#my dad lets me go on tangents about whatever on the phone

[rosemarylemonades]

I literally need to be put down I was on the phone with my dad explaining Astarion's storyline to him and was literally twirling my fucking hair talking about my babygirl

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3676

(alright, we’re getting into some good stuff now ;) hope you enjoy!)

Three weeks.

Three weeks had passed since you first encountered that purple clad turtle, give or take.

And they were a blur of fighting and parties and studies and a library and coffee and him.

Donnie, the centrifuge that had been the catalyst of the whirlwind that had become your life. Well, technically his brothers, April, and the rest of the gang were also at fault, but he was the main culprit. The superfluous amount of meetings you’d had with him in your short time knowing him, his intriguing disposition, the whole situation had made it quite easy for him to work his way up to being one of your favorite people.

It had been a few days since you’d seen him. It had also been a few days since you’d left the fortress of your home. Following the hectic event and subsequently less wild ones of last week, you deserved a few days’ break.

But it was time to get back into the fray.

You forced yourself up from where you had been lounging on your bed, prying your eyes away from the ceaseless social media scrolling you had subjected yourself to.

Blinking your sleepiness away, you thought about what you had to do: eat something, first of all, get some water and whatever prescriptions you needed, then message that confounded turtle about his progress on that invention.

Call yourself curious, but you just had to see it in its completion. Also, you were desperately bored. Why not get your social interaction and entertainment in one stop, kill two birds with one stone?

You pulled up the chat you currently had with him but paused before you typed a word.

Sure, texting got the point across, but you were looking for a quick answer, not a typical, joining-the-conversation-hours-later Donnie answer.

Would a call work better in this scenario?

Of course, calls kind of sucked to do, solely because of the whole talking aspect, but it could be quicker. And if he didn’t respond, then you could just send a text.

You clicked his contact and the button to call him, holding your breath momentarily afterward. Hopefully it wasn’t too weird. You meant, you’d never called him before, so maybe you would look like an absolute maniac for calling him now over something so trivial. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea-

“Hello?”

You startled at the sound of a voice over the phone. He’d already answered. No going back now.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you responded as smoothly as possible.

“... Fine? You called?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation fell silent until he spoke up.

“May I know what for?”

“Right! Yeah, sorry, I was just curious about that whole mystic gem-finding situation. Did you find one yet?”

“I have yet to locate and secure any that aren’t currently in use. The project’s also been on the backburner with lair repairs; segue, do you know how many microwaves Leo can break in a week?”

You snickered, though you quickly worked back out of that tangent. “Dude, isn’t your dad- er, wait, your father some kind of alchemist? He probably has something you could use.”

“He likely does.  However, we have what one might call a strained relationship.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about that if you don’t want to-’

“Me and my brothers destroyed his lab and he threw Leo off of a roof.”

“Oh.”

You two went quiet once more. He also broke the silence once more.

“Never mind that, let’s focus on the task at hand: how to obtain a sought-after gem.”

“By destroyed, do you mean made a mess of or..?”

“Absolutely decimated it.”

“Right,” you nodded slowly. “So is it abandoned, and, follow up, would it still have any resources left?”

“Not likely. Scavengers, and Draxum himself, probably made certain that anything valuable was taken care of. But, we could potentially check it out.”

“Hmm, ‘we’?” you asked innocently enough, save for a teasing inflection in your hum.

“Yeah, ‘we’. Unless you’re not interested, which is totally within bounds-”

“I’m free Thursday and Friday, either before noon or at, like, ten,” you cut him off. His surprise was discernible by how quiet he went for a solid ten seconds.

“Right, yeah, Friday works,” he finally conceded. “Would Friday at 23:00 work for you?”

Seriously? Military time? What a punk. “Translate into normal time talk and then you’ll get an answer,” you quipped.

“No need to be rude. Does eleven sound better to your inconsiderate self?”

“Much. And eleven works. Where’re we meeting?”

“Fret not. I’ll send the location.”

Come Friday, following the address brought you to the shadiest place you’d been since April took you into the sewers last week.

Man, your friend group was a whole situation.

The area itself was fine. Domestic, contemporary homes and apartments in a congested neighborhood, standard New York living arrangement. Your dubiousness, however, stemmed from the particular location: a horribly lit, uninhabited, possibly abandoned construction site.

Actually, it would probably be weirder for him to ask to meet you in a normal location with street lights.

You sent a quick text to Donnie, informing him that you were there and possibly telling him to hurry his shell up before stepping into the.dirt-coated lot. As you moved deeper into the area, you noticed a silhouette propped against the side of a big metal container. You squinted at the turned away figure, trying to make out any features.

Typing vigorously, wearing an oversized purple hoodie, hunched over their phone- okay, yeah, that was Donnie.

You quickly made your way over to him, leaning next to him on the container with a loud, metallic thud.

“Hey there, pal,” you grinned, a visible puff of air exiting your lips. Boy, was it cold.

He lackadaisically lifted an eyebrow at you as he finished typing something up on his phone. “Salutations. And refrain from calling me pal; we’re not pals.”

Donnie placed his phone and hands into his hoodie pocket and started making his way further into the shadows underneath the structure of steel beams and bars. You followed suit.

“What are we then?” you prompted playfully.

“Acquaintances.”

“Really? I don’t think people who are just acquaintances travel to literal mystic cities or even the sewers with each other.”

“Well, if you are so well versed on the classifications of relationship statuses, what do you consider us to be?”

“Friends, probably,” you shrugged.

“Probably?” he asked as he started to use a pin from his pocket to draw an unfamiliar insignia on an oddly placed brick wall.

You rested your hands on your hips. “I mean, thinking statistically about it, we’re probably friends.”

“In what universe does statistics have anything to do with this situation?”

“Ion’ know. You’re supposed to know about the science-and-math-y stuff. I’m just moral support.”

“No, you’re just throwing mathematical terms around haphazardly!” he exclaimed, gesticulating with his free hand.

“I probably am.”

His eye twitched. Before he could iterate his disdain for your insolence, the design he traced on the wall began to emit an electric blue shade. A static buzz entered the air, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling around you. Not comforting, though. It was reminiscent of the portals you’d encountered just last week.

Abruptly, a swirling amalgamation of light and energy came forth before you, small bursts of lightning zapping periodically.

Huh. You were right. Portals.

“Does this lead to that lab?” you asked, peering at it curiously.

“What do you say we find out?” Donnie gave a lazy grin before coolly stepping backwards into the portal.

You gawked. The audacity of this man to invite you adventuring and then leave you high and dry was astronomical.

That left you with two options: get out of there and have a cozy night in or follow him into a suspicious portal. Which, come on, you already knew what you were going to do: tail that turtle and make him rue leaving you behind like that.

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped, or fell, more so, into the portal, and that’s when things went loopy.

Your surroundings melted into a zero gravity tunnel of blue, insides churning in a manner akin to the swarm of colors around you. Everything looked distorted, warped into only sensations, and after moments of free fall and whiplash and weightlessness you plopped rather unceremoniously onto a brick path. 

Somehow, the area you ended up in was even loopier than that.

For starters, the sky was a washy mix of apricot and slate and a golden color. Next up, and quite likely most pressingly, was the gigantic structure sitting before you. A short, rocky path trailed up to a floating cylindrical building, the size of which rivaled every building you’d ever seen in New York. The building was bathed in green light, had a balcony- and did you mention FLOATING?

“Holy-” You couldn’t help but go slack-jawed, earning a smug expression from the turtle.

“Mmhm.”

“Where are we?” You looked at the vast area behind you, the fiery orange sky littered with floating edifices and vessels and creatures of all varieties.

“Welcome to the Hidden City, my associate-”

You interjected, “-friend-”

“-entourage,” he corrected with the raise of an eyebrow.

You let it slide, not looking to lower your status any more. “Touché. Continue.”

“The Hidden City, a subterranean city-state far beneath New York City and home to the laboratory of former warrior-alchemist Barron Draxum,” Donnie introduced with a flourish of his hands.

You released an amused puff of air. “You feel good about letting out your inner theater kid?”

“I feel great, actually. But there’s no time to dwell on that. Onward, to exploration!”

He was really in full theatrics tonight, but you didn’t mind indulging. Lightly shaking your head at him, you joined him in moving up the path to the towering golden archway at the front of the building.

The door opened creakily, unsturdy on its hinges, shedding light on a decrepit, dust-ridden foyer. Large tapestries and artworks strewn about the halls were coated so thickly in dirt they almost couldn’t be made out. You shot him an uncertain look.

“Like I said, don’t keep your hopes up,” was all Donnie said in response before continuing down the dim corridor. You stalled, still weary about the condition of the building, before swiftly catching back up with him.

As you worked your way into the dark, desolate lab, Donnie lectured you on safety precautions. “Don’t touch anything unless it seems nonlethal and productive. Actually, just don’t touch anything.”

“So, I can’t open any drawers or anything?” you sassed.

He deadpanned. “You know what I mean.”

“Semantics matter, D.”

“Not really- fine, whatever. Let’s get to exploring,” Donnie conceded, excitedly flicking his goggles down with a smirk.

It was an instinct, really, that you clasped a hand over your mouth and terribly concealed a laugh upon seeing his goggle-covered eyes.

He stared at you blankly. “What?”

You waved your hand in front of you to dismiss yourself. “I’m sorry- I’ve just never seen you in the goggles.”

“I’ve worn them during every interaction of ours.”

“No, I mean like on your eyes. It makes them look all beady.”

“Wow. I appreciate that.”

You quickly defended yourself. “In a good way! It’s not bad, just different.”

“Ah yes, ‘beady in a good way’. I’ll log that one in the books.”

“Seriously, I thought they looked cute.”

He looked taken aback, lips pursed and face warm at that assertion.

“Not like that. Like an objective kind of cute.” You shook your head in disbelief at the words you were spewing. “Actually, nevermind. Forget I said any of that.”

“Agreed.” He rolled his eyes and set to work scanning shelves and drawers for any traces of the mysticism you were pursuing. For his sake, you didn’t mention how the pink tint on his face didn’t disappear until minutes into your guys’ search.

The search ended up unsuccessful. Sure, while scouring shelves and cabinets and odd cages around the spacious laboratory you found a whole lot more than you would expect in an abandoned building - elements in sealed jars, flasks of what seemed to be potions or ingredients - but nothing close to a crystal or gem.

After working your way around the room, you looked up at Donnie.

He shook his head and walked over to you. “It appears the lab’s a bust for any type of crystal. Not a total loss, though.” He held up a container labeled ‘emp.’ before one of the mechanical hands from his battle shell stored it for him. Another of the hands gave your shoulder a reassuring pat.

You shook your head. “No, we’re getting you a crystal, man.” You paused, thought of an alternative. “Are there any stores or markets nearby that might have them?”

“Ohmigosh, you are just full of great ideas.” You and Donnie began moving back toward the front.

He sounded like he might have meant that, but his voice was still startlingly monotonous. You narrowed your eyes, put your head askew. “For real?”

“Yes, this time,” the turtle nodded before excitedly gliding back down the entrance’s stairs.

You laughed, following along. “This time?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes.”

You caught up to him and landed a firm, still playful jab to his side.

“Just stop yapping and take us there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what felt like eons of continuous motion, you two made it onto the streets of the Hidden City.

Brightly colored banners, advertisements, decorations, adorned lampposts all up and down the streets, though you avoided certain battle-themed ones. Multitudes of languages and dialects could be heard all around. The smells of delectable foods wafted through the air, sweet, savory, spicy, but you couldn’t pay them any mind. You were on a gem-hunting mission. Even if it wasn’t going very well currently.

The merchant running a crystal stand was slumped over on their counter, boredly staring at the customers that had been occupying their business for minutes on end without making a choice i.e. you and Donnie.

You raised an index finger at a particular pretty purple gem sitting in a pile of other ones on the counter of the stand.

Donnie flicked on his goggles and shook his head. “Uh, no. Not remotely. We’re looking to avoid overcurrent; that thing has enough mystic mojo to wipe out half the city.”

You slowly placed it down. “Oookay then. Glad to be of service,” you muttered.

He pursed his lips at your interesting body language. Slumped shoulders, hints of dejection in your voice - you weren’t having fun. Maybe it was because he immediately turned down the last five of your suggestions, but who could definitively say why?

“The issue is that you keep grabbing crystals that emit cool colors, which, as you know from the electromagnetic spectrum, correlate to a higher frequency. We don’t want that. So, as much as I would enjoy a violet crystal to match my ambience, something with a less vibrant, warmer hue works best.”

You slowly digested what he just said. Cautiously, your hand crept back to the merchant’s display and selected an auburn gem. 

“That one’s frequency is too low-”

“Of course it is.”

“-but you’re on the right track! Try a little further down the electromagnetic spectrum-”

“What, something like this?” You gestured toward an amber gem that was near the bottom of the pile, exasperated.

Donnie hummed. “Actually, yeah. That’s just fine.”

“Really?”

“Shhh,” Donnie waved a hand telling you to calm down before pulling you aside. “There’s no fixed price on the signs here. If we seem too excited or gullible-”

“We get duped?” you guessed.

“We get duped. So stay cool, and let me handle this.”

Donnie cracked his knuckles and turned back to the stand, professionally ready to bargain and deal with the price.

He still ended up paying a ridiculous price for the small gem’s size, but you didn’t know if you’d ever seen him grin so proudly, so you didn’t say a word about it.

The first time you spoke up after the deal was made was after passing by a food cart and hearing your stomach rumble.

Donnie almost kept walking without you before you loosely clasped onto his wrist.

Puzzled, he turned back to you.

“Would you want to get something to eat? Like, while we’re down here,” you asked.

He pursed his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to retort or deny the requests, you were both hit with a wave of the most scrumptious food you’d smelled probably in your entire life.

“Okay, you have to admit that smell is heavenly,” you looked at him knowingly.

“I don’t have to do anything, but those do look fire.”

You gave him the best pleading look you had, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he caved in.

“Alright, we can take a quick detour from the exit.”

“Heck yeah! You rock, no correlation to geology,” you winked, adjusting your grip from his wrist to his hand so that you two wouldn’t get separated from you charging through the crowd.

And charge through that crowd you did.

Donnie in tow behind you, you bounded through the crowd excitedly, scarcely avoiding collisions all over.

However, the complaining Donatello in hand and sweating were inconsequential compared to being in line for a brand new type of culinary experience.

You were practically buzzing with joy, so excited that you momentarily forgot to relinquish Donnie’s hand. You still did though, just a moment shy of awkwardness.

You had made a good deal, had good company, and were about to have good food. What more could you want?

Still beaming, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket and pulled it out.

The smile on your face quickly receded as you checked who was calling.

“Just a moment, I need to take this,” you muttered before slipping out of line and off through the crowd.

Donnie froze. He didn’t like the fact that whoever called seemed to ruin your mood, nor the idea of you being alone in an entirely unfamiliar city.

Reluctantly, he relinquished his spot in line - which was painfully close to the front, might he add - to find you.

It took a moment of weaving left and right, dodging up and down through a flurry of wings and tails for him to find the space between two buildings that you had moved yourself into.

Not wanting to intrude, he stood right outside the small alley, listening in by a complete coincidence. Certainly not out of nosiness in the slightest. Nope.

Anyway, he only got close enough to hear you mid-sentence.

“-you serious? Now, I don’t know if your section of New York is in a different time zone, but for me right now it is way too dark and way too late to be calling for conferences.”

A pause. Scraggly sounds faintly sounded from the other side of the call, not that he could make out an inkling of it. You, on the other hand, understood it all too well.

“Obligatory? Yes, I know what obligatory means, I just find the notion of a required meeting kinda dumb- Sorry, I mean extremely dumb.”

Another pause of you presumably getting chewed out passed before you, begrudgingly, grumbled, “Ugh, if you insist. Be there later.”

The phone call ended after that, and Donnie had no clue what to do.

Walking in normally could make it seem like he was eavesdropping, which he was but he didn’t want you to know that, but he couldn’t just stand still either.

After some careful contemplation, Donnie looked around and stumbled (definitely not purposefully) into the alley you were in. He seemed somewhat concerned; he hadn’t seen you that perturbed before.“Is everything alright?” he muttered vaguely, not wanting to overstep.

“Just yelling at my… mother’s urn- Anyway, once again, I have really got to go, this has been really fun, we should do this again sometime, am I missing anything else?” you joked lightheartedly. Thankfully the mood, along with Donnie, followed your attitude shift.

“I feel like a ‘thanks, you’re the best’ may be due,” your companion urged jokingly.

“Thanks Donnie, you’re the best.”

He huffed. “Kidding. I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

For a probably too long moment, he made eye contact with you and your startlingly genuine eyes. Eventually, he tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “... Let’s get you back to the surface.”

The trip back to the site of the portal was mostly silent, just the two of you trekking shoulder to shoulder through crowds of characters, before you entered the vertigo-inducing light once again.

The wind bit harshly at you as soon as you landed back on New Yorkian ground, an unkind reminder of the end of your adventure.

You blew a puff of warm air onto your hands and almost started walking on instinct before Donnie spoke, reminding you of his presence.

“Are you alright going back on your own?” he questioned quietly, almost coyly.

“I mean, I made it here on my own. I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Oh. Okay,” he concurred with a nod before giving you a pair of thumbs up. “In that case, make it home safely. Text you later?”

“Later,” you agreed emphatically. With one more nudge of his arm and a pivot in the other direction, you were off, out of the construction zone, on the sidewalk, down the street.

As you moved toward your destination, the skyscrapers and towering structures lining your path grew taller, more opulent, more lavish. Insignificant residentials morphed into substantial, old money commercials. Your heart rate climbed.

You paused in front of the grand doors of your location and took a deep, steadying breath. It was just some quick business you had to take care of. Brief. Inconsequential. Everything would be fine.

With some renewed confidence, or at least some semblance of it, you pulled on the handle and swiftly entered the hotel’s lobby.

The door closed thickly behind you with a thud.

Resonate. Absolute. Irrevocable.

(Artwork for part 5)

Taglist ~

@rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

[bookwyrminspiration]

(Ophelia) I’ve been recently thinking about the time I was trying to teach an AI they/them pronouns for writing. I really mentally prepared myself for it because I was sure it was going to confuse the hell out of the AI (since people are always saying how grammatically confusing it is and stuff) and I would have to do a lot of explanations, but one sentence into the explanation the AI instantly got it. And then it continued to get it, like there was absolutely no confusion after that, it figured it out. I don’t remember if I told you this before, but I just think it’s funny. I love robots

You haven't told me about this before! Thrilled to learn that robots understand and respect they/them pronouns. I actually use they/them in my irl life in public; they have not earned the familiarity to use my special funky pronouns, but also I just. Really don't care about pronouns.

Before I get distracted on that tangent though, I hope whatever you were using the AI for went well! I don't really know what you would be using, but it sounds like it would be a lot of fun. I don't think I've ever truly used an AI? Trying to think of experience to share back and coming up blank. Whenever I think of AI my brain defaults to A.I.D.A.N from the Illuminae files. My dad actually has his phone/devices names A.I.D.A.N. after it! Though I gotta admit I still haven't read the third book in the trilogy. One day I will. Probably.

If your experience has taught me anything it's that people who say the grammatical use of they/them singular is confusing are incorrect and should look to the AI for advice. Generally a robot apocalypse and turning to robots would probably be bad, but in this instance the robots are right. If a robot apocalypse does come to pass um...robots ignore my statements I love you all immensely and you should just let me vibe for all eternity, please and thanks.

I don't really know where i'm going with this, but my point is that this is very cool! I hope whatever you wrote/write/are writing went/goes/is going well! Wow that's confusing sentence but I'm just trying to wish you well. I actually gotta bust my ass and do some writing in the next few weeks to get everything in order, but I think it'll be fine!

Emotionally I'm eagerly listening to you talk about robots as I try and think of robot related stories of my own :)

[theinvisibledoodlewizard]

Had a crazy weird dream yesterday morning.

Was going to go to get biscuits for my family’s breakfast, at a nice little place with dad, but when I got up in the morning he said we’d go in about 30 minutes. So I went back to lie down for a little, then he’d get me up when he was ready to go.

It took me a while to go back to sleep, but when I did? Gosh I was confused.

The dream started with me waking up at noon, because I hadn’t set an alarm and I was worried dad would forget me I guess? So I got up and rushed into the hall, and the first hint I was dreaming started.

Lately the author of my dreams hasn’t been all that great, but won’t expect criticism at all! In this dream, when I rushed into the hall, it couldn’t decide what I was wearing. My pajamas, my baggy t-shirt and sweatpants that I wear around the house, or my nice t-shirt and jeans? It would glitch between all of them until I focused on it. When I really focused on it, it would stay on whatever I had stuck it on. But if I got distracted by talking to people, or looking at something else? It would go back to flashing between all the different outfits.

Rushing down the hall with my crazy flashing outfits, I found my family. Mom and dad arguing about something loudly at the end of the hall, so loudly I wondered how I hadn’t woke up earlier, and my sister (hi Mon!) in the bathroom hogging it. (Jab jab lol)

One quick tangent about Mon, my sister, in my dreams. She’s either an absolute boss, who made giant candles that worked like Roman candles/bazookas, because apparently she knew about the hillbilly ninjas that were gonna attack our grandpa’s house?! (Yes I actually had that dream. It was so stinkin cool. She let me shoot them.) Or she’s a mindless “yes-girl” who stands there with a pog-face for no reason, and agrees with everyone going on with a “that’s so keen!” kinda attitude. In this dream she was the second, even though I never saw the pog-face.

I got half way down the hall, and asked why no one had gotten me up. I was met with my parents glaring back at me for interrupting them. Then dad sighed and responded, “you were tired, so we decided to just let you sleep since we knew your order. Plus the cars broke down, so we had to call your uncle to come pick us up from his garbage route to run us by the biscuit place. So there’s no point in you going, you wouldn’t fit in the truck it only has two seats.”

…

Now there’s some truth and MANY flaws in reality in there. Yes I’m tired, BUT I STILL WANTED TO GO YA JERKS XD. Also my uncle doesn’t drive a garbage truck. But Dream Author™️ can’t take criticism, so we’re just excepting new information apparently. Including the fact my family now has no functional car?! Yes car trouble has been happening, it always does this time of year, welcome to older cars. But all at once!? With dad still driving to work a lot of days, having no car working is a VERY BIG PROBLEM! But apparently since I came into the conversation late, everyone else has already had this freak out, get with the program. We’re just excepting information here in Dream Author’s™️ world.

“Yeah!” chirps the bathroom door, aka my sister apparently. Just agreeing with the info dump of AAAAAAAA that was just given to me.

“O.. k? So what are y’all doing then?” I respond, trying to get my feet under me.

This was apparently the wrong question? Because my parents go back to they’re bickering, a bit calmer this time. My mom was trying to call in, so the food would be ready when dad got there, but they wouldn’t answer they’re phone.

“Chick-fil-A just won’t answer!” she stormed at him, while he rolled his eyes.

“… it’s Sunday?” I reminded her, “They’re closed. And the other place is probably closed since it’s noon and the stop around 10:30 or s-”

“I KNOW THAT!” she snapped, “Why do you think we’re calling Chick-fil-A?”

“Yeah!” piped up my little bathroom door sibling yet again.

Since we just except information here, I shrugged and decided I’d watch this unfold. Knowing full well I wasn’t getting biscuits today anymore, but hey might as well go for the ride.

Dad then notices a garbage truck pulling in our street, so he starts down to meet my uncle. Bickering with mom over his shoulder about “you’re sure you called the right place right?”

