#she would play into her stupidity to avoid the real world

[doctor-mccoys-sanity]

Daisy Buchanan is who Sheila Birling would’ve grown up to be if she followed her mothers wishes

[moviestarmartini]

yellow flowers. — jude bellingham x gf!reader

él sabía, ella sabía y se olvidaron de sus flores amarillas.

summary: how can your relationship recover from such a serious argument the night before?

wc: 975

warnings: angst, not that much dialogue, like three words in spanish, established long-term relationship.

A/N: WHAAAAT?? GIGI POSTING TWICE IN A DAY??? its more likely than you think! thank las flores amarillas hehe.

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The fight was stupid, really. 

You both had to admit it was. Even then, that doesn’t take away the fact it snowballed into issues each of you held back for what seemed ages, and only ended up with Jude slamming the door on the way out of your apartment. 

After hours of crying, your own exhaustion from the ordeal lulled you to sleep. When you rose up in the morning, neither your mind nor your body prepared for the fact it was a Saturday. 

Nor the fact everyone and their mothers were receiving yellow flowers, something you’d always craved but were always just another bystander. 

If you listened to that song again you might just rip your hair off. 

You had a whole day planned with Jude after the game, he wanted to do something special, but the fact you couldn’t hold back your jealousy the night before was more than enough to dampen the idea, whatever it was. 

For a second, you tried to put things on the positive side. A self-care day. In theory it was wonderful, but the second you sat alone in the bubbly bathtub, you broke down in tears. 

You’d been together for years. You changed your whole life around him, learning German to go to school in the same country and planning your masters in Spanish. Maybe that was part of the reason he called you spineless; you adapted to other’s needs and perspectives easier. His words bounced around your head, each reminder taunting you more. 

To top it all off, Spotify seemed to have a vendetta against you, your daylist was insanely depressing. 

“Is this because he plays for Real Madrid?!” You spoke out into the world, growing frustrated with your situation. 

That did spark an idea in your brain; or more of a reminder. 

Jude had a game today. And you weren’t going to be there to watch him. That just made you jump out of the bath, get changed into decent clothes and leave the house for once to watch him at your best friend’s house upon her request, miserably so even when the team got their footing back up— knowing you should be in the stands cheering him on. But alas, you weren’t.

And you wondered if you would ever be again. 

The moment he fell clutching his shoulder, your heart stopped. Tears welled in your eyes but you avoided letting them escape, remembering the long hours of work and recovery, the utter joy you felt when he informed both you and the team he was comfortable playing without the big chunky brace again. All that, and it crumbled down right before your eyes, like your relationship. 

Still, you didn’t hesitate on reaching for your phone, not finding any elation on the team’s victory. 

[ I know you don’t want to see or hear from me ] 

[ But how’s your shoulder? I’m seriously concerned ] 

You knew he wasn’t going to reply right away, and when your companion found out who you’d texted, she ripped the phone out of your hands and put it away for the reminder of your evening laced with white wine and take out sushi. 

“Thank you for releasing me, master.” You joked by the time she gave you the mobile back, swallowing hard upon seeing Jude hadn’t replied. 

He hadn’t even read it. 

Now you were actually panicking, swallowing down the tears in the Uber and wishing the small elevator could go fast enough that you didn’t break down somewhere that wasn’t in the comfort of your home. 

You were overwhelmed enough that you didn’t even take into account your door was unlocked when you clearly left it locked, nor the warm light coming from the tiny space under the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Were the first words you registered before your eyes caught the indoor prairie your boyfriend had installed in your living room in the shape of yellow daisies. 

Your eyes trailed the hundreds of petals before your eyes finally fell on him, scanning from his toes up to the apologetic expression he was carrying. Now it all made sense; your friend insisted on getting you out of the house for this. He didn’t reply because of this. 

Though your heart was running at a whopping speed of thirty miles per second, your feet took you painfully slow— cautiously— towards him. You were still marveled, carefully watching where your sneakers landed to avoid stepping on the beautiful work he’d planned for you. 

“Perdón,” Jude repeated, as if the words in Spanish meant so much more than the English language. He opened his mouth for what seemed to be a rant, but the way you squeezed the life out of him with a desperate hug left him speechless, followed by your hugs. 

“I thought you— you were going to dump me and I would have to move back home and— and I can’t imagine that because I love you so much and that’s why I was scared!” You babbled between hiccups, trying to calm yourself down before his gentle hands cupping your face did the job spectacularly. 

“I would be such a fuckin’ idiot to do that.” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, not at you nor your claims, but at how ridiculous he had been. 

“Te perdono,” You sniffled, your bottom lip still puckered up ever so slightly. 

“But what’s all this?” You turned to look at the scene, something straight out of a Van Gogh painting. 

“You thought I forgot with the thousand TikToks you sent me on this day?” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before pulling you into another warm hug. 

“I also watch Gilmore Girls whenever you do. Whoops.” 

Your laugh echoed as you snuggled closer to him in your upright position, being extremely thankful the last sentence of the song wasn’t your reality.

A/N: if y'all seriously thought it wasn't going to have a happy ending you clearly don't know me well enough rip

[themultifanshipper]

You could cut the tension with a knife. A double DNF was not good for the team or for you and Seb, both of you being so close to a championship win you could almost taste it.

Warnings: Violence, rancid vibes, under negotiated everything, very bad etiquette, rough sex, slapping, choking, all the good shit

Requested by 🐇

The crash was most definitely his fault. He tried to squeeze you into the wall, but miscalculated terribly, leading to both of you hitting the wall and losing a potential 43 points for the team.

To say you were pissed was an understatement. It was very obviously his fault, and everyone knew that, which made it all the more infuriating how cocky and dismissive Seb was about it.

On the walk back to the pits, he tried to make it out that you were to blame, trying to gaslight you into apologizing, and you completely lost it, launching yourself at him. You were halfway through strangling the life out of him before the marshals finally came and separated you.

Afterwards it was all side-eyes and glares in the media pen, doing interviews with at least 30 feet between you at all times. God knows what kind of bullshit he was spewing to the cameras as the interviewers swooned over his stupid handsome face as he flirted shamelessly to avoid having to answer any real questions.

When asked about what he thinks of you as a person, he answered with “Well it’s no secret that we don’t work well together, she’s not exactly a team player. Obviously she’s a beautiful woman everything, but she doesn’t belong here with the best of the best. She should follow her dad and stick to endurance.” He smirked and thanked the interviewer before moving on to the next one.

It wasn’t until you were back in your hotel room that you saw the interview, and when you did, you threw your phone across the room in anger. How dare he? You were p2 in the championship for the second year running. You dad had never even made it to formula 1. The fact that Seb would compare you to him even though he knew you wanted to distance yourself from your father’s image as much as possible sent you into a rage.

And before you knew it you found yourself banging on Seb’s hotel room door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted, as soon as he opened the door. He’d obviously come out of the shower, his wet hair dripping down his torso as you quickly trailed your eyes up and down his body. He didn’t even respond, just grinning lopsidedly at you.

“How dare you compare me to my father?” you shoved him backwards into the room and slammed the door behind you. The fucker didn’t waver, still smirking at you as if you were the funniest thing in the world right now. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face.

“I’m p2 in the fucking championship you asshole!” you went to slap him but he grabbed your arm and used your momentum to slam you against the wall, pinning your hands above your head.

So you tried to knee him in the crotch, but he slotted one of his legs between yours, gluing himself to your front. You squirmed but it was no use, he had you trapped.

“What are you going to do now, hmm?” he purred smugly.

Headbutt him is what you wanted to do, but before you could move he grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly.

You didn’t flinch though, if this is how he wanted to play it, you weren’t going down without a fight. So you bit his lip. Like, full on chomped down on it. He yelped and shifted backwards, wide eyes now full of anger and contempt. At least you’d finally managed to wipe that sexy infuriating smirk off his face.

He slapped you, hard, but instead of it hurting, it just served to fuel the fire burning inside you. You gasped and stared at him in disbelief, his pupils were dilated so the blue was barely visible, and his lip was bleeding slightly. What a sight.

“Do that again” He didn’t even hesitate as his hand struck your cheek a second time. Your hips involuntarily bucked up into his, and he groaned as they made contact with his rapidly hardening cock.

He rolled his hips and growled at the pathetic whimper you let out. He kissed you again and released your hands in favour of grabbing your ass and lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing you into the wall harder. You panted into the kiss, hands roaming and grabbing anything you could as he grinded against you roughly.

After a few minutes of biting and scratching and riling each other up even more, he couldn’t take it anymore so he put you down, immediately working at your pants to get them off as fast as he could.

Once you were both naked, he sat you on the nearest surface, which happened to be a desk, pushed you down roughly with a hand around your neck, propped your feet up on the edge and rubbed his cock along your folds, making you writhe in anticipation.

“You think you can take me just like this?” He asked, venom dripping from every word.

You nodded quickly but that didn’t satisfy him. He slapped your most sensitive area and you gasped, clit throbbing at the rough treatment.

“Use your words, slut”

“Yes! I can take it Seb just fuck me!”

He slapped your pussy again and you cried out. It was painful in the most delicious way and your concentration started wavering as you got lost in the feeling.

“That’s not very polite. Beg for it, baby.”

You did. You begged so much, so fast. You’ll deny till the day you die but any defiance you had disappeared embarrassingly quickly. Seb was so endeared that he wasted no time slipping just the tip in, but that was already a stretch.

Inch by inch, he pulled out and slid back in, doing his best not to hurt you, the absence of preparation suddenly in the forefront of his mind.

You on the other hand were loving every second of it. His cock stretched your walls out deliciously as you took more and more of him, and once he was buried inside you to the hilt, you moaned pathetically, feeling so incredibly full.

“Move, please Seb!” you whined, so he pulled out and slammed back in roughly, and the noise you let out, you would also deny making, but it drove Seb wild, so he tightened his grip around your neck and slammed into you repeatedly, hitting your g-spot with impressive precision.

You mind felt floaty and your body started going limp with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you, and Seb noticed so he let go of your throat and shoved two fingers into your mouth.

“Suck” he ordered, and you did, biting his knuckles gently just to piss him off.

Once his fingers were nice and wet, he trailed them down your body to your sensitive clit and started rubbing tight circles as he continued to pound into you, trying to get you to the edge, him being embarrassingly close already.

It took you no time at all and you came with a shout, body arching off the desk as he chased his own high. He came inside you with a loud moan and slumped over your body, both exhausted after being so wired up all day.

He pulled out and got a damp cloth from the bathroom to clean you up with, before helping you get dressed, in total silence. You were both in shock at what you’d just done. You were teammates, bitter rivals, and now you had his cum dripping down your leg.

You stood at the door, unsure of what to say, when Seb pulled you into a brief hug.

“I didn’t mean it you know. The stuff I said in the interview” You looked at him with frown, he smiled. “I was just trying to piss you off enough for you to do something about it”

“You bastard” You giggled, opening the door to leave.

You were halfway down the corridor when he added “By the way, the crash was your fault! You should never try to pass the reigning champion when he’s leading a race!”

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look back.

God, you hated him.

[serqphites]

VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

[irondadfics]

Hello! I was wondering if anyone knows any fics of Peter being a bit of a dick? I love the stories where he is rude to people, normally as a way to push them away so they can’t see how bad his life is. Any examples of rude/sassy Peter would be greatly appreciated!

here are some for you! Happy reading

Wake up and smell the coffee by Bergen

The Avengers find themselves in need of Spider-Man’s help to improve their reputation. Peter Parker, however, doesn't exactly have the best reputation: he has been dabbling in a life of crime. Tony really doesn't care about picking up after some degenerate teen. Peter really doesn't care about some dumb adults telling him what to do. And nothing will ever, ever change their minds.

100 Hours (Community Service is for the Turtles) by orphan_account

“Hey there, Parker. I’ve got some exciting news about your community service sentencing,” the bright voice from the other line says. "It looks like you've been reassigned." “Oh, yeah?” Peter asks, warily. His social worker sounds excited, but he's been burned a few too many times to take any "good news" at face value. Peter listens to her explain with a furrowed brow, and when the call is over, he opens the web browser on his cracked Android and quickly types the words september foundation into the search bar. His eyes narrow as he peruses the top result. Oh, he is going to kill that Stark bastard. - All Peter Parker wants to do is fly under the radar. He wants to go to school, work off his sentence by picking up trash at the stupid park, and avoid going home for as long as possible each night. Unfortunately for him, Tony Stark has never been one to see untapped potential and not do something about it.

