#she gets favorite aunt privilege no questions asked

[mrszatara]

My favorite hc is that Zatanna is basically every batfam member favorite aunt.

She met Dick when he was first adopted and he loved her show so much and even asked to play her assistant once, she teaches him a few tricks like escaping a shark thank, he called her to asked for advice when he went to his first date because Alfred and Bruce were useless. Dick attended to both her parents funeral and brought flowers to put on the grave.

She loved Jason enthusiasm and loved to pamper him with normal stuff that kids are suppose to do like take him to the movies and buy him ice cream. He was not into magic, but loved when she gifted him silly things that made Bruce annoyed. He was sweet enough to always ask her to dance in every Wayne Gala that she attended. When he came back from the dead she felt the change on his aura and was absolutely heartbroken by it, but she’s still the only one allowed to call him Jay and she always invites him to her shows with a sweet note, even though he never shows up he keeps it every single one.

Although she loves every single one of them, Tim is secretly her favorite (everyone always thinks Dick’s her favorite). She was stunned how he figured out everything about Batman as a kid, he was so curious about everything and made her so many questions all the time. She would often invite him to Shadowcrest, open her library so he could explore and have some tea. She also calls him a lot to ask how he’s doing, if he had been sleeping enough, threatening him to make his coffee taste like sour milk if he doesn’t take care of himself. He opened to her about his sexuality first and she made a sweet speech about how much she loved him and she was proud and if anyone messed with him she would hex them forever.

Damian was surprised that his brothers had such an affection with her, but quickly understood why. She charmed him slowly, bribing him with magical creatures until he finally opened up to her. He likes to spent time at Shadowcrest too (something that inspires Tim to be a bit jealous sometimes and she teases both of them for it), but hates visiting her on San Francisco. She likes to make him watch animated movies that he pretends to hate first and then talks about the whole day. They also try a lot of vegetarian recipes together, because Zatanna and Damian are the only two people Alfred allows to come close to his kitchen. If everything goes wrong the just order take out and take notes on how to do better next time. He also has her on speed dial in case something happens to Goliath.

She loves watching Cassandra’s ballet concerts. Zee is so sweet about her difficult with communicating, always leaving her comfortable. She often attempts to kidnap her to a girls day, since she never could it with the previous boy, but Cass is not very used to it. She asked for Zatanna’s help when she went on a date with Conner Kent.

She thinks Duke is the sweetest of them all. She had the privilege of reading some of the stuff he wrote and thinks he is a literary genius. He doesn’t understand much about magic, but she teach him a lot about control, how easy is to lose control when you have this kind of power at hand. She’s also very attentive to his school, always asking how he’s handling.

They annoy Bruce to the most to always invite her to perform on the Galas. They are not very good on picking gifts, but they always sent sweet birthday wishes to her. They asked Alfred to do her favorite meal when she’s coming over. They think the rumours about her and Bruce dating are funny, but also disgusting, but if the media asks them something they show support so Zatanna calls them angrily demanding they take it back. They are also very nosy on her life always asking who she’s dating and she always tells them to get a life. Whenever someone comments she is old enough to be Dick’s mom she threatens to hex them.

She is so proud of them, she loves them so much and they love her. SHE’S THEIR AUNT ZEE.

#zatanna #zatanna zatara #batfam #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #cassandra cain #red hood #nightwing #red robin #robin #dc characters #hcs #zatanna hcs #batfam hcs #duke thomas #signal #batgirl #orphan #zee is a wine aunt #fuck yj #she loves her nephews #zee is dick’s fav aunt #tim drake is Zatanna’s baby boy #batman #Bruce Wayne #batanna

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part III

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so. 

Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.

 You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored. 

 He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.

 He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status. 

 Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy. 

 He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.

 Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”

 You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”

 “What do you mean?”

 You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”

 “Are you calling him a predator?”

 You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”

 Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”

 “A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”

 “Sounds about right.”

 “I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”

 “Even him perving on you?”

 “Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”

 Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

 You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”

 Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do. 

 “A little.”

 You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”

 Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.

 “Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”

 He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”

 The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him. 

 “Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”

 Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.” 

 You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.

 Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”

 That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.

 *

 “Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.

 “Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.

 You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.

 “It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”

 “That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”

 Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”

 Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”

 “Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?" 

 All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”

 Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”

 Fuck yes. Half the battle is won. 

 “Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”

 You snort. “Try again.”

 “Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”

 “Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”

 Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—

 “I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”

 You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”

 “Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”

 “Holy shit.”

 Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”

 “I guess.”

 This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.

 Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable. 

 These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group. 

 It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands. 

 “Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped." 

 “Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.  

 Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”

 You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”

 “Ah, of course he did.”

 Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks. 

 “Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”

 Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”

 The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.  

 “Glad to hear it.”

 The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit. 

 “You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”

 He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.

 “Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”

 “That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”

 “Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”

 Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before. 

 It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game. 

 You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.

 You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom. 

 “You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.

 You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”

 “It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”

 “Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”

 It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience. 

 He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire. 

 You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick. 

 “Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”

 That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs. 

 “Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”

 “Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.

 Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”

 You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”

 He chuckles, “You know it.” 

 Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.

 He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head. 

 “You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.

 “Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”

 Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

 “Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”

 “I have a refractory period, you know.”

 You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”

 Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower. 

 *

It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality. 

 The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well. 

 But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.

 He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.

 “I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time. 

 He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”

 “So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”

 “I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”

 You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”

 Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”

 Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”

 It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him. 

 You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time. 

 “No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”

 You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”

 He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things. 

 Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips. 

 “We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”

 He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible. 

 It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.

 In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.

 “Have you and Erwin made up yet?”

 Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”

 “The hell does that mean?”

 “It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”

 You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”

 It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.

 And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.

 *

 Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning. 

 Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall. 

 “Is Erwin here?” You ask.

 Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before. 

 “Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”

 “Cool, thanks.”

 “You know which one it is?”

 Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”

 The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

 You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.

 It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.

 “Uh, hey?”

 “Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”

 Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”

 His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.

 “Studying?” You question.

 “Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did). 

 “Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.

 Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move. 

 “So, what’s going on?”

 Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks. 

 “You need to make up with Mike.”

 Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

 “Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”

 “Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”

 “Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”

 “Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”

 “Don’t say that.”

 “It’s true,” he smirks.

 You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”

 Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.

 “So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds. 

 You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”

 His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”

 You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”

 Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil. 

 In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls. 

 Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile. 

 “You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away. 

 “Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

 This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.

 “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”

 Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did. 

 “You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”

 He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate. 

 Are you calling him a predator?

 He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea. 

 “You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”

 The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”

 You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.

 “Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”

 “Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”

 Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response. 

 But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."

 He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."

 And, so you do. 

 "Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"

 "So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious. 

 You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.  

 "I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."

 "I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"

 "Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick. 

 "You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up. 

 "No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare. 

 And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike. 

 Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?" 

 "Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—

 And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours. 

 Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you. 

 Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"

 You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).

 He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"

 "No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."

 Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.

 He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"

 "Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?" 

 "I… I don't know. You just—"

 "Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"

 "Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic. 

 "Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."

 Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt. 

 "Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."

 "Yeah, okay," he nods.

 You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.

 That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess. 

 Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from. 

*

"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him. 

 "What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."

 He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows. 

 "Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."

 He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to. 

 Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike. 

 Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."

 And, of course, Mike is too smart for that. 

 "Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."

 "I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night. 

 Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?" 

 The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin. 

 Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to. 

 Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out. 

 "I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.

 You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him. 

 He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college. 

 The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this. 

 "Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him. 

 You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing. 

  "Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks." 

 "What're your plans?" 

 You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek. 

 When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort. 

 And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—

 "Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."

 "Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."

 You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind. 

 Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them. 

 "I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."

 "Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."

 "And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"

 "I'll think about it," you stop him. 

 Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes. 

 Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'. 

 *

Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch. 

 It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs. 

 You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object. 

 It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones. 

 Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint. 

 You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to. 

 Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog. 

 A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired. 

 The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family. 

 He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money. 

 Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park. 

 You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep. 

 The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.  

 "What in the world…"

 Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house. 

 It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food. 

 "Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion. 

 Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt. 

 "Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!" 

 She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest. 

 Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug. 

 You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic. 

 What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you? 

 It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.

 "Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.

 That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"

 "Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."

 "I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."

 "Obviously not."

 He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time). 

 "I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days." 

 "I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."

 He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."

 Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”

 He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”

 “Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.

 “And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.” 

 You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."

 You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him. 

 "Yeah."

 It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead. 

 "Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.

 She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."

 "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"

 And, she's hugging you again. 

 "I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."

 You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."

 He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say. 

 "Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."

 He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."

 Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear. 

 "So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."

 "It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life." 

 Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"

 "Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off. 

 Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later. 

 Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."

 You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something. 

 The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day. 

 When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father. 

 "Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?" 

 "Dad!" 

 Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."

 You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"

 "Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."

 "Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier. 

 All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.

 Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"

 "Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle. 

 Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches. 

 You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."

 He grunts. "That makes one of us."

 Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy. 

 You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?" 

 Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."

 When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins. 

*

You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."

 She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school. 

 "Look how cute you are with braces!"

 "Please stop."

 "All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?" 

 "Mom made me."

 "You were so skinny. What happened?" 

 "Are you calling me fat?" 

 "No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."

 Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap. 

 It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his. 

 He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you. 

 Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream. 

 You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders. 

 You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. 

 He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more. 

 So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day. 

 "She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."

 "Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."

 You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."

 Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were." 

 "What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous. 

 Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."

 "We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."

 "Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?" 

 "That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."

 "We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."

 "So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?" 

 "Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."

 You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."

 Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."

 You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader #mels prima vista

[clairenatural]

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he��d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.  

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.  “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

 ————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming. 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel one-shot #deancas fic #deancas #spn #the destiel starts after the cut!! #mafia!au #teacher!au #background saileen #my words #over 1k words

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, eight

rowaelin high school bff masterlist

Based on the prompts:

“Okay, I know I’m evil and all that jazz, but I have standards too.”

What are you smiling about?

“He’s late,” Rhoe grumbled, his eyes flashing in annoyance as they flicked to his watch. Aelin sighed from her spot on the couch and rotated her brace-covered wrist. It was a minor sprain, the most minor sprain; she wouldn’t even have been injured at all if she hadn’t reflexively held up her hand against the deploying air bags, but when Rhoe had received a call from Aelin that she was in the hospital, he’d gone a bit ballistic. And his former surrogate son was pretty much persona-non-grata in the Galathynius household at the moment.

“Dad,” Aelin warned.

“I’m allowed to be mad,” Rhoe repeated for the hundredth time that week. “When I let that boy—” Rowan had apparently lost his name privileges for being a minute late. “—drive you around, I expected you to be returned in a single piece.” He shook his head, repeating the same speech Aelin had heard every day for the last week. “I have one single treasure, Aelin. The most valuable treasure in the world, and when that treasure leaves the house, I expect it to come back to me in perfect condition.”

She wondered how long this would go on. How many days of penance Rowan would have to pay before Rhoe forgave him.

Aelin sat up straighter at the sound of three raps on their front door. While Rowan used to just swing the door open himself, he now knew better. Aelin threw him an apologetic smile from the couch, her eyes trailing over the tightly sewn stitches above his eyebrow. They somehow made him look even more handsome.

“You’re late,” Rhoe said, looking expectantly at the white paper bags in Rowan’s hands.

“Sorry, sir,” Rowan’s eyes were tired. It’d been a long week. “I had an extra delivery this morning and…”

“No excuses,” Rhoe snapped, causing Rowan to nod nervously as he laid out the food on the coffee table for Aelin. Her eyes lit up at the feast in front of her. As part of his punishment for his “reckless driving,” Maeve had him doing breakfast deliveries before school all week, which ended in something special for Aelin.

She felt somewhat guilty that she was benefiting so much from Rowan’s accident, since she was a hundred percent positive that it was her own comment that had caused Rowan to become distracted and not see the car stopped at the red light in front of him. But, as she smelled the chocolate stuffed french toast, she couldn’t resist smiling.

She also wasn’t complaining that in her dad’s overprotectiveness, he’d assigned Aelin-watching duties to Rowan for his late-night shifts.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Aelin had scoffed, while her heart pounded with glee at the notion of extra time with Rowan.

“What if you need something from the top shelf and fall and sprain your other wrist?” Rhoe had argued.

Rowan was more than happy to agree to Rhoe’s terms, immediately clucking and fretting over the couch-bound Aelin like an overbearing mother hen. It should have annoyed her to no end, but she was secretly enjoying every single second of his fussing.

“I’m working a double,” Rhoe said with narrowed eyes at Rowan, who nodded succinctly. “I’ll be home just after midnight.

Rowan cleared his throat nervously, and Aelin paused, fork midway to her mouth to gape at her friend. “Sir?”

Rhoe’s eyes narrowed warily. “Yes?”

Rowan ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly. “I, uh, just wanted to ask you if you wanted me to come here tomorrow?” Rhoe frowned, his lips turning down at the question. “It’s just that tomorrow is prom, and if you want me to come here, I totally will. But I should probably tell Lyria today.”

Aelin felt her stomach clench uncomfortably at the mention of the L-word. She’d been so busy enjoying the extra attention from Rowan all week that she’d forgotten about prom. About the circumstances that led to this whole ordeal. Maybe her dad would tell Rowan he couldn’t go. She felt guilty about even thinking it, but she couldn’t help but hope it. Even just the slightest bit.

Rhoe rolled his bright blue eyes. “Don’t be stupid, boy.” Rowan flinched slightly at the way Rhoe addressed him. Seemed he clocked losing name privileges too. “You’ll take that girl to prom. You made a commitment, and I would hate to think you’re the type of person who doesn’t follow through on promises.”