“Yes yes, it’s the one on Pine Street,” she tiredly said. (For context? I have no idea what, or where Pine Street is. Dream Author™️ is making keeping online safety easy. Just make up new names!)

“Why didn’t you call the one at [redacted]” replied dad in a huff. (I take back what I said)

Mom replied with some mumbling about how it was either on my uncle garbage route, or it was the one that she could reach. In other words she was just trying to make excuses. Which I didn’t here because I was having my mind dampened by Dream Author™️, because yes, Pine Street is definitely a place I know of, it’s totally doxxing me. Disregard anything in the parentheses earlier./sar

“Which one did you call on Pine Street?” dad asked, defeated by her unwillingness to just pick the store close to our house, “The close one right? Not the one 35 miles away?”

APPARENTLY PINE STREET IS AN INTERSTATE NOW!? WE JUST EXCEPT INFORMATION HERE I GUESS! Yeah I’m definitely not getting biscuits today, and it’s all I can do to keep from laughing now. I just plan to grab cereal once dad leaves.

Mom looks like she’s been hit, or that she’s a deer in headlights and is about to get hit. Which confirms dad’s suspicions about his breakfast being 35 whole miles away. And in something that isn’t realistic at all, not that I care I’m trying not to giggle and get two angry adults targeted on me, he sighs and goes downstairs to meet my uncle. Cause it’s still on my uncle’s route I guess so might as well!? The leaps in logic, I can’t. Oh excuse me! This perfectly crafted story! Who would dare question it! What wonderful writing!

Me and mom walk over to the front door, to wave goodbye to dad. Out of spite in my mother’s case I believe, but I’m not sure, because she’s suddenly in a happier mood. I’m also solidly in my house clothes, which I “changed into a second ago.” When? I don’t know. We except information here.

Outside, my uncle’s car is now suffering Dream Author’s™️ indecision. His bright red garbage truck with no text, flashes to the car I know he actually has and back. Yet again debunking the fact I couldn’t go with them. But then it flashes back again and again and again, because my attention went to the yard.

In reality, we’re just coming out of winter. Some weeds are waking up and green, but they’re small, and the real grass is still very much dormant. I should still probably cut it soon to stun the weeds. But in my dream? There were random patches of knee high weeds, with strange yellow flowers and tiny stems, the grass still dead. AND I KNEW ABOUT REALITY! So last night I went to bed and the yard was fine, I wake up to small foot square patches of knee high jungle all over the yard.

As my mother and I waved to my dad and uncle driving away in the strange vehicle that changed mass and shape by the half second, she commented that I should cut the grass very soon. And I start to worry that she will make me do that before I get by breakfast, since she is changing moods and is acting so out of character and erratic.

Thankfully my real dad saves me, by waking me up just then. It’s been around 45 minutes instead of the 30, and he’s wondering if I still want to go.

Rolling over, I blink a couple times to collect my thoughts. Then I remember we do has functional cars, and we don’t have to go 35 miles to a place that isn’t even open. So I tell him I’ll be there in a minute.

[creatureofmystry]

MLB x DC Universe Headcannons

I just love the idea of MLB and DC (expecially Batfam cuz Mari is such a Wayne) being in the same universe and crossing over. So one night, I just had an idea overload of different ways the Marinette would know the batfam/be a part of the DC universe. And if any of my shitty ideas somehow inspire or prompt you, then please be my guest. 😊 _

1) “Ladybugs of Past and Present”

Hippolyta, Wonder Woman’s mother, was once a previous holder of the ladybug miraculous. When Fu activated the miraculous and put them in circulation, Hippolyta could feel its magic waking back up. Knowing there must a reason for it to be out, she sent a message to her daughter. Diana searched, finding Marinette and Adrien as the present holders of the ladybug and cat miraculous. She vouched and brought them into the Young Justice program while they also made their own team, Project: Zodiac (or something like that).

[Sometime when Diana takes Marinette to meet Hippolyta]

“Great Hera, Tikki, you have not aged a day” -Hippolyta, cause she does know how to make joke. 

“And I would say the same to you” -Tikki

“Mother, you can make a laugh?” -Wonder Woman, honestly a bit confused cause her mom have never not been serious before.

And Marinette is just speechless cause she’s starstruck meeting Wonder Woman’s mom AND a previous Ladybug holder.

_

2) “Rockstar Niece”

Jagged Stone is Marinette’s Sweet Uncle J. During the summers, Jagged Stone would take Mari with him on tour. HIs summer tours are throughout America, so Mari gets to sightsee the country. Jagged’s first tour that he gets to take Mari on (5-ish), he’s also booked for the annual (for whatever reason) Wayne Summer Gala. When Marinette meets the Waynes, they are so enamoured (Dick and Tim couldn’t help it) that they tell Jagged he’s always invited as a guest, Mari of course being added to the permanent guest list too. About 6 years later, Mari is practically adopted, spending the first half of her summers with Jagged, going to the Wayne Gala, then spending the rest of her summer with the Waynes. Overtime, she figured out the secrets of the family and was there to welcome Jason back from the dead (when that happens). Anyways, now 11(-ish?) Mari meets Damian and the two become good friends… after an… impressionable first meeting.

“Tch, let me guess, you’re another one of father’s adopted strays” -Dami

“YOU MUST BE DAMIAN!!! DICK TOLD ME ABOUT YOU!!” -Marinette, who just ignores what he said for a hug.

“hiiiiiiiiissssssss” -Dami, touchy with touch

“...” sprays water in his face since he decided to act like a cat.

“I say, Master Bruce, the children are getting along quite well” -Alfred

_

3) “Pen Pals” 

Jon Kent and Marinette Dupain-Cheng are part of an international pen-pal program, starting when they were very young (maybe like 4 or 5-ish, super super young) where they told each other everything (Jon can’t just say that his older bro is a clone made from Superman and Lex Luthor’s DNA, or that his dad is Superman, or that his best friend is Robin, but yea. Lois and Clark probably proofread his stuff until he’s like 9) with pictures and everything. When they’re old enough to get phones & stuff, they call, text and vid-chat along with their letters (love without blood). When Mari is maybe 9-11 (somewhere around there) she starts flying over during the summers to hangout with Jon (and his friends and big brother). While there, she meets Kon, Bat fam, and Clark (some who she already knew, some who she didn’t) & lightly hints that she knows who all they are once she figures it out (it didn’t take her long to do so). 

Now whenever she visits and is at Wayne Manor (Jon likes to have sleepovers practically every weekend) while they’re on patrol, Mari subtly messes with their minds (super subtle, they’re the world’s best detectives after all) until they finally look through the cams and see Mari giving them one of those smiles (those shit-grinning cause it’s just so hilarious how it’s gone on for so long) & and a playful wink. 

[5 seconds later]

“Mari!” “Pixie-pop!” “Angel!” “Teacup!”

“Seriously, am I the only one with a normal nickname for her?” -Tim

“Ms. Marinette would like to inform you that ‘it took you long enough’” -Alfred (who so knows that the girl has been playing them since the third night she stayed at the Wayne’s)

“Where are my adoption papers?” -Bruce (who is seriously adopting any talented black-haired child)

_

4) “Mari and Mar’i” 

When Mar’i is young, Dick and Kori take her with them to see Paris (btw, this would be during the winter). They’re strolling along through a park and lose track of Mar’i who finds Marinette (9-10 ish). Marinette comforts and distracts Mar’i while noticing the young(er) girl is Tameranian (her hair is very warm and she’s wearing significantly less layers than should be worn for a human of that age during the winter, plus that sun-kissed skin tone. She’s seen Kori in her fashion magazines (and, from time to time, on the news as an ambassador) so she easily make the connections). Dick and Kori finally spot Mar’i with Mari who introduces herself to them. Mar’i asks if she can see her “Auntinette” again and Marinette just goes “if your parents are okay with it.” Dick and Kori are totally cool with it (not many are willing to watch her and have the time to do it) so they ask Marinette if she can babysit Mar’i whenever (with good pay of course) if she’s up to it (cause she’s still pretty young). Marinette can’t say no to Mar’i’s babydoll eyes (and she’s so much easier compared to Manon, who’s only 2 rn), so of course, she says yes. 

Now Marinette is Mar’is official babysitter and sees Mar’i often whenever her parents drop her off (using zeta tubes to quickly get to Paris and back). Marinette gets treated like an honorary Wayne (cause she’s the most responsible) and gets invited to their family stuff (w/ travel pay taken care of, of course). It doesn’t take her long to realize the fact that she babysits Bruce Wayne’s & BATMAN’S granddaughter, but of course, being the responsible one she is, keeps the secret… while also playing with them via Mar’i.

[One Day]

After Marinette leaves for her plane…

“Uncle Dami!”

“Yes, Spawn?”

“Auntinette said to tell you after she left that Robin’s sut needs a major upgrade & that you look like a traffic light… whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

[Another Day]

“Uncle Jay!”

“What’s up kid?’

“Auntinette said that to let you know that Red Hood doesn’t make any sense ‘cause Red Hood wears a helmet. Not a hood.”

[The next time]

“Uncle Tim!”

Yawn. “yea?”

“Auntie told me to give you this” (pulls out super caffeinated coffee) “and that Red Robin’s cowl is a menace to all things fashion”

[Again…] 

“Daddy!”

“Yes, Starshine?”

“Auntienette said she’s proud of Nightwing’s costume ‘cause it’s one of the only in the batfam that isn’t an astro-city to the fashion society.”

_

5) “Marinette, the one who’s always getting chosen”

Before Mari became (becomes(?)) LB, she comes across a different powerful piece of jewelry, from a different order of guardians where her will of mind is not only her shield from being akumatized, but it is also what drives her powers. That’s right, Mari walks past a flea market and activates a GL ring. The guardians pick up on this activity and send Hal (it is his sector) to check it out. Hal finds the ring with Mari but it still needs the light of a GL to charge and fully work. 

[During the explanation]

“Look, kid-”

“Marinette.” 

“Look, kid, I just need to know why you have that ring.”

“You think I know? I was just walking through the market and all of a sudden, this possessed ring, if that’s even what this is, started following me, then zipped in front of my face til i held my hand up so it can put itself on my finger.” 

“Kid-”

“It’s MARINETTE. Get it wrong one more time and you’ll see why I don’t need a possessed piece of alien jewelry.” -Marinette, making sure you get her name right. “Besides, if I stole it, I would remember. I’m a klepto” -Marinette, probably holding his ring too at this point.

Hal obviously doesn’t want the wrath of the Dupain-Chengs (just the kid Marinette scares him enough), so he tells the guardians that JL will take care of most of Mari’s training (once they get her a lamp for her ring, of course) & has her take part in training at Mt. Justice with the Young Justice team and special training with the Bats. Mari does all this under the guise of an international student exchange program for Mari to stay with the Waynes (not yet knowing that it’s the bat fam) and attends G.A. Mari doesn’t do much, but it takes her 24-36 hours to know who EVERYONE is.

[the next week after settling in]

“Hey, Mars,” -Dick, in his Nightwing gear

“Hey, Di-is the GREATEST SHOW!” -Mari, changing the subject(… not really)

“How long did it take you?”

“Not as long as the Kryptonians…” -Mari, going off into a tangent (still trying to change the subject”

[When Marinette meets Tikki]

Back in Paris:

“Sooo… I’m getting powerful jewelry that gives me powers and a suit, needs to be recharged, and comes from some Order of the Guardians? What’s the difference between you and my ring?” -Marinette, who at this point is very confused as to why she keeps getting picked on for this kind of stuff. 

“One’s alien, one’s magic” -Tikki, hoping Mari will end it there & lowkey hates that the GL Corp. got to her first.

“They’re both non-human made energy sources” -Mari, cause once you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all before. 

“You can’t heal the Akuma without the miraculous, and there are more than just rings. Yours are earrings, there are hair clips, bracelets, necklaces and more” -Tikki, after having a minute to think

“Fine, only because you said they’re the only way to heal the, what was it again, akuma?”

_

6) “Their Unofficial Official Barista”

Part of Tim’s job as Co-CEO, is to make sure all the branches are running smoothly, sometimes that means he has to fly abroad to manually check in. Tim goes to Paris to check on the W.E. Paris branch. He goes to a nearby Patisserie (Tom and Sabine’s) to see a young Marinette (somewhere from 8-11) drawing in her sketchbook at the counter. She explains that her parents are at a catering event, but she’s there to man the little bakery. Tim asks for a super caffeinated coffee and Marinette makes it with ease, claiming it was on the house with how bad he looks (and how much sleep the man clearly needs). Tim begs for her knowledge and asks if she can teach his butler. Mari’s willing to show him the next time he comes, so he gets the whole fam to go (viz tubes so they don’t waste time) maybe a week later. Everyone gets their own drink (plus a free pastries) and Marinette teaches Alfred her coffee, but it’s just not the same so Tim, using the tubes, goes to get coffee from the girl whenever he can. 

Mari is horrible at getting up on time (the life of an insomniac, never getting to sleep even if you want and then barely waking up on time) that she is up super early, makes Tim his coffee (plus a croissant) and tries to go back to sleep (making her inevitably late). Tim would walk up to the pick-up counter where his cup and to-go bag is while Marinette runs out of the house to get to school. Eventually, the rest of the Batfam (as well as the Laegue, TT, and YJ) frequent the place, slowly becoming (Dami too) Mari hides it, but she knew all the batfam the first day they came and she showed Alfred how to make the coffee. When the others start making more regular appearances, she learns the identities of YJ team, WW, GLs, and others. Obviously when LB and CN appear as heroes with HM as their villain, they immediately reach out to help. Because 1. Batfam clearly notices that it’s Mari and they sure as heck won’t let her deal with that by herself, and 2. The JL is worrying too much about their favorite barista (even though she’s not really one), especially with the Gigantitan scare. So, of course LB & CN (can’t make him bad everytime) get inducted into YJ.

[After Ladybug finishes defeating Gigantitan and detransforms] 

“Bean! Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” -Tim, being an even more protective older brother than Dick, which shouldn’t be possible

“Yes, I promise. I’m fine” -Marinette, who just accepts the fact that she’s adopted an older brother (and his famliy)

“Tube over, we’ll have Alfred make sure” -Dick, already pulling out the medical supplies for Alfred.

“I-” 

“You shouldn’t worry your brothers like that, Marinette. Now come over so Alfred can clear you,” -Bruce, who just happens to overhear the conversation

“I’m sorry, Miss Marinette, they are very adamant that you’re in pitch perfect health before going out again,” -Alfred, who’s not actually sorry

“Fine” -Marinette, accepting her fate of her adopted, protective family. 

_

7) “Thicker Than the Blood We’ve Shed”

Why is Marinette so freakishly strong? Because she was trained to be. Before she could even talk, Mari was taught to be an assassin. She and Damian were frenemies, both competing for top spot as best in the League (of Assassins). They often spared together and became rivals who pushed each other (which sounds great in that context if you forget about the fact that they’re killing people and turning it into a competition). When Damian’s care is turned over to Batsy, Mari also comes along for the ride. She implements herself into Dami’s classes at G.A. & watches him from afar. (Damian, not being an idiot, of course knows all this and knows that it’s probably for Mari to give a report to Talia.) When he becomes Robin, Mari obviously knows, but waits to see if anything drastic would happen (his care was given to the Batfam, they had already expected this to happen.) She then heard word of the bounty Talia put on Damian’s head. Marinette knew there wouldn’t be much she could do to help, but she ave Dami a warning about the upcoming situation before fleeing the country. 

From there she got to France, changed her name (it wasn’t originally Marinette, it was Shénqí, chinese for miraculous/magical (or something else if you want)), was adopted by Tom & Sabine, and left her time in the League in the past. When she received Tikki, she didn’t want to be a hero because she didn’t think she deserved it after her up-bringing. Eventually, she did become LB (being a trained assassin does help with lucky charms, considering she was taught how to kill with basically every and anything), and life was good for her. Then Rossi came.

[Gotham field trip]

While at Wayne Tower…

“How idiotic are they?” -Damian, who after reuniting with his long-lost sister-from-a-different-mister (yes, Marinette was able to convince him to say it once), can’t understand the stupidity she has to deal with.

“Are you Robin?” -Mari, who is too tired, so just goes straight into the analogy

“Yes.” -Obvious and simply is.

“Exactly” -Mari, who can’t even put a limit to the amount of thought the one brain cell the class shares doesn’t use. I mean please, the so-called “reporter” believed that the first cosplayer she saw was the actual LB when they don’t even have the same hair! And let’s not forget the origins arc, where LB’s first citizen save was Chloe.

[neocatharsis]

Ten on his new Represent capsule, grappling with creativity, and evading genre lines.

As Ten Lee - a vocalist and dancer in K-pop groups NCT (with whom he debuted in 2016) and Super M, and Chinese group WayV - is musing over his proclivity for partnering music or visual styles in a way that others deem strange, he veers off on a tangent. “Anything can be matched… except juice and coffee,” he says, suddenly. “Those two should never be.” Ten is infamously anti-fruit. It stems from a mistaken process of association in childhood where “I had the image of a spider and the image of fruit mixed up,” he laughs awkwardly, “so now whenever I put fruit in my mouth, I think there’s spiders in my mouth.”

Random abstractions such as this pepper his rapid-fire conversation, like small fireworks fizzing through the dark. Excitable, enthused and sharply alert, if Ten’s energy was visible it would be a shimmering mantle of gold and silver dust. As a dancer, he moves with a sinuous, controlled power that can shift from elegant to explosive on a single beat. As a visual artist, the Bangkok-born, multilingual 25-year-old recently added the title of designer to his growing list of achievements, launching an already sold out collaboration with the bespoke merch platform Represent.

Aptly, he named his collaboration “What is ??? THE ANSWERS”, for although being a chameleonic artist is one of Ten’s greatest strengths, the personality traits that enable this created within him question marks around how he saw himself fitting into the world. “People ask me, ‘What kind of music do you like?’ And I say, ‘I like R&B but hope it sounds rock’. And they’re like, ‘That doesn’t make sense’.” It was troubling to Ten that people began telling him who he was and how he should be, instead of accepting him as is.

In a recent Instagram Live, the myriad of Ten’s contrasts tumble forthwith. He’s the doting cat-dad. His inner emo, who loves rock music, shows off dried roses, with the stern, black, geometric lines of the large tattoo on his inner right arm sometimes visible. But he’s also delicate in a way, with his butterfly tattoo and hair lightly permed, who names daisies as his other favourite flower, and plays Fousheé’s breathy TikTok hit, 'Deep End'.

“Have you seen the image where I have my name in a cross in lots of different languages?” He pulls the image up on his phone. The design sits on his Represent long sleeve tee. “I was thinking [about this], like, what you’re saying... Ten has this luvvie flower side and a very ‘rawwrr!’ side. I’m always like, ‘Ten, what kind of person are you?’ I do ask myself that, too, because everything I like is so different [to the other].” He could have conceded, and reined himself in. He’s pushed back instead. “I thought, ‘I can be anything I want, I can be this in the morning and this at night. I can be any person I want to be’. And that’s what makes me comfortable and happy.”

On his Instagram, Polaroids feature scrawled messages, like “Don’t tell me what to do!” and “Whatever! I’ll do it my way”. The designs of his collaboration seek to challenge being boxed in by other people’s standards, thus limiting ourselves. The recurring symbol of a cross tipped with arrows is a nod to the Chinese letter for 10, but doubles as a plus sign. He’s added it to his Instagram, writing “TEN_+•10” in his bio. “A plus sign can mean that you’re adding on and growing.” He points to another version of the arrow-cross, one with short diagonal dashes between its points that symbolise light. It means, he says, “that I’m radiating. I’m burning, I’m active, I’m doubling myself.” He touches his forearm, where crowning his geometric tattoo is a blazing sun. “I have this, like, if you want to be the light, you have to burn. I relate to that.”

This isn’t to say Ten’s self-exploration is complete. While celebrating his strengths, the artwork also portrays parts of himself not yet conquered. He admits to being a chronic overthinker: “Even very small things that happen to me, I rethink a thousand times, and I get stressed out because of the things I do. Like, the main theme [here] is me overthinking but trying to find an answer even though it doesn’t have any answer.” Fittingly, spiral shapes dominate his designs, looming large amongst bright, bold shapes that evoke 80s Pop Art and graffiti, though Ten shies away from defining himself as “fully an artist, I’m not in the position to say things like that yet.”

“I’m still learning and trying new things. You learn by getting different elements from different people and I’m in that stage now.” He enjoys wandering the infinite halls of Instagram and Pinterest where he screenshots art that he likes, lost in the images, often for hours. He explains that he’s mostly influenced by whatever his current visual obsession is. “I’m interested in tattoos lately so my paintings look like tattoo designs. I’m that person who, when they see stuff, it goes into my brain and instantly comes out from my hands,” he laughs.

Ten’s introduction to art and design was through his mother, who believed music, art and sport were more important in a child’s development than traditional academia. “She didn’t care if I got an A* or not, just don’t get an F or a D,” he grins. Like any kid forced to do something, Ten railed against spending his weekends at art school. He attended but he didn’t draw. He befriended his teacher and other pupils and, as they worked, he chatted. “I was a very talkative kid! When I came to SM Entertainment (in 2013), I had a lot of my own time because my parents were in Thailand and I was alone. I had to absorb all the new culture and adapt to a new environment.’” When he felt surrounded by “negative energy”, he began drawing, enamoured with the space and freedom it offered because in art, as he often says, “there’s no right answer.”

There is, however, sometimes a middle ground. His goal was to make the Represent collection accessible to his diverse fanbase. “I wanted to make things that people can easily wear because it was my first project to make something with clothes and it’s a collab. If you go too far out, no one will get it. If you go too far back, people won’t reach for it. So finding the middle ground is important but that’s the hardest thing to do. If it’s my own project, I’ll be like, ‘I’m the president of this brand, I’m gonna make all the weird clothes that I can imagine!’”

He sought second opinions to ensure his designs landed the way he hoped. “I have a lot of good friends around me - my choreographer, (SHINee and Super M member) Taemin hyung, my manager. I randomly ask people I’m comfortable with and have known for a long time, like Mark (Lee, of NCT and Super M). Mark has the same kind of perspective as me, but I’m a person who is arrghhh!” He waves his hands in the air. “And he’s very calm. I need a person who is opposite of me because when I’m in a mood, I talk nonsense - ‘I wanna do this, I wanna do that, I wanna make this!’ - and Mark’s like,’Bro, calm down’,” he says in a rather uncanny impression of the Canadian-Korean.

Ten works fast when he’s drawing. He has to. He describes his personality as someone who can't wait until the next day to do something. “I’m very impatient,” he smiles. “If I’m going to paint or draw, I’m going to finish it in, like, two hours. I can’t sit down for three hours.” When inspiration hits him, it’s off the back of deep contemplation, sometimes about the mundane - “Like, why do the cats come to me when they’re hungry only? Is it selfish or instinct? - at other times, something affecting him emotionally.

But whereas his job as a singer and dancer sees him project his energy outwards, art offers the opposite. He’s often alone in his room when he works. As is for many artists, the right mood is fundamental. “When I’m in a good mood, I can’t draw,” he half-sighs. It’s also a multi-sensory process. “Smell or the temperature of the room, that really helps me draw. I light three or four candles. And when I draw, it’s kind of heavy, the feeling,” he explains. “It feels like you’re sinking into something, into yourself, and everything seems so small. Everything narrows down into me, my pencil, the paper.”