The seventh escape by Bergen

Tony and Pepper snatched Peter up only a few weeks after the first Spider-Man video went viral. Real fucking coincidence, right? Suddenly, Tony Stark rocked right up at his group home, strewing business cards around like he was Oprah. If Oprah were an ugly white dude with a goatee. “Big fan,” he told Peter, fasting forward through a video of Spider-Man catching a bus before it crashed through a road block. “In and out of foster care your whole life, am I right? I believe my wife and I could provide a very fitting home for you.” “Pass,” Peter said.

Paradigm shift by Bergen

Peter got a Stark phone when he was ten. Adrian took him to a big store with lots of TV screens that all played the same video of Tony Stark declaring to the world that he was Iron Man. They ducked behind the microwaves, both of them giggling as Adrian stuffed the phone under Peter’s sweater. They walked right out the door without tripping the alarm, and Adrian bought him ice cream to celebrate. — After his parents die, Peter is taken in by the Toomes family. Things slowly, then quickly spiral out of control. All Adrian wants is to take revenge on Tony Stark. All Peter wants is to do the right thing. Why is that so much harder than expected?

the long game by niniblack

“Your prints were a match for a missing persons case from ten years ago. A little boy who was kidnapped.” The officer pulls out a picture that she turns toward Peter. It’s a little boy around four years old, with curly brown hair. “That’s you,” she says. Peter shakes his head. “Do you remember how you got to that park? Who left you there?” “Lady, I don’t remember jack shit,” Peter says. “I was like four. No one remembers shit from when they were four.” --- Or: the biodad au where Peter gets arrested for selling drugs, and that actually improves his life.

[interstellar-wanderer]

Theory about The Ghoul/Cooper: Highly influenced and vulnerable to dishonesty.

Cooper Howard trusts deeply in the people he loves and the idea of the American Dream that was sold to him during the Sino-American war. He fought for those ideals, his country and the people he loved, and before the Great War and drop of the bombs he can't stand any other perspective for his own sanity.

The problem is, he is not a very good actor you see. He usually creates the character of a highly dignified cowboy because it is a projection of what he wants for himself, an ideal version of a man, openly criticizing the choice of the character not doing what he would do in real life (shooting someone), and in his other movie, he plays a role of a man with a dog, with the help of his own dog and not another random dog, I believe because he wanted to portray his own relationship with his loved pet rather than a random role.

He lives his characters and roles, to the point of turning one of them when becoming the Ghoul, this lone cowboy and bounty hunter hurt by his past and tired of the cruelty and dishonesty around the Wasterland.

He uses his emotions and all his heart for his roles and forgets everything else because through his roles he is showing a part of himself in the process, but with the consequence of leaving nothing to protect himself, because he has never created a facade around his person, he is honest and true, th same way we see The Ghoul as he is, no lies nor attempts at dishonesty; he is clear with his intentions to the very end.

But because of this, Cooper is vulnerable and ignorant to true deep dishonesty, to someone who would straight up lie to his face, to someone living two parallel life at the same time. He prides himself on knowing his wife's true motivations and never thinking bad about her, he also sees Lucy and believes her just as transparent but never thought of her surviving SnipSnip.

When Barb showed her real colors during the Vault-Tec meeting, declaring they should drop the bombs themselves, he broke in such a way he went into shock. One would believe he is in fact a good actor, and would try to be good in hiding it, but I would say Barb was a better one by playing two roles at the same time God knows how long and Cooper suspecting nothing of such. This happens when:

1) she convinces him to pose as Vault boy and be part of their promotional campaign

2) then when she invites everyone to the wrap party to their house without telling him, subsequently not showing remorse at him being abandoned by his Hollywood friends

3) then gatekeeping him regarding her status as worried housewife during the war in Anchorade and how stupid his idea of a ranch was

4) ultimately convincing him to accept his dog should go (something we all know made him suspect of Vault-tec and her), for the sake of their security.

But this caused a drift between them, him starting to suspect something was up when she told him they wouldn't be safe if they buy a bunker themselves because it wouldn't work, then trying hard to "put everyone in one of the GOOD vaults, one which would oversee all others".

This is when his world started to crumble. Not only her lying, but she not trusting him enough with the real truth of their situation, manipulating him instead with a dishonest facade.

The worst part is that it is very likely she knows this about him, his soul is rooter in honesty, fairness, and dignity, do the right thing the same way Lucy envisioned before coming out of Vault 33. He doesn't expect his wife to lie to him or represent a version of the world he fought against, he doesn't expect his country to betray him regarding their safety.

We can understand now why he became such a bitter man, and why he seems to avoid the old version of himself.

Maybe he thinks, if he had known, if he hadn't trusted so damn much, if he hasn't been so vulnerable and hasn't opened his heart expecting the same back, maybe he could have done something to stop it all.

Now every time he looks back, he seems to hate the man he was so very much.

[im-robins-bitch]

But, she’s a cheerleader (Robin Buckley x fem! cheerleader! reader)

Or, you’re the next head cheerleader, the most popular girl in school, you could spend your summer doing anything but for some reason you keep coming and flirting with Robin. You can’t be into her...can you? (1k)

Robin's crush starts when you walk into scoops ahoy and know her name. 

When you come in without the usual gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks you hang out with, she almost doesn't recognise you. You’re smiling at her and it’s then that she realises you don’t smile often because if you did she would have been crushing on you sooner. In fact, the only time she ever recalls seeing you smile is the fake one you plaster on during your cheer routines. 

You’re explaining that you recognise her from band and that she “plays the trumpet right?” 

Her mind whirls a million miles an hour because you, the next head cheerleader and most sought-after girl in the school noticed her. She feels like a giant loser because that means you’ve seen her in her stupid hat and ugly uniform. 

But you’re awkwardly miming playing the trumpet with one hand, the other busy holding an ice cream with an obnoxious number of toppings (Steve had given you it for a kiss on the cheek).

Your miming is so dorky and endearing, a complete contrast to your icy queen bee persona. It makes her stomach swirl with little butterflies, beating their wings over and over. 

You’re leaving all too soon for Robin and Steve, both daydreaming dating scenarios about you and continue to for the rest of their joint shift.

The next time you come in you’re complimenting her lipstick, leaning over the counter and getting in real close because “I swear I used to have this one, but maybe not it looks nicer on you”

The time after that you’re telling her you love her rings and start playing with them, twisting them up and down her fingers, asking her where she got each one and humming at her explanations. 

Every time Robin stumbles over a word or stutters over a sentence you lean in real close and you ask her to repeat it, close enough that she feels your breath against her cheek. 

She tries, unsuccessfully, not to overthink it all. You constantly flirt with Steve, kissing his cheek every time he hands over a free cone. She saw you flirt with the jocks at school. It’s just how you are she reasons, because in what world could you be flirting with her and mean it?

She debates it every night before going to bed, thinking about your fake cheer smiles and the rare genuine ones she gets to cherish. 

The quirk of your lips when you want to smile but won’t let yourself. 

The soft smile you give her every time she compliments you back.

The grin when you giggle after successfully flustering her. 

Every smile you gift her feels like a treasure she wants to lock away. 

Then she thinks about your short cheer skirts and her baggy slacks, your tight crop tops and her collared skirts. You just don’t match. 

The next day at work you come in and this time the whole cheer squad is with you. You linger at the back of the crowd, as she stutters through an exchange with Heather she can’t help but notice your furrowed brows. 

You don’t get ice cream, you don’t even greet her and you're the first out the door, leaving as Robins's hand brushes against Heather's as she hands back her change, dropping it over the counter in the process. 

She doesn’t see you again for an entire week and when she does it's clear you had been avoiding her. Your mood is sour when you come into the store, ringing the bell over and over. “Steve!” You yell in frustration, eyes widening in surprise when Robin darts out of the back instead. 

She tells you she’s covering for Steve, stuttering a little because she forgot how pretty you were. You don’t ask her to repeat herself like you always do, and you don’t compliment her new ring, the ring she definitely didn’t pick because she thought you would like it. 

You only order plain vanilla, not even asking for toppings. The whole interaction is over too quickly and clouded with tension. She isn’t sure what happened, what she had done to make you go so cold.

Shes at a party when she finds out. 

You’re stoned in the back yard and Robin is a little tipsy. She didn’t mean to find you, she goes to leave but you grip her wrist. 

“Do you like Heather more than me?” 

“What?” Robin sits up from the chair she had fallen into. “I, of course not-”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” 

“No, I mean yes, she is, like obviously, she’s pretty, but i mean-”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” 

Robin’s breath catches in her throat. You take it as a bad sign, eyes going glassy and she fumbles to hold your hand. She isn’t sure what makes her do it but she kisses your knuckles and then brushes them softly with her thumb. “I don’t think you’re pretty-” The whimper you let out makes her heart shatter, but she has to tell you the truth, “ I think you’re beautiful”

Your bottom lip wobbles and a couple of tears spill down your cheeks. Robin wishes she could wipe them away, but she knows there is a limit to how close two, even intoxicated, girls can get without raising suspicions. 

“Really?”

Robin nods her head enthusiastically and you take a big steadying breath. “Would you, would you like to hang out sometime maybe?”

“Like….like a…”

“Like a date” You confirm, once glassy eyes now filled with determination. 

Robin nods until she goes dizzy. For once no matter how hard she tries no words will come out. She’ll never forget the smile you gave her. It wasn’t the quirk of a lip let slip, it wasn’t a small soft smile and it wasn’t the fake cheer smile you wore until your cheeks hurt. 

It was a real, genuine smile and it was aimed at her. 

Robin had been sad summer was ending, but now she couldn’t wait for autumn to come so she could spend it falling in love with you. 

masterlist

[lovedreamer11]

There are times when I really hate HOTD

You have no idea how much I want the HOTD writers to go to hell. I'm a patient person and I'm used to adaptations being different from the original, but what they did with HOTD is a huge piece of garbage. Adaptations often change appearance, plot, time frame, but a drastic change in personality is something I cannot tolerate.

What the hell happened to Alicent? Maybe the real Alicent was a stepmother from hell, but at least she knew what she wanted and was ready to do anything to achieve what she wanted. What happened to the boastful, arrogant, stupid and hot-tempered Aemond? And Aegon? This guy was a hot-tempered, spoiled hedonist, but not Mr. "I do what my mom says. My parents don't love me. It's time to show everyone my sad eyes."

Rhaenyra and Alicent's "friendship" is just 🤮. What the hell is friendship? From the very beginning, show!Alicent was jealous of show!Rhaenyra's position and status and her relationship with her parents. The real Rhaenyra would never have noticed someone like Alicent, let alone befriend her. Both girls had different upbringings, interests and worldviews. What common topics of communication did they have?

What kind of love are we talking about between Show!Viserys and Show!Rhaenyra? For half the season, all Show!Viserys did was just yell at his daughter and not listen to her, and for the second he looked like the walking dead.

How the writers couldn't come up with anything better than stealing some of Rhaenyra's things. Like her signature black dress, a forced marriage to a man who didn't care about Rhaenyra. Did you notice show!Rhaenyra's dresses and hairstyles? The book literally had a description of how Rhaenyra dressed and what hairstyle she preferred, but the writers apparently read the book from Wikipedia and skipped every second word.

I showed my friend, who hasn't watched the show and doesn't know anything about GOT or HOTD, photos of young show!Rhaenyra and show!Alicent from the series and asked what she thought. Do you know what the answer was? My friend decided that show!Alicent was a princess and show!Rhaenyra was a servant.

Just look at the banners they made for the second season. The green banner is really nice, but the black banner looks like a cheap towel.

What about the blacks on the show? How stupid must a girl be, who grew up in a world in which the main purpose of a woman is marriage and the birth of an heir, and who is the heir to the throne, to think that she can avoid marriage? The real Viserys didn't give Rhaenyra a choice and chose her husband himself, but did show!Rhaenyra really think she could avoid marriage? Show!Raenyra is the height of stupidity and absurdity, which constantly contradicts itself.

And Daemon? I really feel sorry for Matt. He is a talented actor and tries very hard. I think if the show had more skilled writers, he could have portrayed the real Daemon. But show!Daemon is a stupid, illogical, absurd clown who doesn’t understand what he wants and doesn’t follow through. This character has so many fans solely because of Matt's charisma, the writers should kiss his feet for that.

And of course, my favorite. There's only been one season out, but the writers have already demonstrated their style of throwing aside logic for the sake of effect. I mean, show!Laena's self-immolation and the way show!Rhaenys ruined show!Aegon's coronation. Do you know what the people who work on the show said in interviews? They added these scenes because they thought it would be cooler and more impressive. Wasn’t the creators of GOT guided by a similar point of view when working on the plot of the last seasons of the show?

And now, because of this show, a lot of people have come out of nowhere to argue that women should not hold leadership positions, remain silent and accept neglect because it is necessary, and rapists and aggressors can be forgiven if they are played by beautiful actors or if the characters lacked parental support love. According to this logic, people should love Joffrey and Ramsay since they both also lacked parental love in childhood.

