looking man in armor is staring at us pointedly. I think it’s time to go meet the royals.”

~

Your face burned with humiliation. The queen had been kind enough as you stumbled through appropriate courtly greetings, the motions and words feeling stiff and unfamiliar, disjointed, like a puppet with tangled strings. And the king had, perhaps even more blessedly, been aloof. But the crown prince – a skinny, pimply, young monster not yet through puberty – had brayed like a donkey and called the attention of a half-dozen courtiers to your every error, and they all tittered behind handkerchiefs and fans and gloved fingers. You had stared down at your own, exposed in all their calloused, bitten-nailed glory. For some reason, that small difference had been enough to spur tears in your eyes and, mumbling an apology and a thanks for their graciousness, you had fled.

Valdo found you, leaning with a white knuckled grip, on one of the balconies far from the throne room.

“If you’re planning to vault yourself over the edge and escape into the lawns as your pose suggests,” he called softly as he approached. “I would point out that not only are we on the second story, but there are rose bushes right below us and I would hate to see the most wonderful face on the continent so torn up.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close so that he could press a kiss to your temple just in time to hear you mutter “idiot, absolute idiot.”

“The prince? Absolutely,” he answered, trying to pretend you were doing anything other than disparaging yourself. “But he’s young, there’s still a chance he’ll grow out of it before he takes the throne. Or someone will beat it out of him.”

“No,” you scoffed. “Me. I was a fool to think I could even remotely fit in here, even with your tutelage this afternoon.”

“In your defense, I wasn’t the best instructor, but I was…distracted.” He pressed another kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Horribly distracted.”

“I’m serious Valdo,” you tried to pull away from him, but he kept his hold firm. “I’m a joke. They’re all in there laughing at this idiotic country bumpkin playing at courtier. I wanted to belong, for you, so that you weren’t so embarrassed to bring me to functions and could go back to performing in palaces and grand estates where you belong but I just can’t. I was stupid to think I could.”

“Stop.” He moved his hands to rest firmly on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me.”

He ducked his head to force you to look in his eyes, and though you tried not to, you gravitated naturally to meet his emerald gaze, a natural sense of calm flooding over you at the tenderness you found there. “Are you listening, dearest?”

You nodded meekly.

“Good. Because what I’m about to say is very profound and important. Ready?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile at his dramatics.

“Fuck ‘em.” He whispered, leaning close so that the words, and his facial hair, brushed against your ear.

“What?” you laughed incredulously at hearing him swear, especially in such a serious and impassioned tone.

“Is that not how you would put it?”

“I see. I’ve been a terrible influence on you, and ruined your genteel demeanor.” You tried to keep the joke light, but couldn’t help the darkness that crept over your face at the thought of it being just another thing you couldn’t do right for him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Who cares what they think?”

You paused, biting your lip and looking down at the sliver of ground between you. “Well I mean…I thought…you did? You’re Valdo Marx. You should be here, courting rich patrons and lovers and charming the all sorts of people. Not burdened by me.”

He sighed, leaning one hip against the railing and crooking a finger under your chin to pull your face back up toward his.

“I would be lying if I said I never considered my reputation. But there are things much more valuable to me than it, and I can’t be bothered anymore with anyone who thinks less than the absolute highest of you.”

You felt the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes and reached up anxiously to brush them away before they could fall.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Y/N. I truly do. With all my heart. And I will give all of this up a thousand times over to live in a hovel if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.”

“A hovel? Really?”

“Yes. I mean I would much prefer not a hovel. A modest townhouse at the least. In a city, a capital or near one of the universities, I’ll still need to ply my craft somewhere. And I’d be terribly frightened that you’d get bored or sick of me and use your innumerable talents to make my body disappear if we were out in the middle of nowhere. But if isolation is what you truly wanted, I would find a way to make it work.” His eyes shone in the distant candlelight as he carried on.