The more work he does in different creative mediums, the less Ten’s desire is to keep them separate. His art, dance and music influence each other, whether it’s customising his own collaboration pieces, a choreography video in an art gallery or dancing underwater with a film crew. When someone tells him that something won’t work or match up well, he refuses to let the idea go until he’s attempted it.

“I’ve had that since I was young. I think everything is possible. If you don’t try, you don’t know. When people say it’s impossible, like dancing in water for three minutes, I’m like, then let’s make it possible. You don’t need to walk a straight line [in life], you can walk this way,” Ten says, pointing along an invisible line before switching sharply in direction. “Then go back on track, go that way, come back. No one should tell you to walk in a line, I don’t see the point of that.”

© Clash Magazine

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 4

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I felt it necessary to say, remember, these are all following along with the episodes from 03x04 on till the end of 3A. Without *directly* inserting the reader into the plot line, but more an off screen role. (Aside from the beginning, where, obviously, Derek fought the Alpha’s while Cora watched from the sidelines.) And because of that, it’s more angst than I usually write. It was a very angsty season. And the prompts have inherent angst, but lots of fluff, and sass, so once we get out of the murkiness that is Jennifer Blake (can you tell I don’t like her? - which, kudos to the actress, who I think is beautiful and brilliant, for making me hate her so much. 😆) we can move on to that happy, feel good, Sourwolf love we all enjoy so much. But until then, I guess this counts as a slow burn of sorts?

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,633

Xxx

The next day was lonely. Stiles would text you every now and then, but other than that it was a quiet day. No word about Derek from anyone other than Peter and Cora going to get his body and it not being there. And neither was Ennis’, who Derek had pulled down with him. You decided not to dwell on the many possible things that could mean. 

You drove in silence to all the places Stiles had mentioned the night before and spoke meekly at each one. You felt almost like you were floating through the day, going through the motions, but your mind was a million miles away. 

The meet ended up getting canceled due to weather, and they were all going to be stuck staying at some crappy motel that Stiles insisted was haunted through multiple texts with an excessive amount of emojis. You couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, which was kinda odd, but also not totally abnormal.

To top it all off, you needed something you left at the loft, so you told the Sheriff - who had taken the night off and ordered a pizza to stay in with you this evening, after finding out Stiles wasn’t coming right back - you would be back in a flash, you just had to “run home real quick”, careful not to mention the loft, to which he just chuckled and said something along the lines of, “Just make sure you run the speed limit.”

Sighing as you pulled into the loft parking lot, you glanced through the windshield up at the top floor where it sat. It was so ominous looking, bathed in moonlight, it almost gave a faint glow. Resting your forehead on the steering wheel, you took some deep breaths, panic rising as flashes of your tango with an Alpha came back rapidly. But instead of feeling like a badass, it made you hyperventilate. There was this gnawing feeling that it had been a one time thing, and that should you ever encounter them again you would be in so much trouble. 

Taking one last deep breath to steady your nerves, you stopped mid inhale, slightly cocking your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

Derek. 

You had caught Derek’s scent. Well, it’s his loft, you rationalized to yourself. But no. This was fresh. Less than a few hours old. Glancing back up at the loft one last time, you grabbed the handle and yanked your door open, mustering the courage you could find to climb up the winding staircase and see for yourself.

Taking them two at a time, you felt your courage build with each step and your hope that Derek was there along with it. As you stood in front of the loft door, your outstretched hand just shy of the handle and trembling, you took a tentative breath and knew Derek had been here very recently. That was the final push you needed to firmly grip the handle of the loft door, preparing to give it a hefty pull, but something made you stop short. 

A whisper. 

Just on the other side of the door, a woman's voice, then Derek’s. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you; you didn’t smell anyone else. You did pick up on something vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. The smell reminded you of school, and the crime scenes of the sacrifices you had been at, and lately, the loft. Unable to place the smell, you slowly slid the door open, stopping after only a few inches to peek in. 

What you saw made your heart speed up, as there Derek sat on the edge of his bed, covered in scratches and blood, but alive. He was alive. 

Your feet that had been glued to the floor suddenly felt like they were floating, the distance between him and you too much. You couldn’t contain the smile that brought to your lips, but it soon melted when another figure stepped into view in front of him. On instinct you had started to move forward, barely making it over the threshold before the other silhouette made you pull up short.

Jennifer. 

You covered your mouth to hold in whatever was about to come out, anger, disgust, pain, you didn’t know, they were all swirling in your gut at the sight. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself on the doorframe to try and stay just out of sight.

No, Derek hadn’t caught your scent yet, which is what you found the most strange, and worrisome, and only reinforced that she was doing something to his mind. 

You finally placed the smell as belonging to Miss Blake, but it was different from her scent she had all the other times you had seen her, and that somehow made it worse. It didn’t smell like emotions or anything, it smelled like an entirely different being. Barely even human.

This last thought made you knit your eyebrows in determination, about to rise to your feet, charge in there, and show the she devil a thing or two, but you only made it to one knee, still bent on the floor, before you froze, eyes wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline. What you saw could never be unseen. Like two dogs in heat, they were on one another as if space between them was too painful. Your grip on the door frame and the loft door handle almost broke them under the pressure. 

You felt sick. Physically sick to your stomach. Whether from the feeling of betrayal, knowing you were right that something was weird about this whole thing, the fact that they had been getting it on in front of you, or all of the above, you weren’t quite sure.

Sliding the door shut calmly, you tried to keep it together as you softly, but quickly, made it back down the stairs, into your car, and back to the Stilinski driveway, putting your car in park and shutting off the engine before you let yourself feel anything. 

You wanted to kick and scream and sob your eyes out because you knew she had been doing something to him, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t go with your gut, and now here you were. In your car, alone. In front of the Stilinski house. Silent tears racing down your face at the feeling of betrayal, both from seeing them together tonight and at yourself for not doing something sooner. 

A tap on your window made you jump, and you saw the Sheriff trying to peek in. Opening your door, you hopped out, swiping rapidly at your tears, and plastering a smile on your face. “Sorry that took so long.”

He looked at you skeptically, waving it off. “Nah. The pizza just got here. You’re right on time.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he ushered you into the house, quietly closing the front door behind the both of you. He stayed silent until you were both in the living room. He had the remote in his hand about to press play on the movie, but it dipped once in hesitation before he sighed, and it fell along with his hand to the armrest beside him. Scrubbing his face for a moment with his free hand, he finally looked up at you. Opening his mouth once before snapping it shut, staring blankly in front of him as if the space held the right thing to say, he scratched his forehead with the remote, his face making the face you had come to learn and love earlier on from Stiles. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You stopped trying to grab a slice of pizza from the box, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before nodding gently, staring at the floor. “Yeah.” You looked up and met his gaze, seeing concern painting his features. “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just boy trouble. Thanks for asking.” You smiled as best you could, and he seemed to do the same. 

“Well, we’ve known each other forever, sweetheart, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

The smile on your face felt a little more genuine. “I know. Thank you.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it makes me,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything. The words sounded pained and forced, his brows knit like he was eating a lemon, and you finally let out the full smile that had been trying break through, even laughing. 

His lips twitched up gently. “There she is.”

“I will. Thank you. But for both of our sakes-” you leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm- “I’ll probably just tell Stiles.”

“Oh, thank God.” He let out on a huff of air, making you laugh again. “Now. Let’s watch this movie.” He hit play, and you settled into the couch, letting the plot unfolding on the screen take you away, if only for a little while.

Xxx

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, waking you up with a start. 

The DVD menu played softly on a loop, the movie long over, and to your right the Sheriff was snoring with his head on the back of the couch. 

You tossed the blanket you had been using on top of him before leaving the room and checked your phone, only to see it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You spoke quietly into the receiver, not wanting to wake the Sheriff. 

“Y/N? Why are you whispering?” Stiles sounded kind of stressed, just a little bit off. 

“Your dad took off work tonight and we had a pizza - yes, I let him have pizza, don’t you dare jump on my case and go on a tirade about how he needs a salad, let the man live, Stiles - and we watched a movie.”

“I was wondering why that soundtrack was playing on a loop in the background. He used a DVD, didn’t he? I taught him how to use streaming-”

“Stiles!” You cut off his tangent with a chuckle. “Why are you calling me so late. Or, is it early?” You checked your watch to find it was early morning, still dark outside. 

“Well, let’s just say tonight has been interesting, we are all alive, which is good, but sleeping on the bus-”

“The bus?”

“The bus. Our rooms weren’t safe, and I don’t mean because of roaches or mysterious stains, Y/N.” You grinned. “Although there was this one smell in my room that was rather suspect….”

Smell. Scent. Shit.

Screwing your eyes shut, palm on your forehead, you spoke quickly, “Stiles, don’t be angry with me.” Peeking your head into the other room to see the Sheriff still soundly asleep, you stepped onto the back porch and closed the door behind you, ignoring Stiles’ incessant questions as you did. 

“Stiles! Hush! I had to leave the room so your dad didn’t hear!” 

“Oh,” was all he said. You heard the squeak of the bus as he slumped back against it, obviously doing the same as you and trying to get a bit of privacy. 

Taking a deep breath, you told him everything you saw at the loft. 

The only thing he did was suck in a sharp breath, but was otherwise silent. Finally he said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before lifting your gaze to stare vacantly across the yard. “My main concern was that scent. It didn’t smell human, but not entirely not human.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Stiles said blandly, making your lips twitch up just slightly. You heard another voice on the other end, Scott, and Stiles mumbled something about speakerphone before the phone was jostled around a bit. You could hear a mumbled, “Well, no, you don’t need speakerphone because you’re a freak of nature, Scott, but I, a mere mortal, need the aid.” You chuckled and could hear Scott let out a groan and soft chuckle himself. 

“Y/N?” Finally Scott’s voice came through clearly.

“Yeah?” 

“First of all, thank you. For everything.” His voice sounded distant, and you sure as hell were going to interrogate them when they got back as to what the hell happened that night at the motel, but for now you just nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and rolled your eyes. 

“You’re welcome, Scott. The feeling’s mutual. Thanks for making it so easy.”

Stiles humphed. “I feel like that last part was directed at me.”

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A mumbled, “Thanks, I guess,” but you could hear his smile. 

“Y/N, the scent. The one you smelled at Derek’s loft.” Scott was back to business. “I think I smelled it here tonight.”

“Really? How is that-” You were cut off by Scott who was obviously talking to Stiles. 

“Right before we decided to stay in the bus, when Lydia saw something in the fire, after the explosion-”

"Okay, what the hell happened to you guys?!" you asked loudly, cutting them off. Grimacing, you quickly used your hearing to pick up on the Sheriff's continued snores, let out a sigh of relief, and lowered your voice. "I feel so left out."

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” Scott said. “Long story short, something went after a specific group of our friends, and when it finally showed its face,” you heard Lydia cut in from somewhere behind, “I’d barely call that a face,” and you didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid. 

Scott continued pointedly, “When it showed its face, I got a whiff of something I can only describe how you described the smell at the loft. Not human. But also not… not…. human.”

A smacking sound could be heard, and you realized Stiles was patting Scott on the back while saying, “It’s okay, bud. It’s been a long day.”

“One question.” You took a deep breath, trying to decide on the winner of thousands that swam around your brain right now. “Why is Lydia there?”

“She came with Allison.”

“Why was Allison there, Stiles?”

“Uh-uh. You said one question.”

“This is still technically the same question since they apparently came together.”

“….Touché,” Stiles finally came back with, before sighing. “Look, I’ll tell you everything when we get back, okay? It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to sleep,” he continued in a mumble, “if I can ever sleep again after seeing what I’ve seen.” A brief pause. “You werewolves need to come with a disclaimer. ‘May cause sleep disturbances’.” 

You laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with you guys this tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” came a chorus of voices, and you felt relief wash over you at the sound of each one, knowing they were safe and sound. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Stiles’ voice came through by itself after some fumbling, probably taking you off speakerphone.

“Goodbye, Stiles. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep? I mean, I am part of the reason, after all. I do come with a disclaimer.”

“I would absolutely love that, but I need to save my battery and I am in a bus surrounded by werewolves, whatever Lydia is, and a hunter. I think my security system is pretty good for tonight.”

You chuckled. “Okay then. Goodnight, Stiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Oh!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there with my dad.”

“No problem, Stiles. You know he’s like family to me. He was there for me when I came back from the loft, said I could talk about it if I needed.”

“He offered to listen while you talked?!” He was almost yelling. 

You laughed again. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

[seaofghouls]

Resident Evil Village WKM AU

PART 1

Taglist: Nobody. Comment to be tagged!

Warnings: Bullets, Guns, Monsters, Tranquilizers, Blood, Gore, Descriptions of serious injuries, ect.

The stuff you'd see in Resident Evil. ------

“Long ago, a young girl went to pick berries for her father who was hard at work. The forest greeted them with a dark, cold silence. The bushes empty. Yet, determined to find the berries, the little rascal broke free of mother’s grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother’s worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on, over vine and under branch and into the forest deep.

Feeling strange eyes upon her, the girl recalled mother’s scary tales and her throat became bone dry. Then the bat lord appeared. He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing. “Come child, quench your thirst.” He said. So she drank the thick dark blood and smiled with joy. Passing through the graveyard, menacing storm clouds loomed and the air turned bitingly cold. The girl was shivering in her thin clothes.

Then, a Dark Weaver appeared and with a click of his fingers, crafted mist into a beautiful dress. “Come child, warm yourself.” He coaxed. So she clothed herself and smiled with joy. Across waters deep and ominous she went, hoping a boat she found would take her home. But hunger’s grip tightened and her hunger grew heavy.

Then, the fish king appeared and offered one of his many fins. “Come child, eat your fill.” So the girl ate and smiled with joy once again. Continuing on, she soon entered the forest’s dark heart. Then an Iron Steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear. The creature said nothing as the girl approached.. And snatched what she thought was another gift.

The horse grew angry and summoned the other monsters. Terror filled the girl’s heart as a wild wind rose around the beasts. Suddenly, a witch appeared! Dark, yet regal. “Gift we gave, but more you took.” She snarled. In a blink, the girl was trapped in a mirror, forever.” “There, she’s asleep.” He finished, holding a baby.

“What is with the creepy story? She’s only six months old. Especially the part about being trapped in a mirror.” Y/N asked with a huff.

“The woman at the store said it was traditional. A local tale. Besides, Rose doesn’t seem to mind.” Damien gestured at the sleeping baby in his arms.

“Because she doesn’t understand it, thank god.” Y/N sighed.

“We moved here so she wouldn’t have to deal with that, remember?” Y/N frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” Damien slightly snapped.

“Maybe I’m being paranoid. I’m just cautious, y’know?” Y/N said.

“Then, go cautiously take your daughter to bed.” Damien smiled, handing them the baby.

“I’ll finish dinner.” Damien gave Y/N and Rose both a kiss on the head.

“It’s alright, Rose. Your father doesn’t want to remember. I can’t blame him.” Y/N mumbled.

“Did you say something, dear?” Damien called out.

“Nope! I’ll put her to sleep.” Y/N called back.

Y/N carried Rose up the stairs and into her room.

Setting her into the crib, Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry Rose, I’ll be right downstairs. I won’t let those scary fairytale monsters get you.”

Y/N gave her a kiss and walked back down the stairs.

“Is she doing alright?” Damien asked as Y/N walked back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping like a- well, a baby.” Y/N giggled.

“Mm, smells good. What is that?” Y/N asked, referring to the meal that Damien was cooking.

“It’s clorba de legume, a local recipe.” Damien said.

“Wow, you’ve gone full native, huh?” Y/N smiled.

“Local wine, too.” Damien smirked.

“If you’re going to be grumpy all evening, maybe you shouldn’t have any~.” Damien teased.

Y/N sighed as Damien poured wine into two glasses.

“You really need to stop worrying.” Damien said.

“It’s just.. Everything happened so fast, y’know? It’s a bit stressful.” Y/N frowned.

“Well, at least we’re all here together.” Damien gave a small smile.

“You, me, Rose, now everything’s going to be-” Y/N interrupted him.

“Seriously? You think we can just forget what happened in Louisiana?” Y/N asked.

“It happened so long ago. I just- I don’t understand why you are so-” Damien was interrupted by a bullet.

In his shoulder.

And then, what seemed to be hundreds more lodged into him.

“Damien!” Y/N cried. The lights were cut out, the blood was everywhere.

There was no coming back from that.

“Damien-! Oh god.” Y/N cried.

Hiding under the table, Y/N was covering their mouth as they looked up to see who did this.

“Abe?! What the hell?” They barked.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Abe shot at Damien’s body more.

“No! What?! Why?!” Y/N sobbed.

“Ghk-!” Y/N gasped out as they were shot with tranquilizer darts.

----

Y/N slowly cracked their eyes open with a groan as they heard a phone going off. They lurched over to unburry it and answered it.

“Is the package secure?” The other end asked.

“What the hell is going on here? Where is Abe and Rose?” Y/N demanded.

“You are not authorized to-” The phone cut out.

“Curses!” They spit.

They began to walk around, turning on their flashlight that they had.

Crows were hung from the trees and the van had crashed.

They found a house and decided to explore it. Nothing of use on the main floor.

Or in the house for that matter. Just blood stains and a trashed home.

“..What did all of this?” Y/N sighed.

By the time they got out, it was morning. They’d never been so happy to see daylight. God, that house was creepy.

“Where the hell am I?” Y/N questioned, looking at the giant castle ahead.

Walking into the town below, it was abandoned. It was utterly trashed and empty. They ran into a man hiding inside a house. He shoved a gun into their hands.

“It’s all I can spare.” He said.

“What the hell’s out there?!” Y/N pleaded, but got no answer before whatever was outside grabbed the man through the roof. They fell through the floorboards into a bit of bodies.

“Aghk-!” They cried.

“Oh god.” They cried.

Bodies littered the floor.

“..Jesus Christ.” They muttered.

“Agh-!” They howled in pain as a beast attacked them, tearing off three of their fingers.

They were thrown out of the basement into the open world, their hand bleeding out, missing fingers.

“What the hell was that?!” They cried.

“N-no! Stay back!” Y/N pulled out the gun the old man had given them and started shooting at the beast. It fell over and bled out after a few shots.

They realized they were trapped. They decided to look around the village for any keys to open the locked gates or ways out. They were able to cut the lock open on the gate blocking them with lock cutters and other various items they found around the village of death.

They heard a radio announcement about traveling to Luiza’s house for safety, so they decided to do that while picking up useful items that they ran into.

The beasts were everywhere. They were able to wrap their bleeding hand in bandages they found. They had quite a few close calls including the beasts.

They got cornered and tumbled into a lake while bleeding out surrounded by monsters before they all stopped all of a sudden and ran off when an old woman seemingly saved them.

“W-wait!” They tried to chase after the lady.

She went off on a tangent with a creepy smile. “The bell tolls for us all! They’re coming again!” She closed the gate.

“Damn it.” Y/N cussed.

The only part that Y/N was paying attention to was the fact that their daughter was in the village.

“I’ve got to find her.” Y/N said.

They continued to travel through the village, shooting at monsters. Damien’s death was still heavy on their mind.

They found a daughter and father in a shed. They found a way to get them inside and close the gate. Luiza greeted the three at the front door, albeit with a man pointing a gun at them before Luiza shooed him off.

“You’re not from this village, are you?” Luiza questioned.

“Uhm, no. I’m Y/N.” They said.

“If Elena trusts you, then so do I. Come inside, Y/N.” Luiza said.

Luiza led them to the main part of the house where the others were hiding.

They certainly did not get a warm welcome.

“There is no safe! Every sorry person out there has been ripped in half!” A man cried, his alcohol swishing from side to side from inside the bottle.

“That’s enough.” Luiza declared.

“Let us pray for those still out there.” She said.

They all joined in a circle, praying to whatever god there was out there.

Y/N started to get a bit freaked out when the old man they had helped inside started laughing and screaming in agony. The house was lit on fire after he knocked over a lit lantern.

People started to crowd the old man asking if he was okay or what was going on.

Y/N gasped as they realized. He was no longer human. He was one of the monsters.

“Oh no.”

He slaughtered almost everyone in the main room as Y/N took Elena’s hand and ran into the hall away from the fire and the beast.

“Elana, we have to go!” They yelled.

“Let them go!” Elana cried, shooting her dad in the head as he was on top of Y/N.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry father.” Elena whispered after she shot him a second time.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. That thing wasn’t your father anymore. You did the right thing.” Y/N comforted Elena.

The beast groaned and garbled as floorboards fell on top of it causing more fire to spread. Y/N slammed the door he was in and comforted Elena as she cried.

“We’ve gotta get out of here. He was already gone.” Y/N patted her shoulder.

After looking for a while, Y/N found the truck keys.

“Damn, the fire’s moving fast. Elena, get in the truck with me.” They said.

They crashed through the wall using the truck.

The fire surrounded them, Y/N bit their lip.

Looking up, they narrowed their eyes. “Nowhere to go but up.”

They helped Elena climb up with them.

“..Elena..” A garbled voice called out.

“Father?!” Elena ran towards him. Y/N tried to stop her but failed.

“Elena, wait! That’s not him!” Y/N cried.

The floorboards were cracking.

Elena ignored them.

“Elena, take my hand!” They ordered, holding out their hand to grab.

“Y/N, go! Save your daughter!” Elena cried.

“Elena, please! Don’t give up! Reach for me!” Y/N said.

Elena fell through the floorboards into the fiery abyss below.

“Damn it!” Y/N cussed.

“Why is everyone dying on me?!” Y/N cried through gritted teeth as they climbed out of the burning house.

Y/N saw the old lady again so they ran up to her.

“Death. Death has visited them all!” She cackled.

Y/N disregarded that. They accidentally walked into the gate of the castle. Digging into their bag, they realized that they had the two keys to open the door. Artifacts, the keys were.

They were about to pull the lever to the elevator when a voice stopped them after they had walked into the castle.

“Well, well. Didn’t think anyone was left! You must be pretty tough, huh?” He had a huge hammer, Y/N observed.

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N asked.

“Oh! You’re not local! Even better.” The man smirked.

“Aghk-!” Y/N groaned as a spear was jabbed into them from out of thin air.

“Mother Celine’s going to love you.” He laughed some more as more and more metals were attached to Y/N until they passed out.

…

They came back to consciousness as they were being dragged and in chains.

“Quit your whining! We’re almost there!” The man assured.

They closed their eyes again, opening them, hearing voices.

“The person is of no real use to anybody else.. And my children do so love entertaining foreigners. Furthermore, I can assure you if you entrust the mortal to enter house Iplier, my children and I shall deliver the finest of blood to you, the finest cups of his slaughtered blood.”

“Out of my way, ugly! I wanna see!”

Y/N was certain there was some deep sobbing mixed in there as well.

“Oh~! They’re awake!”

More deep sobbing.

“Both of you shut the hell up!”

“..What..? Where..?” Y/N started.

“You mean you’ll screw around with him in private? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Give him to me and I’ll put on a show that everyone can enjoy.”

“Oh, so gauche. What do we care for bread and circuses? The person’s suffering is assured, regardless.”

“Yack, yack, the person’s privates are cut off in the castle, blah blah blah!”

“I’ve heard all of your arguments. Some less persuasive than others, but.. I’ve made my decision.”

“Benjamin. The person’s fate lies in your hands.”

“Mother Celine, I must protest! Benjamin is but a child and his devotion to you is questionable. Give the mortal to me and I will ensure they are ready.”

“Shut your damn hole and don’t be a sore loser! Go find your food somewhere else.” Benjamin growled.