“Yes, sir.” Rowan’s eyes flicked to Aelin, who was still holding her breath in anticipation. “I can still bring breakfast in the morning, if you want…”

Rhoe clapped Rowan’s shoulder just a smidge too hard as he smiled. “Nope. I took tomorrow off. You have fun at prom.”

Aelin exhaled as her dad finally left and Rowan slumped down onto the couch next to Aelin as she poured the extra side of chocolate onto her French toast and dug in.

“Your dad is fucking terrifying,” he said with a shake of his head.

“He can carry over a hundred pounds up as many flights of stairs, Ro. You should be terrified of him,” Aelin laughed through her sweet chocolatey bite. “He can definitely take your scrawny ass.”

Rowan’s mouth popped open. “My ass is not scrawny!”

Aelin poked his thigh with her toe. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Stand up, so I can take a better look.” She winked as Rowan shoved her foot away from him.

“Aelin…” Rowan’s cheeks flushed pink as Aelin wiggled her eyebrows. He bit his lip, tugging at the skin there, looking annoyed.

“What?” she asked, wishing so badly that she could jump into his head and hear what he was thinking.

“I have to get up to get you a napkin,” he said, looking at the chocolate that had splattered onto the table, “ And I know as soon as I stand up you’re going to stare at my ass,” he grumbled, and Aelin let out a loud cackle.

“I would never,” she said through her laughter.

“You’re such a liar,” he said, poking her shin.

He was right. As soon as he pushed himself off the couch, Aelin’s head snapped in his direction, but he spun around to walk backwards so she couldn’t get a good look.

“Ha!” he said, a victorious smile appearing across his face.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ro,” she pouted. “I’m injured. The least you could do is let me get a good look.”

“I hate you,” he chuckled, his cheeks now a deep red as he continued to trail backwards into the kitchen.

“You know what they say whenever you walk by,” she said through her giggles. “There goes Orynth’s ass. Everyone gets a piece.”

He flicked her off as he grabbed a handful of napkins with his other hands. “Please,” he scoffed. “I know according to your dad I’m evil now, and all that jazz, but I have standards. This ass is for my eyes only.”

Aelin cackled. “I’m now just picturing you staring at your own ass in the mirror, being like… damn, that’s a good ass.”

“I don’t have a full-length mirror for nothing,” he said with a wink, leaning over the coffee table to clean up the chocolate splatter.

Aelin couldn’t resist leaning back and peering behind him, trying to get a better look. She sighed happily.

“Ace!” he yelped, standing up straight and spinning around again, covering his rear with his hands. Aelin was laughing so hard that her stomach was starting to hurt. “I’m telling your dad that you’re the evil one.” He tried to say seriously, but soon enough Rowan was joining in the laughter, tears rolling down both their cheeks.

As he smiled at her widely, helping her from the couch, that sudden pang of desire sprang up in Aelin again. She’d been able to control it for the most part, and neither of them had mentioned the conversation that had caused the crash in the first place. She wasn’t sure she could even imagine how the rest of that discussion would go. But she was glad to put it to the backburner for a tiny bit. At least until she felt more comfortable with it again. That hadn’t deterred Lysandra from texting constantly and asking when Aelin would like her first lesson. Luckily, Aelin was able to stave her off for a little while longer – at least until her wrist completely healed.

Rowan slung Aelin’s backpack over his shoulder, carrying her books as they walked to school, enjoying the balmy morning.

Once they arrived, Rowan led them to his locker instead of hers, and Aelin frowned. “Ro, I have to put my books in my locker.”

He shook his head. “We have world history first. I’ll just put them here, and we’ll come back together after.” He looked as his watch. “We walked too slow.”

“Sorry my leg span isn’t four thousand feet,” Aelin said, laughing at her best friend. He complained that she walked too slowly, but really he was just too tall for his own good. He didn’t realize how fast he got places simply by having longer legs.

Aelin clearly hadn’t looked at Rowan’s locker in some time, though, because she was shocked by the decorations on the inside of the door. It was dotted with photographs of their group of friends through the year – but, Aelin noted she made a prominent appearance in the center of the door, in a picture of just her and Rowan. It was from Yulemas break. Aelin’s favorite holiday; but she’d never seen this photo before. It must have been taken at the tail end of Maeve’s Yulemas party, when Aelin had fallen asleep after too many sweets and rum-laced eggnog. In the photo, Aelin’s head rested carefully on Rowan’s shoulder, her eyes closed and face relaxed in slumber as Rowan smiled softly at whoever was behind the camera.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked, and Aelin shook her head.

“I like your pictures.”

“Oh,” he said, returning her smile. “Yeah, Aunt Maeve printed a bunch out for me.”

“Mr. Whitethorn, Ms. Galathynius,” Principal Havilliard bellowed at the other end of the hallway. “You’re late. Again.” Aelin and Rowan sighed simultaneously. “Your second infraction this week,” he continued. “Don’t make it a third, or I’ll see you both in detention next week.”

Aelin wanted to tell Principal Havilliard off. It wasn’t her or Rowan’s fault for being late, exactly. They both had single working parents, and with Rowan’s car in the shop for the next few weeks, they had to walk over two miles to make it there. She was gearing up to say something snappy back, when Rowan dragged her down the hall, away from the offending school administrator.

“Not worth it, Ace,” he mumbled.

They managed to make it through the rest of the day with no other incidents, unless Aelin counted getting a C on her Ancient Languages oral exam an incident – which she didn’t.

“So, RoRo, you excited for prom?” Wes asked Rowan from the driver’s seat. Technically, Aelin wasn’t supposed to be driving with any of her friends for the rest of the year, but her dad was at work. And she couldn’t bring herself to walk another two miles home.

Lysandra’s eyes met Aelin’s in the backseat of the car, and Aelin purposefully looked out the window to avoid her face doing anything she couldn’t control.

“Uh, yeah?” Rowan asked. “I guess.”

“Dude,” Wesley laughed. “You’re going to prom with a cheerleader, who’s been all over you for months, and you guess you’re excited?” Next to her, Rowan shrugged silently. But Wesley was only spurred on by Rowan’s lack of enthusiasm. “Should we pick up some condoms for you on the way home, or do you have some?” Wesley asked, and Rowan inhaled so sharply he started coughing. “What?” Wesley asked, looking at his girlfriend, confused, and rubbing his elbow where Lysandra must have pinched him. “I’m just saying. I heard it’s tradition to get a hotel room after prom…”

“Rowan would never be so cliché,” Lysandra interjected, her bright eyes flashing to check on Aelin in the mirror, but Aelin refused to look anywhere but out at the trees passing by out the car window as she steadied her breath. “Right?”

“Right,” Rowan repeated quietly.

“Doesn’t hurt to have some on hand,” Wesley said. “OW, what the fuck, Lys?” he yelped.