“Take it easy, Valdo,” you laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say all that talk sounded very,” you gestured vaguely as you sought the right word. “Future-y. Like you’re expecting us to settle down soon.”

“Well…” he carded a nervous hand through his curls and your fingers itched  beyond reason to replace it with your own.

“What? Why would we do that? I thought we both loved this wandering life…Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s…well…a bit more hopeful than that…” you had never seen him so worked up, and his nervous energy was beginning to bleed into your own.

“Out with it.” You ordered, hoping some firmness would get him to pull himself together.

He sighed. “I hadn’t planned to do this tonight, or so shortly after you had been insulted and upset, which it is only by virtue of him being a future king and therefore an important ally to cultivate that I did not challenge him to a duel for that you know…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and him being only about twelve-years-old had nothing to do with it?”

He shrugged, as if to suggest that he would in fact have challenged a child to a fight in your name.

“Y/N. Sun and stars in my sky. Deity made flesh and stooped low to love me. Grandest muse, all I could ever ask for and more. I have no right. I am a cad and a wastrel and do not deserve you. But I bare my heart before you, and ask you to take it, let it be yours forever, let me be yours,” he slowly sank down in front of you. “As your husband?”

[tlbodine]

1970s: Exploitation Horror

The 1970s were a strange period in history, and that oddness shows through in the horror of the time. The decade is a grab-bag of content, featuring the rise of some of the best-known tropes and landmark films of the genre, but also some really baffling, awful movies. 

We decided to launch our journey through the decade by getting one of its most unnerving trends checked off the list early: the exploitation film. 

The death knell of the Hays Production Code and the moral gatekeeping by the 1960s left a period of cinematic anarchy. The MPAA would take a bit to solidify our modern rating system and lay out the rules for film content, so for a while the only real limitation on movie content was what a movie theater would play. These decisions came on a case-by-case basis, and so-called “grindhouse” theaters capitalized on it by offering the kind of shocking, low-brow, vulgar or otherwise unpalatable content other theaters wouldn’t touch. 

Thus, “exploitation” films were all about exploiting the tumultuous times in cinema. 

One popular genre to crop up in this setting was the rape-revenge movie. The basic formula: a woman is raped, left for dead, and returns to wreak bloody vengeance on her attacker(s). The plot provides an excuse to show both graphic sex and violence, which is like a 2-for-1 exploitation buffet and also incidentally the theme of this week’s film series. 

Analysis below the cut! 

First up: I Spit On Your Grave 

This 1974 film, written and directed by  Meir Zarchi, is probably the best-known and possibly best-made of the rape-revenge movies of the era. It’s also incredibly hard to watch.

The story is straightforward. Jennifer, a female author, moves to a remote summer home to work on her novel. There she attracts the attention of a group of men, including one mentally challenged delivery boy named Matthew. Matthew’s friends are assholes, and they goad him about the “crush” he has on this fancy city woman, and decide it would be entertaining for him to lose his virginity to her. So they, uh, harass her, physically assault her, and take turns raping her before leaving Matthew to kill her (he doesn’t, and lies to his friends about it, leaving her beaten but alive and thus able to exact revenge). 

There are several things about this movie that are noteworthy: 

It portrays the rape in the least-sexy, least-romanticized way imaginable. It is not titillating or exciting in any way. The rape sequence lasts for 30 minutes of film time, and they are excruciating to watch. There is no soundtrack, so you have only the flat silence punctuated by screams, grunts, and scant dialogue. The camera is often stationary, focused on the scene as an objective viewer rather than spending a lot of time cutting and zooming -- putting the audience in the role of helpless witness. 

The character of Matthew is interesting and, honestly, sympathetic. It’s pretty clear that he has the intellect of a child, and he has no real idea of what’s really going on. He’s goaded and pressured into participating, and he’s reluctant and tries several times to stop and escape. In a way, he’s a victim almost as much as Jennifer. 