“Quiet now, child! Adults are talking!”

I’m the child? You’re the one arguing with Mother Celine’s decision!” Benjamin defended.

“You wouldn’t know responsibility if it was welded to that hammer!”

“Oh, keep growing, one day your head might actually fit your ego!” Benjamin yelled.

“..Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” Y/N groaned.

“Fight fight fight fight!”

“SILENCE!” Mother Celine cried.

“My decision is final. There will be no argument. Remember where you came from.” Mother Celine said.

“Thank you.” Benjamin said.

“Lycans and gentleman! We thank you for waiting! Now, let the games begin!” Benjamin announced.

He bent down to Y/N’s level.

“Let’s see what you’re really made of, Y/N Winters.” He smirked.

He slammed his hammer down in front of Y/N and started counting down.

Y/N got up and ran as fast as they could, still handcuffed. Down the yellow tinted corridor echoing the screams of the monsters. They saw a hole in the ground. Looking around, it was the only option. So, they did the only thing they could. They took the leap.

They ran and ran from the monsters when they landed.

“Agh! Jesus Christ!” They cried.

“That’s right! Run for your life!” Benjamin cackled.

----

[maybe-your-left]

GETTING CAUGHT HAVING SEX BY PARENTS WITH EITHER SACKLER OR ALTMAN!💖🥰

MY ANGEL, I LOVE YOU😘😘😘😘

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE KITTEN. 

PHILLIP ALTMAN

“I can’t believe we have to sleep in the basement...” 

You patted Phillip's shoulder, handing him a pile of blankets with a small smile, “It's okay, your sister needed to use your bedroom and we’ll be okay down here.” 

“But,” Phillip tossed the blankets down before wrapping you in his arms. Softly swaying you as you both stood, “I really wanted to make you squirt in my teenage bedroom.” 

“Phil!” you swatted him, trying to push away. 

“I know, I’m ashamed... but you look so pretty when you do.” 

You cocked a brow, eyes darting towards the fold-out bed and then up to Phillip's face. His eyebrows shot up, mouth making an ‘o’, “You dirty minx, you want me to make you squirt here? In my family basement? Next to the laundry?” 

“I guess we would have easier cleanup.” 

Phillip threw you to the bed, already yanking your leggings down to your ankles before pinning your legs to your chest. Your pussy lifted in the air, right under his chin as he rubbed his beard into your clit. Scratching the sensitive nub, making it twitch in pleasure. You let out a soft yip, hugging your ankles tighter with anticipation. Phillips tongue darted out, licking from your cunt to clit, flicking it over and over as it stiffened more and more. “Philly,” whimpered, bottom lip trembling as he lapped at you over and over. 

“What is it? Does my minx want something?” 

You nodded, spreading your legs enough for your face to pop out for him. Clenching in his face for you to notice how eager for him to shove anything into you. Phillip nodded in understanding, “Keep your legs up,” he demanded. Pulling off the bed to abandon his shoes before losing his belt. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up before smacking the outside of both your thighs. Watching the supple flesh jiggle before he gripped them tightly and rocked your body towards him. A hand flew to his zipper, yanking it down to pull out his hard cock. Phillip placed a forearm across the back of your thighs, pulling one of your hands to wrap around his girth. 

“Play with me, play with your favorite toy minx.” 

Your hand squeezed his base, his knees moving his body closer to your hand as he spat on your pussy. Without warning Phillip shoved two fingers until you, hooking them to immediately attack your special bundle of nerves on your front wall. Pulling a wail from your throat in response, your hand stroking him harshly. Your walls began clenching over and over as he fingered you, faster than he ever had. You took in the sight of him, focusing so hard on making you cum. His bicep bulging out of his shirt, his forearm clenched on your legs. The vein on the side of his neck straining against his skin, his soft mouth was popped open in awe as your pussy opened for him. Allowing him to worm in a third finger, “You’re so good for me, you’d do anything to make me happy wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes! Phil!” you slipped your fist on his tip over and over. Squeezing over and over as you passed the ridge, gathering his precum and gliding it along his length. Phillip groaned at you, eyes momentarily closing in bliss as his fingers let up. You whined at the loss, bucking as much as you could in your current position. 

“You know what would make me so fucking happy?” 

You shook your head. 

“If you squirted,” he fucked into you fast and hard, your slick gushing out of you as he moaned. “Want you to soak my sleeve, can you do that for me? I can feel how bad you want to.” 

“Ah! Please, just a little more!” 

Phillip nodded at you, moving his free hand to press into your folded lower abdomen. Applying just enough pressure for you to crack, convulsing in his grip as you wailed. Pussy squirting over and over along him, just as he asked for, your cum running down his forearm as he looked at you in awe. 

“Again baby.” 

You cried, body aching but you couldn’t stop yourself. His fingers wouldn’t stop fucking into you to stop you from cumming again. You brought a hand up to gather some of your spend, clicking it along his length as you tried to give him a hand job while he made you fountain for him. Phillip groaned, wrapping his lips around your clit in appreciation. Moaning as he tasted your cum, easing one finger out of you, softly petting your walls with his middle and forefinger. 

You were drunk on him, eyes lazily opening as you stared at the stairs to your left. Breath catching in your throat when you saw Phillip’s mom momentarily stalled in the middle of the stairs. 

“I heard commotion, but I see you both are just fine...” 

“Mommy!” Phillip cried, his palm trying to cover your sex from his therapist mom’s eyes, “Announce yourself next time!” 

She pranced back up the stairs, yelling over her shoulder before the door shut. 

“Like you could hear me over her screams!” 

ADAM SACKLER

“Hey,” you snapped in Adam’s face, “You need to be good today. This is your first impression, and they weren’t thrilled when you made sex noises the other day while I was on the phone.” 

“Your sister laughed. I heard her.” 

You rolled your eyes as you straightened the collar on his shirt. He looked ridiculous, you had dressed him in some nice pants and a button-up, something he didn’t even own until 24 hours ago. He was much too big for normal shirt sizes at the store, his biceps looked like they were going to explode out at any moment. And the pants left little to the imagination, thank god you found dark slacks so his bulge wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye. But your parents were taking you and Adam to a nice restaurant before going back to the house for dessert. He scratched at his neck after you finished, whining when you swatted his hands away. “Fuck, I can’t breathe,” Adam cried, “I look like I mugged a bellboy and stole his clothes.” 

“You look very responsible baby,” you kissed his cheek before walking to the front door, grabbing your clutch and opening the front door. “Let's go, before you rip that shirt.”

Your parents were civil at dinner, asking Adam questions about his theater work and woodworking. About hobbies and interests outside of his main focus, where he was from, other nosey questions that he handled like a champ. If it weren’t for the flashcard training you made him go through the past week he probably would’ve gone on a personal tangent about his personal opinions on the salad your dad chose to eat but he knew you wanted him to make a good impression. You were so proud of him, holding his hand under the table and squeezing it when he made a smart joke, or made your mom blush when he gave her a slightly offhand compliment. By the end of it, you could tell he was drained from being personable, his trademark smile was fading as it dragged on. Finally your parents paid the bill and asked you both to follow them home. 

Adam let out a big groan when he got into the car, throwing his face towards you as he sighed, “Kid, that was exhausting. This shirt is so uncomfortable and I couldn’t touch you under the table the entire time because your dad was watching me like a hawk.” 

“You did so well,” you grabbed his cheeks and gave him a big kiss. Lingering long enough for him to relax into you, humming as your lips worked over one another. Softly tasting each other, Adam’s tongue briefly licked into your mouth, forcing your jaw to open enough to take him. A warm palm slid to your bare thigh, peaking through the slit in your dress. A deep groan sounded into your mouths as he whispered on your lips, “And you looked so good, it took everything in me to devour you. So soft, all for me.” 

You smiled, nudging his hand away, “Come on, they are going to be mad if we're late.” 

Dessert was quick, all of you flooding into the den where your parents told stories about their college years and courtship. You could tell Adam was checked out, focusing on you more than anything else. After a few glasses of wine, you were feeling flush, turning your attention to your handsome man. Watching you with total admiration and devotion, you wanted to eat him up. And you found that you couldn’t wait to get home. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told the room, slowly sauntering away. Letting your hips sway just a little too much, but you knew your parents didn’t notice. They were too into whatever they were talking about to see you and Adam eye-fucking each other. As you turned the corner, you heard Adam excuse himself to the kitchen to get some water, your parents paying him no mind either. The two of your locked eyes, Adam’s completely black as they raked up and down your figure. You gave him a big smile before running up the stairs, Adam's footsteps following close behind. 

The door to your childhood bedroom was soon shut as softly as possible before Adam had you pinned to the mattress. Facedown as you giggled at him, hands fisting the sheets as you heard him fall to his knees behind you, his large hands pushing your skirt above your hips. 

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Adam groaned, pulling your panties to the side before he shoved his mouth to your folds. Licking deep through them, tasting every inch of your flesh. His thumbs hooked into you, prying you apart so he could look in awe, “Fucking best cunt ever, been teasing me with it all night. Not letting me fuck it before we left.” 

You moaned when he dove in again, strong tongue fucking in and out of your entrance. Slurping up your slick that poured into his mouth, filling the room with the sound of your excited sex. You rocked your hips back into him, mouthing at the sheets as he groaned into you, “Coulda filled you with my cum, made you sit in it all night.” 

“Sackler...” 

“You want like that? Having to sit across from your dad full of my cum? He’d be so disappointed in what a filthy slut you are.” 

Adm smacked your thigh, a little too loud, before standing up. He ran his hands across your ass, gripping and bouncing your cheeks as he ground his slacks into you. “M gonna fuck you, right here. Make them hear you and all the pretty noises you make for me.” 

“Please,” your voice broke as you looked back at him. Your mascara slightly clumping from the tears that were building from the teasing. “Give me your cum, wanna feel it deep inside me. Please Sackler.” 

His zipper was pulled down, yanking his slacks down mid-thigh while he fished his cock out. Lewdly smacking it on your cheeks to leave a smear of precum, slipping it between your legs as fucking your clit a few times. “You gonna show me? How deep I can bury my cum inside your little cunt?” 

You clenched in anticipation, his head at your entrance as you nodded, “I’ll show you, baby, want your cum.” 

Adam growled as he pushed in, seating himself to the hilt. Cock head rubbing your cervix before he pulled back, beginning to thrust wildly into you without abandon. Both of you creating a symphony of moans, bare skin slapping against one another as you gushed around him. Adam laughed as he fucked you, “Fuckin’ tight cunt, always so wet for me. You like me fucking you here, letting your family know what a slut-.” 

The door creaked open, both of you freezing, Adam’s cock buried inside you as your mom’s head popped in. 

“Hey, sweetie, letting you know we’re headed to b-Oh my god!” 

“Mom!” 

She squealed again, eyes darting back and forth between Adams sweaty smile and your fucked out face. She slapped a palm over her eyes, backing out of the room, “I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-oh my- we’re going to bed!” 

You heard her footsteps scurry away, leaving the door slightly ajar in her haste. Adam laughed, thrusting into you harshly as he smacked your ass, “They are never going to forgive me for this.” 

You giggled at him, bouncing back, desperate to finish. Adam groaned as you clenched around him, canting his hips harder into you. Pounding your cervix with each thrust, he bent over your body. Chest flush with your back as he licked your ear, “Too bad it wasn’t your dad.” 

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

A Truth In Your Eyes (saying you’ll never leave me)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Not Rated (it’s just fucking fluff, y’all!) Notes: There were a few people that were pretty stoked about my first attempt in this universe, so I decided to put out another part. If you haven’t read You Say It Best, you should probably give that one a shot first!  Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Tony does describe a bit of anxiety, though - tread carefully if that’s something that triggers you!  Summary: 

After Peter is careless with his words, Tony is left feeling a little anxious about the stability of things between them. The philharmonic concert he planned to attend doesn't really help - but Peter is there to pick up some of the pieces.

Or - the one where Peter does a little damage control.

Read it on AO3 here

“I sometimes wish you could just hear like everyone else. It’d make things so much easier.”

Despite not being able to actually hear the words, each one rattled inside his head like active bombs just seconds away from going off.

They were dangerous – the type of thing that haunted Tony his entire life; from the halls of school where he struggled daily, to the comfort of his own home growing up. Everyone wished to change him, whether for their own convenience or the ease of being around him – people were always attempting.

Yet, when he met Peter Parker, Tony finally felt like he met someone who could understand him, regardless of the barrier that existed between them. For the first time in his life, Tony wanted to believe that hearing and non-hearing didn’t matter – there was a place where they both could exist in the same realm.

Then, those dreaded words slipped out of Peter’s lips so carelessly – the man not even cognizant of what kind of impact they were going to have.

They were so, so, so careless.

And, as happy as Tony was that Peter came to his senses, his heart still hurt. There wasn’t any way around that feeling – not when his idealistic thought about their relationship was so easily obliterated.

To be completely fair, Peter wasn’t even aware of Tony’s anxiety. There’d been many conversations about Tony and his experience with learning to speak and finding a way to bridge whatever gap existed between himself and another person – Peter seemed interested in all the parts and pieces, even.

After so much discussion and dissection of his experiences, Tony figured the apprehension could remain unspoken, yet understood. He so desperately wanted Peter to understand him – so, some of the hurt stemmed from that glaringly obvious barrier that still existed, no matter how much he wished it otherwise.

Over the last few weeks since Peter came back, Tony spent a lot of time thinking about their time together – the interactions that he treasured so much.

He fondly remembered their first conversation about his deafness – the adorable worry on Peter’s face when he stuttered out the question.

“So, have you always been deaf?”

Tony grinned at him then, his cheeks already warm from the intensity of the smile beaming from his face. The forwardness of Peter’s form of conversation always made him feel a little giddy – while most people hopped around him and tried to navigate murky waters with finesse, Peter barreled on, his idea of asking for forgiveness over permission totally charming.

“Yeah, I have,” Tony replied, his fingers moving through the signs before his brain remembered to add in the spoken word, too. At that time, they hadn’t been together all that long, so the fluent ASL still brought a ‘deer in the headlights’ look to Peter’s adorably rosy cheeks. It took a lot more thinking than Tony usually liked, but the man across from him seemed worth it.

“Both of my parents are hearing – they weren’t even aware I couldn’t hear until I was 3. I hadn’t started talking and did all my communication through gestures. I learned to sign first, then when my dad couldn’t pick it up, I started speech therapy.” He waited a beat, his heart pounding a little bit in anticipation for the words yet to come.

“Speaking makes people more comfortable. Recognizing that we at least have that in common allows me to have a much more genuine conversation than if I just read lips and typed on my phone.”

Peter looked at him with such awe in the minutes to follow his little tangent – his brown eyes were wide and complexly interested; there were probably a million thoughts running through his mind at the time. They were quiet while Peter looked at him and absorbed all of the things Tony said and managed to get out without really saying, too.

Reaching a hand across the table, Peter slipped their fingers together – the touch both soothing and reassuring. After the short time they’d been together at that point, Tony came to rely on the physical communication between them just as much as any other. He let himself relax a little, the usual anxiety leaving him with each dragged out breath.

“I want to make conversing with you as easy as possible, baby. Will you teach me ASL? Enough for us to talk to each other, at least? I’m a pretty quick learner.” Peter looked at him so earnestly – the words and gesture both so fucking genuine.

Tony delightfully recalled the way warmth spread from the center of his chest to every inch of his being, his fingers and toes on fire from those beautiful words – even now, after so much time and the little bit of hurt. Peter was careless, that much was certain; but he wasn’t heartless – his attempt to bridge the gap between them proved to be genuine time and time again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony forced himself away from his reminiscent thoughts – he’d been sitting in his seat in the audience waiting for the concert to start for a while now; long enough for his thoughts to run wild and so far away from him. If he didn’t’ force himself back to the present, he could easily miss out on Peter’s entire performance.

While stuck in his thoughts, Tony missed the room filling up – most of the seats that were once empty around him were entirely full, even the two down from his own. Tony took a second to reprimand himself for the negligence – one of his keys to success stemmed from the fact that he paid attention to everything… at all times.

Except lately – over the past few weeks, Tony found himself struggling a little harder than usual to stay present; especially with people outside of his little bubble. Usually, public gatherings weren’t too much of a hardship, but tonight – tonight, Tony was struggling.

Luckily, the lights were lowering as Tony came back to himself – the many people in the audience settling down with the reduced lighting. Most concert goers understood crowd etiquette – the when, where, and how things were conducted played a part in the whole experience.

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Tony let his eyes roam across the stage until he found Peter amongst the crowd of shiny instruments and stuffy individuals wrapped up in starchy, unmoving tuxedos. Though he too was stuck in such an outfit, Peter stood out – his wavy hair glistened under the lighting – his confidence radiating off of him in waves that only Tony could see.

The sight brought a smile to his face; even though he wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing his boyfriend played, Tony could clearly see how talented he was – Peter’s skill existed in every part of him, not just the sound he happened to produce.

After a short introduction from the conductor, the performance was on its way. They opened with a steady piece, the vibrations starting out minimal, then gaining pace until the ultimate crescendo peaked to end it all. The last few notes hung in the room, each person within Tony’s view completely captivated already.

For most of the performance, Tony tried his best to pick out Peter’s parts – with the combined visual cues and the learned feeling, he felt successful about half of the time. By the last few songs, Tony’s brain felt fatigued – Peter’s winks and affectionate looks between pieces the only thing really keeping him in it at all.

The last piece ended with a loud (even to Tony) sea of applause that filled up the entire room. To blend in with the crowd, Tony stood up with the rest of his row, his hands coming together to mimic the claps around him. He copied the behavior until it was clear for him to vacate the row.

His feet couldn’t carry him backstage fast enough.

Tony flashed the security guard his badge (the man fondly known as Little Ed shot him a soft smile as he did). Throughout his time with Peter, Tony learned the layout of their performance space and easily found him, his boyfriend delightfully flushed from the still flowing adrenaline of a job well done.

Brown eyes caught him before Tony could make it over to Peter physically – Peter’s stare stopping him in his tracks for a moment. The look never failed to knock him back, Tony completely smitten with the dark pupiled gaze, Peter’s nonverbal communication increasing tenfold since the first time they locked eyes like this. Without saying anything, Tony knew Peter was grateful for his presence, that seeing him right after such a big success made him just as happy as the performance itself.

Grinning, Tony narrowed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter’s waist the second they were within touching distance. He nuzzled his nose into Peter’s neck, the silent ‘hello’ exactly what he needed after so much artificial noise buzzing around in his head. After placing a small kiss to salty skin, Tony pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

���You were amazing,” Tony signed, his voice inaccessible to him after so much earlier strain. He trusted Peter’s ASL skill, anyway – they’d been working hard over the last few weeks to make the man completely conversational.

Peter didn’t disappoint, his handsome face breaking into a happy grin, the edges of his mouth actually reaching his eyes. He let a hand brush against Tony’s suit jacket clad shoulder, the touch brief, yet reassuring.

“Thank you,” Peter replied, his fingers touching his chin in the recognizable sign. “It’s so nice to have you in the crowd. It’s like everyone else fades away and it’s just you and me. I really like that.”

Tony smiled shyly, his eyes watching Peter’s lips form those last words with interest. He quickly recalled the last time he saw them, their skin much more flush and sticky then – both totally sated in the afterglow. The blush on his cheeks deepened, his smile turning into a smirk.

“I really like you.” Tony palmed Peter’s cheek as he spoke, his voice suddenly finding its way out of his throat.

Peter wrapped him up in a sudden hug, his arms squashing Tony to his chest. Since their little reunion a few weeks ago, Peter seemed hell bent on making up for it – whether it was through more diligent signing or an abundance of physical contact, Peter doubled his efforts – the try in his behavior apparent.

Letting a sigh slip through his lips, Tony felt himself relax into the contact. He appreciated the effort – there really wasn’t anything like the feeling of being in Peter’s arms. Yet, he wondered if it was just an attempt to win Tony back over, or if it was truly how things were going to go from now on.

He realized after Peter’s walk out, just how tangible being left behind actually was. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think about it before – every time they struggled to be on the same page, Tony found himself thinking how much easier it would be for Peter to be with someone else – someone that didn’t struggle to reciprocate… someone that, well – could hear.

When things were good between them, it was easy to brush off.

Ever since their falling out, though, Tony found it harder to just push to the side. If a little bit of annoyance could drag such careless words from Peter’s mouth, what would the long haul look like for them? Was it even worth it for Peter? Would there ever truly be a future for Tony’s deafness and Peter’s hearing to cohabitate successfully? So much fear sat in the pit of his stomach, so many unknowns and questions unanswered – Tony was already so damn overcome by love and near acceptance, losing Peter wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

Fear and apprehension weren’t things Tony wanted to carry around with him, especially where Peter was concerned. Despite that want, Tony couldn’t stop himself from fretting or feeling anxious. Times like that very moment, when Peter wrapped him up in strong arms, they kept things at bay – but, only just barely.

Pulling away from Peter’s hug, Tony gave his boyfriend a little space – his sheet music and taken apart saxophone still sat on the table next to them, his presence obviously slowing down the cleaning up process. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The quicker we get to that after party, the quicker we’ll be able to leave.”

Peter shot him a smirk, then went about deconstructing his mouthpiece, the reed lovingly placed in its protector, then slotted into its spot in the case. Everything Peter did was precise, the movement of his hands hypnotic – Tony finding himself completely glued to them more often times than not.

Blinking the unnecessary distraction away, he turned his back to his boyfriend, cutting off any further means of communication for the time being.

Tony put Peter’s sheet music away, his eidetic memory allowing him to remember the order it usually existed in. With that done, Tony slipped it into Peter’s bag, grabbed the saxophone case from Peter’s hand, and offered up his arm for Peter to take. The weight in the crook of his elbow was comforting, the affection something Tony knew he’d need to get through the next step of their forced social adventure.

They took the extra time needed to get Peter’s instrument into the car, the few stolen minutes together some of the last they would get until obligations were fulfilled and the right people were spoken to. As much as he wanted to be by Peter’s side throughout the entire ordeal, Tony couldn’t keep up with everything – too many people to tune into and too much noise to navigate made it incredibly difficult to be anything but a bother.

Which is how Tony found himself in the corner, desperately attempting to escape conversation with the masses. He followed Peter around for a while, catching a few names here and there, exchanging the necessary hellos – then bowed out as quickly as he could. If he weren’t already in a state of anxiety, he probably would have tried to hold on a little tighter to the forced interactions. But, he couldn’t do it – not when his head was buzzing and every second he attempted to lip read felt like trudging through sludge – every exchange between himself and another person the heaviest burden.

He grabbed a flute of champagne and let himself relax against the wall, hazel eyes flitting between all of the different people occupying the space. The musicians were easy to pick out, they were still sporting the matching penguin suits. Stiff members of the upper echelon of New York society also stuck out like a sore thumb – there were only a select few that would jazz themselves up to the nines to attend a concerto. The random few (himself included) flitted in and out of recognition. Some were there with other musicians, and some seemed happy just to be in attendance, regardless of their standing.

As the minutes passed, Tony felt his head starting to buzz more intensely than before. After such a long day, he couldn’t decide if it was because the long use of his hearing aids, or the overwhelming nature of being in a crowd for an extended duration of time. Unlike Peter, Tony didn’t do much of his life surrounded by lots of people. The small five person dinners they sometimes hosted were a bit much – a huge room of people, all of which were talking non-stop, bordered on impossible.