“You’re such an idiot,” Lysandra mumbled, just barely audible over her exasperated sigh.

“I’m good,” Rowan spoke up, clipped.

Aelin couldn’t control herself as she looked over her shoulder and took in her best friend’s paled face, staring at the roof of Wesley’s old sedan.

“You are?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too high.

“Yup,” Rowan replied, still refusing to look down at her.

“Smart boy,” Wesley laughed.

Lysandra’s eyes flicked to Aelin again, filled with worry, and Aelin shook her head slightly.

But Wesley raised a fair point that Aelin hadn’t even thought about during her busy week. She’d been so worried about Rowan and Lyria being at a dance together, arms wrapped around each other intimately, that she hadn’t even considered the implications of what would happen after prom?

She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been.

Despite looking forward to their late night “babysitting” all day, Aelin’s mood was completely soured by the conversation in the car.

She overcooked their pasta, couldn’t settle on anything to watch, and gave terse replies to every question Rowan asked.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he finally asked, after finishing loading the dishwasher, and Aelin grunted a sure. He turned on Clueless, one of Aelin’s favorite movies and relaxed back into the couch.

To his credit, he made it all the way through the movie, which Aelin laughed about 500% less than usual at, until asking Aelin what was wrong. But Aelin wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t exactly tell him she was stressed about the prospect of him having sex with Lyria. She didn’t think he’d really do that. He’d said on multiple occasions that he barely knew her. And sex didn’t seem like a thing Rowan would just do with someone he barely knew. But, then, why did Aelin feel a pit of dread sitting deep in her stomach? Nothing about his answers had reassured her. And Rowan was changing. She never thought Rowan would abandon her at a party either, and he did that easily.

“I’m just tired,” she replied, yawning loudly and throwing all her acting skills into her performance. “It’s been a weird week. I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ll see you Sunday, right?”

Rowan crossed his arms as Aelin got up and started heading up the stairs, his bowed lips frowning and pinching his beautiful face.

“I thought we told each other everything,” Rowan said, annoyed. Aelin paused her feet on the stairs, looking over her shoulder at him. He was hunched over and still frowning, angrily glaring at the darkened TV.

Aelin cocked her head to the side, thinking of all the things she’d censored from Rowan in the last few months, and thinking that he’d probably started doing the same.

“I thought so, too.” She paused, looking at the way Rowan tensed at her words. She smiled sadly, and trudged upstairs to bed, not bothering to let him reply again.

~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes #throne of glass

[waiting4inspiration]

Darkness before Dawn XII: A tart, and a party trick

Summary: Charlotte comes to talk to you and she asks you something that shows you she has changed. Ida starts teaching you the basics of magic.

Warnings: small angst, fluff, character development, magical elements, mentions of abuse, mentions of bastard children, if I missed something please let me know

Word Count: 3,148

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist 

Charlotte knows that you have a few moments to yourself before you have to go to the lessons to help you prepare to be a queen. Dominic had refused that Charlotte carries on with them, because he knows she won’t be ruling any kingdoms, which means that she would need to find some other way to occupy her time. Which is why, she’s asked other people, people like the cooks to teach her their skills. 

She’s been wanting to talk to you for a while, which is why she walked in on her mother threatening you. And as she stands outside your bedroom door, your favorite pastry on a plate in her hands, she’s not sure what she’ll be walking in on this time. 

Gently knocking on the door, her heart leaps in her chest when it's open quickly by your single handmaiden, Inga. She gives Charlotte a small smile as she opens the door wider and steps aside to let the princess in. 

You turn your head up from your spot on the bed to see who had walked in and see Charlotte come to a quick halt when she spots Ida and Geralt with you. The Witcher sits on your bed with you and Ida sits on the chair close to your bed. And Charlotte can tell that she’s walked in on an important conversation. 

“I was hoping to speak with my sister. Please,” Charlotte softly says, surprising both you and Ida because this is the first time you’ve kind of heard Charlotte say ‘please’ or speak with sincerity. 

Looking between Ida and Geralt, who wait for your response. You nod to them and give Geralt’s hands that cover yours a reassuring squeeze. “Wait outside for me,” you whisper to him. 

He gives a short nod and stands with Ida and moves to walk out the room, leaving you with Charlotte. And Geralt leaves his silver sword beside your bed in case you would need it. 

Charlotte looks to you as the door closes and slowly walks forward as you hold your hand out to the chair in front of you. “You look tired,” she softly says, sitting down in the chair as you shrug your shoulders. 

“It was a rough night for me,” you whisper, looking up at her with dark circles around your eyes. 

Suddenly remembering the peace offering she had brought with her, she holds the plate out to you and smiles. “I thought this might cheer you up a bit.” You smile and giggle as you take the plate. “I had some help from the cook who taught me how to make that.”

“You made this?” you ask, baffled as you stare at the pastry in front of you. She nods her head, blushes slightly and stares down at her hands. “This looks delicious. Thank you,” you whisper, settling the plate on your lap as you look up at her again. “You wanted to talk to me?” 

She nods, lifts her head and bites her lower lip. “It’s more of a request,” she shyly says, and you’ve never seen her like this before. “I was wondering if you would put in a good word with the King about me.” This makes you take in a deep breath because it was what your mother wanted from you too. Is Charlotte just trying to use you so she doesn’t lose the privileges she had when she was the heir to the throne? “I know I am a bastard child and I don’t deserve to live in a palace like this. But, I hope you can convince the King to...not throw me out on the streets?

“Even if I be your lady-in-waiting, I will do it. But I know I will not survive outside the royal house,” she says, looking at you with a desperate look in her eyes. 

Her desperateness moves your heart and makes your bite your lower lip as you stare at her. She just wants to survive. You can tell she no longer cares of her privileges, how a room would bow when he enters and how people would respect her or else. She doesn’t care about that anymore. 

You shake your head, confused for a second as you search for your words. “What happened that’s made you change? You never wished to speak to me, about anything?” you state. 

It wasn’t long since she insisted that she is the heir to the throne, that she thinks she should have been cursed instead of you. Now, it’s like looking at a completely different person. You wonder if this is not just an illusion, a trick played by Kurst. 

But the sad look in your sister’s eye seems too real to be faked. “I saw the way mother treated you yesterday and I knew immediately that it was wrong and that no one should be treated like that,” she begins, drops her gaze to her hands as she sighs. “And I know that I haven’t exactly treated you with kindness either, but a lot has changed since I found out the truth about who I really am, what I really am. And I can only hope that you will forgive me for all that but I will understand if you don’t-”

“Charlotte,” you stop her rambling, chuckling when she stares at you with a flustered look on her face. “I can see you have changed, and I can see it is for the better. So, I will talk to my father. Because you have asked me in good faith to,” you mention, reaching out to touch her hand. 