The second half of the film is pure revenge fantasy. Jennifer is transformed. She is suddenly cool, calculating, physically capable, and able to deliver cutting one-liners. The villains, never the sharpest tools in the shed, transform into unbelievably stupid caricatures capable only of thinking with their dicks. Jennifer systematically seduces and murders them in increasingly violent ways. 

It’s probable that the film’s events are meant to be taken at face value, but I think a more interesting read on the story is that the second half -- the revenge portion -- is literally a fantasy. After the attack, we see Jennifer spend some time recovering physically, then piecing together the torn pages of her manuscript before sitting down to write. Perhaps, then, the revenge is happening on the page rather than in reality. Perhaps she has put together the pieces of her life and rewritten her narrative such that she can take control of her sexuality and work through her anger and grief and pain. 

Maybe it’s just the writer in me, but I think that’s a cool interpretation and one that makes a lot of sense in context. 

Either way: I Spit On Your Grave is an uncomfortable but well-made film that’s worth talking about. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding it even to this day (and it was a box office disaster, grindhouse or no), but I think on the balance it’s ultimately a feminist film, or at least a sympathetic one. 

Note: There was a remake and multiple sequels released in the 2010s. I haven’t seen any of them, but my understanding is they’re more over-the-top violent and sensationalized, and I can’t help but suspect that cheapens the brutal elegance of the original. If you’ve seen them, feel free to weigh in! 

The second film of the night was The Last House on the Left. 

Wes Craven’s directorial debut, The Last House on the Left (1972) tells the story of two teenage girls who run afoul of a gang of psychotic thugs who kidnap, torture, rape, and eventually murder them. The thugs then end up coincidentally at the house of one victim’s parents, who exact their revenge after discovering their daughter’s body dumped in the woods nearby and put two and two together. 

All I can say is: What the fuck did I just watch. 

I’d never seen this movie, although I was familiar with it by reputation. It’s famous, and I heard good things about its 2009 remake. What nobody thought to warn me about is the goddamn soundtrack. 

I can respect the artistic technique of pairing graphic violence with tonally inconsistent music as a way to create dissonance and cause audience discomfort. But that’s not the effect this had. This had the effect of causing me to burst out into laughter at the absolute absurdity. There is synth keyboard. There is banjo. Snare drum. A fucking kazoo. And it’s relentless, showing up to hammer you over the head and also drown out everything else that’s happening in the movie. 

Like, at one point, I seriously considered muting the damn movie so I could at least try to concentrate on the story because the music is so distracting and undercuts the tension at every possible moment. 

Music aside (and boy do I wish the music had been an aside), the film just...wasn’t great. The violence is comparably tame and lacks the visceral discomfort of I Spit On Your Grave. The villainous gang members are pretty much flat characters who seem like a bad parody of Sopranos extras. Even the parental revenge is bizarrely absurd, with the father opting to booby-trap the house in a Home Alone-esque fashion despite literally owning a shotgun and literally using the shotgun to threaten the bad guys. At least in the remake a guy’s head gets exploded in a microwave! No such fun here. 

Oh. And do we need to talk about the two bumbling police officers who end up running around town in a long-running slapstick gag? At one point their squad car runs out of gas because one of them is too stupid to fill up the tank, so they have to waddle around on foot and hitch a ride on the roof of a car loaded up with chickens. For. Some reason. 

Honestly, this movie was a disaster, and I’m honestly amazed that Wes Craven managed to make more movies afterward (and I’m glad he did, because they are much better than this). Sweet lord. 

I give you permission to skip this one. As far as I’m concerned it’s irredeemable. 

As a note, the movie is apparently a (very) loose adaptation/inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring, which was itself adapted from a 13th century Swedish ballad. Go figure. I don’t think I’ve seen it (although I may have watched a part of it in a college film class, because it does seem familiar) but I feel pretty confident that it’s a better movie so...watch that instead, probably. 

Or, if you can stomach it, check out one of the other many...many...rape/revenge stories from the 1970s and beyond: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_and_revenge_film