Depositing his glass on the nearest flat surface, Tony reached up to fiddle with his hearing aids. He knew, the second he switched them off, the rest of the world would be blissfully silent – and yet, at the same time, his ability to communicate with it would be severely diminished. Despite the fact that he’d been mainstream his entire life, reading lips and keeping up with multiple people talking at the same time was not easy; and never would be.

Knowing what he knew, nimble fingers still moved to shut off the hearing devices, their assistance no longer anything but taxing and somewhat debilitating.

Peter must’ve seen him struggling – in the next second, Tony had a hand on his elbow, the comforting squeeze of familiar fingers grounding him, despite the small scare the touch provided. There was concern written all over his face, the small little crease between his brows both cute and reassuring. His hand moved to find Tony’s cheek, soft skin against soft skin.

“Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn those off in public before,” Peter signed, his fingers pointing at the hearing aids in his ears. “This crowd must be a lot.”

Tony allowed himself to lean into Peter’s touch, the overwhelming feeling he tried to bottle up throughout the night finally coming to the surface under the affectionate care. Ducking his head, Tony rested his forehead against Peter – breaths intermingling. He sucked in a big lungful of oxygen, the smell of Peter’s cologne a familiar entity that helped to stop him from jumping over the preverbal cliff he felt perched over throughout the evening.

“I’m struggling, Pete – I’m not going to lie. This whole night has been a lot. All the sound, all the people. I just can’t keep up.” He signed each of the words, the idea of speaking without the help of his hearing aids one he didn’t even want to process. Tony was thankful Peter was paying close attention to him – the crowd not giving him any trouble at all.

The hand on his cheek shifted again, Peter’s long fingers sinking into the grown out hair at the back of his neck. Tony felt his eyes close, the world around them melted away with every pass of blunt fingernails against the surface of his scalp. With his eyes closed, it truly felt like it was only him and Peter – the bubble of silence so fucking nice after all the stress.

Peter continued to pet him until Tony opened his eyes again. The soft smile he found on Peter’s face made his heart race, his own grin settling over his lips for what felt like the first time all day. A swift tug to his hair signaled Peter’s retreat, his boyfriend using his hands to sign at him, instead.

“I think I’ve been here long enough. What do you think about heading home and ordering some take out? I could go for some pho.” Peter exaggerated the last sign, his lips making a round ‘O’ that he dragged out.

And despite being so entirely wrung out, Tony couldn’t stop the laugh that wormed its way out – Peter knew how to make him feel better, without really even trying. His ability to know what Tony needed just by simply looking at him reminded Tony of the reason he felt the need to trust Peter in the first place. He didn’t always class it up the best, but he delivered seamlessly, regardless.

Nodding, Tony stepped into Peter’s space, wrapping his arms around slim shoulders to bring him in close. He held him tightly for a moment, just long enough to absorb Peter’s heat, then let him go. “That sounds good – thank you.”

It took them a few minutes to actually make their excuses and get out of the concert hall, but they were soon on their way – Tony tucked into Peter’s side as they made quick work of the space between the building and the parking lot. Still feeling a bit off balance, Tony clung to Peter with every step; vulnerability oozed from him and for the moment, he didn’t really give a shit.

They made it back to Peter’s place twenty minutes later – both of them slipping out of their suits and into soft matching flannel pajama pants they cheesily wore during the holiday’s a couple months before. It felt good to be wrapped up in the small comforts, the companionship between himself and Peter tangible in all sorts of ways.

There wasn’t any talking while they got settled. Peter ordered their food without having to ask Tony what he wanted. While Peter took care of their eats, Tony set up the latest episode of Peaky Blinders, the closed captions on and ready to go.

The simplicity of one of their typical routines let all the surrounding anxiety melt away from Tony – the only thing left the ease of the environment he inhabited with his favorite person.

Peter made his presence in the living room known with a swift touch to Tony’s shoulder, his fingers settling on the back of his neck. Turning, Tony shot him a soft smile, his hand gracing Peter’s hip before shifting to sign.

“You really were great tonight, Pete. I love watching you play.” He finished the last sign with a soft touch to Peter’s cheek. “I sometimes wish I could hear like everyone else, too.”

Moving quickly, Peter gripped Tony’s cheeks, the move drawing Tony’s attention immediately.

“I should have never said that. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Your eyes never left me – each song, it was like I was playing to you and you alone. It’s the most intimate playing experience I’ve ever had, Tony. You don’t need to hear me – you get me. That’s more than enough.”

Not really knowing how much he needed to be told that, Tony felt chest getting a little tighter. It didn’t occur to him that his anxiety that evening circled around the feeling of not knowing how secure things with Peter really were. He forgave him his words weeks ago – they were careless and they both understood that. Maybe he didn’t let go of the feeling those words created within him as easily, though; the whispers of them still haunting him.  

Sighing, Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together. “I know. I really do. I just – I’m feeling anxious. I was so sure that you just sort of understood me. And you do. I know that, too. It just – broke me a little. You saying what you did. Are you going to be able to handle this,” Tony signed, pausing to gesture between them, “years down the road? I’m always going to be deaf. I’m always going to have nights like tonight. I love you, Pete. I don’t want to lose you.”

The seconds between the words sitting in the space between them and Peter’s response felt like years – Tony’s heart thudded against his chest, each beat like lead running through his veins. It wasn’t an ultimatum, per say – he wasn’t laying down a this or that, but the answer was important all the same. He already went down the rabbit hole of falling in love and depending on the man in front of him. In all of his life, Tony didn’t want anything else in this world more than a future with Peter.

There was so much potential – their relationship consisted of so many components; friendship, love, intimacy – all of the important variables for long lasting companionship and happiness.

At the same time, there were room for complications, too. Especially if there wasn’t a certain kind of commitment that came with living with a person with a disability. Accommodations would always need to be made, whether it be in their method of communication or the environment of whatever home they lived in.

They could do it – he knew they could. And even better yet, he wanted to; more than anything, he wanted to make a real go at things with Peter, even more so than they already were.

Peter returned the kiss after many seconds of silent contemplation. He let the lip to lip contact linger, Tony soaking up the touch, letting the flare of want and contentment surge through him. Brown eyes stayed on Tony as Peter created space, his hands moving to sign.

“It’s a lot – the future. What’s going to happen, where I might be. The only thing I know for sure is that I want you there with me. I was really thoughtless, wasn’t I? Saying what I said.” Peter stopped then, his right hand grabbing Tony’s while the other rubbed circles across his own chest – the sign for sorry making Tony smile lightly. He didn’t need to nod his head for Peter to know the answer to his question – the simple fact that they were having this conversation at all spoke volumes.

After a quick squeeze, Peter dropped Tony’s hand, his fingers moving to sign again. “I’m not going to say that the challenges were going to face aren’t scary – because they are. I’ll probably get it wrong most of the time, but I’m willing to try. I want to, even. This, what we have, it’s it for me.”

Not really sure where they came from, Tony was surprised to feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He couldn’t remember welling up or feeling the incessant need to let stuff out that usually prefaced the times he cried. Yet, there they were, flowing freely down to his chin – the path of which Peter quickly followed with his thumb.

It felt like a catharsis – the sort of cleansing of anger and anxiety that Tony wasn’t aware he needed until halfway in it. Instead of freaking like he did so many times before when emotions became too big, Tony let them go, the soft touch of Peter’s hand on his skin helping to relax him even further. For once, it felt good to let go – to rid his system of the terrible shit he kept inside because there wasn’t anywhere else for it to be.

Except – not anymore. As evidenced by this very moment, Peter could take on some of his burden, he could hold Tony up when everything might’ve gone to shit before.

“I want that, too,” Tony finally managed to reply. He felt completely overcome and suddenly drained of all energy. All of the emotions from what felt like his entire life were exorcised – the wash of tears the physical manifestation of it. Now, all Tony wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s arms and simply exist – no barriers or hard feelings between them.

Apart from detangling to bring the food into the apartment, Tony spent the rest of the night in that exact way – wrapped up in Peter’s embrace without a care in the world.

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

Ordinary

words: 3256 universe: human AU characters: Patton, Logan, Poman pairings: romantic Logicality, platonic Royality warnings: angst, crying, kissing (which i’m not very good at writing in the first place) a/n: this is a sequel to “little miss perfect”, an absolutely wonderful fic written by an absolutely wonderful person, @katlikethesword​. this is my first songfic, and my first time writing a kissing scene, so i hope it’s okay. enjoy!

I notice how she looks at me, but I pretend that I don’t see. It’s easier if I let the tension subside. It had been three months since Patton had last spoken to Logan. It tore at his heart every time he saw his friend avoiding his gaze, averting his eyes whenever they met Patton’s. He missed Logan horribly; after all, he had always considered the intelligent boy to be one of his best friends. Patton often wondered if Logan hated him. After the last time they’d spoken, he wouldn’t be surprised. He’d moved much too quickly, and had made a fool of himself. As usual.

I’ve seen it in the books I read, a magic that you cannot see. There’s no limitations, they wear it with pride. Patton was standing by his locker, getting ready for his next class. His eyes fell on a drawing he had attached to the door of Steven and Connie from Steven Universe. Roman had drawn this for him as a gift for his last birthday, a very nice drawing that had taken him days to complete. Patton stopped for a moment. They looked so happy together, without a care in the world. He couldn’t help but wish he and Logan could be like that again, like they used to— whether he wanted their relationship to be platonic or not, he wasn’t sure. Still, why couldn’t it be that easy?

But the characters I read never act or look like me. I can’t depend on them to lead me through the right door. Suddenly, Patton felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He spun around and, to his delight, there was Logan. “Logan!” His voice was probably about five times as loud as it had to be, but he didn’t care at all. Logan was talking to him again! By his own free will!  “I’ve missed you! Where have you been?” “I’ve still been in school, Patton. I’m legally obligated to be here, after all.” Logan gave Patton one of his rare, genuine smiles, making his heart do a flip in his chest. “That’s a good point. So what’s up?” Patton asked him. “Well, I actually wanted to ask you if you would like to come to my house tomorrow night? My parents will be out of town, and I figured it would be a good time to reconnect.” Hold the phone. Logan wasn’t mad at him? He wanted to see him? And spend time with him? “That sounds perfect, Lo! I’ll absolutely be there.” He beamed up at his friend and was rewarded with another smile. “Good to hear. I’ll see you then.”

And what’s the point of falling when I know I’m only stalling? For the rest of the day, Patton could hardly focus in class. His thoughts all went back to Logan, Logan, Logan. What had prompted him to invite him over? Why had he stayed away for so long? What was going to happen that night? Was it going to be awkward, after what had happened before? Were they going to be alone, or were there going to be other people there? This went on for the rest of the day, which meant that he had hardly thought about anything else. After the last class of the day had ended, Roman was waiting at the door. “Hey, Pat. You okay? You’ve been kinda zoned out all day.” “Oh, yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” Patton replied cheerfully. “Just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Roman gave a knowing smirk as the two of them started heading out of the building. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain nerd, would it?” “What?” Patton let out an awkward laugh. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about!” “Uh-huh. Okay, sure. It’s not like I saw him talking to you in the hall earlier or anything. For the first time in months. What was that all about?” “Nothing!” “Looked like a little more than nothing.” “He just asked if I could come over tomorrow.” They reached the building’s exit. Patton held the door for Roman as he passed. “It’s not that big a deal, he’s my friend.” “Yeah, because friends ignore each other for three months, and then suddenly invite them over out of the blue.” Patton went silent for a moment. “It’s… It’s complicated.” “Whatever you say, Padre,” Roman chuckled. “I’ll text you the notes when I get home, okay?” “Thanks, Roman. I really appreciate that.” “No problem.” Roman started toward the school parking lot. “You driving home?” Patton shook his head. “I’m walking today. It wasn’t my turn to take the car this morning.” “I can drive you home, if you want.” “No, that’s okay. I can walk.” “It’s really no problem. C’mon, hop in.” Patton opened his mouth to object, but Roman was already opening the door and pushing him into the passenger seat. Patton buckled his seatbelt as his friend went around the car, got into the passenger seat, and turned on the engine. “You know where I live, right?” “‘Course I do.” “Really? You sure you won’t get lost.” “Patton, I’ve been to your house dozens of times. I know exactly where you live.” Roman buckled his seatbelt and backed out of the parking spot. “So, what’re you gonna wear tomorrow night?” “Probably the same thing I’m wearing to school that day.” Roman shook his head as he left the school parking lot and turned right. “No, absolutely not. You’ve gotta look nice! This is your first date!” “It’s not a date!” “Did he invite you over?” “Yeah, but—” “Is anyone else gonna be there?” “I dunno. I don’t think so.” “It’s totally a date. So you need to wear something nice. What about that skirt you got last weekend? The light blue one, with the cats on it?” “Do you think he’ll like it?” “Oh, he’s gonna love it.” Their conversation went on like this for a while. Patton found it refreshing to talk about his feelings with Roman without anyone else around to hear. Soon enough, Roman arrived at Patton’s house. Patton got out of the car and onto the sidewalk by his house. “Bye, Pat!” Roman called, rolling his window down. “I’ll see ya tomorrow!” Patton  waved goodbye. “Bye!” With that, Roman drove away. Patton sighed and, dragging his feet, trudged to the front door of his house.

‘Cause I have to go back home… where I’m just one in the herd, tripping over my words, trying hard to go with the grain, keeping the quirks in my brain. As usual, Patton received no acknowledgement upon entering his house. His mom was on the phone, likely talking to one of her clients, and his dad was playing outside with his two little sisters. This didn’t surprise him; nobody in his family ever greeted him when he got home. Sighing, Patton headed up to his room, throwing his backpack down on the floor and laying on his bed. He took out his phone and opened Tumblr, scrolling absent-mindedly.

I’m on the brink of discovery I think, but what if I’m dreaming? That’s what it seems like. Logan hardly left Patton’s mind the rest of the night. His head buzzed with endless questions for his classmate, none of which he would dare ask. Why had he invited Patton over? Why was he only now expressing a desire to rekindle their friendship, after avoiding him for so long? Patton knew he should probably resent Logan for acting as if he didn’t exist. After all, he wasn’t sure he had done anything wrong. Had he? Maybe he had, and he just didn’t remember. After all, he did have a pretty lousy memory. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to be upset with Logan. He couldn’t help it; he cared too much for him to harbor any hard feelings. He instead felt relief that Logan hadn’t given up on their friendship, alongside a giddy kind of excitement for the next night. He loved all of his friends, of course, but there was something different about Logan. The way he listened intently to Patton’s ramblings no matter how absurd they were, the subtle smile that crossed his face when he was amused by Patton’s ridiculous puns and not wanting to admit it, the way he went off on tangents about the things that interested him. All of these little things, to which nobody else seemed to notice, were what made Logan special. All of a sudden, Patton felt a twist of fear in his chest. What if tomorrow went horribly wrong? What if this was some kind of elaborate joke? What if he messed up somehow, and made Logan hate him all over again? Patton shook his head to clear it. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

‘Cause this girl thinks I’m part of her world, and that new territory’s scary. If I turn the handle, am I asking for a scandal? Patton stood at the door, fidgeting with his skirt. The same worries that had swarmed in his head the night before remained all throughout the day, no matter how hard he’d tried to ignore them. Finally, after hours of waiting and worrying and wondering, he was standing on Logan’s front porch. He took a deep breath, smoothed out his shirt, and rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, the door swung open, and Logan was standing in front of him. The sight of Patton seemed to take him off guard, opening and closing his mouth as if searching for the right words. Patton broke the silence. “Whaddya think, Lo?” he asked, swishing his skirt a little. “I saw it had cats on it and I knew I had to get it immediately.” “You look… magnificent. I mean gorgeous! No, I mean good! You look good, Patton.” He couldn’t help but giggle. He’d always found it endearing when Logan got all flustered like this. “I know what you mean, don’t worry. Thanks!” Logan moved out of his way, and Patton stepped inside. “Make yourself at home.” He followed the other boy into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Should I try to be ordinary? “So… what do you wanna do?” Patton asked, feeling a bit awkward. “It’s up to you. You’re my guest, after all.” “Yeah, I guest that’s true,” he cracked with a goofy grin. Logan rolled his eyes, groaning. “You haven’t been here for a minute and you’re already making puns?” “Aww, c’mon, you gotta admit, they’re pretty pun-derful!” Despite his dramatic eye-roll, Patton didn’t miss the soft laugh that escaped Logan’s lips, making his heart skip a beat. Baaah!

I’ve always been a little odd, the only pea inside the pod. That’s not an expression, I’m guessing, oh well. Before long, the two were going about their night as if nothing had changed. Logan had ordered a pizza— Patton had offered to pay multiple times but he had insisted on it being “his treat”— and they ate their dinner on the couch, watching Steven Universe. Logan had nestled between Patton’s legs, Patton’s arms draped around him. A peculiar sight for many, but it wasn’t that unusual for them. Patton was a naturally affectionate person, and Logan didn’t seem to mind his cuddly tendencies. When the episode ended, Patton was struck with an idea.

“Let me braid your hair!” he blurted without thinking. See, that’s exactly what I mean! I’m just as awkward as I seem! Plus she makes me nervous, I hope she can’t tell. Embarrassment flooded over him. What a stupid thing to stay! He hadn’t been prompted by anything, they hadn’t even said much at all, and here he was suggesting something Logan surely thought was childish! “What?” “Let me braid your hair! I have two younger sisters, so I know how! Plus I think your hair would look really good braided!” His suggestion may have been stupid, but he couldn’t retract it now. Logan looked as if he was about to object, but, in an act of desperation, Patton broke out his secret weapon: his puppy-dog eyes. “Alright, fine.” Logan’s reluctant response discouraged Patton more than he would like to admit, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he just clapped happily, cheering in triumph. Gosh, he must look so ridiculous! “You’re too tall to do it like this,” he said. “Here, lay down in my lap.” Logan moved to do as he was told, and Patton slipped into the familiar motions of braiding, using his fingers to comb through his silky hair.

What is it she sees in this cluster clump of me? Or, could it maybe be I’m going crazy? And hey, who am I kidding? This isn't some sweet beginning! Just a detour to the end. Then back to the herd, tripping over my words, trying hard to go with the grain, ignoring the quirks in my brain. It didn’t take long for Patton to finish the braid, as Logan’s hair was much shorter than what he was used to. Satisfied with his handiwork, Patton started to lean back. Alarm shot through him as Logan reached up and grasped his shirt. His deep brown eyes met Patton’s. The voice inside his head was yelling at him, urging him to kiss him, kiss him, KISS HIM! I’m on the brink of discovery, I think. “If you’re uncomfortable, please tell me to stop,” Logan breathed, before Patton could do anything. “What? Why would I be uncom—?”

But what if I’m dreaming…? Patton didn’t get to finish his sentence as Logan’s lips met his, moving his hands to Patton’s cheeks. He felt his heart soar as he kissed back, closing his eyes and taking Logan’s face in his own hands as if it had always belonged there. He took in the moment, wanting to remember all of this, as he kissed the boy he loved at last. All of a sudden, Logan pushed him away and dashed out of the room as Patton felt his heart shatter.

Do I rewind, induce amnesia? Pretend I didn’t see her? Succumb to stupid fear? Or just believe in my heart? Patton just sat there, tears rolling down his face, in shock and in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. That kiss, that small handful of seconds, had felt more perfect, more right, than anything he had ever experienced. But Logan’s reaction… he had been the one to initiate it in the first place, so why did he panic like that? Was it because of Patton? Had he done something wrong? Was he that bad a kisser? When they’d kissed, Logan had seemed so sure in his actions. He had been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place, so why did he run away? If it wasn’t Patton’s fault, then what other reason would there be? Patton sat there, pondering for a while. After what felt like an eternity, Logan returned. Patton looked up at him, and just seeing Logan’s expression made his heart ache. “Lo?” He cringed mentally at how pathetic he sounded. “I’m sorry, Patton. I don’t know what overtook me. Silly impulses, I’m sure. It would be best for both of us if we acted as if this never happened.” Patton blinked back the fresh tears that began to form in his eyes. “Do you not… like me that way? I thought that after what happened in the bathroom, I might actually have a shot with you. I guess not.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I do like you, Patton.” The other boy sat down beside him. “It’s just that the people at school… what will they do if they find out that I’m…?” He trailed off. Patton looked at him. Was that all he was worried about? A handful of other students judging him because he was attracted to men? Why play a part? Why follow the herd? Why not trust in my words? Don’t wanna go with the grain! Why try to make myself plain? I’m on the brink of rediscovery, I think. So what if I’m dreaming? I like the scene that I’m in! “Gay?” he finished for him. “Logan, please don’t start with that,” he pleaded. “Who cares what they think? It’s just high school.” “Yes, but high school leads to college, and college leads to graduate school, and graduate school leads to the rest of our careers.” Logan slumped his shoulders. “I have to be perfect if I want to achieve everything I want to do.” “Logan, no one is going to care who you do or don’t kiss in high school. It won’t affect your future at all, assuming that you and I…” He couldn’t bear the thought of it. “don’t see each other after high school.” They were silent again for a minute. Did Logan really care about his reputation that much? Patton hadn’t realized how important it was to him. More important than friendship or even romance, that he couldn’t tell.

And this girl is a part of this world. The thought of being normal’s far more scary. “No, I… I really do like you a lot, Pat. And if I could, I’d love to try dating you some day. But the others at school—” Patton let out an exasperated noise and leaned forward to kiss Logan again, this time only for a few moments. “Forget about the others at school for a second, Logan! Literally no one will care! Sure, people will spread gossip for a week, but then they’ll move on to some other thing. Think about what you want here, right now.”

I’ll be brave and I’ll be kind. I’ll make a choice and change my mind. I will mess up all the time. They’ll say I’m weird but I’ll be fine. He looked into Logan’s eyes, his exasperation giving way to fondness. “Why did you kiss me?” “Because I’ve wanted to for several years,” he replied without hesitation. “Okay. And do you want to kiss me again?” “Yes, very much so.” Patton forced himself to keep his voice steady as he said, “Then do it.” Logan didn’t argue; he simply leaned toward Patton and lightly pressed his lips to his. “Do you want to kiss me again?” Patton repeated once Logan pulled away, feeling confidence building up inside him. He nodded. “Do it, then.” Again, Logan obeyed, this time letting the kiss last a few seconds longer. Patton couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his face. “Do you still care about what the others at school will say?” he asked. Logan didn’t answer with words this time. He instead surged forward and once again his lips met Patton’s. Instead of pulling back again, like Patton had expected, Logan held the kiss. Patton moved his tongue ever so gently against Logan’s teeth, and the other parted his lips for entry. Everything was perfect— in Patton’s eyes at least— and neither seemed to want to pull away. When they finally did, Patton found himself on top of Logan. He worried for a moment that Logan would try to pull away again, but he didn’t. “If you want me to stop kissing you, I will,” he told him, smiling softly. “But do you get my point now?” He nodded. “Screw the others.” He moved his hands to his cheeks. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter what they say.” Patton’s smile widened, nodding. Without either saying a word, Logan sat up and kissed him once again. I’ll be anything but ordinary!

[andoqin]

Sisyphus: The Myth Ep 1- A Dissection

Okay, so I’ve had some time to process what I subjected myself to today, so I’ve decided to list everything in episode 1 that is just completely insane and an example of how Not To Do it. 

I’m not an expert on Film Theory, but i’ve watched a shitton of media, plus I watch a lot of Youtube Video essays, so clearly I’m half

The episode starts off okay enough even if we get a weird exposition dump and “tense” parting scene between a father and daughter. 

We start in what presumably is the time travel terminal where people stand around in pyjamas waiting to get through.