This show really had potential and a good cast. But the screenwriters' work destroyed everything from the very beginning. Many people still have hopes that everything will be better in the second season, but I am in despair. No, seriously, look at the team banners for season two. They really did a good job on the green banner and that would be fine if the black banner wasn’t yet another proof of the writers’ bias. Black team, we have no hope.

[m0use123]

The drive in cinema was full as always on a Saturday night, and the air was thick with the smell of buttered popcorn and hotdogs.

Korra was cuddled up with Asami and Naga in the flat bed of her old, run down Ford pick up. The mountain of blankets keeping the teens both comfortable and warm.

Even though the girls were from two very different worlds, they were as suited as bread and butter.

As yet another person walked past them with a heaped bucket of popcorn Korra grumbled, "this sucks. Stupid braces".

"Oh I know" Asami said, giving her girlfriend a sympathetic pout.

"They better be worth it. Is all I'm saying".

"No complaints here" Asami said, showing off her soon to be perfect brace covered smile.

"Yeah, but you can make anything look good" Korra said.

"Shhhh" said Mako in the next truck over.

Rolling her eyes Korra snuggled back into Naga's side and lost herself in the masterpiece that was hitchcock.

- - - - - -

A week later, and Asami was walking Korra up to her front door after another perfect date.

"So. I had a really nice time tonight" Asami said, playing with Korra's fingers.

"Yeah, me too" Korra agreed with a shy smile.

"Do you think .... would it be alright if ..... I maybe kiss you"? Asami asked softly, avoiding her dates eyes.

"Sami. Nothing would make me happier" Korra told her, giving the paler hand an encouraging squeeze.

Asami ducked her head down, as Korra tilted hers up, connecting in the most perfect kiss.

It wasn't until they tried to pull apart, that they realised something was terribly wrong.

.... THEY WERE STUCK ....

They tried everything, twisting their heads, pulling apart with more force. It wasn't until Asami whimpered in pain that Korra stopped with a disgruntled huff.

Korra pulled her phone up to eye level and texted in the drift box [What now?]

Asami's eyes flicked over the screen before using her own phone to text. [well. We gotta get help. Is anyone at home?]

Korra thought for a moment, before she groaned in desperation [just Kuvira]

[We have no choice. You better text her] Asami's thumb flew over the screen.

Reluctantly, Korra texted her older sibling and soon they heard the familiar noises of the door being unlocked.

"This better be good loser, real housewives is on and ..... " Kuvira faltered as she took in the scene infront of her. "What the hell" she giggled, "have you two been doing"?

Korra groaned as she raised her phone again and texted [what does it look like, we were making out and our braces got stuck].

"Yeah no shit" Kuvira agreed. "Hold on. I'll help" after taking a quick phone pic for "future blackmailing purposes" Kuvira bundled the two younger teens into her car and drove them to the nearest hospital.

- - - - - -

After an embarrassing few hours, Kuvira and Korra were driving home alone (Asami's parents having picked her up the moment the hospital phoned them).

"I'm never kissing again" Korra grumbled, massaging her sore mouth.

"Don't be dramatic" Kuvira told her, "you just have to work on your technique. Just maybe think ahead and make sure you're close to medical assistance next time".

~ Fin ~

[cybervesna]

Said earlier I want to yap about Kurt and Wiosna so gonna copy what I wrote on discord:

Kinda thinking how unfair it is for both of them. (Lol, like I'm not the one who did it that way) Like both Kurt and Wiosna were at some point abandoned in one way or another. Kurt in Unification War, and Wiosna the minute she was born. Yet, the same people had the audacity to go after them and ruin their life not once but twice. Of course Kurt kinda asked for it, we all know that. But Wiosna just wanted to be left alone. And she would be left alone if not Kurt's miscalculation. If you don't know I like to compare them to Orpheus and Eurydice. For reference, Orpheus had a one chance to bring Eurydice from the dead, all he had to do was to come back with her from the Underworld without looking back at her. But at the very end of their passage, he couldn't resist and wanted to make sure she's back there. And just like that, Eurydice was forever taken to realm of the dead.

Kurt also has such moment, that he has no idea will be a trigger of losing Wiosna. He was too greedy knowing, that by his side is an heir to the space empire. Yes, he wanted her but at the beginning of their relationship he still loved money a bit more.

(TBC under the cut in case you want to find out in my photostories whenever they come out and that may take ages lol.)

To make you better understand his situation, imagine that by his side is Hanako Arasaka that ran away from home and her daddy is desperately looking for her. So yeah that was situation Wiosna was in. Uber rich princess whose family wants back, and they're willing to strike a great deal for whoever brings her to them. So what Kurt does? Party at the Black Sapphire, where he introduced Wiosna by her real identity so his rich as fuck friends would spread a word that this important woman is with him and that makes him a big deal. And also causes a scandal for Kochanowskich (Wiosna's grandparents). But he wanted the word to be out there, so Wiosna's grandparents would hear about it and contact him about their precious runaway.

Well, Wiosna isn't stupid, so the second Kurt said "Wiosna Kochanowska", she knew he played her. And of course it felt like she was stabbed in the back. Kurt, as much as he pretends to understand rich people, the doesn't get shit about the uber rich that Wiosna's family was. She ran away for a reason, and for once she thought she's in the right place to be herself. Kurt took that away from her, and yet... She loved his stupid ass too much to leave him (she's also Exploitable-avoidant and couldn't really be mad at him) which he doesn't appreciate by doing such thing to her.

Anyway, that is Kurt's moment of Orpheus looking back at Eurydice. The moment he reveals Wiosna Kochanowska is by his side is the beginning of how the world will take her away from him. And his stupid ass won't even understand it then, but he will realize it years later when it's fucking too late for them. What he will understand tho, is that the money he will get from the deal with LoveSky wasn't really worth seeing Wiosna's tears. It's when he finally fucking gets it, that he loves her more than anything. He doesn't know yet how he fucked up tho, but ultimately the reason they never get their happy ending is Kurt's greed to get what he wants, just like Orpheus making sure, that Hades didn't played him.

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward and Spiraling Downard"

GUYS... first multichapter SDV fic has been started, chapter 1 is on AO3!

This one is mostly a Shane-centric fic (hooray!!) and follows his life leading up to the main events of the game, from the time when his best friends had passed and left him to raise Jas (not hooray!!)

CW for this chapter specifically lays in a lot of talk of death, funerals, and hospital settings

AO3 link is here:

Moving Forward and Spiraling Downward - Chapter 1 - SapphiresStars - Stardew Valley (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Tumblr version below the cut:

Hell was the only proper way to describe where Shane was now. But even still, that felt like too weak of a word for what he was going through. His 25th birthday should’ve been the best night of his life. It was the best night of his life, at least it was until one selfish, stupid person stole it all away from him. His best friends in this world, Jason and Amelia, gifted him tickets to go see the Tunnelers in the last game before finals. They were going to go as a group, him, them, and their little girl Jas. The game was perfect by all measures, a historical 22-1 win for their favorite team, and in the semi-finals no less! The four of them were absolutely bursting with adrenaline and joy, nothing could’ve made the night any more perfect!

For a moment, everything was just right, and for once Shane didn’t feel some kind of looming sense of dread. He was with his friends, his family, and everything was good. He was happy. But on the ride home, one selfish act destroyed all of it. None of them had enough time to react. Before they knew it, the heat of a truck's headlights was upon them, barreling into their car at a grotesque speed. The last thing he could remember was instinctively lunging over to protect Jas's car seat, then it all went black. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital, his aunt Marnie at his side, and his life was changed permanently. His drea, of going pro at gridball was dead now, an injury he sustained to his knee made sure of it. He would never play again, the biggest passion in his life torn from him. But even worse, the absolute nightmare of it all, was that Jason and Amelia were gone.

Now, everything was completely upside down. It was wrong, it wasn’t fair. If Yoba was real, though Shane was now certain they weren’t, they didn’t care about him. They didn’t love him. Aunt Marnie raised him to believe in a “kind and forgiving” deity from a young age, but any god that would do this didn’t deserve to be seen as kind.The last shred of his belief had withered away, and was replaced with an unrelenting anger. If Yoba existed, he hated them.

And hearing all the empty platitudes from those around him, oh how it made him want to snap. He didn’t want to hear another person talk about how this was “Yoba’s plan” or tell him that they were in a “better place”. How could any deity worth worshiping plan to steal away the lives of 2 innocent people, and let the bastard that killed them live? What place could possibly be better than sitting at home, raising their daughter and being his friend?

It had been a week now since it all happened, and today was Shane’s first day home from the hospital. The pain, both emotional and physical, was still unbearable. He could barely look at himself now, avoiding any mirror he could to ignore the haunting way he looked now. His long hair that he was so proud of had been cut incredibly short, deep gashes on his head stitched and throbbing in pain. Marnie had done her best to shape it up, keep as much hair as she could while making the style look intentional, but he still hated it. It wasn’t him. Just one more thing the accident took, he supposed. Why stop at taking his friends? Take his dream, his identity, his pride, along with it. He didn’t care anymore.

Before the accident, Shane’s apartment was always very bare bones. Only the most necessary furniture was inside, not much decoration besides the occasional piece of gridball memorabilia, and the folk art Marnie insisted he take with him so he “wouldn’t forget his roots”. But now, the little studio flat was stuffed from wall to wall with baby items. He had taken everything he knew Jas needed when cleaning out Jason and Amelia’s place this morning, her furniture, clothes, toys, and dishes. Every counter and spare space was filled with her belongings, and he was still in awe with just how much one baby could need.

The poor thing was curled up on his chest, wailing pitifully as he tried his best to comfort her. Nothing Shane did seemed to calm her down, her cries only getting more piercing by the hour. He was growing frustrated, fighting back the urge to cry himself. He had no idea what he was doing, as much as he wished he did. Maybe it was a mistake for those two to have trusted him to be a godfather. How good of a guardian could he be if he couldn’t even get her to stop crying? How good could her life be, living in this tiny apartment? He could feel his mind begin to spiral, the self doubt and anxiety bubbling over, until a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Let me see her, schatz, you look tired,” Marnie spoke, voice soft and sympathetic. She took the fussing baby, listening to her cries for just a moment, then holding her so she was laying on her side. Like magic, Jas seemed to calm down almost instantly, her shrieks replaced by discontent whines.

“Holy shit, how did you do that?” Shane sighed, leaning back into his seat. He looked frustrated, and incredibly embarrassed. He couldn’t calm her down to save his life, but here his aunt was, doing it in seconds. Marnie smiled sweetly, looking down at the baby in her arms, “There’s different sounds babies make when they cry, it’s slight but it’ll help you know what she wants. That little “owh” sound means she’s just tired, holding her like this helps.”

“How did you even figure that out?” Shane questioned, “I've been trying everything and she just… kept crying.”

“Raising you, mostly… Learned a lot that way,” Marnie mused, “You’ll catch on fast, I promise.”

“What if I don’t?” Shane mumbled, wringing his hands, “I have no clue what I’m doing, aendi… what if I mess this all up?”

“No one does at first…” Marnie assured, “But you’ll both be just fine, I know it.”

Jas finally closed her eyes, face scrunching as she yawned and finally drifted off to sleep. It was the first time in hours that she was resting, and both Shane and Marnie were relieved beyond measure. Getting everything brought to the apartment and setting up was already difficult enough considering Shane’s injuries, and even harder with how fussy Jas had been. It was a miracle they were able to get everything they needed done today.

Shane just hoped she wouldn’t cry too much tomorrow. He would be doing enough for the both of them, that was for sure. It was the day he had been dreading all week, the day of the funeral. Preparations had been a nightmare. His friends were a lot like him, little to no family, all either passed on or estranged, so all planning fell square onto his shoulders. Having to fill out all of that paperwork, choosing the final resting places for the closest thing he had to siblings, all while hospitalized no less, it was too much. This shouldn’t have happened now, they were all in their 20’s, they were so young. Too young.

Having his aunt here helped, though. Marnie had been his saving grace through it all, helping him get everything set up for Jas, showing him how to do things like make bottles, watching her when he needed a break, she was an absolute angel. Most importantly though, she let him talk about everything. Every moment he needed someone to lean on, someone to listen, she was right by his side. After all, she had been through nearly the same thing 20 years ago when his mom passed. If anyone understood what he was going through right now, it was her.

“I think it’s time we slept too. You’ll need the rest…” Marnie mused, looking out to the dark night sky through the window, "I'll need to be back at the hotel soon."

Shane nodded slowly, rising from his spot on the sofa. He winced as a shock of pain ran through his knee, nearly making him stumble, “Yeah… I’m sorry I don’t have a room for you to sleep here…”

“Don’t you worry about that, the hotel’s been just fine,” Marnie assured. She handed Jas over to him, both of them praying the shift wouldn’t wake her.