She sighs in slight relief and lets go of the tension in her body. She laughs at how she had been nervous about this and glances down at the circle on the ground. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through and I’m sorry-”

You stop her by holding up your hand and shake your head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you whisper, dropping your head to look at your hands. “So much is changing, it’s almost hard to keep up,” you mutter as you curl your hand into a fist. “It appears that I have magick in my blood and that is what this spirit that’s haunting me is after,” you explain to her, forcing a smile as you grip the edge of the plate. “Aunt Ida is going to teach me how to channel it and control it. I won’t be a Mage, though. Tissa de Vries says it’s best that I remain as the future queen of Eronia,” you add.

Charlotte moves to sit down beside you and rests her hand on your forearm. “Could you use your magick to defend yourself against the ghost?” she asks and you take a deep breath. 

“Ida says I could. I was able to last night,” you say, turning your head to look at her. 

“Well, then that is a good thing, isn’t it?” she questions. 

You give a small nod, hum at her words as you bite your lower lip. She notices your hesitance, but for what she’s not too sure. She also sees now how you don’t seem to be as confident as you once were, that you don’t carry yourself as you did whenever you were around her. Maybe it’s because of how she’s changed her attitude towards you, but she thinks it’s not because of how tired you are, how weak you are. 

And she sees tears lining your eyes when you lift your gaze from staring at the pastry on the plate on your lap for a while. “I’m scared,” you confess in a whisper, your voice breaking as you try to stifle a sob. It breaks Charlotte’s heart seeing you like this. “I don’t know what to expect every hour of the day, I’m too scared to sleep or to step out of this circle. I’m terrified and it…” 

You trail off, breathe out a shaky breath and drop your head as tears fall down your cheek. “It’s exactly what he wants,” you whisper, your eyes staring at the scars on your forearm from when you were first attacked. 

Charlotte doesn’t know what to say or what to do. She’s never comforted you before, she doesn’t know how to comfort anyone. And before she can even try, the door opens making her head snap over her shoulder as you quickly wipe your tears away.

Geralt and Ida walk back in the room, both have slightly confused looks on their faces to see Charlotte sitting so close to you and with a saddened look in her eye. She knows her time with you is up and she kind of hoped to talk to you more, even though she doesn’t know what she would talk to you about. She would just let it happen. 

“We should get to work,” Ida gently says when she spots the small tears in your eyes even though you try to push them down. 

The Witcher notices your tears too, and he slowly walks forward as Charlotte turns to look back at you. And when you give your sister a small smile, he sees that your tears are because of something she had said. It has to be something else. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Charlotte softly speaks as she stands and pulls her hands away from your arm. 

“Come talk to me whenever you wanted to, Charlotte,” you say before she can take a step away from you, making her smile in relief and nod her head. 

Standing as Geralt walks up to you, keeping his eyes on Charlotte as she walks away, you place the plate and the pastry on the bedside table, thinking that you can’t wait to eat it later. You slip your hand into his when he touches it and turns his head to look down at you.

Ida doesn’t close the door when Charlotte walks out. Instead, she watches as Geralt turns his body to face you, reaches up to touch the side of your cheek and gently wipe his thumb over your skin. She smiles at how you tenderly lean into his touch and how both of you are oblivious that she’s still there. Especially when Geralt whispers a question to make sure you’re okay. 

Clearing her throat after you give a gentle nod, Geralt pulls slightly away from you and turns, but keeps your hand in his. “It would be best if we are alone,” she mentions. 

Geralt knows that she’s right. No one can be sure what will happen when you start to channel your chaos, and should you be attacked, Geralt fully trusts Ida will be able to protect you. 

By the way you squeeze it hand, he can tell that you’re not too sure about him leaving you alone again. He turns back to face you, reaches up to push a strand of hair behind your ear as she stares into your eyes. “You’ll be safe. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think you were safe,” he whispers and you nod your head knowingly. 

But still, you can’t help but think about the time he did leave you and it ended badly. You can’t blame him for that. You know he can’t. And - as much as you appreciate Jaskier - you are in much more capable hands this time. 

Leaning forward, he places a small kiss to your forehead before reaching behind you to take his silver sword before stepping backward. He keeps his eyes on you for a while before turning and walking out the room. 

And when you turn your gaze to Ida, you find her staring at you with a smirk on her face. “What?” you mutter as you run your hand through your hair and shift on your feet. 

“You two have grown close, I see,” she sings, folding her arms over her chest as she walks towards a table. You smile to yourself and turn your face to the side as you bite the inside of your cheek. “He likes you. He can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her words make your head snap up at you look at her with an inquisitive look in your eyes. “His thoughts are very loud,” she chuckles. She places a flower on the table and then a rock beside it, sparking your interest and making you take a small, hesitant step out of the circle. “And you like him as well?”

You sigh when she turns your gaze up to you as you come to stand beside her. “I do.”

“Better than that boy Ferni?” You laugh at those words, but nod your head nonetheless. “But you doubt things because Geralt is a Witcher.”

“You did not get that from reading my mind,” you mutter, reaching out to take the flower and twirl it in between your fingers. 

Ida chuckles and pulls you to stand where she had been standing. “No, I didn’t. But, you shouldn’t let that hinder your love for him to grow,” she gently says as she rests her hands on your shoulders. “We never forget those we truly love. Trust me, I know.”

That makes you turn your head over your shoulder to look at her and she gives you a reassuring smile. Then you glance down to the rock on the table and breathe out deeply. “What must I do?” you question, talking about this first lesson she’s planned for you. 

“Try and lift the rock without touching it,” she whispers, making you frown and tilt your head to the side. 

You turn your head down to the rock and lick your lips as Ida whispers Elder, and you repeat the incantation. But nothing happens. It makes you sigh and shift on your feet as you narrow your eyes on the rock and grip the flower tightly in your hand and you repeat the incantation. 

Ida doesn’t say anything, watches you repeat the Elder incantation one last time before the rock slowly lifts off the table. You stare at it in awe before your eyes catch the flower in your hand wilting and shriveling in your hand. “You can’t conjure something from nothing. Tissa de Vries tells that to every mage that studies at Aretuza,” Ida mentions with a small laugh as you turn your head to her. “And now, I will teach you what she has taught me.”

Geralt walks up behind you as you watch the sun slowly set through the window, places his hands on your hips as he breathes out a sigh. The only time he can freely spend with you is at night. And even then, it can’t be for long because you need as much sleep as you can get.

You smile at the feeling of his touch, drop your head between your shoulders as you bite your lower lip when he steps closer, his chest pressing against you back. “How are you feeling?” he asks softly, making you realize now how closer his mouth actually is from your ear. 

Turning around to face him, you rest your hands on his chest as you take a step closer to him. “A bit tired,” you whisper, lifting your gaze up to him and you smile small at him. “It’s been a long day,” you chuckle, dropping your gaze to the medallion on his chest. 