Okay, fairly interesting if unspectacular but I’m guessing that’s the point, this is now an industry. We zoom in and get this line that made me laugh, because well...

a) humans are living creatures and b) the amount of microbial organisms on human skin is estimated to be at hundreds of billions, or more. And this kind of time travel/teleportation is always hinky because well if you think about it, how does that even work without getting into The Fly territory. I’m willing to cut this drama some slack here and maybe it’s an awkward translation besides. 

This gets... exceedingly long, but if you want a (too) in-depth summary of what happens in ep 1 and why it doesn’t work (for me) read on :D.

But then the real trouble starts, because PSH’s dad (I’m not bothering to learn the character names) says he’s not going with her and this is apparently very sudden. He then makes her repeat some lines that are supposed to create tension? Be exposition? Idk.

“Don’t trust anyone.” 

“Don’t get involved with [CSW]’s character.”

PSH get’s teary eyed, because her dad is not coming with her, but the problem with scenes like these is: I don’t know either of them and do not have an emotional connection to their parting. Sure, it tells us something about PSH (she likes her dad and is worried about him) but I also don’t know how important her dad is going to be down the line. So when PSH asks about her mom and what if her mom dies and her dad just replies everyone dies at some point I’m a bit weirded out, but not to the point where I necessarily want to know more. 

We then smashcut to PSH waking up in a world that’s more similar to ours and she does what her dad told her to do. She grabs her (very inconvenient) suitcase and runs along the tracks she woke up next to. We see that she is somewhat surprised by the running trains and also hardy enough to track on despite bleeding feet. 

Alas, creepy people in gas-masks with guns and drones are waiting for her, so she runs even harder and after some near misses (they are able to track her by some sort of radiation meter) makes it to safety. 

On top of a train car that the TWO DOZEN PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND DRONES are too stupid to check apparently. Clearly if she’s not under the train car, the detecting devices must be mistaken. So she just chills on top of the train car, sitting on her suitcase and those goons trundle off after 5 minutes presumably like they’re Assassin’s Creed Enemy NPCs.

Now we get introduced to CSW in the most insane scene i’ve ever witnessed. Honestly. 

He is just ~chilling in 1st class in an airplane, filming a douche who is rude to the plane staff and epically owning him because he’s So Smart.

First of all, I don’t know what that has to do with soggy noodles(which the other asshole complained about), since by that measure the noodles should be *undercooked* (lower boiling point means longer cooking time after all) and secondly good lord I already hate this guy. He then proceeds to Epically Own (tm) with a convenient Forbes (sorry “Eorbes”) Magazine that he is on the cover of and flirts with the plane hostess. 

So right off the bat, our impressions of CSW are supposed to be: He’s Cool (look at his hoodie and general bearing), he’s Smart (debatable), he’s nice to The Help (I guess???) stands up to bullies, and most importantly he’s fucking rich. I guess we’re also supposed to get the impression that he’s arrogant, maybe a bit of an asshole, but still cool and everything. 

If this had been where the scene had stopped I would have rolled my eyes and then just continued on watching. But no, the writers thought: “Schooling some sexist rich asshole isn’t enough to show off how Cool and Smart and Cocky our main character is. Also he likes the ladies.” Look at him, he’s Tony Stark only from South Korea!!!

So shortly after he sits down, and we have the first moment with CSW where he connected with me emotionally (he sees the ghost of his dead brother and the way he says “because ... you’re dead.” and I thought OOOH this I can work with), the cockpit windshield is hit by what looks to be a suitcase (DUN DUN DUUUN) and something crashes into one of the engines, causing it to explode and catch fire. 

The pilot is knocked out and unconscious and even the co-pilot loses consciousness (after conveniently unlocking the cockpit lock). CSW is the only one who goes to check on the pilots, having grabbed a fanny pack from his onboard luggage and quickly assessing the situation he revives the copilot and welds the hole in the windshield shut with some ducttape out of his fannypack and a plastic notepad. IT’S VERY EFFECTIVE! They did it in WW2, or so CSW tells us so you know it’s true.

I’m not sure that ‘s how plane windshields and duct tape and plastic notepad thingies work, but well the plane is still in freefall we have more important things to worry about :).

The electrics are all on the fritz, the copilot cannot get control of the plane and so CSW takes a seat in the captains chair (having foisted the captain out of it, not even he is so crass to sit on some unconscious dude’s lap i guess) and quickly calculates that they have 3 min and 30 secs for CSW to restart the electronics before the plane crashes. So he hands the co-pilot HIS PHONE with a timer on it for 3.5 minutes so the co-pilot can tell him when 30 seconds have passed. Instead of idk, contacting Air Traffic Control or ANYONE he just sits there and lets his big boy brain work. 

After 30 seconds he has an idea, because he’s Tony Stark-ing it up like crazy now and can just figure out the electronics of a plane cockpit in 30 seconds, but guess what. HIS PHONE RINGS. AND HE ANSWERS IT, because he’s devil-may-care and “haha look at this, friend, i’m in the cockpit of a crashing plane we have 2 minutes before i’m dead.”

Said friend is calling him from the board meeting of CSWs company, bc of course the board is ~unhappy with CSWs antics (I gotta say I can’t blame them) and the friend doesn’t believe it at first, when he says he’s in a crashing plane, but checks on the news to see it’s true. 

I ... I don’t think news work like that, we’ve gone 5 minutes from the initial troubles till now, there won’t be news reports all over the media yet. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TALKING TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL YET. Hell he even tells his friend to call 119 or the airport for help. I just... I’m very forgiving of a lot of things in a drama when it comes to writing. I’m willing to ignore obvious blindspots in a narrative, if I think the narrative is strong enough to support whatever it’s trying to say. At this point what could calling the police or the airport do, they have like 90 seconds left...

I don’t know what the writers are trying to tell me with this scene though? It’s so stupid, so unrealistic and CSW is so unpleasant and weird in it, because he tells his friend that he has to confess to taking out the friend’s college girlfriend on a date while they were still together. 

Well since the drama is longer than one ep, they do make it out alive, but the fact that the co-pilot managed to safely LAND the plane (which is insane to me) gets skipped over and we just get news snippets that herald CSW as a hero who singlehandedly saved the planes passengers. 

We then get to see him in his natural habitat “convalescing” in his giant apartment where he is being showered with gifts by worshippers basically. He continues to be an asshole, but his friend tells him, one more stunt and the board will kick him. 

The board will kick the guy who just saved a plane full of lives????? Yeah right, I’m sorry but that’s just fucking stupid from the writers. Why would anyone do that, even if the board hates him, kicking him now, when he’s literally a national hero would be the worst thing they could do for the stock prices. It’s only here so the writers can shoehorn in that CSW is close to OD-ing on pharmaceuticals and that the board wants to monitor his therapy and they have a way of “forcing” him to comply. 

Also he has what looks to be a dental x-ray machine next to his bed. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but lol what’s up with these set design choices. 

His friend tells him to go to fucking therapy or else and the next scene he is actually at a therapist. 

Who’s his ex-girlfriend (they have a whole tangent about that).

Who writes a report about his therapy to the board. 

But hey at least the therapy gets us a flashback of the last time he saw his brother. Big surprise he was an asshole to him as well, so no wonder he’s traumatised by that.

After therapy he *conveniently* runs into the co-pilot who’s incoherent and beaten up and hands CSW a usb-drive. It contains video of the cockpit on the day of the crash and it’s obvious what struck the plane was a suitcase and what crashed into the engine was a human being (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN maybe someone forgot to convert feet to meters when setting up the time travel thingamabob).

As he looks at the (very pixelated) figure of the person about to crash into the engine, he suddenly sees his brother’s face and honestly this scene just made me laugh? I know it’s supposed to be haunting and more evidence of CSW’s deep trauma, but I guess at this point my brain was just completely checked out. 

And that’s what we end our introductory phase of CSW. What the fuck was that plane thing even for. To show us he’s callous in the face of danger? He’s an asshole even when he’s about to die, so he’s got a long way to go? He’s haunted by the spectre of his dead brother and the guilt he feels for not being there when he died? I got a lot of that before we had the insane Plane Adventure!!! There are literally millions of ways they could have gotten this information to the viewers and not made an absurd spectacle of the plot that means that everything afterwards just feels lame, because you already had the insanity that was this plane ride, so it can only go down tension wise.

Now we’re back to PSH, but honestly her parts are kinda boring and bog-standard “UwU I’m unfamiliar with this way of life, I don’t even know how to eat a banana (that looks *nothing* like a banana btw), so I just eat it peel and root and all. Also I’m from the Future, that means I obviously know todays LOTTERY NUMBERS.”

I know kdramas like clichés and tropes, I like them too, that’s why I watch kdramas, but you gotta give me a bit more if you want me to at least invest in PSH, because I’m sure as hell not invested in CSW. 

She gets taken in by some guy, because we can’t have her homeless all the time, and she needs someone to explain this world to her and also how to eat bananas properly and she opens her suitcase. It’s got both future-tech-y looking stuff and a pink notepad that seems to hold specific information on what needs to happen on certain days. 

She also makes this expression and I don’t know if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening or if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening, but we know she’s gonna kick ass later, haha you just thought she was harmless. I gotta say it’s the former for me.

Rarrr fierce Elite Warrior PSH coming to get you.

She tries to get in touch with CSW, already breaking one of her dad’s three commandments. Oh, I guess staying with this guy breaks the other two. Welp, so much for that then. What even was the point of that first scene...

Anyway she tries to get in touch with CSW but ofc you cant just call the richest person ever (Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos would get very angry voicemails from me if that were the case), but she manages to get his voicemail. Or a voicemail he spoke for. But oh no, she is just Not Familiar with this world and keeps having a conversation with the voicemail as if it’s CSW himself. 

CSW who has scienced his way to finding the suitcase that crashed the plane and as she begs his voicemail not to open the suitcase, of course he opens it and gasp the combination for the suitcase lock is his birthday!!! Something his brother used to do!!! 

MAYBE THAT MAN WAS HIS BROTHER AFTER ALL!!!! OH NO!! 

But thank fuck the episode is over now.

VERDICT:

Just no. Don’t do this. The latter half of the show is more standard fare, but the first 25 minutes destroy any capability of this show making sense. I can see what the writers are trying to do, but it’s so hamfisted and badly written I’m just not willing to go along.

If you want a show that also has a fantasy action aspect (and this show is all fantasy no matter how much it tries to science it up), watch LUCA instead. That show at least knows how to set a tone, how to get us invested in the characters and does exposition in a way that doesn’t feel obtrusive. 

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: Post New Year’s

Ina x MC: Post New Year’s

Summary: Ina and Luna talk about their New Year’s celebrations and future holiday plans.

Warnings: Fluff, some angst.

Tag: @samanthadalton

Author’s Note: A little fic that’s been in my drafts. It’s actually the first fic I’d ever written, but I just decided to publish it (after changing the holidays lol). For context, Ina and Luna are close but professionalism!!!

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Ina sat at her desk staring blankly at the stack of essays she had left to grade. Despite the fact that she had much to accomplish, she couldn’t seem to focus. Her mind wandered freely; she remembered the lively discussion in her Anthro 101 class, her fabulous New Year’s celebration with Lilian and Charlotte...

Her face fell when she realized that her publishing deadline was for the following day. “Crap! Simon’s going to be livid,” she said as she ran a hand through her hair, a manifestation of her stress.

“Good morning Prof!” Luna said cheerily as she entered the office, bringing Ina to the present. The professor looked up quickly, grunted in reply, and continued to pretend to read essays.

Luna pulled out the chair and sat across from Ina, placing two cups of coffee on the desk. “What’s got you so indifferent towards me all of a sudden?” Luna asked. “That’s assuming I was interested in you in the first place,” Ina quipped. “Hilarious. Seriously though. Talk to me, Ina,” Luna replied as she looked straight into Ina’s eyes. She’s drop dead gorgeous, Luna thought silently.

Meanwhile, Ina froze momentarily at the use of her first name. Instinctively, she broke eye contact with Luna and looked around, only to realize that she was accompanied only by her TA in her office. It still amazed her how one night altered her life forever; how could she be so paranoid because of someone yet still be attracted to them?

Ina rose out of her chair and walked across the room. She paced around the bookcase, absentmindedly reading the titles of her collection of books. Luna looked over at Kingsley, noticing her changed form since before break. “You still haven’t answered my question,” Luna reminded her.

Luna was beginning to lose patience with Ina. As much as she tried to get Ina to open up to her, she still felt shut out from Ina’s life. Sure she knew a lot more about Lilian and Charlotte than most students at Belvoire, but then again, she was Ina’s TA. Even though Zoey pleaded with Luna to ask Ina about the status of their ‘relationship,’ Luna couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to further strain their, for a lack of a better term, connection. Did Ina want to be with me or not, Luna thought for the umpteenth time.

Luna was lost in her own thoughts when Ina’s voice brought her back into reality. “I just have so many deadlines to meet,” Ina said wistfully. Her tired eyes stared wearily into Luna’s sympathetic ones. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. You amaze me sometimes, you know,” Luna said with a smile. “Only sometimes?” Ina shot back quickly. Luna chucked softly. “Come on, let’s get through these essays so you can stop giving me sad puppy eyes.”

The two worked in comfortable silence as Kingsley graded the essays and handed them to Luna to put into the grading software. When there ceased to be essays left in the stack, Luna appropriately broke the silence.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your, uh, new figure,” Luna joked. “Hey! I had a good, satisfying break,” Ina replied defensively. Luna smirked but dropped the topic; she always thought Ina always looked great.

“Well, what’d you do for New Year’s, Professor?” she asked as she made small talk. “It was quite lovely. I was able to see Lilian and Charlotte.” “So what you’re saying is, you entertained Charlotte while Lilian had to do all the New Year’s cooking?” Luna retorted. Even though Kingsley rolled her eyes at her TA, she still had a grin on her face.

“I admit, cooking is a weak spot for me. Either way, I had a wonderful time. Charlotte and I read a lot together,” Ina remembered fondly. That kid’s gonna be the next Marie Curie, Luna thought. Though she admired Ina and swooned over her skills with children, Luna replied cleverly. “Did you make Charlotte suffer through one of your ‘anthropology dictates human life’ tangents?” “Given the fact that you wanted to be my TA so desperately, I wouldn’t complain about my anthropology tangents,” Ina said smugly. Luna could only hold her poker face for a few seconds, but quickly burst into laughter. Ina followed, and their full laughter filled the office.

“Anyway, enough about me. How was your break?” Ina asked. Luna laughed to herself before replying. “Well, I went back to the farm. And it was, well, exhausting. I was home for maybe three seconds before Papa told me I had to go clean the stable.” Ina had to cover her mouth as she cackled. “Talk about a crappy start to the holiday,” Ina remarked. “Stop it,” Luna said rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Luna,” Ina replied innocently. “The dad jokes. They’ve gotta go, Professor,” Luna said. “Never,” Ina said laughing heartily. 

Desperately trying to find another conversation topic, Luna blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “I don’t think I could ever imagine you doing manual labor,” Luna said as she poked at Ina’s pride. Ina’s next reply shocked Luna. “Actually, my uncle had a farm in Upstate New York. We’d visit every summer and he’d put Lilian and I to work,” Ina remembered nostalgically. “It’d be nice to see what farm chores I remember from those days.”

Luna and Ina gazed at each other, lost in their own thoughts and frankly, each other’s eyes. Luna loved how open and warm Ina could be if she wanted to. It was one of the main features that attracted her to Ina when they met; she loved how free and light-weight their conversations could be. Luna hated the protective walls Ina put up in the name of ‘professionalism.’ She could only imagine what Ina was thinking at the time, but she knew that Ina couldn’t deny their connection and how much they just clicked with each other.

“Anyways, I’m going back to the farm for the Epiphany soon,” Luna said after their prolonged period of silence. “Oh, that sounds wonderful, Luna,” Ina replied dryly, still lost in her memories.

Luna struggled with her next question to keep the conversation alive. Her brain fought against itself. Should she ask? Should she just leave it as they were? I mean, they did make progress today, did they not? Luna decided to jump in with both feet and shoot her shot. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t at least ask. Not to mention the fact that Zoey would berate her if she didn’t.

“Ina,” Luna said sternly. “Look at me for a second, seriously.”

Ina sucked in a breath and looked deeply into Luna’s eyes. She had an inclination as to what Luna would ask, but this time, she tried to force herself to not let her walls up. She could hear Lilian’s voice ringing in her head. If what you’re telling me is true, you're falling for her, Ina. You’ll regret it if you lose her, she won’t stick around forever.

Ina trembled with anticipation, and Luna finally spoke up. “I know we’re in a bit of a...umm...confusing place right now. Well honestly, I don’t even know if there’s an us right now.” Luna chuckled as she reached forward and clasped Ina’s hands. “Either way, I’d love for you to come to the farm. For the Epiphany. So you can see how many farm chores you remember from your childhood, of course.” The women smiled at each other fondly. “Really though, we’ve got something I can’t explain, but I know you feel it too.” Ina’s heart throbbed in her chest. Whatever they were, they did have something magical. “I’d love to, Luna,” Ina said tenderly. Luna’s heart filled with joy.

Both women got up from their chairs and met at the halfway distance. Ina’s eyes bore into Luna’s. Luna cupped Ina’s cheek and Ina could no longer hold back. She pulled Luna closer and kissed her passionately. Ina could taste the sweet coffee Luna had just consumed, while Luna tasted Ina’s bitter coffee on her tongue. The two were almost out of breath when Ina’s phone rang. Damn, they both thought, especially Luna.

Just when Luna had finally got through to Ina, she was interrupted. She angrily stole a glance at Ina’s phone, but it was face down.

Ina looked at the caller and shot Luna an apologetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this,” she muttered.

Even though Ina wasn’t whispering, Luna couldn’t focus on the words Ina was saying. Who could’ve interrupted their special moment? she thought fully irritated. It was only when Ina softly touched her should that Luna came back to awareness.

“Luna?” Ina asked as she placed a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “Sorry. Zoned Out. Who was that anyways?” Luna asked inquisitively. She wanted to know who had the audacity to ruin their moment.

“Just Lexi,” Ina replied. UGH, of course, Luna thought. How. DARE. She. “What did she want?” Luna asked. She couldn’t even try to hide her annoyance. “She was just asking about my upcoming paper,” Ina said evenly. “That and trying to flirt with you?” Luna mocked. “Well, I suppose. But she's got nothing on you,” Ina jumped in quickly.

Both women were surprised with Ina’s words. “I-” Ina began but failed to finish her sentence. A flash of recognition passed through Ina’s eyes, and from that moment, Luna knew the answer to her previous question had changed.

“I’m sorry Luna, I cannot accompany you to your home. I just...I can’t,” Ina replied, backing away from Luna, enough so that she could no longer feel the heat radiating from Luna’s body.

“I figured,” Luna said both irately but also heartbroken. Luna began to pick up her belongings, and on her way out of the office, she grabbed what remained of her now-cold coffee and threw it in Ina’s face.

Ina stepped back instinctively, but she agreed that she had fully deserved it. “Wait- Luna!,” Ina sighed. Despite the shock, Ina tried to follow after Luna to explain, but it was futile. Luna stormed out of the office and slammed the door shut.

Ina raked a hand through her hair and kicked her desk angrily. She’d done it again, just like Lilian had told her not to. Why don’t I ever take Lilian’s advice to heart, she thought falling into the armchair, letting out a sob.

[smilebouquet]

somewhere to go, someone to love

my secret santa gift (@ducktalessecretsanta2020) for @kvanderquack!! i’m sorry for tagging again after i already sent my gift via dm-

also on ao3!!

––––––––––

For as long as Lena lived (all fifteen years), she’d always been alone. She was born alone on the heights of Mount Vesuvius, from the remnants of her Aunt Magica’s shadow. She travelled to Duckburg alone, with no one to keep her company other than the voices in her head and the harsh whispering of her shadow. She bore the brunt of Magica’s lashings and whining alone, hurt and angry and bitter.

A happy family felt like such a foreign concept to her. Magica was always her one and only kin, the only person who had a connection to her. And she hated every second of it. If having just one aunt was so exhausting, imagine having two aunts. Imagine three. Criticizing your every move. Yelling at you for screwing up. Demanding nothing but obedience and respect and returning none of it. 

Lena didn’t think she would be able to take it. Family just didn’t sound like something she’d like.

That’s what she thought, anyway, until the Sabrewings took her in.

––––––––––

1.

Lena can’t sleep.

Or to be exact, she can’t sleep peacefully. Ever since she came back to the land of the living, she’s been having dreams. Dreams where she found herself running from her. Into the woods, where the screeching of bats rang in the air, and the ground was muddy and made each consecutive step heavy. Or within a mansion suspiciously similar to Scrooge’s, her voice bouncing off the walls and getting closer and closer until they were literally screaming into her ears. She could do nothing but run.

She never dared to look back, but Lena always managed to glimpse her in the corner of her eye. The swish of a velvety black cape. A gloved hand, reaching out to snatch her. A flash of purple magic. 

Lena always manages to wake up before Magica could grab her and do god-knows-what. She would always be grateful for the fact that she awoke easily. But every dream ended in To Be Continued — never The End — and Lena didn’t want to know what The End would look like, because she has the sinking feeling that it won’t be a Happily Ever After.

Tonight is no different. She’s staring up at the ceiling of Violet’s room, letting the muffled snores of her roommate fill the still air. It’s getting increasingly hard to stay awake, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can take it.

Sighing, she rolls out of bed and leaves the room, making sure the door creaked as quietly as possible and that it clicked shut. She heads down the stairs and into the living room. A bookshelf stands in the corner, filled with all sorts of books from encyclopedias to photography books.

Lena instinctively grabs a cookbook (and accidentally knocks off a few more, but she’ll deal with them later) from the second topmost shelf. Yellow sticky notes jut out of the pages, all written on with dark purple ink. Walking into the kitchen adjacent, she flicks on the light, then flips the book open. Vanilla Cake, reads the title in big bold letters, followed by the exact quantity of ingredients needed and the instructions on how to bake one.

This should keep her up until tomorrow.

"...Lena? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She freezes. Ty is standing at the door, a wooden baseball bat loosely held in his grip. He chucks it aside and steps into the kitchen.

"Hey." She waves half-heartedly with a sheepish smile. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

"And you're in the kitchen with a cookbook, why?"

Because Aunt Magica haunts my dreams every night and I don’t wanna deal with it anymore?

“...I wanted to do something nice for my friends for once, so I thought baking a cake for our sleepover would be neat?”

Ty’s gaze flickers between Lena and the clock currently showing 12:59. He pinches the area between his eyes. “Lena, it’s late. I think you should go to bed—”

“No!” He flinches. Lena’s eyes widen. “I mean— no, I can’t go to bed until I finish this cake!” she backtracks, her voice cracking. Her heart is pounding. She can't go to sleep, she can't...! “If you help me, I’ll go to bed sooner! Maybe!”

Ty scratches the back of his head. “Well, Indy’s the dad who bakes, not me... but I suppose I can try.”

Relief washes over her. She flashes him a tired smile, handing him a bowl and some measuring cups. “Thanks.”

––––––––––

2.

“We’re back!” 

Indy looks up from the couch. “Welcome back. How was your sleepover?”

“Pleasant,” Violet replies, already halfway up the stairs. “Ate some cake. Played a video game. Saved Lena from getting dragged into a mirror and possibly losing her within a lucid dream to the witch responsible for the shadow war several months ago. The usual.”

“Sounds nice,” Indy remarks. Then did a double take. “Wait, what?”