“You’re coming to the funeral tomorrow, right?” Shane questioned, a sense of unease in his voice.

Marnie nodded, her expression turning solemn, “Of course… I would never make you go through that alone, schatz,”

She hugged the two of them tight, not wanting to let go. He didn’t want her to let go either. Marnie knew she’d have to leave after tomorrow, go back home to her lonely house in the valley, leave Shane here alone to figure everything out. Oh, how she wished things were different, that they had left the game just a few moments earlier that night. If they did, maybe all of them would still be here. But they didn’t, and they weren’t. Nothing would ever be the same again, for her, Shane, or Jas, and that’s the part she mourned the most. No matter how good the future could be, this event would loom over them for the rest of their lives, casting a shadow over even the happiest moments. She reluctantly pulled away from the hug, giving Shane one last empathetic look before turning towards the door.

Marnie left quietly, whispering a soft “goodbye” and leaving for the night. He’d been dreading this, the first night fully alone. When Marnie was helping with Jas, or just listening to him, he could distract himself to some extent. He could think of something besides the medical bills on their way, his injury, and the fact that he had no one else in this city. But now there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts, nothing but the siren call of sleep. He turned off the lights, leaving only the little lamp on the coffee table lit, and made his way to Jas’ crib. Holding his breath, he carefully lowered her down onto the cot, fearing any sudden movement would jolt her awake. He let a relieved sigh escape him when she didn’t.

Climbing into his own bed barely a foot from the crib, he stared at the ceiling with a vacant expression. Everything had been moving so fast, but felt like it was slow motion all the same. Being discharged, cleaning out the apartment, making all the preparations, and now raising a baby. He remembered just how honored he was when Jason asked him to be Jas’ godfather, just how proud and excited it made him feel to be that important to them. It was a beautiful sentiment, and he had hoped it would just stay that way, just a sentiment. Never in his life would he have wished for this role to be fulfilled .

He had always thought it would be the three of them, staying together through it all. They were a strange, ragtag bunch but family to him nonetheless. Hell, even Marnie doted on them. She saw Jason and Amelia as family by extension, offering her home on holidays and special events when they had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. There was a gaping hole in their hearts now, a piece of themselves and their family that they could never get back. Good things rarely stayed in his life forever, it was a fact he had come to accept, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

As he drifted off to sleep, images from the night of his birthday kept invading his mind. He couldn’t tell which parts were memories, which ones he made up. No matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t wake up, continuing to live the moment everything was destroyed over and over again. He kept dreaming of different scenarios, ones where they all survived, or at least one of them surviving with him. But the scenario that gave him the most peace, for a reason he couldn’t quite place, was the one where he was the only one that died. Shane didn’t feel grateful or glad for surviving. He felt guilt, overwhelming, soul crushing guilt. He felt his dream was a way to atone for it, a necessary pain to suffer through as the price of living.

Getting ready the next morning was surreal to say the least. Shane had exactly one suit, the one he inherited from his grandfather. It was entirely ill-fitting and out of date,  but it would have to do for today. Looking into the mirror made him grimace. What a sight for sore eyes he was. His face was pale and gaunt, dark circles already forming beneath his eyes. He looked nothing like himself, and he felt disgusting. The only thing worse was seeing Jas dressed for the funeral, a black dress with little puffed sleeves and buckle-up shoes. She was so young, just under a year, she shouldn’t have to be here, sitting at her parents’ funeral. Just seeing her made him want to sob. It was yet another cruel reminder of just how unfair, how fucked up, this entire situation was.

Then seeing everything put together, the funeral hall decorated, soft hymnals playing on speakers, and the mourners shuffling in, it made him sick. The caskets were closed, not even allowing him to see the faces of the people who had made life worth living one last time. He didn’t even want to begin thinking of why it needed to be closed casket, and a part of him selfishly was relieved that it was. Maybe they weren’t even inside, maybe this had all been some awful, despicable joke, and any moment they would walk out to greet him like nothing happened. He would be angry, furious with them, sure, but it would be better than the absolute soul crushing reality he faced.

Two bouquets sat cradled in his arms, one for each of his friends. It was a sappy gesture, and one that wouldn’t be expected coming from him, but he felt he needed to. It was the one thing about all of this that felt right.

Jason loved daffodils. Shane remembered back to a day when the two of them were at practice, resting for a lunch break. Jason had excitedly shown him a small patch of the flowers underneath the bleachers in their college’s gridball arena, a little patch of sunshine where there was only darkness. It was a lot like Jason in that way. Shane had visited the patch one last time on the drive over, sneaking in to pick the best and the brightest of the bunch to send off his dearest friend.

And for Amelia, an arrangement of fairy roses. She absolutely adored them, talking at length about the old folk tales about them attracting fairies, Junimos, and all sorts of mythical creatures. Amelia loved a good fantasy, and saw everything in life through a beautiful, magical lens. He remembered staying over at their place for the night, listening to her read off little fables and fairy stories to Jas to get her to sleep. She had the brightest, most excited, voice when it came to storytelling. Shane was going to miss that so much.

He placed the bouquets on their respective caskets, looking upon them with a pained expression, “I’m going to do right by you… I’ll make sure Jas is taken care of, don’t you worry.” he whispered. There was only silence in response. Deafening silence.

He turned back to look at the seating area, seeing how pitifully empty it was. In the front there was Marnie, dressed in a dark gown, holding Jas on her lap. She was trying her best to keep the baby distracted for now, bouncing her up and down, and speaking in a silly, quiet voice to get the baby to not fuss. Further back were a handful of old teammates from his and Jason’s varsity gridball team, men whose faces he barely remembered now. They looked shaken, speaking in soft whispers amongst themselves. Shane wasn’t the best of friends with them, falling out of touch after graduation, but he knew Jason was close with quite a few. Unlike him, that man was always the social butterfly. Two girls had shown up for Amelia, some highschool friends she sometimes invited to hangouts. He didn’t know them too well but appreciated them coming even still. It was pitiful how little they had though, how few people were in their lives that the hall could be this empty. They deserved so much more, they deserved the world.

There was a sudden tap on his shoulder, making him jump. Shane turned to his left, looking up to see the director standing just beside him.

“I’m sorry sir, but if you’d like to give some final words, now's the time,” the director motioned a hand over to the decorated podium standing just in front of the caskets. Shane swallowed, nodding slowly before making his way up to the podium. He grasped the solid wood frame with clammy hands, looking out onto the small crowd. They looked at him, expecting expressions upon their faces. But he had nothing planned, nothing written. Where would he have found the time? All he had was what he felt in his heart, and that would have to do.

“I couldn’t say enough about Jason and Amelia. They meant the world to me… I don’t know how I would’ve survived moving here if it weren’t for them. Being their friend changed my life for the best, and I wouldn’t be the man I am now without them. They made life worth living. Amelia was so smart, she was going places… Jason too. They were amazing people, and even better parents. Every day’s been awful without them. I hope they knew how much they were loved. I never had siblings, but I think they were the closest thing to it. They were good people, great people, and I’ll never stop missing them. ”

Shane took a shaky deep breath, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise on his face. He knew that was no good, no proper way to send off some of the most important people in his life, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bring himself to say another word. Giving a short nod, he stepped down from the platform, returning swiftly to his seat next to Marnie, bouncing his leg anxiously. She gave him a sympathetic smile, taking his hand, “You did great…”

“Be honest, that was awful,” Shane whispered bitterly, “I-I didn’t have time to prepare anything..”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you did your best,” Marnie’s voice was sweet, that motherly tone that always seemed to calm his nerves. It didn’t help much now, though.

Tiny hands grabbed at his sleeves, Jas making babbling noises as she reached out for him. Her purple eyes were focused on him, a little smile on her face. He forced a smile back, taking her in his arms. The baby babbled away, waving her hands around excitedly. It was adorable, but just so jarring. The poor girl had no idea what was going on, what scene was laying in front of her. Maybe that was for the best, but looking behind her to see those caskets laying there, her parents inside, was such a hard blow.

In just a few moments, workers shuffled in, ushers speaking to the other guests. It was just about time to go, to head to the final resting sites. Oh, how he dreaded it. The car ride there was hell, and so was the ceremony that accompanied the burial. It was so… wrong. He just couldn’t shake the thoughts of their faces, their laughs and excited chatting in the car. They should be here now, hanging out with him at their apartment, sitting around the tv and putting on the finals, cheering on their favorite team with him. But that wasn’t possible, not anymore. Seeing that final bit of dirt being packed on top of their gravesite pulled him out of the denial stage. It felt completely real for the first time, and that little glimmer of wishful thinking that this was all a nightmare was snuffed out. He stood close to Marnie, feeling her wrap an arm around his back as they looked upon the site. It was just them and Jas standing there now, the other mourners long gone at this point. His leg was killing him, an ache growing from standing so long, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the site.

“I can stay longer, if you need me to.” Marnie offered, looking at him earnestly.

Shane shook his head, “No, you’ve got the ranch at home, they all need you there…”

“Then come back to the valley! Everyone misses you, especially Emily. She was heartbroken when she heard what happened, she’s been asking about you.”

Shane furrowed his brow, “You told Emily?”

“Not on purpose… She was around when I got the call that…” Marnie trailed off, shuddering at the memory of that night in the hospital, “Just come home, Shane…”

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it, grimacing. He wanted nothing more than to take up the offer, to run into her arms crying like he was a little kid again and go back home. But what was there waiting for him? He had debts that were slowly piling up, expenses to be accounted for, and there wasn’t exactly a surplus of jobs back in the valley. Marnie had told him all about how local businesses were struggling with some fancy new corporation trying to encroach on the area. He wouldn’t be able to survive there, and he sure as hell wouldn’t take a handout at his aunt's expense.. He shook his head, mumbling softly, “I’ll think about it…”

“You know my door is always open…” Marnie gave him an encouraging look, “If you change your mind, just come home.”

Shane nodded solemnly, finally letting tears escape his eyes. He tried so hard today to keep himself together, so hard to be the strong person that could handle this. The reality of his situation finally fell square on his shoulders, the weight crushing him

“It should’ve been me…” he choked out, “I wish it was…”

“Schatz…” Marnie started, a slight scold in her voice, “Don’t say that, please.”

“I just…” Shane took a deep, warbling breath, wiping the tears off his cheeks with his sleeve, “If it was me, Jas would still have them.. She needs them, I can’t replace her parents.. They’re her only family…”

“You’re my only family too.” Marnie reminded him, “Do you know how devastated I was when I got that call? I was so scared you’d be gone by the time I got to the hospital. I already lost your opa and your mom, I can’t lose you too.”

Shane’s face was stoic, face still wet from tears, “How did you… How did you get yourself back together after she died? How did you get over it?”

“Well, having 20 years to process it helps,” Marnie mused, “But I never got over it, and I don’t think I ever will. And as much as it hurts to tell you, you’ll never get over this either.”

Shane scoffed bitterly, “Well thanks, that’s good to know…”

“What I’m trying to say is, it won’t go away, but it does get easier... Your life won’t be the same anymore, but one day you’ll be okay.”

Her nephew turned to her, his bright green eyes glossy and red, “What do I do until then?”

Marnie pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling tears bite at her eyes, “You cry….”

[stonecrusherdrawsthearts]

World of Heroes R - Spider Squad

Who are the Spiders of New York? MENACES, that's who! Vigilantes with no official backing, who have taken it upon themselves to act as the 'protectors' of this city, but lack the real means to handle the crimes here. They focus on some maniacs with animal costumes tackier then even their own, and don't do anything to mitigate the damage left behind from their fights. I thought it was bad when there was just one of these freaks of nature here, but now there are three of them! Who knows when they'll strike next?! Whenever that is, you can bet the Daily Bugle will be the first to call them out on it!

MEMBERS

Spider-Man - the most infamous vigilante menace in this here fine city. Sure, his rabid fans will say he's "their favorite hero" who "never gives up" and "will always stand up for the right thing, even when its hard." And he sometime pays lip service to the idea of "Great Power coming with Great Responsibility." But if he wanted accountability, he'd register with the Avengers or Justice League or, hell, even the X-Men. But NO! He's a rogue, and that makes him just as dangerous as the 'villains' he fights!

Venom - For a month, Spider-Man tried out an edgier color palate maybe to avoid some real consequences for a shuttle incident, only to change back later. Then this guy showed up with the exact style, calling himself New York's new Lethal Protector! And wouldn't you know it, he's taking the Spider-Man motif and applying the Batman method of striking fear into the common man. Hell, some people claim he's actually a host to an alien symbiote, but I personally think that mouth is just... I dunno, makeup effects.