He hums, raises his hand to push a piece of hair away from your face as you look up at him again and leans slightly forward. His hand stays on the side of your face so he can run his thumb over your cheek, his forehead resting on yours as he breathes in deeply. “You should get some rest then,” he whispers, but when he pulls you closer you have a feeling that he doesn’t really want that. 

“You still have to tell me about your Child of Surprise,” you mention, making him chuckle and pull away to look down at your face. “She’s not in Cintra. Where is she?” you ask, taking his hand when he drops it away from your cheek and slipping your fingers through his. 

“Kaer Morhen,” he mentions, glancing behind him before sitting down on the chair, still holding your hand in his. “She’s there in hiding and being trained to be a Witcher,” he adds, looking up at you as you take a step forward to stand in front of him. But he has other plans instead of having you stand in front of him. 

With a small tug, he pulls you closer so that you sit on his lap. You gasp, look down in embarrassment as he shifts your legs so that they spread around his hips. “I’d like to meet her sometime,” you whisper, resting your hands on his shoulders as you lift your head again. 

You notice how his eyes glance down to your lips as his hands return to your hips. This reminds you of the last time you were in this situation with a man. Ferni, to be exact. Your mother walked in and didn’t like the idea that you had a suitor. And a powerful suitor at that. 

Geralt breaks you from your thoughts as he pulls your lip out from between your teeth. You see the questioning look in his eyes. He wants to know what you were thinking about. “My mother walked in on me when I was in this kind of position with someone a couple of years ago,” you mention, leaning into his touch when his hand comes to your cheek again. “I don’t have to tell you how she took the fact that I had a suitor who will be King of a distant kingdom,” you chuckle, glancing down in shame as memories of your ‘punishment’ flash through your mind. 

Hearing that, Geralt wonders if he would have ever met you had things been different. Would he be here, in this moment, if your mother didn’t walk on that day? What if this curse was never cast? He would have met you, Jaskier would have been sure to make that happen. But would he have felt what he feels for you now? If your mother hadn’t walked in that day, perhaps you would be married to that suitor. 

But you’re not. You’re here with him, straddling his lap and so close for him to kiss you. “She won’t walk in this time,” Geralt mutters, making you lift your gaze again and frown. “I’ll know if she’s close,” he mentions, leaning closer and presses his lips to yours. 

Smiling into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he runs his hand up your back and the other through your hair. The first time you were in this position with Ferni, you thought that it couldn’t get better. 

But with Geralt, it just has.

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[mindswriters]

Family Meeting - jj maybank × reader {one shot}

Summary: for the first time you decide to take your pogue boyfriend at your family's annual meeting, and let's say that your relatives didn't have the best reactions in the world.

Pairing: jj maybank × kook!reader

Warnings: language, underage drinking, mentions of hook ups?, "drunk" driving [IF YOU DRINK DON'T DRIVE]

Word count: 3.3K (is this big? idk)

A/N: hell yeah, i'm a shitty writer. Y/f/n means "your full name" btw

not my gif, credits to the owner ;)

****

Your surname is pretty infamous at the Outer Banks, your dad owns one of the biggest parts of Tannyhill, what makes you full kook. That's why you always lived in that shitty bubble wrap, you understand that living in the Figure 8 gave you privileges that you wouldn't have if you lived on the south side, and you hate the fact that everyone around you always pretend that everything is perfect when there are people to miles from there surviving from water and bread. But, as a blessing, a while ago your friend Sarah Cameron started dating John B, a Pogue guy who worked for the Cameron's, and you also started to hang out with them, and that's where your life started. At first your parents didn't liked your "new life", but they also did nothing to stop you (probably because they knew you would find a way to sneak out). You found your real crew with the Pogues, they were very receptive with you, John B is really kind and fun (way better than Topper, Sarah's ex boyfriend); Kie became your third musketeer, she's smart and is always there for you; Pope is your favorite nerd eveeer, y'all would be screwed without him. And last but not least, JJ Maybank, at first you thought he was cute, at second that he was a stubborn dumbass, and third? Oh, third you've fallen in love with him.

That's what brings you here, getting dressed for the Y/l/n's annual meeting at the Country Club, while JJ, your actual boyfriend is sitting on your bed with a messy hair and a clumsy suit. This meeting is nothing but a bullshit that your parents "require" you to go every year, you actually don't like it a lot, but today you are especially excited, you can't wait to see all your old aunts and envious cousins staring at you, when you arrive holding hands with your Pogue boyfriend. The most handsome Pogue of this island.

"Hey, J, which one is better, this one or this one?" you asked showing him your hands, each one holding a different pair of earrings.

"Hmm, this one." he pointed to your left hand with a smirk after carefully observed both the jewels.

You whispered a "thanks" and turned back to the mirror, putting the bright jewels on your ears. You were giving a last check on your marine blue dress, when you heard a knock at your half opened door.

"We're waiting for you kids." your dad tried to disguise the complain with a smirk.

"Sorry for the delay, dad, you know how long it takes for me to get ready." you pouted leaning on the door "But you and mom can go ahead, JJ and I will go with my car in a little while." you looked at your boyfriend and smiled when he waved to your father.

"You sure?" you quickly nodded "Okay then, see you there." the gray haired man sighed and went down the stairs.

"Thank you, daddy." you murmured but he definitely didn't listened.

"Can you just don't call him daddy when I'm around? It's kinda awkward." he slyly said when stood up from your bed.

You giggled rolling your eyes and walked towards him, looking up to stare his blue eyes "I never thought I would live to see JJ Maybank wearing a suit." you joked.

He just looked away and gave a shy laugh, while you delicately straightened his tie and collar. As much as you are excited, you don't see the same in JJ's expression, let's say he is not extremely comfortable in the middle of the Lion's den, as the Pogues call places with many Kooks.

"Come on babe, spit it out, what's wrong?" you ask kindly wrapping arms around his neck.

He shook his head hesitating to speak, but only with your gaze he eventually convinced himself that you wouldn't let it go unnoticed.

"Are you sure you want me to go? I mean, it's a family thing and-" he was about to vent put you stopped him.

"You are part of my family, JJ." you smiled placing a small kiss on his lips.

"Say it to your father, at this time he must be bad-mouthing me for the rest of your family." he complained snorting.

"So what?" you intertwined each other's fingers on both hands "Look, JJ, I don't care about what my father thinks and says about you, I just want to show up there holding your hand and telling everyone that you are the guy by whom I fell in love, and fuck what those idiots will think! It'll always be you." you sighed relieved after you vent all that was in your throat.

"Wow, unexpected PDA from my little girl uh?" you felt the heat blushing your cheeks, but he immediately filled your face with plenty kisses.

"I meant it, J, I meant it!" you both laughed when you tried to escape from his lips "Let's just go there and enjoy us, eat those weird foods, drink expensive drinks and if it gets too boring we can leave, okay?"