Ty laughs, following after Violet. “It’s a long story. Took the whole car ride for them to finish telling it.” Indy glares after him, but shrugs and returns to his book.

Lena drops her own bag on the floor and flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She could shower or whatever later. Right now she just wanted to rest.

“Long day?” Indy asks, barely moving from his position on the right side of the couch.

“Kinda. I’ve been through worse, though.”

There's a beat of silence.

The unspoken Like what? hangs over her head uncomfortably. Is this the part where she spills her entire life story? Should she play it off as a joke? Would it be wise to pretend she hadn’t said anything? She can feel Indy’s stare on her shoulder, burning like a pair of red-hot lasers—

He either noticed her discomfort, or is really good at reading minds, because he hums quietly and says, “You don’t have to elaborate.”

“...Ah. Right. Okay.” She sits upright, then lets out a short laugh. Her eyes wander over to Indy, who’s still reading his book with a content look on his face. “What is that?”

Indy shows her the book. There’s a bunch of pictures of Violet, Ty and Indy together. “It’s one of the family photo albums,” he explains. “Photography is one of my hobbies.”

Lena grunts in response, then peers at the photos more closely. “Is that Violet in the library?”

“Oh, that’s from the first time we visited the public library together. We had just moved into Duckburg, and wanted to do a little sightseeing. Violet insisted that we check out the library. That girl always did love reading. She gets it from Ty…”

They spend the rest of the hour looking through the photo album together. There’s a surprising amount of photos in this one tiny album, each preserving a special memory that Indy knows by heart and tells Lena about with nothing but fondness. She now knows that Violet used to take ballet classes (and hated it), has won at least two national spelling bees by the age of six, and is part of the Junior Woodchucks.

Photos from before Violet was born are also in it, located near the end of the album. Indy tells Lena that he first met Ty at a college entrance exam. They had entered the building at the same time, and Ty thought it would be neat to strike a conversation with him. They hit it off pretty much immediately, but forgot to ask for each other’s phone numbers before they went their separate ways.

“But you’re married now?!” Lena blurts out, jumping from the cough to point a shaky finger at him. “How?!”

He chuckles. “We met again at a supermarket several months later, I believe, reaching for the same can of beans. Ty’s first words to me ever since were ‘Holy shit, you like beans, too?!�� This time we remembered to exchange contact information, and here we are ten years later.”

“I— Wow.” Lena sits back down. “Some luck you have.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” he admits. His fingers gently caressing the old photo of them. “I like to think of it as fate. If we’re meant to be together, life will find a way to get us together.”

(Lena thinks about Webby.

She thinks about their “chance” meeting at the amphitheater.

She thinks about how she almost lost Webby by sacrificing herself to protect her.

She thinks about how lucky she had been that Violet was there in the library that day, reading a nerdy old book.

She inwardly decides that Indy is probably right.)

Once they reach the end of the album, Indy moves to close it. The corners of several photographs stick out from the side. Lena blinks.

“And those are?”

He looks down. “Oh.” Tucking them back in, he replies, “Those are some of the newer photographs. Haven’t gotten a new album for them yet, so I keep them here for the time being.” His fingers drum on the hard cover. “Come to think of it, I don't have any pictures with you yet. We’ll need to remedy that.”

“Hm, why?”

“You’re family, after all. I think you deserve a spot in the photo album.”

Family. She’s family. The thought of it makes her heart flutter.

It takes her a minute to realize Indy stopped talking, and is looking at her with the slightest hint of hesitation in his expression.

She beams at him. “That would be nice. You should get a new album first, though.” As if on cue, a photograph falls out. She picks up. “Hey, what about this one?” Indy lights up, and starts going into a tangent about the one time they lost Violet at Duckburg’s largest department store. As he does, she zones out for a bit, testing the name.

‘Lena Sabrewing’, huh…  She can feel her smile widening.  Sounds way cooler than Lena de Spell.

––––––––––

3.

This is terrible, Lena concludes.

They’re on the way to the Junior Woodchuck Campgrounds for Violet’s upcoming graduation. She’s a little hazy on the details, but she does know that each year only one senior junior woodchuck can become a senior woodchuck (“That’s dumb! Why can’t you all just become senior woodchucks?!” “Don’t question it, Lena.”), they decide who graduates with some sort of obstacle course, and Violet’s opponent this year is likely going to be Huey.

Lena also knows that the campgrounds are located waaaay out on some island in the middle of nowhere, and if she sees another “NOW LEAVING DUCKBURG” sign she’s going to lose it. She lets out a groan as she slides farther down her seat, watching the pine trees blur into a strip of green on the landscape. “Hey, Vi, how much longer ‘til we’re there?”

No answer.

“Vi?”

Again, no answer. Lena knows that Violet has a tendency to be quiet during car rides, preferring to admire the scenery as they drive, but Violet should’ve at least spared her a grunt at this point.

She decides to turn and look at her. Violet is staring at her lap, perfectly still. Her fists are clenched so tightly she can see the white knuckles beneath her purple feathers, and they’re trembling.

“Vi, what’s wrong...?” Lena begins to ask, and then immediately Indy’s voice from before echoes in her head.

“Third time’s the charm, right Vi?”

The gears click into place. Oh.

She inches closer to Violet’s side — as much as she can with her seatbelt on, anyway — and reaches out to place a comforting hand over Violet’s. The hummingbird looks up.

“Hey,” Lena says, “you’ll be okay. You’re the best nerd I’ve ever know. What’s Huey got, his stupid guidebook? You’ve got this.”

“Actually, the Junior Woodchuck Wilderness Challenge prohibits use of the guidebook,” Violet corrects, then sighs. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to comfort me, but I…” She trails off. “I know failing is natural, but it still terrifies me every single time.”

Silence.

Indy, from the passenger seat, pipes up, “Violet, you know that just being willing to go back and try again is… really brave, right? Yeah, failure is inevitable, and very terrifying, but not a lot of people are able to bounce back from it like you do.”

“What Indy said.” Ty peers at them from the rearview mirror and gives them a thumbs up. “We love you no matter what, and I bet you’re gonna crush the competition this year.”

“Yeah! What they said! You’re Violet Sabrewing. You brought me back from the Shadow Realm. If you can do that, you can do anything!”

Violet stares at her for a moment, then Indy, then Ty. Her eyes are glassy. She opens her fist to hold Lena’s hand and squeezes it weakly.

“Thanks,” she whispers, with a smile that doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.

...At least she’s smiling a little. Lena frowns, but gets an idea. She leans forward to ask Ty, “By the way, how long until we get there?”

“Five hours, I think,” Indy answers.

“FIVE HOURS?!” She can feel a vein pop in her head. Five hours. Five. Hours. It feels like she’s been in this stinkin’ car for decades already. Well, no matter.

She turns to Violet. “Alright, since we’re basically stuck here, why don’t I teach you how to smacktalk?”

Violet raises an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Is that really necessary? Also, I doubt Hubert would appreciate—”

“Of course it is! And of course he won’t. You can’t have a healthy rivalry without a little back and forth! Where’s the fun in that?! Now, the key to good smacktalk is...”

She spends the rest of the ride lecturing Violet on the essentials of smacktalk (read: making most of it up as she went). As they drove, Violet’s shoulders began to relax and she allowed herself to laugh more, and Lena felt more at ease than she had in a while.

––––––––––

4.

Lena wakes up with a gasp. Frantically, she feels around. Her arms are intact. Her legs are still here. Nothing hurts. Phantom Blot isn’t here. Okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

“Lena?”

“Vi?” Lena calls, but it sounds more like a choked sob. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the tears messing up her feathers and her pounding heart.

Violet sits up. “Another nightmare?” she asks, her voice quiet. Lena nods. She gets up from bed and leaves the room. Lena sits in the darkness, her hands gripping her knees tightly. Breathe in, breathe out.

Violet returns with a tall glass of water and hands it to her. Lena takes it and brings the glass to her beak. The water is cool and soothing.

“They’ve become increasingly frequent. Shouldn’t we talk to our fathers about this?”

“No,” Lena says immediately, finishing her glass and setting it on the night table with shaky hands. “I don’t want them to get worried.” 

Violet gives her a glare that pierces even in the dark, then sighs.

“Very well.”

✿ — ✿ — ✿

On Christmas Day, Lena wakes up to Violet dumping a bucket of cold water over her.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ack—! Violet, what the hell?!”

“Apologies,” Violet says, her tone betraying her words. She’s already dressed in a plain cream turtleneck. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did.” She tugs at her sleeve. “Now, come. Fathers are already in the living room. You were literally the last to awaken.” Without waiting for a response, she drags her out of the room and down the stairs.

The living room feels… warmer than usual. There are string lights, giving out a gentle multicoloured glow, both around the Christmas Tree and hung up along the walls. Someone took the time to hang a wreath on every door in the house, each covered in mini ornaments and topped with a red bow. The bright orange fire in the fireplace is crackling.

Ty and Indy are already waiting, wearing matching Christmas sweaters. “Merry Christmas!” they greet, pulling the two girls into a hug. 

“Merry Christmas,” Lena says back before pulling away. The cheeriness of the season was beginning to catch up to her. “So! What do we do first?”

“Well, the presents are under the tree but maybe eat breakfast first—”

Lena was gone the moment Ty said ‘presents’. She rushes to the tree and begins checking the tags for her name. Not that there are that many presents to check. Violet follows soon after with a much calmer demeanor.

She ends up with a limited edition of The FeatherWeights’ newest album from Ty and Indy (“How did you know they’re my favourite band?!” “Your shirt is all we needed to clue us in.”) and an exact replica of the Caw-nverse shoes she loves wearing. Violet receives two books — an encyclopedia the thickness of one and a half dictionaries about magic and a thinner book called Tales of the Peculiar.

She’s ready to head off to the dining table to eat when Violet stops her. 

“Wait.” She pulls out a neatly wrapped present from her pocket and holds it out to Lena. “Here.”

“Wh— But I didn’t get you anything!”

“It’s okay.” Violet shoves the present into her hands. “Just take it.” Lena peers at her suspiciously before tearing the wrapping paper clean off and opening the box.

A dreamcatcher. The hoop used is a nice beige, and a flower-like design had been woven within it with colourful threads. White feathers suspended from twine, with beads adorning the strands at intervals, are attached to the hoop. Lena dangles the dreamcatcher above the box and looks at Violet questioningly.

“It may not be as beneficial as actual therapy since I couldn’t infuse it with any magic, but it should help keep the bad dreams at bay,” Violet explains. “Probably. I made it myself so it might not work.”

Lena stares at the dreamcatcher again. Upon closer inspection, the feathers and beads appear to be glued to the twine, and the twine was wound imperfectly around the base of the hoop. The flower design is also uneven, having slightly larger ‘petals’ on one side. She feels herself tear up. “Violet. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“I can’t believe saving you from roaming in the shadow realm for all of eternity isn’t the sweetest thing I've ever done for you,” Violet replies, completely deadpan. But the corners of her beak are twitching upwards.

“You wanted to summon evil spirits! I was a byproduct. It doesn’t count,” Lena jokes, putting the dreamcatcher away. She envelopes her in a crushing hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is wobbling. “This is just— It must’ve taken ages. Now I feel even worse for not getting you anything.”

Violet hugs her back just as tightly. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you get me my own personal library next year.”

As if your room isn’t filled with enough books as is, Lena thinks, but she can’t help but laugh.

Ty clears his throat. “This is great, but it’s already nine and you girls haven’t even had breakfast yet, so chop chop! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

(They end up at the ice rink, where Lena learns that she’s actually terrible at ice skating. Violet offers to teach her like the Samaritan she is, but doesn’t hesitate to throw jabs at her incompetence. Fortunately, she’s not the only one who’s suffering, if Indy’s screaming and Ty’s guffawing are any indications.)

––––––––––

In the first fifteen years of her life, Lena had been alone with no one to turn to. Being part of a happy family felt like something out of a movie or fairy tale. Happiness seemed like an unreachable dream.

But within two years, she found a best friend in Webby, a sister in Violet, and two dads in Ty and Indy. She found a family to call her own, one that loved her and made her feel good about herself. She was finally content.

The dreamcatcher and family photo hanging above her bed would need to be pried from her cold, dead hands.

[charliesradiodemon]

Arranged Marriage AU (Part 1)

AU where Lucifer arranges Alastor with Charlie to help strengthen the royal family and ensure the safety of the house. It’s just business.

(This was sent from my phone, sorry if the format is messed up. I came up with this idea and I just had to write about it. I’ll probably continue it, we’ll see!)

(EDIT 2/10/2020: So I’ve been rereading old chapters and I’m still not satisfied with them. I’ve decided to edit the chapters on Tumblr so they now line up with the AO3 version. Sorry for making ya’ll wait so long, I just want to get this right ^.^)

It was an average, quiet morning at the Happy Hotel. The fiery red hue of Hell's skies had just lightened and most of the few denizens of the old hotel were still fast asleep.

 However Charlie was already up, eager and ready for the day with a smile. Every morning she had to coordinate and prepare for breakfast. Afterward, she'd set up the various events and activities for the tenants to occupy themselves with. Today there would be a group therapy session after breakfast and some physical activities to let the guests blow off some stream.

 It was going to be another nice and quiet day for her. At least it was supposed to be.

 She heard the front door of the hotel ring from the kitchen so she put on her happiest face and marched out to greet her next potential guest.

 However what met her were two of the most powerful wide-grinning demons in Hell.

 “Charlotte, how I missed you!” Lucifer cried out and leaned down to give his only daughter the biggest hug she’d ever received from him. The abruptness of it made her whole body tense.

 Charlie tentatively returned the hug “D-dad?” as soon as she spoke, Lucifer pulled away but kept his hand on either of Charlie’s shoulders. “Uh what are you doing with Alastor?” She leaned to look around her father to point at Alastor, who stood close by just observing the interaction with his signature grin splayed over his face.

 Alastor made frequent visits to the hotel to check up on it whenever he had nothing else to do. That was fairly often, but recently he'd been away and seemingly busy. This was the first time Charlie's seen him in a little over a week. And he showed up with her father nonetheless. With how busy the King of Hell always was, it made Charlie wonder how a mortal soul like Alastor managed to get him away from his duties. Hell, he never even bothered to come visit his own daughter until today.

 Lucifer nearly pushed Charlie away to move back to Alastor’s side. “Dear, you are getting older now and I know you have this dream thing… or whatever, but I think it’s time for you to think of the future!” He gestured his cane toward Alastor, who still stood there, saying nothing. “I know he’s a lot younger than you but what is a few centuries or two?” He leaned on his cane and chuckled.

 Charlie had no words and only looked back and forth at the two looming figures as if it was her way of processing. In reality her mind was blank. It was too early for this and suddenly Charlie felt like it was a mistake getting up this morning.

 Alastor finally chimed in with his chipper radio-backed voice. “What your father is trying to say is that we should get hitched! Tie the knot! Take the plunge! Conjugate-“

 “What?!” Charlie’s exclamation startled Lucifer enough to where he nearly fell off his apple-topped cane. Charlie's heart dropped to her gut. Was this really happening? “D-dad you can’t be serious right?” Charlie’s laughed nervously. When she looked back to her father with a concerned smile, he did not look amused in the slightest. He stared her down with a stern glare that she knew all too well. “This is just a jo-…” she stopped and shut her mouth when the elder demon's frown deepened. She looked away from her father and she felt whatever confidence she had melt away in an instance.

 It was really happening. She feared this day would come, but not so soon! Charlie knew that one day her parents could possibly urge her into an emergency marriage at any point in her life. With their warning, they loosely promised her the freedom to live as she wished as long as she would answer to her duty when they needed her to. But this was over a century ago. And as a young, eager and very naive young demoness, Charlie happily accepted. They even gave her time to think it over, but she was young and stupid- something neither Lilith or Lucifer understood. 

 Alastor’s laugh track pulled Charlie’s attention back to him. “My dear this is certainly not a joke. I’m afraid I’m deathly serious,” Alastor’s impossibly wide smile widened even further and it sent chills down Charlie’s spine. How could he be so calm and nonchalant about this? He was entering a role far beyond his station as a mortal soul. Alastor was always impulsive and acted on anything he thought could entertain him; he could be making a huge mistake.

 “Al, why are you doing this? I know you have no interest in me, you don’t even give a damn about me!” She shot an accusatory finger toward him which, to Charlie’s surprise worked well enough to make him back off with an amused smile. Charlie knew her father would disapprove of this behavior but she didn’t care. But she dared not look at her father. If she even glanced at him, she’d lose this momentum.

 Alastor only seemed more intrigued and amused at the situation. They'd known each other for six months and despite his intimidating nature, Charlie warmed up to him fairly quickly. It was always interesting how confident Charlie could be around him when no one else could. If he were honest to himself, Alastor could say that he'd warmed up to the unusually warm demon princess. She was one of the few that he could bear to be around for longer than five minutes despite her raging naivety and cheerful nature. Charlie awoke something unusual within him and he wanted to explore this pleasant feeling he would always have around her even further. It was as if Lucifer answered his prayers when the King of Hell himself showed up to his front door with a proposition. 

 “On the contrary dear Charlie, you do catch my interest in a way. I just think this arrangement can better solidify our partnership into something more permanent,” he bent close to whisper in her ear. “Your father proposed this arrangement and I think it’s an excellent idea. I believe the both of us will benefit from this.” He straightened his back and the pair turned their gazes to Lucifer who even seemed to be a tad nervous himself with both eyes on him. 

 Charlie sighed. 'This must be important then if dad's this spooked...'  Her father was the most feared demon in Hell. He'd ruled Hell for over countless millennia and over those millennia he'd come across many bumps in the road. Whatever was happening now, it was important for Charlie to marry Alastor.  

 Charlie turned her gaze back to the taller demon and caught his attention again by stretching up closer to his ear. “What are you scheming?” She hissed through her teeth so only Alastor could hear.

 The taller demon’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, he chuckled with an accompanying audience laughing with him. He reached down to grasp her hand and held it up between them. This was a secret he couldn't disclose, no matter how much he liked Charlie. He wanted to figure out the secret to his odd notions around her all by himself. “Nothing! Like I said, your father proposed this. My guess is that he wants to prevent me from harming you and your family,” he said nonchalantly. Charlie shivered at the ease of his words. It was as if the man had indeed considered it at one point. “He’s quite the businessman. Offering his daughter in exchange for peace!” he belted a strong chortle “Oh… how wonderful. I couldn’t help but accept. It was certainly a wild turn of events even I couldn’t have anticipated!” His wide smile grew in size and Charlie felt his tight grip tighten. 

 He mixed in a bit of truth to his lie. He truly didn't know exactly why Lucifer came to him asking to be his son-in-law nor did he ever foresee this wild turn of events.  

 She tugged a couple of times before slipping from his grasp and took a step back. “Right… Al you know this is a big deal right? And I’m not exactly single either you know!” Charlie explained with a strained smile and a nervous chuckle. “Do you really want to marry me because you’re bored?”

 “Yes!” He immediately answered. His face lit up like a child in a candy store. “It’s nothing I could have imagined! It’s nothing anyone could have imagined! Who would have ever thought that I would become part of the royal family of Hell! Hahaha! We haven’t even announced the news to the denizens of Hell yet and I’m already simply elated!” He clasped his hands together as the sound of the laugh track came and went once more. He continued on a tangent of something when Charlie began tuning him out.

 The young demon heiress leaned over to look at her father’s reaction to all of this. His apparent nervousness seemed to dissipate, but he still held onto the apple atop his cane tightly. He shot her a look of expectancy and nodded his head at her.

 'I know...' Charlie internally sighed.

 Charlie crossed her arms and sighed warily. It was still early and yet she already felt drained. Too many thoughts spun in her head and she didn’t know how to feel. Devastated? Angry? Sad? All of the above maybe? It didn’t matter. She knew this day was going to come, but she didn't know that it was going to be so soon- or with a mortal soul like Alastor. Though she guessed it could have been worse. She could be engaged to Harold Von Eldritch, her absolutely abhorrent ex-boyfriend in a political marriage.

It was strange how the engagement didn't feel so heavy. Charlie almost felt like laughing it off. Maybe it was because of the ridiculousness of the situation? Her father and her business partner walked into her hotel and imposed a marriage on her. That was pretty crazy already. Or maybe it was because she was engaged to one of the most powerful demons in Hell and he was marrying her all because he was bored.

Part 2 HERE

[denotday]

Maybel Rhodes: Protectress

Itchy arms. My armbumps bumps take over life and chew my head off like a black mother. Even the sleeves of this sweater craddle these potholes as an english muffin craddles butter. But I'm more than my bumps and I'd make a quip on Fergie, but I'm no Joan Rivers. I'm small, meager. At eighteen, trying to find myself, live my own life. Typical teen drama, boring narrative, sob story. bored already. But know what isn't boring? I like strawberry shortcake and cheeseless pizzas. I have hopes of becoming a journalist and actually leading a career as moreof a Clark Kent than a Mary Jane or whatever the fuck that bitch's name is. Mary Anne? That used to be the name of one of my teachers. Going off; just thinking these thoughts while skateboarding to highschool.

Stay on the sides, away from cars, on the sidewalk, not too close to the white kids. White kids mean white mess, white messes mean cops who sweep the streets and take all the black kids with them in the process. I'm not a racist, just a black kid trying to stay alive in white america. Thank god I'm a weak bitch, one who cries for black men, one who doesn't face real issues like projected aggression. I'm a butterfly, something that men swat away and don't care about until MeToo movements. Gotta be careful but not too careful, kind but not too kind, firm but not a bitch, bitch but not a faggot. faggots suck.

No one thinks to ask these questions, here this thoughts. They see a black woman, better yet, a black female child. Worse thing to live in a ghetto. Sike; I say that I'm black and in a ghetto and get sob points. Fucking racist. I'm skating to one of those Fresh Prince schools. Didn't move on up, I'm simply moving; parents are mid class well grounded and guess what? My parents are still together. Probably breaking up soon but still breaking barriors of broke baby daddies and black slutty whore mothers who don't believe in abortion.

That's humor in of itself. A black kid skates into a white neighborhood with white sidewalks and doesn't have a nigger daddy and nigger mommy. What can be said by those PTA suburban soccer moms who want to demonise me and my own? Or am I palatable and a token black?

Making good grades, going to class on time. Only thing is, I don't have any friends to call. Even if I had one of those top quality iPhone 411s, I still wouldn't want to burden myself with filling up those high-techy contact lists. It's all bullshit after all, just capitalistic bilge. Something to fill the void without actually trying to let the public know that the void they're filling chalks up to capitalism. But again, those little tangents? "What does this have to do with having friends?" Everything. I don't give a shit, I accept shit. I tell things like it is, speak with lisps or change it up by sounding like an oxford professor.Not going to just abandon stream of consciousness 'cause class just started. This aint sims 4 and life ain't something that can be controlled; sped up or slowed down for the sake of an other's pleasure. I'm learning about shit that I'll never use like economics. That's shit that the government gives the state to teach, a little but not enough for highschoolers to overwhelm the system and decide "fuck student loans".

Not too bad here, though. Not all just "fuck hyschool" and teenaged angst. I go to the library, read books, go on my computer, listening to some Biggie and MFDoom and Tribe. Guess I am a nigger. Nigger-me and my nigger music. Even tththough it's they inspiration for they cracker music. Hate on us enough to keep us down but keep us up enough to steal from us. Today I'm reading some teen dystopian fantasy novel that I don't feel inclined to share with you guys. And no, it's not Hunger Games. It's Gunger Hames, the cousin of the franchise. Whoops just gave ya'll the name sorry. Either way I'm into that. Idea of a not-so-distant-future; humans making mistakes that fuck up the planet---disregarding that fact long enough so that the white main character can get it on with someone from the other side. Modern day Romeo and Juliett.