Web Ghost - The third webslinger to show up randomly in New York, and she's surprisingly even more active then Spider-Man herself. I don't know if she's just that dedicated to being a menace, or if she's trying to prove something. Hell, some people theorizes she's the reanimated corpse of the one person Spider-Man's confirmed to have killed "on accident," Gwen Stacy. I don't think this is true, but I can't help but wonder what it says to the world if it was. Like, the girl died at Spider-Man's hands and now she's swinging around the city like he does. Would he feel even a hint of regret? ...Ah, who am I kidding, she's just another girl with spider-powers, none of that death stuff.

NOT MEMBERS

J. Jonah Jameson - Former Top Reporter and Now Editor of the Daily Bugle, the best damn newspaper in the city of New York. People come to me for the truth, and I give it to them. You want my opinion on rich billionaires like Lex Luthor going into politics? They should have to give up literally every cent over 5 million as taxes, that way they actually contribute to society. You want my opinion on the Avengers? Reliable defenses against unwanted alien invasions, and so humble about it, too. Metahuman rights? That's something I support, and I hope Professor Xavier helps everyone. And Spider-Man... a goddamn menace playing hero in my city. This guy wants to help the greater good? Then show who you really are behind that stupid mask. Secret Identities are just a coward's way of avoiding accountability... unless we're talking the internet.

Mary Jane Watson - Some theater kid who works near the Bugle, I don't know. She's better behind the scenes then out front... look, what do you want me to tell you? I know nothing about her! Do you... look, just get out of here already.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 9 - Homelander

Homelander x Reader 

          "It will never work, it's ridiculous."

           "Try them."

           "They'll all recognize me."

           "In this old comic, the superhero puts on glasses and nobody notices him on the street."

           "Y/N. This is real life."

           "John. Put on the glasses."

Even though he didn't see the point at all, Homelander sighed as he took the glasses Y/N handed him to put it in front of his eyes. They weren't even sunglasses to be incognito, but simple accessory glasses.

With that, Y/N had more or less ordered him to put on a stupid t-shirt and jeans.

Well, "ordered" might not have been the right word, since no one was ordering the Homelander.

But Y/N was special. The only person in the world who treated him like a human being, who didn't ask him to be perfect all the time, who listened to him with patience and kindness, and who loved him despite everything.

Few people were aware of their relationship, and Vought employees quickly understood that it was necessary to avoid this subject, and to stay away from Y/N, while making sure that she did not miss anything and that she was safe.

           "I could put on a real costume, with a mask. That's the point of this silly party."

           "One, you hate wearing a mask. Metaphorically and effectively. Second, it wouldn't be funny if you wore a mask, or some other disguise, when you more or less wear one all year round. For Halloween, that's great that you play the role of the normal guy. And finally, I want to have the pleasure of seeing your sweet face."

           "Hmm." he growled, trying not to blush.

At first, they had planned to spend the evening in the tower, watching horror movies and eating sweets, away from the crowds.

But Y/N had insisted that they went outside. They hardly ever went out. It was complicated since everyone always recognized him, approaching to claim photos and autographs. Journalists would come to film them.

Everyone would then know that Homelander was dating someone. Who wasn't a sup.

And he didn't want that.

Not because his contract forbade it, or because he was ashamed of Y/N. But because he didn't want people to start criticizing or insulting her. Following her everywhere, asking prying questions and trying to use her to get to him.

It was better if nobody knew anything, and they were very happy like that.

But he could understand that Y/N wanted more. That she can't stand being locked up. He had been locked up for much of his life.

           "It's for you too, John." she said, hugging him. He didn't know what he liked more between her hugs and the fact that she was the only one to call him John. "You deserve to have a normal life, outside of your... work. You have to breathe, have fun, without fear of being judged. Tonight is the perfect night. Everyone will be dressed up as you, no one will pay attention to a guy with glasses walking down the street with his girlfriend. We can do a lot of things ! Eat ice cream in the park, have dinner at a restaurant, go to the movies ! Everything you want !"

It was so adorable that Homelander followed her outside. He couldn't deny her anything, even when he thought her ideas were ridiculous and wouldn't work.

Yet, against all odds, no one seemed to notice as they walked down the street.

No one looked at him with wide eyes, a big smile, screaming his name, pointing at him and running towards him excitedly.

And in a way that was a very good thing. That was the point, what they wanted, to have time together outside, undisturbed.

But it disturbed Homelander a lot not to be recognized. Admired. The center of attention.

Even if having Y/N with him should have been enough to fill him with happiness, he didn't like being ignored.

           "They don't see me at all."

           "Welcome to the life of a normal man, John. People don't look at each other. Only stars are important, actors, singers, sometimes politicians, and of course superheroes. But tonight you are John, a unknown in the crowd, who will quietly enjoy life."

           "They don't see me at all." he repeated, looking at everyone with a dark expression. "They might at least have a doubt. Come and ask me if by any chance I won't be The Homelander."

            "... That would be very annoying, and we don't want that at all, do we ? We want to have some time to ourselves."

           "You don't understand. They should recognize me. Simple glasses shouldn't have that effect."

           "So you're not happy my plan is working ?"

           "Oh yes, that's great ! My fans only love my costume, I'm so glad I found this. Not only do they don't care who I really am, they don't even memorize my face ! No, that's out of the question ! Hey ! Guys ! Look who's there ?!"

Pulling out his glasses, Homelander began to fly, grinning when the crowd finally turned to him, chanting his name as they admired him as the God he was.

It was much more usual for him to find himself surrounded, giving all these insects what they wanted, letting them approach an important being for once in their miserable existence.

But his sense of joy disappeared when he noticed that Y/N was gone.

He quickly excused himself to fly over the city to find her. It wasn't difficult, because she had simply returned to the tower.

Sitting on the couch in their bedroom, she was watching television, not moving when he joined her.

           "You are angry."

           "I'm not."

And it was the truth. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing.

           "... You are disappointed ?" he tried.

           "Not really. I should have expected that. I should have known that I would never be enough for you. I thought you would like to breathe a little, get out of the costume, be yourself. I really thought that would be nice if we went outside together for the first time, without anyone bothering us, just you and me, John and Y/N, like a normal couple. But you hate John. You hate normality. You are a little ashamed of me too, even if you refuse to admit it. I truly love you, you know that ? I love John, and I love Homelander. But if you want us to stay locked up here, fine. You just have to say it."

           "I... I was stupid, sorry. I panicked. I'm not used to people not looking at me, and it's true that even if their opinion doesn't really matter to me , I appreciate that they adore me. But you are more important. I ruined this evening."

           "It doesn't matter." she sighed, still without looking at him.

           "It's true. It's true, it doesn't, because we'll have other nights. Your plan is working after all, I can put my jeans and glasses back on whenever I want, and we can go outside like a normal couple."

           "You mean in a year, the next Halloween ?"

           "No." he said as he approached, resting his forehead against her head. "Whenever you want. As soon as we have free time. I'm going to work on myself, I'm going to get used to not being the center of attention. In any case, just of your attention, which is more than enough. "

           "... You promise ?" Y/N asked, finally turning to him, her eyes full of tears and hope.

Deep down, Homelander knew he couldn't really promise that. He had a lot of tough issues to deal with, especially when it came to his popularity.

But for Y/N, he wanted to try. So he told her that he loved her before kissing her, because that was the only honest answer he could give her.

[perigilpin]

sometimes it returns, like rain that you slept through

Abbott Elementary | Barbara x Melissa

Her and Barb were great at avoiding things. Practically repression pros, she thinks. Barb in the religious kind of way, and her in the in love with your best friend kind of way. She'd apologize, give the awkwardness a few days to settle, and they'd be back to normal in no time. or, Melissa Schemmenti gets stuck in a time loop

read on ao3 here or under the cut

Loop 0

It’s a shit day from the very beginning, Melissa will later recall. 

First off, it’s a Monday. 

Then there’s traffic only a few minutes into the drive. A fender bender in oncoming traffic forcing three lanes down to one. 

Next, her phone won't connect to the bluetooth for some godforsaken reason, so she turns on the radio, hoping to at least catch a traffic report. No luck with that either, and instead a sad voice croons out from her speakers.

Sometimes, there's a thought like you choose what you're doing, But it comes to naught when I look back through it

The words and melody echo and twist around in her head, playing nasty tricks on her thoughts as she sits at a near standstill in traffic.

I remember the view, streetlights in the dark blue, The moment I knew I'd no choice but to love you

She thinks of Barbara of course.

She can't quite pinpoint the moment when she fell in love with her best friend, but she remembers when she had realized it. 

It had hit her with all the subtly of a fucking freight train one morning a few years into teaching at Abbott. They were side by side, drinking coffee, when someone across the lounge had said something incredibly stupid. Barbara had turned to give her a look, their look, the one she gave Melissa during school assemblies or across the schoolyard when something ridiculous was happening. 

And immediately she had known, had felt the wind knocked out of her chest as she had been cursed with knowledge, that she was in love with this woman that could never really be hers. 

But she'll take what she can get, and she's not too proud to admit she'll settle for some over none. 

Not when it's Barbara Howard.

Not when it's Barbara, who she would hang the stars for if she as much as implied it might make her happy.

Sometimes she thinks Barb must know too, know how she feels. To the outside world, Melissa has always been good at hiding her feelings, a steel trap under under constant lock and key. But around Barb? She feels completely exposed. 

Once the lanes merge the traffic picks back up, and although she’s late enough that she doesn’t have time to get coffee in the teachers lounge, she'll still be able to beat her students in. So she parks and heads straight to her classroom, mind still preoccupied. Her life is good and fulfilling, she thinks, and over the years she’s painstakingly crafted a life she truly enjoys living, waking up every morning for. At the end of the day she only has one real regret.

“Barbara!”  Ava, hollers from her office as Melissa passes, and it stops her dead in her tracks, “Barbara’s been looking for you all morning Schemmenti.”

She looks down at her phone sighing. She’s late enough that whatever Monday morning gossip Barb had would have to wait till free her period. 

Janine catches her on the way down the hallway, greeting her with a "Happy Monday Melissa!" 

She returns a halfhearted smile and a, "Happy Monday kiddo."

The first decent thing that happens is the steaming mug of coffee sitting on her desk, made just the way she likes it. Leave it to Barb to make her smile despite everything else.

The school day itself is exhausting, she doesn't make it to the teacher's lounge for lunch on her free period, stuck in her classroom putting up this weeks book display that she had planned to do before school that morning. Luckily, the afternoon passes quickly enough, and Melissa is more thank thankful for it to be over. She slumps backward in her chair and gets to grading her kids spelling tests, knowing that if she went home she'd fall asleep on the couch immediately. 

She's only a few tests in when Barb opens her door and walks into her classroom, two mini bottles of champagne in hand. 

"I have been trying to track you down all day!" She gathers herself up, preening like peacock under Melissa's gaze, “Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” she smiles, “do you know what today is?” 

Melissa can feel the stress alleviating at the mere sound of the other woman's voice and grins, "Am I gonna be in trouble if I say no?" 

Barb chuckles and motions for Melissa to come join her to where she's pulling out chairs to sit down at one of the studen'ts desks , "No you will not." She peels the foil back from both bottles and twists off the caps as they let a gentle 'pop', "Today is the 25h anniversary of us."

"Oh?”, Melissa knows she should say more but her brain can't wrap itself around particularly what. There are practically sirens going off in her head warning her not to say anything she'll regret latter.

Barb doesn't seemed phased by her friend's lack of real response and continues," Twenty-five beautiful years ago today you subbed at Abbott for the first time. And twenty-five years ago today you sat down at our table for the first time in the teachers lounge and told me, completely unprompted, how ugly you thought Ms.Ormond's sweater was." 

"And the rest is history." Melissa finally supplies, raising her mini bottle of champagne.

"And the rest is history." Barb echos, reaching out to lay a hand on Melissa’s forearm. “Your friendship all these years…it means, more than anything. Melissa, I can’t begin to tell you how important you are me.”

Barb is close, as they sit in the too small chairs, at the too small desk, and all of the words Melissa can think of feel too small as well. Or possibly, too big.

So Melissa lifts her eyes from where they linger on her bottle to really look at Barb, the emotion she finds on her friend's face is too much. She can feel her heart in her throat, as she reaches out, her hand shakily threading through Barb's hair, palm coming to rest on her face. 

And finally, finally, she closes the gap between them, bringing their lips together. 

“Oh my god!” Janine’s voice breaks them from their reverie, “Oh my god I am so sorry.”

Barb pulls away and Melissa can see in the other woman’s eyes, clear as day, the moment is gone and she’s lost her. 

Janine’s still talking, “I won’t say anything I-“

Barb has already grabbed her purse and is pushing her way past Janine.

“Barb, wait!”

But it’s too late, Barbara's halfway out the building and Melissa is still in her classroom with an inconsolable Janine.