"Fine, fine, I'll go." he rolled his eyes pretending to be angry with you.

You held the boy's cheeks joining his lips lovingly and jumped up to the chair where your purse was hanging.

"I can't wait to see the faces of my envious cousins when they see me coming with the hottest guy on the Outer Banks." you sent a wink and asked him to follow you downstairs.

You drove all the way to the Country Club and when you got there you already saw all the chic decor and the other cars that were in the parking lot. JJ seemed to be nervous again, dangling his legs and biting his nails, but holding your hand before entering the party was what helped him to be calm. As soon as you took the first step, you were surrounded by the looks of everyone, some from close relatives who looked disappointed, and others from people you didn't even know were family members. Soon in the entrance hall you met your parents, talking to one of your aunts, when you were a child you gave her a loving nickname, auntie witchie.

"Hi dad, hi mom! I didn't know that half of Outer Banks was now our family." you teased kissing your parents cheeks.

"Less, Y/n." your father whispered discretely.

"Oh, Auntie Mary! How long I haven't seen you!" you greeted your aunt with an exaggerated (and false) smile.

The lady returned the smile but soon frowned as she spotted the messy blonde hair right behind you, even in a suit JJ was still clearly a Pogue.

"Let me introduce you, this is JJ, my boyfriend!" the boy politely kissed the top of your aunt's hand "I don't think you will need to worry about my relationships anymore."

You smiled confidently exchanging looks at the boy as your aunt seemed to analyze and judge every inch of him with a disgust feature. She looked at your parents and they just sighed and shrug.

"Y/n, darling, can I talk to you for a second?" you nodded in response and your aunt pulled you 2 steps to the side, which did not help from anything if she wanted a conversation reserved.

"What happened?" you asked as if you didn't knew what was coming.

"Is this boy really your boyfriend?" you nodded again, always smiling "And is he a-"

"A Pogue? Yes, he is a Pogue." you cut her even before she could finish the question "Any problem?"

"No, dear, but I mean, don't you think you should look some more? I don't know, someone here in Figure 8, with a good surname, I always thought that you would make a beautiful couple with the Cameron's prodigal son." you sighed thinking about a polite answer for the lady.

"I'm sorry, auntie, but you are completely wrong. I don't need to look anymore, JJ is definitely my lobster." you smiled leaving her confused with your words.

You turned your back politely and pulled JJ by the hand, with the intention of literally walking with him around the room and telling as many people as possible that this handsome blonde, mop headed Pogue is your boyfriend. While walking around the space you drank a few drinks, teased some people and received many, many looks of judgment. In addition to some cousins of yours commenting things like "I heard he was that crazy guy who shouted a gun at the Boneyard". But you couldn't care less, even more after some doses of alcohol.

"I need to go to the bathroom, stay here, it'll only take a sec." you gave a kiss on JJ's cheek before leaving him near the bar counter.

You were on your way back from the bathrooms when bumped into someone. It was Amber, she is your cousin, but you two didn't always get along. One time when you were 7, she threw your plush turtle in the pool and as revenge you stuck chewing gum in her hair. There was also the time when you were in 8th grade and she told your mom that you and Sarah went to Topper's house at night to drink vodka with powdered juice. Well, after that you have distanced and now when you meet by chance you pretend to like each other.

"I'm sorry!" she said with that annoying voice "Oh my God, Y/n, is that you?"

"Yes, cousin, it's me!" you smiled pretending to be excited.

"Look at you! You mean you have boobs now?" yeah, and my boyfriend loves them! okay, that's what you thought, in fact you just smirked raising eyebrows.

"Yeah, I think so. But you remain the same! Just with a little more chemical in the hair." you teased in the same mocking tone of her.

"Y/n/n, always so funny." she let a fake laugh and looked away "Damn, since when did the waiters from the Cut get so hot?"

You turned around and soon realized that she was talking about JJ, who was still leaning against the counter. As much as you were a little jealous for hearing her call your boyfriend hot right in your face, you were also proud to be able to tell her that he is already yours.

"Oh, actually he's not a waiter, he's my boyfriend." you smiled confident biting your own lip.

"Shit, don't mock me Y/n, you and that guy?" she laughed trying to disguise the wide eyes, Amber always made a point of telling that you were too ugly to get a boyfriend.

"Yep, me and that guy." from a distance JJ realized you were staring and then waved at you, who responded with your most proud smile.

"Ugh, I can't really understand what you and Sarah see in those Pogues, they're disgusting." funny to see how she changed her mind just in a few seconds.

"Let's say they're like that song."

"Song? What song?" she asked confused moving her gaze to you.

"You know, harder, better, faster, stronger, oh and add 'bigger'." you slowly said containing your laughter by biting the inside of your cheek.

She stared at you with a shooked look, and speechless. You must admit that the situation was quite satisfactory, seeing your dear cousin unresponsive on learning that you are not the ugly duckling as she always liked to say. You couldn't help but let out a little laugh, and then you excused yourself to return to your boy's arms.

"Who was that?" he asked when you leaned beside him on the counter.

"It's my cousin Amber, I hate her." he giggled and you fake smiled looking over your shoulder to see the fake blonde girl staring at you two.

"So what were you talking about?" he fixed your hair behind your ear gazing you.

"Nothing much, I was just telling her how is to be dating a 'dirty Pogue'..." you teased bending to whisper on his ear.

"Dirty Pogue, huh? And how is it like?" he frowned with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, it can be so many things, and I would risk to say that "dirty" is one of them." you smiled biting you lower lip with your eyes fixated on his blue ones.

JJ smiled back and moved his gaze to your lips, quickly kissing them and moving his wet lips to your cheeks, until reach the sweet spot behind your ear. Fuck, this is pretty good but let's say that the middle of your family meeting isn't the right place for you guys do it.

"J, stop, not right now." you giggled raising your eyebrows and softly pushing him away.

"Why not?" he pouted with puppy eyes.

"Because all my family is seeing us?" you used an obvious tone, 'cause it was obvious.

"Maybe we could sneak out?" you narrowed your eyes thinking about his proposal.

"Soon, first we'll show that people how we move on the Cut." you answered when heard one of your favorite songs playing outside.

You dragged your boyfriend by the hand until you reach the middle of the dance floor, at first he was kinda shy, but being with you makes him feel more comfortable, and as soon you both were already moving your bodies like no one was around. Laughing, drinking and kissing, you were stealing the show, this until you feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turned, you faced a man who was probably the photographer, since he held a professional camera in his hands.

"Excuse me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?" he asked politely.

"Yes, why?" you frowned holding JJ behind you.

"Oh, they're looking for you to take the annual family picture, can you follow me, please?" he pointed to the entrance hall.

"Ah sure, come on baby." you nodded bringing JJ with you.