End of lunch, going back to class. It's back to back all day; boring teen shit that nobody cares about. Raising hands, answering questions, not understanding anything by the end of the day. Getting by is my motto. Long enough to get an A in the class and be on those ivy league watchlists. Even if I have to bust my ass to pay for student loans. Leaving highschool after all that non-work---no friends to lie to, no one to walk with, just me and my skateboard. These white paths not dirtied by brown except for my dirt body moving at the speed that a skateboard will go. Shift right here and there. Move away from rocks so that I don't fall headfirst. It's good shit. Here and there there are stone pebbles, blunts from---ironically enough--- the white kids and sharp object that I can't identify. FUCK. I don't have time to move around it and I can't just run offf. My leg'll get cut by it. Gotta just build up enough speed to roll over. Rolling...rolling...here it comes. Crouch down, focus, focus, pump speed anddddd....it stops my speed and loosens one of my bearings. Now I gotta walk the rest of the way back to my white little house with a white picket fence. Man screw--haha pun---this object. I have to use my 20/20 vision to find some small silver bolt that'll practically blend in with this bright ass sidewalk. Fuck white America.

In a little patch of weeds growing like black fists raising in the air I see the bolt and the responsible party for tossing me off the board. I raise my foot to crush this sonnofabiscuit like a bug so that some white kid's bike tire doesn't get licked---mind you this should be considered community service---and I figure that I won't ruin my rubber soles on the glass, so I'll just pick it up and toss it into the sewer. I put the bolt in my sweatpants pocket to keep it safe. I bend over again to peer at the crack in the sidewalk that I'll punt to the other side of the street where the other half of the street lives. It has tribal markings on it and must be, gasp, an ancient arcane ruin that'll give me superpowers. Kidding, you dumb bitch. "Why am I talking to myself this way? Jeez, some self-improvement classes would be nice". It's a bracelet made of some sort of beads. Kindof pretty but caked up with dirt and sand like no-one's business. I'm no Rocket Racoon so I just leave it. Even if I felt that it was interesting enough, I'd have to clean it off and disinfect it. It would just ruin the material underneath. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Lemme stop; for real, in this white bread neighborhood, I might be able to get it appraised and pawn it off for some money or at the very least, see if it's worth keeping. I know; "this is the start of every horror movie", every tv show. I get it, but I'll cleanse the jewelry before wearing it. It's fine. It's fine. Hope it's fine. Jeez.

I put the bracelet in my other pocket away from the bolt and walk back home. The soles of my feet hit the white pavement and my feet move in the fashion of jubillee ferris wheels. Slowly rise in a circle, fall in perfect arch. Walking is divine poetry in of itself. Not too long now. A little further. Feels like the day is stretching. Still light outside and the summer-brink of fall--air is warming my rectum. "Oh god, what's with gays and their rectums". You know your g-spot is in your ass, men. It feels good for us too you know. Nice coolness for the butthole----rectum is for men, butthole is for women. I think. See? Not a Cliff Huxtable type; don't know everything. Not an Urkle. Conversations with myself like this are truly golden (ponyboy).

Fondle the silver piece, twist it in lock, get somewhere new. Novel design, simple concept. My rubber soles give me cat-walking abilities and I edge up the stairs. Hear shuffling downstairs in the kitchen. But the smell of musky forest wood with a hint of olive tells me that it's just my father. I'd announce my presence but this isn't a sitcom and I have a phone that I can use to text. Who talks nowadays?

On the table near the keyrack, I scoop into my pockets in search of the goods. The warm cotton touches the cool silver bolt. Set it aside to attach it to the skateboard later. "Why not now?" That'll be a problem for me to solve tomorrow. "Procrastination isn't good" Yeah I know. I've read the same 1990's health pamphlet that the health teachers give out. I hug my side to reach around for the other pocket. Same warmth, same feeling of comfort except...it's a new sensation. Hollow and porous. It's either bone carved into beads or plastic. Hope to...Well, not God, maybe I hope to goodness? Goodness? What am I? A preacher? Maybe that's why I like 16 year old boys. Anyway. It's too white over here for it to be bone. Unless it's some cracker who brought over some hoodoo shit and dropped it somewere. Great. Gonna burn some incense to cleanse it. Then gonna toss it somewhere so that it can't hurt anyone. Wait. It doesn't FEEL menacing. No darkness, no coldness, there's a comfort to be had. I don't see any visible engravings, no bite marks no arcane symbols. It may be safe. Just to be sure, I'm keeping it downstairs for it to curse someone else in the house. I rise up the stairs into the wide landing. Step, rise, step, rise, step, rise. Before I get to the top, I feel funny. Not sick funny or CURSED funny, but someone-is-in-my-presence funny. Strech my neck to look over my shoulder. Not too far to show interest but far enough to see what's going on---it's my dad handling the bracelet.

I whip my body around and I suppose this gives him a start.

"Hey, just got back from school. I'm pretty tired which is why I didn't want to talk. Found that bracelet in the sidewalk cracks before my skateboard broke. I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Don't know if it's cursed or not."

"Cursed? Bee, this is a genuine Sudanese artifact."

"Huh? When'd you turn into a archeologist? Or are you just nerding out about a 'special interest'"

"Har har. Nothing like that. This area used to be an auction town for slaves shipped from Sudan. Martinsville, Pennsylvania wasn't necessarily known for it's 'clean hands' you know. Gentrification made the area look nicer but its history is still pretty shit-covered."

"Ah, I remember now. I heard about this in history class" No I haven't. I don't even have history. Just want to stop talking to him about some dumb bracelet. "Can it sell for big bucks at a pawnshop?"

"I mean, sure if you'd like to get rid of it. Better to give it to the local museum though! It looks to me like it's made out of elephant tusks. Pretty well preserved too! The wearer must've been some warrior. They only wear these types of jewelry if they're the village's protectors. That's what I've read online anyway. You know how the interweb is though. Could be false."

"Oh wow. Ivory? That's a pretty dirty trade. Don't want to give something like that up to white people who continue to promote the trade. This'll just make the ivory market worse. I may keep it; I just wonder if it's cursed or something. I'll ask a local witchcraft practitioner to check it out tomorrow. Can I have thirty bucks for an appraisal along with an after-school snack?"

"Thirty? What're you going to buy? A salmon dinner with asparagus and steak? I'm not giving you Carabbas money. I can do 18. Enough for some street food."

"Not enough for the appraisal!"

"I'm sure the person will be able to work something out for you. You look twelve. You can play the 'Uwu I'm a baby who has no money, please help me out adult!' card. Or, how about this: pretend to be doing a research project for school on Sudanese slaves in the area. Just act like the school lent you the bracelet for the project"

"So lie?"

"I call it embellishment."

"I see"

I reached into his calloused palm and stole its contents, As a thief, I ran upstairs away from the site of the crime, away from the demons that lurked beneath the stairs. That's customary practice when going up stairs, right? To haul ass like there's no tomorrow like we're that black chick from Scary Movie? Sounds about right. I heaved and ho'd swinging my body back and forth up the stairs. Snaking my way into my room where I burrow for my after-school nap. That's what I tell my parents anyway. What I really do is blaze up in my room and turn on the fan. Gotta keep the smoke minimal. "Such a typical teen". Yeah, whatever. Like your generation wasn't popping ass and drinking bathtub wine when ya'll were young, Get outta here.

It's a good high. Kind where you'd listen to lofi and eat peanuts just for the fun of it. Another bong hit. Satisfying. I'm just leaning back on my sofa; it's firm and uncomfy but when I'm blazed, don't none of it matter. I could lose all of my words...give up....let....go.....

"...."

"What is this energy I'm feeling? So warm and electric. Is this love? Am I so sexually frustrated that I'm in love with a bong? Shit, I fuck with that. That's pretty words. 'I'm in love with my bong'. Such nice love. haha."

I'm hungry and it's four am. The weed has worn off. So tired man. Gotta go downstairs for some chips or something. Hungry to the max. Munchies munchies munchies for the weed monster. What a drug.

I creep down the stairs and up once more. My bare footpads cling to the hardwood and leave sweat prints in the shape of my stompers. During my ascent I leave crumbs. Have the house feeling like a Brother's Grimm story. I satisfy my snack desires as I prepare for school in the next hour.

Running water on my arms. Three passes of lotion on arms and legs. Can't be the ashy black kid that look like they an African living in a dirt house. Ain't able to help the rough patches that coat my body but I can help keep my skin moisturized.

A'ight. Got my fit got my board. Just have to screw the bolt back on and find the bracelet. Shit. Left it upstairs. I'm already late as hell. Rushing up the stairs. Search for the bracelet, find it, get out house. Objectives objectives. I spot it from afar and gravitating toward it, put it gingerly in my pocket. Kindof like someone would with a used tissue. Aren't humans gross? I mean, snot? Bacteria-filled snot? Nasty. Thoughts gone, make brain go from thinking to doing. descending now. Board in arm, door opens with the flick of the wrist and just like that, I'm outty. Deck on ground I put my best foot forward and ram it onto the hard cement to push myself forward. Sorry foot, betrayals sure do suck.

School begins, in class siting in a chair. All day, several hours. Ah, the beloved system at work. Great to know that there are adults who "work" all day by keeping kids seated in a chair. Very progressive, America. Library break? I think so. On my laptop, I pull out webpages on the pocketed---the word reminds me of 'closeted---bracelet. NOW I'm imagining a gay bracelet. hilarious. Great. Typing 'Gay Bracelet' into the search bar and am getting rainbow plastic bands. Ya know, the ones that they sell at Hot Topic during pride month.

"Damn, I'm getting sidetracked" She mutters to herself. Imagine if life were a story being told by some omnipotent force? omnipresent? Think that's the word.

With a bit of typing and a bit of focus. Swift movement of hunched fingers. All is complete, then some. Ogdle: "common of the Azande warriors were pieces to signify their status such as septum tusks, mouth disks, necklaces and other adornments. Bones and tusks were common materials of such articles."

Crazy how this history is hidden. Power was taken from us and buried so deep. We're the originals but every piece of history buried underground. Hidden, secretive Big Bad America. Tale fit for young people all over. Democracy, boo yah.

Train whistle blowing through the air. No train nearby, just the sound of a change in the block. I put it all away, sweep it into my bag. Everything is so messy, so fast. On schooldays like this, it feels hard to even take time to breathe. But I get by since the system wants me to. Think I'm going to skip. Not that the next two classes even matter in the long run. "Such a poor black baby, representing her race so poorly". Yeah yeah. Not the black chick that highschools would put on a recruiting card.

Just another push....door after door falling at my fingertips. The same once that touch the coarse sandpaper of my board. Foot on, foot off. kick once, twice, thrice, now we surf the cement. Now it's time to visit good the kind old black woman who practices witchcraft on dolls. That's what you'd think right? No, they're native and keep old customs within the community. Everyone calls them---agender--- Sage. Nonbinary native americans are actually more common than people think.

Before selling the bracelet to some old rich white drudge of society, I wanna be sure that the bracelet can be cleansed first. I mean. To give away black history to the white man? Hellll no with multiple "l's". It is a pretty long ride there, even on a board. Rumbly road. Pebbles everywhere. Thousands of little rocks acting as smaller wheels vying to fling me off. It's too much.

Mumbling of my own. "Where's gentrification when you need it?" Alright, yes I get it. It's a bad joke. Of course gentrification is bad. Blah blah. Time to pick up my skateboard I guess. Walking on this ground feels just as bad as suicide. Feaful of getting my ass flung into the afterlife. Few yards left....or at least fifty feet. Forty eight, forty five, forty-however-long.

Ended up reaching it after twenty minutes. This trip better be worth it.

"Hi there, Miss Sage. Mind checking out this bracelet for me? I need to check it for a curse or evil energy. My cheap father didn't give me enough for a full appraisal but what can you do with nine dollars?"

"For nine? Not much, doll? What was your name again? You look young, do you have an adult's approval for this?"

"Oh, right. You've got me. It's for a school project. School each student a historical object to research. I figured you'd be able to help me get an 'A' on the project, you know?"

"Your manners are lacking but you seem young, so I'll let you pass. Allow me to take a look at it, if you please?"

God. Full-fledged adults really are something else. I'm only eighteen, not eight. Guess I look younger than I am----

Sage starts burning this wood that's tied with string. Incense maybe?

"That incense?"

"It's a closed practice really, so I don't want to expose anything. But it is a form of incense that I prefer to use to cleanse the spirit of objects and areas."

"Ah, didn't mean to intrude. I'm glad that there are still practices that you keep to yourself. Nothing like the White Man stripping us of our culture."

I got a soft chuckle out of them. Glad that they're able to lighten up a bit.

"..."

"OK, so here's what I've found. There's immense energy here; the power coming off of this thing is tremendous. There's nothing negative about this piece. How'd you ever come across it, again? School, you said? Shame that you'll have to give it back. Something like this would provide a large power surge to spirituals. I'd pay a pretty penny for this."

"Mhm"

"Wonder how the school even came across this. I tell you what. Ask your school where I can find something like this and perhaps I'll give you a little something for your intel, huh?"

"Oh. Sure. I'll just--uh---"

"Right, right, right. The bracelet, I'm sorry. Really, it's more an anklet truly, but--ya know what? I'm sorry. Here ya go"

"...take it from ya. Thanks."

"No problem. Come back with more info on the anklet. That'll be your payment for my time"

Got 'caught in a lie it seems. Don't know how I'll snake my way out of this one.

"Brrrrrzzzzz"

Shit, it's five. My dad's probably looking for me.

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

Chapter two:

" You skipped class? Bee, I know that you're better than this."

God moms bitch too much. Must be the nursing job coupled with her daily acting gigs that make her so aggro.

"I hear ya, mom. I just had some research to conduct after school..."

"Research? Which kind---?"

"The school kind. I don't know what else you want me to say. I'm sorry for skipping lasses. I got too overzealous and went in over my head. It won't happen again."

"Tskk. Better not. I know that I'm gone almost every hour of the day, but please give me a break, baby. Please just listen to your father and follow the rules. All I ask."

"Mhm, even though he-----you know what, nevermind. Am I dismissed? I have to write up today's school report to type"

Phew. Gonna hit the bong now to calm down from this encounter.

Fuck homework. .... ..... Mhm.

Five minutes passs. Fifteen, twenty. Maybe not minutes. hours? seconds? Time is too funny. With LEDs on, the vibe is fatallll. Still have to open a window to let out the smoke but gosh is this magical.

Mhm magic. Does it even exist? Doubt it. It's all science, right? ....

.....

Right. Like, this anklet. Not real power. Not real magic. Just something people believe in. Like God. It's all faith.

"So, theoretically, I could even put it on my person and nothing would even happen"

"And, so it begins"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT VOICE" and why am I screaming?

Get off, get off, get off! Something's dripping on me.

"Tears, they're tears"

Oh god, I fucked up. I knew that I shouldn't have smoked that much. Knew it'd bite me in the ass one day. Now I'm fear-crying. I NEVER FEAR CRY.

It's all a dream maybe. Go to sleep, Bee. Just take a weed nap.

"Ba ba bang"

A booming voice raspy from coffee withdrawal.

"Everything OK in there Bee? You're about to be late for school."

Shit!

No time for conversation. Move it move it move it.

"'Cmon Bee. I'll drop you off at school on my way to the college".

Bookbag? Check. Board? Check.

I feel the rush of air against my cheeks as I fly out the door and jump into the getaway car. Fast, but atleast I'm not Furious. Dad and I chat it up all the way until the tires cross the smooth pavement of school grounds. Departing words are exchanged along with "I love you's" and "knock 'em deads".

That familiar sound. Principal as the school conductor. "Chooo". Just as it drones, my body moves to the steps of teens dragging their feet toward their dreaded first classes of the day. The light of morning cradles the marble arches of the school entrance until the sun starts to suck in the morning cold to blow out midday warmth.

"So, who are you, voice? What's your angle? Typing ensues. The screen watches my fleeting pupils; left, right, side, side. Wouldn't be surprised if the computer got whiplash from me. One scroll, two, three. Read a page. Nothing. Another website. Up and down; my fingers are cramped now. Nada. New Oogdle search: "Can I hear voices with weed smoking." Now I have a hit; "yes weed can have you seeing voices. Many aren't even your own. Maybe lay off the TV for a while."

"Thanks 'BouncyNina29'. Quora is one hell of a place." Guess it must've just been the drugs then. Hilarious, me hearing some voice. "Gotta lay off the bong smoking".

"Shhh!!" Some nerd in a striped beanie raised a finger to pursed lips.

Sorry, sorry....Jeez. "My bad" You know what? Maybe I can visit----

the train whistle interrupts my 11pm "ball" with myself. "Dammit". OK. Maybe I can bribe one of the delinquents behind the school to take my place in English. Teacher's not there anyway; the sub won't know the difference. Time to go pay someone off.

"..."

"Here ya go, five dollars."

"A'ight and you said what room that English class in?"

"301 B man. It's at the end of the third floor, right wing. Hard to miss and---remember---my name is Maybel Rhodes. Just fake like you're doing some work and no one will even notice that you're not me. I'm a loner, so, that'll work."

"Mhm hmm. I hear ya Maple"

"MayBEL"

"Yeah, that's what I said"

Scoff. In a smooth curvular motion, I plant my feet on the board and race to Sage's before their store closes.

As I approach, they're putting a silver key in a lock. Gah! The store closed.

"Miss Sage---"

"Gah! Don't do that!! Scaring me and sh--I mean, 'crap'. Scaring me and crap. Look kid, I'm closed right now but we open tomorrow. By then, I'll have the energy to discuss your school's anklet with you. Actually, about that. Do you have intel on where the-----"

"Yes, yes. About that, see...I lied. I didn't really get it from the school. I found it on the ground somewhere."

"'Found it on the ground somewhere' is code for 'I don't have money to pay nor do I have anything else to provide'? Am I getting warmer?"

"Look Miss Sage, I'm really sorry. Hey---look at it this way. I'm in debt to you. If you'll just help me with one teensy little thing, I'll ask my dad for some food money and will give you every cent he gives, alright?"

"Kid, that's not how an adult runs a business. Call what I gave you yesterday a 'freebie'. You're banned from the store. Good night."

Wait. "Wait" Their stride is aimed toward their silver camry. Yeah, I know a camry. Did you expect them to be riding a horse? Racist. Sage acts as though they don't hear and gets into their seat, key in ignition. One twist away before exiting the rocky parking area.

"IT SPOKE TO ME" Yup. That is how I yelled it. All caps, woke some birds up even. Just like in those Loony Toon cartoons. Is that why they're called "Loony Toons" 'cause they're loony cart----

Now they exit their car, slamming the heavy metal door. "What did you say? It...SPOKE...to you? What do you mean 'it'?"

Mhm Mhm. Just prepping my throat. "I wore it on my ankle and I heard a voice that has never existed before in the chasms----"

"Stop the theatrics"

"....Chasms of my mind. It was a male. Around your age in old-timey-ness."

"Har har."

"But it's the truth!" Why won't they believe a magical voice but insist that sage, a random plant, purifies the air?

Their chest contracts and expands in a sigh. Sage closes their eyes for a second. I could practically smell the gears turning. Need some WD-40, really. "Fine. Come by the store Saturday. That way, no one will be in to eavesdrop."

"Deal!"

"And bring actual MULA this time or else we won't have our little discussion". Crud.

"...."

"What are you thinking Sage?" No response. I paid one hundred fifty dollars for this after BEGGING both my folks (who think I'm using it to enroll in some after school sport) to slide me some cash so that I can 'better myself as an individual and actually do something with my time as well'. Lies are no good.

"Shh! Let me think, please!" Sage subverts their attention from me back onto the tarot cards laid in front of them----exactly where the bone anklet (bonklet) lay in silence

Ten minutes pass before Sage gives me the break down. "So, as I've said before. The anklet carries some heavy energy, something similar to passion and justice. Very potent stuff. That's what the spirit realm is saying, anyway. When you were---ahem--- HIGH----"

At this point I look away

"...You honed into that energy and that's why you heard the voice"

"Hm. So, how do I hone in on that energy now? Is it something I can control conscious?"

"Look, I dunno kid. Just, be safe. Meditate beforehand so that you are actually able to chime into the anklet's power source. Don't want to darken the talisman's power or anything."

"Sure, sure" I am literally out the door before Sage utters the second part of their sentence. I buzz with excitement at the opportunity and the best part is? I'm basically a super! Hoo ho. This is awesome.

There's an empty industrial facility near by Hawesome Li Cosmetics. It went bankrupt several decads ago. I'm pretty much the only one who knows about the place. Excellent ground to skate on---smooth as butter. Either way, it's empty and no harm will come to anything or anyone nearby. Any damage that I do will be to the building nearby, which no one cares about anyway. "So, it's just me and you buddy." Blunt in hand, I blaze it up. "Time for the magic to happen."

It's a slow high. The high takes as long as a flame reaching the wooden stick of an incense rod for the high to hit. Upwards of thirty minutes. So I wait. It feels like time warps. So I meditate. So I clear my thinking and reach out to the anklet.

"Mhm, Anklet, tell me who you are?"

"What?? You can hear me?"

"Yeah man. Who are you, why you speaking to me?"

"Why would I tell you? I don't even know yer name"

Tiring. It's like talking to a wall.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Maybel. My name's Maybel. What's yours? Let's start there."

"Nat."

"Like Nat Turner? The rebel slave?"

"Don't know who that is, this 'Nat Turner'. Just knew my master gave me the name." How progressive. "So...I suspect that I'm dead."

It's not easy news. I get it. But hey, the north won. That's something, right?

"Well, I guess it is....you know, I had a name before all of this...."

"......"

"......??"

"......."

So, are you going to tell me?

"You may call me 'Asim'."

"I'll call you Ase."

Don't call me 'Ase'. Too late, Ase. Hey, how old are you anyway? 12? 11? My name is ASIM, nothing else. Fine, grumpy. ASIM. I'll call you Asim, Asim. Where'd that name come from anyway? What does it mean?

"Let's find out, shall we?"

"...It feels electric! (Boogy woogy woogy). Such power, this wade in...glory."

Are you a God?

"Blasphemy!" Then what are you? How are you able to lay such energy unto me?

Look, I don't know either, alright? But what I do know is...we're both negr---

Black. We don't say that word anymore.

"Black, then... Perhaps I'm connected with you due to our shared skin?" We stopped being related millenia ago. Millenia? Not familar with that word.

"Long, long ago. We don't share any common ancestors. It was all a lie." A lie? You don't believe in a God? I'm moreso spiritual; creation is a possibility not something I'm invested in. I believe in forces of the universe. "But not a God? So, this can't be some spiritual connection. We're too different." So perhaps a soul connection? A link between our spirits.... What else do we have in common? A slave and a black kid?

"Hatred of the white man? Wanting justice against them?"

"War. Destruction"

"Yes."

"No, I don't want that. I'd prefer peace." There may be no PEACE without WAR.

"A lie. Violence is not the answer. Kindness is."

"'Kindness' doesn't resolve problems. 'Kindness' doesn't end racism. 'KINDNESS' was the one that slept at my feet while I was lashed! "

"..."

Asim?

"..."

Andddd you're gone. Great. Well, I'm going to head back home, then. We can hang out again tomorrow. "Head back" means leave. All right, see you.