"Melissa I am so sorry."

Melissa has to breath, has to bite her tongue and remember that, it’s through none of Janine’s fault any of this is happening. So she fidgets, pulling her glasses down off her head and exhales loudly. "Not your fault kid." Melissa pauses ,"Just, keep this to yourself will you? For Barb?"

Janine nods and hovers in the doorway for a moment like she's going to say something, but then heads out.

Melissa sits, still at the too small desk, willing herself to not let tears fall. 

Loop 1

When she wakes up the next morning, it’s with a rotten pit in her stomach. It had taken her forever to fall asleep last night, and even once she did, it wasn't as if anything in between then and the morning had been restful anyways. She had debated calling out sick, but figured it'd  just be more work in the long run. So she begrudgingly goes on autopilot, getting ready for school.

It would be fine after all. 

Her and Barb were great at avoiding things. Practically repression pros, she thinks. Barb in the religious kind of way, and her in the in love with your best friend kind of way. She'd apologize, give the awkwardness a few days to settle, and they'd be back to normal in no time. 

If she was honest, it was Janine she was worried about.  Another reason to suck it up and get to work, the girl would probably do more damage if Melissa wasn't there despite all of her good, if not naive, intentions.

So she gets dressed, shoves a granola bar she's too nauseous to eat in her purse and gets in the car. 

The traffic is no better than the day before and of course, her bluetooth still isn't working. She'll have to get Jacob to fix it for her on lunch today. It'll be a good excuse to avoid her normal seat. Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts for any longer than necessary she hits the button to switch to radio, and a familiar tune fills her car.

Sometimes, there's a thought like you choose what you're doing, but it comes to naught when I look back through it  I remember the view, streetlights in the dark blue, The moment I knew I'd no choice but to love you

The words slice through the fog of her pain like a freshly sharpened blade, and the memory of the night before plays fresh and clear in her head.

The look on Barb's face after she had kissed her, her pupils blown out and lipstick smudged. Barb gathering her things and nearly running out of the room. Her hands burned where she had touched her, and she could feel the ghost of her lips, could still feel the other woman's cheek pressed into hers.

Mind elsewhere, she nearly rear ends the car in front of her at the last stoplight before Abbott's parking lot. Late again. She drags herself through the front doors, making her way to her classroom.

“Barbara!”  Ava hollers from her office as Melissa passes, “Barbara’s been looking for you all morning Schemmenti.” 

It only tangentially registers that it’s the same thing the principal had yelled to her the day before because her stomach drops. Barb hadn’t texted, but now she wanted to talk. She figured they were just going to ignore it, but Barb always liked to deliver bad news in person. Her sole piece of solace was that she was so late again that didn't have to brave the teachers lounge this morning. That would be a problem for her free period. 

She made her way down the hallway and saw Janine on her way to her own classroom. This would be a good test of the younger woman's ability to keep her mouth shut about the night before.

"Happy Monday Melissa!" 

Not what she had expected, but okay. Maybe the poor kid was so nervous about saying the wrong thing she had panicked and said the wrong day.

"You mean Tuesday?" 

Janine cocks her head, " No, it's for sure Monday today." 

Melissa furrows her brow, and it hits her all at once.

The traffic, that damn song playing on the radio this morning, Ava’s comment, now Janine? She whips out her phone and looks at the date. 

It reads Monday the 14th.

"The fuck?" she whispers. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine building behind her right temple and notices Janine is still staring at her expectantly, "You know what, must just be Deja vu. Ignore me, get to class.” 

Janine shots her a worried look, but scurries off to her classroom nonetheless.

The day passes too quickly, Melissa moving through the motions of her yesterday and her today at the same time. Because if today was truly yesterday, then yesterday didn’t actually happen.

And if yesterday didn’t happen yet...

Melissa feels the hot sting of bile rise in her throat as Barb opens the door and walks into her classroom, mini bottles of champagne in hand. She has been dreading and anticipating this moment in particular since she came to whatever conclusion she had came to about this deja vu of a day. 

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” Barbara smiles, “Do you know what today is?”

She really thinks she's going to be sick. It’s exactly the same, in such a vivid way that she feels like she's been kicked in the teeth. And in that moment, she decides that if it was yesterday again, or just deja vu, or some type of messed up dream, it must have been a warning, and she’d be dammed if she made the same mistake again.

So when Barb places her warm hand on Melissa forearm, as they sit at the too small desk, she braces herself. 

When Barb says, “your friendship all these years…it means, more to me than anything. Melissa, I can’t begin to tell you how much you mean to me.”  Even though she knew they were coming, the words hit her at full force, again. But she wouldn’t do it, couldn’t do it again. She knows how it would end.

This time, a tear slides down her face, and Barb lifts her hand to gently wipe it away. Melissa feels the the cold metal of the other woman's wedding band graze her cheek.

“Barb…” despite herself she leans into Barb's space, breathing the same warm air.

But no, she can't. 

Even this is too much, too selfish she thinks. She couldn’t hurt Barbara like that again. Not knowingly.

So she squeezes her eyes shut willing herself to say something, anything, and get the hell out of this room. But before she can Barb is the one to close the small distance between them, pressing her lips to Melissa's, humming into her mouth, tasting like cheap champagne.

And just like that, she's completely lost in the kiss.

So lost, she forgets that Janine would be entering the room shortly. 

Barb runs all the same. And as Melissa she crawls into bed that night, she has a horrible feeling she knows exactly how the next morning will start.

[taylortruther]

So here's my thing about the Barbie discourse:

Almost nothing that holds such an iconic place in society is one thing. So much of this discourse comes from this, imo, immature very black and white internet space. It's either good or bad. But like most things, Barbie is both.

Everything critics have said about Barbie being a cultural icon of the patriarchy is true. Barbie's size has long been critiqued and also studied and it has done real damage to real people. This is all true and not to be made light of

Studies upon studies upon studies have also shown that dolls and prominent cultural figures engaging in traditionally male dominated fields increases the participation of young girls. So Barbies such as Astronaut Barbie increase girls' participation in STEM. There is empowerment even without Greta Gerwig's film.

Barbie is the pretty pink, Barbie is the tiny and physically impossible body, Barbie is the permanent high heels. Barbie is also the astronaut and the doctor. She is both the bimbo and the message that girls, too, can be smart.

And I think the most interesting critique of Barbie as a brand, a character, and eventually a film when it comes out, is (will be) how these work together and play off each other. From what I've gathered from what Greta has said, her intention with this film uses this duality to validate the "you can do anything" and point out that all of those unfair and unhealthy expectations come from her being a literal doll. I think that's going to be interesting! I think it's interesting how in the current reality of the brand and the character, this duality plays off itself in a feedback loop. We have to be submissive and docile and pretty and inhumanely shaped, but we also need to be smart and capable and powerful, but not too much that we're not idealized.

I get so exhausted with the overly slimplistic dichotomy on both sides of this debate cause the reality is VERY CLEARLY in the middle. And also it drives me crazy cause I don't think anyone involved in making this movie has given any intention of ignoring that reality. Even the trailer highlights it in the forefront. The story is literally about how the fantasy Barbie sells is a lie, from what I can tell. Anyway... Point being: Barbie good or bad is a stupid argument because the answer is both. Which means that this movie is both. because it's also Barbie. But ain't that like the internet to oversimplify in extreme avoidance of nuance?

yes!! this is well said: barbie represents A LOT in our society* and having conversations about it takes time and effort. there are countless studies about what you've described here - toys' affect on children's self-esteem - and it's valuable to consider it all when we're criticizing.

i also want to elevate what you said in your last paragraph: And also it drives me crazy cause I don't think anyone involved in making this movie has given any intention of ignoring that reality.

so glad you said that! and this is probably what one of my anons meant about waiting 'til the film comes out. i am excited for the film! it will not score straight A's on my personal feminist report card because, well, i think my personal ideology is more extreme than what mattel would sign up for lmao. but i still want to see what greta created and i'm fascinated by what margot said about how barbie would interpret being objectified in the real world.

like, the film is going to give us A LOT to chew on in regards to girlhood, womanhood, objectification, etc. - how could it not? barbie is a kid's toy, a literal object! it's exciting that a major blockbuster will tackle these issues, even though i know it will be lacking in others.

(*since i am a swiftie blog, we can also discuss how taylor occupies a similar, and worse, space because barbie is a literal product but taylor is a human being)

[lizadale]

bit of find bleck!au that i still really like. it was a neat concept to play with

yes they were stranded in the middle of the ocean at the start of this warp point, no i will not elaborate

[]

[[L-43.d-Ω : world of pitch]]

 When they first arrive in the dimension, they stand there for some moments, waiting.

For a sound, for a smell, for a movement. For their eyes to adjust.

But none of it happens, and Nastasia breaks the silence by clearing her throat. They expect the sound would be startling, or that maybe it should echo into the nothingness, but if anything, it is more subdued—all but swallowed.

“Um, guys?”

O’Chunks exhales. “Yeah.”

“Let’s clear this up right now, ‘k? Can anyone see?”

Four simultaneous answers are the only proof that they remain rooted together in the same spot.

“Nay.”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“N-no…”

The unasked question is: is there anything here to see? It isn’t the sort of darkness of when a light is turned off, where you can still see outlines or the shifting of a hand waving in front of your face. There is nothing but an existence darker than black, a yawning void in which everything is still. They can tell their eyes are open, if only because the backs of their eyelids bring more solace than struggling to perceive.

Mimi sounds the smallest. She fumbles without displacing her feet until her hands find someone. Her fingers close around the still-wet blouse of Nastasia. “Dimmy, take us back.”

“Into the ocean?” he asks incredulously. He sounds incredibly close to the ground, for once, voice steady with forced calm.

Nastasia shivers, having been distracted enough by the sight (lack thereof) to forget her clothes are damp and uncomfortable. She plucks Mimi’s hand from her shirt and lets her fingers scrabble to rest between her own.

There’s a click, a switch turning on and off, and then a narrow, damp elbow bumps O’Chunks’ arm. “Lay off, ye blighter,” he rumbles, though there’s no real bite in it, and he doesn’t move an inch as Luigi tries to get his bearings, feeling his way with shaking hands around O’Chunks’ thick trunk to where he might stand in front of him.

“Dimentio,” he calls gingerly. “Where’s your stupid face?”

A shuffling of feet, and then the soft sound of flesh brushing against flesh. Luigi has found the face in question, clumsily.

“Luigi, please,” Dimentio deadpans. “At least offer me dinner first.”

“Shut up. I can’t even—I can’t see your eye.”

“Yes, I believe—” There is a light smacking sound as Dimentio irritably swats Luigi’s hands from his face. “—that this dimension must not process light in a way that matters to us.”

“To us,” Nastasia repeats. “Meaning what, exactly…?”

“Even if we can’t see, things that live here might,” O’Chunks guesses, immediately regretting it for the whimper it draws from Mimi into the bleak silence that follows.

“…Perhaps.” Dimentio sounds strained, as if this hypothesis was something he had in mine but dreaded being voiced aloud. He wasn’t keen on the idea that beings could see his actions without him knowing they were even there. What is the point of having an audience when you cannot enjoy their reactions?

“Can’t you adjust?” Nastasia asks.

“The fact that I have not means that this world is more likely to involve more than an absence of light.”

She is unnerved by the fact that Dimentio keeps redacting previous theories for new ones. He has no idea, for once—has not come in readily equipped with how to deal with this place, and the stiffness in his usually tailored voice becomes more and more apparent the more they press for answers.

“Let’s, um—” She wets her lips, still stinging with salt.

“We go forward, since we cannae go back,” O’Chunks says firmly. “And find another door.”

•※•※•

It isn’t an easy task, navigating the unknown.

They might be outside, given the soft texture of the ground, but there’s no way to know for sure. The air is stagnant—not necessarily stale, but very still—and carries nothing in it. They stumble forward, close together so as to avoid losing each other. Mimi leaves Nastasia’s side to crawl onto one of O’Chunks’ shoulders, not wanting to risk dirtying or tearing her dress on things she can’t see.

The area is vast and spacious. It takes many minutes of walking a straight line until they toe into a wall made of uneven stone. They keep silent, feeling their way around it; if there is a wall, someone must have built it. Someone who can supposedly see.

“Stop,” Nastasia breathes, as they reach the end of the cobbled wall. “Mimi, can you—can you still see us? Our color?”

“Y-yeah.”

But that’s all she can see, when she concentrates—splotches of moving color where normally they would only be outlines accompanying regular vision. She can distinguish between them, from the tints and shades of their little group, but beyond that—nothing. She can vaguely see them and nothing else, just their souls, floating, surrounded by black.

“Can you see anyone—anyone else?”

“No,” she says. “Since we got here there’s—no one.”

There is silence for a few moments, and no one moves.

“Luigi,” Dimentio says, tense.

Luigi exhales shakily. “I only feel you guys.”

“This whole dimension’s dead?” O’Chunks asks, scuffing his shoe on the wall, keeping their place, some strange notion that if he doesn’t keep contact with something solid the ground might stop existing. “Did it not get spat back out?”

“I—” Dimentio starts, and then stops because he hadn’t really considered it, the idea that although the Void was reversed some dimensions didn’t come all the way back. “This is something else,” he decides on, because even if it were theoretically possible, it wouldn’t apply in this case. It couldn’t be that the light never came back into the dimension, because bringing light into it now doesn’t work either.

They shuffle along again, but they don’t make it very far; Nastasia’s foot scrapes against what might be another stone wall, having just avoided walking directly into it. On the other side of them, Luigi isn’t as lucky, emitting a startled cry as he stumbles. Dimentio makes an equally perturbed noise, having been close enough to be the thing that Luigi instinctively grabs on the way down, and they both tumble in a heap on the ground.

“Only a matter o’ time, eh,” O’Chunks comments, amused. “Surprised he lasted on both feet long as ‘e did.”

“Buy me a drink, Luigi?” Dimentio says coyly, though his annoyance is palpable. “We can go see a movie, if you like.”

“Shut up,” Luigi snaps from close to the ground. “Ow.” There’s that same clicking noise from earlier, click-click, and he huffs in frustration. “Ooh, that’s—O-oh. Um.”

“What’re yeh—?”

“The thing I tripped over—Ow!”

“Let go of my leg,” Dimentio hisses.

“I don’t—I d-don’t have your leg??” Luigi says unsurely. There are several patting noises as one or both of them try to feel their situation out, then a more urgent shuffling as Dimentio struggles to free himself from whatever in the dark might— “Heyheyheyhey, it’s a vine, chill out. Here.”

Dimentio makes a wary sound of dismissal.

“At least I—think it’s a plant,” Luigi says, voice still doubtful. “Feels like a plant, or it was. Dead shrub, maybe—”

“You’re not helping.”

“I mean, since that’s usually how you decorate graves, h-heh.”

“G-graves?” Mimi says shrilly, directly into O’Chunks’ ear.

“Th-think I tripped over a marker,” Luigi tries to laugh off, but it’s a hollow effort. “It’s—stone, but there’s writing in it, y-y’know, like… Uh, there’s another one over here. Maybe you shouldn’t, ah, sit on that? Pretty rude.” Another telltale sound of Dimentio smacking Luigi’s hands away.

“So, we’re in a cemetery,” Mimi says flatly, less than amused. At least they have an answer, though, that makes her feel a bit better.

“Not what I meant by dead dimension,” O’Chunks mutters.

“You know I, uh, I can usually tell, y’know, when I walk into a cemetery, even with my eyes closed…” Luigi swallows audibly. “But there’s no, uh, there’s—Dimentiopleasegetusoutofhere.”

“I do not believe we’ve traveled far enough,” he replies, followed then by the sound of him flipping. It’s less than a second before he flips back, coughing and sputtering, having just wound up under the sea they left behind.

“You can’t see where we can go?” Nastasia asks, unable to hide the twinge of desperation in her voice. “The only sense this place inhibits is sight, but—if Mimi can still see our souls…”

“No, I canno—stop it, you hound,” he rasps around a cough at Luigi, who has tried patting the magician’s back to help force water out of his nose. The rest of Dimentio’s statement is lost among the ensuing mini slap-fight.

“If light is impossible to perceive here,” he eventually continues, “then I cannot—well. No. Ugh.”

“Crivvens,” says O’Chunks. “If he can’ even explain it, we’re doomed.”

•※•※•

What ends up happening is they all settle where they are, except for Dimentio, who drifts off alone to find a plausible area to flip from. None of them like the idea—least of all, they suspect, Dimentio himself—but not having to traverse on the unseen ground is optimal, and should something happen, he could always teleport back to them.

Nastasia crawls carefully over the dry, cracked earth. She pictures in her mind the edge of a desert at night, the caked dirt not yet fully sandy but barren, chilled, and dusty. It doesn’t help that her clothes are still damp, the stillness of the air doing little to dry them.

She finds Mimi first, obvious for her shrill squeak at being touched. Mimi’s skin is cool and unnaturally smooth. Where her fingers bend the joints knob out like bolts instead of bones, and there’s a light vibration under the surface of her, a machine humming. It isn’t normally visible even with light, but the area around her shoulder has a slight ridge where Luigi had reattached her arm, just a small dip that can only be discerned by touching. Her hair is textured faintly like yarn.

Mimi’s hands fumble up Nastasia’s arm until they find her face, shaking fingers relaxing at the shape of the other’s glasses, which are nearly bumped off in the exchange. Printless thumbs press into the hollows under her cheekbones, curious.

“You knew it was me,” Nastasia tells her, fighting the urge to straighten her glasses. Nearby, she hears the clicking again, and her ears twitch. Click-click. Click-click.

Mimi frowns, although she knows it’s pointless. “Sure, but I can’t actually see you, s-so…”

She seems calmer now, not over her fear of the dark but assuaged by the familiarity of the people around her. Still, Mimi curls a bit in on herself, receding into safety, and it isn’t until Nastasia drops her arm and it collides with something warm that she realizes O’Chunks has comforting arm around her middle. (Click-click. Click-click.)

O’Chunks grunts unsurely when Nastasia rests a hand on his arm, feeling the strong muscles there tighten protectively. His skin is warm and rough under a coarse layer of hair, blemishes of almost-scars dotted on the outside while the side that faces his body is soft and fleshy. The inside of his elbow is like a furnace. She must leave her hand there too long because O’Chunks fidgets restlessly, tightening his hold on Mimi reflexively.

“Ye need somethin’, Nastasia…?” he says. He’s on guard, she can tell by the lowness of his voice, and she doesn’t blame him.

“No, just…figuring out where everybody is.” She crawls forward again, over Mimi, and nearly stumbles over O’Chunks’ legs. His free arm automatically catches her around the shoulders. She leans subconsciously into his palm, the warmth pleasantly counteracting the chill.

“Ye’re still wet,” he says, bothered. He rubs her shoulder, where her shirt is plastered to her skin still. (Click-click. Click-click.) “Are ye—Oi!” he throws his voice over his shoulder, “Give it a rest, already!”

“S-sorry,” Luigi says, far off. There’s a rustle of clothing as he presumably shoves something in his pocket. “Nervous tic.”

Flashlight, Nastasia realizes. He’s been absently pressing the button on and off this whole time, as if holding out hope that a beam will miraculously appear.

“Where are you?” Mimi asks incredulously, because Luigi sounds at least a good forty paces from the rest of them.

“Loaded question,” O’Chunks mutters. “Where’re any of us?”

“If I stay still, I’ll fall asleep,” Luigi says, “so I’m, uh…teaching myself braille, I guess?”

“Fall asleep? In this place, lad?”

“It’s dark,” Luigi says defensively, as if no one noticed. “It’s dark and quiet and I’m exhausted.”

“Get over here,” Mimi huffs. “You’re gonna get lost, you dummy.”

“…Are they readable? The markers?” Nastasia asks.

“No,” Luigi admits, obediently wandering closer. “I don’t know what language it is, so—OUCH!”

Luigi hits the ground again, followed by frantic scrabbling and the sound of stone knocking together. They might assume he’d tripped once more, until it’s apparent that there’s another body tangled there with him. O’Chunks starts to stand until Mimi cackles, lessening the thought that it may be an animal or a stranger.

“D-Dimentio?” Luigi barks, attempting to disengage. “Hello??? Can you NOT?”

Dimentio gasps sharply, inhaling as if surfacing from under water. “I hit—a ceiling!” he spits out indignantly.

“What—stop flailing! You knocked over a headstone, we’re gonna get cursed!”

“I flew up and hit my head on somethi—get your hands off of me!”

“I can’t see you, moron, hold still—whoops, my bad.”

“Excuse me!”

“Chunks, sound off,” Luigi says wearily.

“Righ’ here, lad.”

Luigi deposits Dimentio near O’Chunks’ side, like someone might set their garbage by the curb for pickup. He makes a discomfited noise at the treatment and loss of familiarity—O’Chunks lightly bumps his shoulder against the magician to provide grounding. Nastasia, half-sitting on O’Chunks’ legs, finds Dimentio with her foot and lets her leg lean against his arm. She expects him to complain or move away; he does neither. It’s hard to say if the slight tremble of his body is due to temperature or nerves.

“Ye’re wet, too,” O’Chunks accuses Dimentio, nudging him again. “Why not get a change o’ clothes?”

Dimentio makes a tsking noise with his tongue, indicating the brush of a sore subject.

“Three o’ ye gonnae catch cold like this,” O’Chunks says, either not catching on or ignoring the sullen response. He rubs Nastasia’s shoulder again, not thinking much of it, calloused thumb warm under the sleeve of her blouse. She doesn’t find it in her to mind.

“I’m a bit drier than I was,” she offers. “The amount of dust here helps, I guess.”

“If you guys’re so cold, why don’cha just take off your wet clothes?” Mimi scoffs. “It’s not like we can see ya anyway. Then you��re not getting us wet, too—”

Somewhere behind them, Luigi, distracted by the turn of the conversation, trips again very loudly.

“Would ye stop an’ sit down, ye dotty gowk?” O’Chunks snaps, flustered. “Ye’re stressin’ me th’ HELL out!”

Luigi responds by sneezing several times in quick succession, capitalizing on Nastasia’s remark about the dust as his fall has definitely stirred some of it up.

“Ok, ok, where are you,” he capitulates, voice nasal and sneeze-worn.

“Right here, where I been th’ whole bloody time,” O’Chunks growls, clearly having had enough of trying to keep track of everyone without his sight.

Luigi shuffles closer, crawling to keep from stepping on anyone. “Pillow. Who’s willing to—Oops, hi…Nastasia?” he says, having brushed against her arm in passing. “Wow, your skin is soft—”

O’Chunks grunts and roughly shoves Luigi away from her, still viscerally irritated.

There’s a thick pause in which Luigi seems to be calculating how to react to that, or if he should at all. In the end he decides it’s not worth it—O’Chunks has been increasingly on edge and talking about it probably won’t help, so he sits there and meekly says again, “Pillow?”

“Pass,” Dimentio says immediately.

“Not it,” Nastasia says.

“No vacancy,” O’Chunks grumbles, pointedly drawing Nastasia over the side of his leg so she’s all the way in his folded lap.

Nastasia holds her tongue, barely—not necessarily angry at being relocated but rather on the principle of his actions the past five minutes. Every muscle she can feel on him is wound tighter than a coiled spring. She knows it’s because he feels like he’s the one who has to keep watch, who has to listen for danger because they won’t see it when it comes. But it’s not an excuse for lashing out at Luigi’s tendency to babble when he’s nervous.

“Ugh, okay, c’mere,” Mimi says, all ingenuine reluctance, shifting her legs carefully away from O’Chunks and smoothing her dress out over them. “But don’t drool on me.”

It’s obvious that the shove has gotten to him, as when Luigi speaks next it is very quietly and with barely veiled relief. “I do a lot of things in my sleep, but not that.”

Nastasia having been moved backward has removed her point of contact with Dimentio, and she can’t help being surprised when he shifts himself to get the contact back, tentatively finding her pantleg with careful fingers. She reaches out and, thinking holding hands might be more than a bit too much, lays the back of her hand on top of his. He doesn’t move.

His glove is wet— not in the way Nastasia’s clothes are still damp, but more freshly wet, still cold and heavy with it. He did flip briefly back into it earlier, but hardly long enough to be fully soaked again. It doesn’t make any sense until, suddenly, it does.

It must not have been the only time he flipped back into it by accident. He did it again more recently. The fact that it’s happened more than once is a clear indication that Dimentio truly can’t see other dimensions around them at present, and it’s not because of the dark, it’s because he can’t get the water out of his left eye.

It’s a vicious cycle; he must have been flipping back and forth to find somewhere away from the water, only to continually disrupt his own magic by nearly drowning himself every time.

“Um.” She reaches out cautiously, until her fingers brush against Dimentio’s jaw.

He feels like an odd combination of delicate and dangerous, skin soft but features angular. His hair is a salt-swept, bedraggled mess. Past the bridge of a sharp nose, the left side of his face is a framework of narrow scars, like fissures in his skin. Nastasia traces along them underneath the opening of his eye for a moment, noting that the cracks are small enough that she’s never noticed their presence even in the light. Eventually, he twitches slightly and she draws back, understanding that she’s outstayed her welcome.

“Nassy, are ya feeling people up again?” Mimi asks.

“Wh-what?” Nastasia stammers at the allegation. “No, I just—”

“Here,” Mimi says blithely, pawing until she locates one of Nastasia’s hands and bringing it to rest on something…furry? “Feel how soft Gigi’s hair is!”

Nastasia balks. “M-Mimi!”

“What? I think he’s asleep already, it’s fine! You know how hard to wake he is.”

Luigi is asleep, if the steady sound of his breathing is any indication, but that hardly excuses people violating his personal space without permission.

…His hair is plenty soft, though. As expected, he’s a lot drier than she is, presumably since he’s been moving around a lot more.

“…Mimi,” she says slowly. “Where is his hat.”

“Huh? I dunno?”

“Mimi.”

“He took it off when he laid down!” Mimi says defensively.

“If he wakes up and it’s missing…” Nastasia warns.

“It’d be his own dumb fault!” Despite this, Mimi can be heard groping around in the dark for the missing article. “Here! Here it is!”

The hat is pressed incessantly into Nastasia’s side until she clutches it, bewildered. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“You’re the one who’s so worried about it. I don’t want it.”

•※•※•

Time passes—or, at least, they think it does. It’s hard to tell when there’s no frame of reference for time even existing aside from counting the number of breaths they take. Everything is so still, but now there’s almost a thickness to it, as if they’ve escaped one sea only to tumble into another.

O’Chunks challenges himself to sit stiller than the still, so if anything dares move he will know. His ears strain beyond the girls’ prattle for any sounds of something approaching, anything looming in the darkness.

It’s a little easier, now that Luigi has settled and isn’t roaming around blindly, a ridiculous distraction. Dimentio is back from his groping search, sitting stiffly, barely brushing O’Chunks’ left shoulder, and he’s trembling. Obviously, he’s trying hard not to, but he can’t help it. He isn’t afraid as much as he is cold, O’Chunks knows, because Dimentio can hide emotions better than anyone he’s met, but as for physical reactions...

It’s an odd sort of torture. O’Chunks knows he runs hot as a furnace, maybe just his free arm around the magician would be enough of a comfort. But it’s Dimentio. Although his fiercely protective tendencies beg O’Chunks to act, it would be an unwelcome gesture, and Dimentio doesn’t deserve it anyway. Why can’t he just flip into D for a change of clothes?

On O’Chunks’ right side, pressed closely against his side, Mimi is finally relaxed. Gone is the instinct to run full tilt until the light reappears. Luigi is asleep, the anxiety that accompanies his awareness no longer bleeding into the space he inhabits. His head is a heavy, reassuring weight against her legs, an anchor. His heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, too, for once slow and controlled under her hand.

“Oi,” O’Chunks starts guardedly, making Mimi jump, as Dimentio has shifted away and removed himself from their pile.

“I will find us a way out,” Dimentio says flatly, from the air, of course where O’Chunks can’t determine his position.

And, to his dismay, Nastasia says, “I’ll go with you, ‘k?”

There is a pause; Dimentio doesn’t say anything against it, which is as good as an admission of ‘I’m okay with that’ as he ever gives.

“Nae, Nastasia,” O’Chunks grinds out through clenched teeth. “I don’ think—”

“You—” Nastasia says softly as she stands, and her hands find O’Chunks’ chin, traveling up the jutting ridge of his twice-broken nose until she has her index finger pressing into the knot between his eyebrows. He can barely feel it, he realizes, his brow so thoroughly pinched with edge. “—need to calm down.”

He nods against the touch obediently, willing himself to trust her, to accept the consequences of it.

•※•※•

“How do you know, um, you’re not just retracing your steps?”

Dimentio waits for Nastasia to step over whatever might be on the ground, until her hand is flat against the back of his shoulder again.

“We are going southeast,” he says, only half-annoyed that he has to keep stopping for her. A slow trek, yes, but not a lonely one this time. “I have not been this way yet.”

And he has tried north and west already; both run parallel to the dimension they’d been in prior, so the hope is that the opposite direction will yield better results. He is sick of flipping into punishing wetness.

There is something less mind-numbing about having someone following along with him. It’s somewhat easier to gauge how far he’s gone, hearing accompanying footfalls, whereas even with an innate sense of distance gliding through the air is…it feels like distance is a concept that doesn’t exist with the absence of light. How can you tell, when your surroundings never change?

“Hold still,” he says, shrugging her hand off. She lets it fall to her side, and he flips into a sky. The atmosphere is cool and too thin, even though his lungs automatically adjust to accommodate his need to breathe. The clouds are dark below him, smelling like a coming storm. A few kilometers away is the ground, what looks like a tall forest dotting flat land.

Not a good place to flip with anyone in tow, but it’s a start, and blessedly not underwater even if it promises to still be damp. A little farther, maybe, will take them to a flip point safely closer to the ground. He doesn’t travel at all to experiment, because then he would lose Nastasia. Grudgingly, he returns to her.

There aren’t enough words to describe how startling flipping back into a lightless dimension is, the way his eye attempts to adjust to something that renders it useless. Since Dimension D is effectively transparent, it depends on light to shine through it—since this place has no light, neither does his dimension.

In hindsight, he could have gone in to fetch clothes just a minute ago, where there was light, but soon they should be out of here, anyway.

“Nastasia,” he says.

“Here.” Her hand fumbles up his back until her grip finds his shoulder again. “…You’re not as wet as you were.”

“Yes. It is nice.”

They carry on. There are columns of trees dotted around them, or something else tall that disrupts the flow of the air, but nothing smells green. A forest as dead as the rest of the dimension, or maybe an odd collection of pillars.

Twice more he flips back and forth; the first time finds him even farther from the ground than the last, so they change direction. Then they must travel too far, for the next dimension is completely different. It’s dry and open, but judging by the quality of the air the others wouldn’t survive in it for long.

Nastasia doesn’t comment other than her initial observation that they must have broken away from the ocean. With anyone else, Dimentio knows he wouldn’t be so lucky. After his third experimental flip (back to the cloudy area, closer to the ground but still too far a drop for Nastasia or O’Chunks), she breaks her silence.

“Dimentio. Can I ask you something?”

This is hardly a question in itself; it comes off more as a warning. Her tone indicates that whatever she’s about to ask will be something he’d rather not answer.

“What are you going to do when we find Blumiere?”

He hums, dragging her along. “Whatever needs to be done.”

She enjoys the answer about as much as he appreciates being asked. Her fingers dig into his cloak. The air around them thickens.

“It seems rather late in our journey to be considering this,” he remarks, forced to stop moving when she no longer follows. “And if you find my judgement inaccurate, you are not entitled to agree.”

She digests this statement slowly, equally disturbed and confused by the intimation.

“If you try to hurt him…” she begins, and he laughs over her, sudden and sharp as a knife.

“Hurt who? You have never even met Blumiere, and you are set on defending him?”

Nastasia squares her shoulders. “He’s—”

“—Already dead,” Dimentio says, voice clipped. “He died the moment he opened the book, when that thing took him. And I will destroy him as many times as it takes for him to rest in peace. Hand off.”

Her hand comes off his shoulder, he flips through and back once more, clicking his tongue in annoyance: still too far from the ground.

“Because he still has it,” Nastasia says hollowly, recalling her discussion with Merlon back before they left Flipside. “The book.”

“It still has him,” Dimentio corrects her. “And if there is no way to separate them, well—” He stops abruptly, and she bumps into him. “Fire.”

“What?”

“Fire,” he repeats tersely. “There is smoke on the wind.”

Nastasia tucks her hair behind her ear, attentive. Faintly, she hears the crackle of something burning. It can’t be more than several feet away if it’s small, one hundred feet if larger.

There is something incredibly, undeniably unnerving about knowing a fire is nearby but not being able to see it.

“We can’t go this way,” she says, tugging him backward, “we don’t know how close—”

Her voice is drowned out by a crash of what sounds like a terrible peal of thunder. The sound is so dense that she can’t tell how close it even is, simply that the scale of it is massive. The ground trembles with it, and Nastasia stumbles backwards, away from Dimentio. Something screams past her ear, loud and disorienting, but the next one doesn’t miss.

Her arm erupts in pain just above her elbow and she cries out. She knows before touching it that something has torn her skin open, the wound searing madly as if on fire—it is, she thinks, panicked because her instinct to cover it with her other hand is halted by the feel of heat radiating off of it. Her skin seems to cauterize itself.

“Nastasia!” Dimentio hisses from somewhere to her left, and there’s the sound of debris bouncing off one of his barriers. “Where—”

“H-Here—” she starts weakly with a groan, only for something startlingly cold to collide with her side—Dimentio has taken off his cloak and thrown it at her. The wet cloth slaps painfully into her injury, but it takes away some of the urgency. The burning sensation is soothed enough that she can focus again.

She scrabbles around the earth, trying to find Dimentio, when from behind them the unmistakable roar of O’Chunks sounds like a battle cry, “NASTASIA!”

There’s too much noise to really distinguish everything happening at once, but it sounds a lot like O’Chunks is blindly barreling through obstacles to get to the source of her pained yell.

“Don’t come this way!” she shouts desperately. “We’re coming back!”

The sound of crackling creeps closer, an increase in temperature, a thick swirl of barely breathable air.

Dimentio laughs grimly, replacing one broken barrier wall with another, hoping it’s big enough to keep Nastasia, wherever she’s fallen, out of harm’s way. “Not dust… Ash!” A volcano. A land desolate of greenery, consisting of cooled lava trails. The uninhabitable grounds of soot and death.

“Nassy!” Mimi cries as O’Chunks heavy, pounding steps approach. “Are you okay?”

“D-don’t come—” Nastasia tries again, struggling to right herself.

Another barrier shatters; Dimentio finds Nastasia and pulls her by her uninjured elbow roughly toward the crackling. “Yes, come!” he shouts, as Nastasia tries to dig her heels in, confused. “Hurry, perhaps!”

“L-let go!” Nastasia snaps. Dimentio yanks her until they’re up against a wall of his making.

O’Chunks snarls at the fright in her voice, honing in on it. Dimentio jerks out of the way when O’Chunks nearly plows straight into him. Close enough now, he presses into Nastasia with his shoulder (one); touches O’Chunks’ shin with his foot (two); finds Mimi, perched on a large shoulder, with one hand (three); touches Luigi, still sleeping, damn him, under an arm, with the other (four)—

All accounted for—snap.

They land in a discombobulated heap in the grass. The rain has finally started to fall, but it’s a pleasant smattering of drops.

It might even have been enjoyable, after all that sudden heat, were it not for O’Chunks’ giant hand closing around Dimentio’s throat. He makes a weak croaking sound, legs kicking uselessly as he’s lifted from the ground against a tree.

“O’Chunks—” Nastasia winces, rolling off of her side and blinking into the shocking light, pupils shrinking at seeing too much now. She’s cradling her arm, still with the cloak wrapped around it, stained red. “Stop it—”

“Shouldn’ta left her with ye, known it weren’t enough tae trust that ye wouldn’—”

Mimi jumps up with a shriek, wide eyed and disoriented, trying to pull O’Chunks’ arm away.

“—can’ believe I let ye—ye touch her ag’in I’ll—”

“Chunks, he didn’t hurt me!” Nastasia barks angrily. “Put—him—down!”

He seethes, glaring the rest of the meaning out, and reluctantly opens his fingers enough for Dimentio to crumple, limp and coughing, down against the trunk. He jerks his arm out of Mimi’s grasp; she barely notices the aggression in it, instead kneeling by Dimentio to help him recover. Then O’Chunks turns around, finally looks at Nastasia, and the angry color drains from his face.

“Nastasia, yer…yer arm!” He approaches, crouches down and reaches out to remove her makeshift wrapping.

She pushes away on her feet, sliding backward on the forest floor until Luigi presses a reassuring hand against her back, having been woken by the fall. “Don’t,” she warns, looking O’Chunks right in the eye, and he flinches.

He stands frozen for a moment, lost.

Behind him, Dimentio coughs so hard he retches.

That gets O’Chunks moving. He turns and walks very carefully into the trees, disappearing into them.

Mimi rises quickly.

“No,” Luigi says gently, peeling the cloak off to look at Nastasia’s wound, and Mimi stops to stare at him. He didn’t sleep enough; he looks exhausted. “Don’t follow him yet. Give him some time to cool off.”

Nastasia pushes her glasses up to rest on her crown, pressing her fingers into the bridge of her nose, wishing it would prevent the headache building behind her eyes. In the process Luigi’s hat, which absently she had put on to keep track of it, falls from her head and back into its owner’s hands.

“Oh,” she says, wondering if she should apologize for wearing it without permission.

“Thanks for guarding it while I was out,” he says around a yawn, stretching out lazily on the lawn, under the gentle rain. “Should probably wrap that.” He nudges her arm. “And clean it.”

His eyes close, leaving that duty inevitably to someone else.

•※•※•