When you reached the hall everyone of your family was there posing and waiting for you, soon you found your parents on the left side and before joining them, you stopped to straight your hair and JJ's bow tie. When you had just finished fixing his suit, your dad stopped you by your shoulders.

"Y/n, sweetie, I know JJ is important to you, but I think it's best that he doesn't appear with you in the official photos." you frowned when your dad moved his gaze to the blonde right behind you.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" you snapped with a bit angry tone.

"It's nothing personal, honey, it's just 'cause you know, you’re still young and he’s just your boyfriend, we don’t know if it will last long." your father said making you chuckle shooking your head, that's unbelievable.

"Nothing personal, right? So why can Andrew's girlfriend appear in this stupid picture and JJ cannot?" you stormed pointing to your cousin and his girlfriend already posing to the camera.

"Y/n please, don't make a scene." you dad sighed when noticed that everyone looked at you.

"Is because he's a Pogue, isn't it?" you asked with anger burning your face.

"Y/n it's okay, it's just a photo." JJ tried to calm you down and leave it, but you didn't listen.

"You see, sweetie, it's not a big deal." and you're also sick of your dad pretending that everything is perfect.

"You know what? You guys can keep with this Kook bullshit and take this fucking picture, but I will not be part of it." you said confidently causing JJ to giggle behind you and your father give you a pissed gaze.

"What the hell you think you're doing, young lady?" your dad murmured holding your arm carefully.

"I'm throwing off my chains." you stepped back confronting him.

"Y/n, darling, stop it! You're embarrassing me and your father!" your mom shout out when she noticed that you were about to leave.

"Whatever! I'm already the family’s shame!" you shouted taking a few steps back until reaching JJ, who have a proud look in his face.

"Y/f/n! Come back here! You can't do it!" Y/m/n shouted one more time.

"Yeah, but I'm already doing." with a twist on your own feet you answered back while stealing a drink from the waiter's tray that passed by.

At this time everyone is looking at you with wide eyes, your parents flushing in anger and JJ, oh JJ is paralyzed with a huge smile on his face, he's so proud of seeing his badass girlfriend facing everyone to defend him. This was something you wanted to do a long time ago, and a family meeting seemed like the perfect time for you to throw everything up in the air. And that is what you did.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" you stopped making exaggerated expressions "Auntie Mary! You should find your own husband before give hunches on my boyfriends!" you said with a soft tone pointing to your old single aunt standing a few meters from you.

"Y/d/n, you should fix your daughter!" she yelled angry.

"And Amber!" the fake blonde jumped when she heard her name "Cousin, you should try to hook up with a Pogue anytime, they're so fucking hot!" you smiled biting your tongue and looked to JJ, who let out a big laugh and soon disguised because of your father's gaze to him.

Everyone was staring at you and your parents with jaw dropping, you always showed some personality differences compared to the rest of the family, but no one ever imagined you were that bold. Okay, the drinks helped you do that, but they say that when a person gets drunk is when she shows who she really is. And this is you for real. While hearing comments like "How absurd" or "This is a shame", you poured your entire drink in a single sip and dropped the glass on the floor, hurrying to leave that shit party.

"Come on, blondie, are you with me or what?" you raised your eyebrows calling JJ to follow you. He looked at your parents and they gave a serious look to him. But he didn't care right now.

"Sorry, Mr and Mrs Y/l/n," he laughed stepping backwards "your daughter is crazy!"

He shouted shooking his head and turning around to run towards you. You both laughed and you waited for him to embrace you at the big front door, you explicit kissed and left everyone behind, running hand in hand until you reached the parking lot. Inside of your car you two waited for the laughter to lose their strength to catch your breath.

"Oh my God this was insane!" you smiled heavy breathing and looking at the blonde on your passenger seat.

"My girl is a huge badass!" he pulled you for another kiss, this time it was longer and full of proud and desire.

"Okay, your place or the Chateau?" he said breathlessly, pulling away and looking at you.

"Definitely the Chateau. And hope John B isn't home." you gave a nasty smile and started your car.

You're gonna be dead when you see your parents again, but it's fine, still worth it.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #jj fanfiction #jj mayback x reader #jj outer banks #jj x reader #obx netflix #outer banks fanfiction #jj blurb #jj fic #jj #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #obx #outer banks #obx jj #jj obx #obx fanfiction #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader

[emersonfreepress]

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don���t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches ​​ asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

#lovely anon #answered #hotmess #ok I am truly so sorry for going on and on like this #writing #ch design #ty for this question it was really nice to revisit this stuff 😃 #and a nice reminder to not look back lol #scrapped

[morethanonepage]

For the meta asks for writers question list - 3 and 25!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

so i have my dumb finnpoe historical AU idea inspired by both Portrait of a Lady on Fire and Belle, where Finn is the illegitimate son of some nobleman and being raised in very isolated privilege by said nobleman's aunt and uncle (Leia & Han), along with his cousin, Rey (who's not illegitimate but comes from a comparably poor background), and Rey's been taken Into Town by Han & Leia to do the whole ~coming out to society thing, bc she does have marriageable prospects/actually NEEDS to get married for $$ reasons.

Finn, meanwhile, stays behind at the fancy manor house, partly bc they're not really sure what to do with him, but to be nice (?) Han & Leia tell him that they need him to stay home to deal with a painter who's coming to the house to depict the ~grounds and, eventually, the ~family.

so obvs that's Poe, who's a painter, and he has A Whole Backstory thats like, a not subtle critique of Spanish colonialism bc yknow, where else am i going to get this stuff out. basically he's a nice person but also kind of has a sad history of his own, that he doesn't let out very often. but anyway he's obviously older than Finn but a well respected & very traveled painter, esp in comparison w Finn who like. Has never really left the manor house where he grew up, though he has read a lot and been very thoroughly educated.

And anyway they have ~vibes and do fancy schmancy manor house things like go riding together and Poe offers to teach him how to paint and it's all very nice and innocent until it's not but obviously it wouldn't end in sadness bc i'm a sap.

but THE POINT IS, ever since i saw that post about the different translations of the "not to me. not if it's you" passage, i've wanted a scene where Finn is trying to translate Orestes and he and Poe have a Significant Moment over it, but the buildup/slowburn of this whole fic is just too much work for me to get to it.

like I have a lot of feelings/thoughts about this AU obviously but it's just. there's a lot of historical and racial dynamics that would require a lot of thought & research and i just. have not had the time/energy to really dive into it, aside from the whole -- actually writing of the thing, which would require a lot of slowburn romantic feelings, which is like my least favorite kind of dynamic to write.

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

none of it lmfaoooo.

no i mean. i like brainstorming weird plots/AUs (see above), and I like posting and getting praise for what i've written, but writing itself is always SUCH a slog for me, which is why it takes me so long to finish things.

ok if i'm not entirely avoiding the question: smut scenes are actually p fun for me to write bc there's built in actions (lol) so i don't always have to be coming up with where the characters are (they're on top of each other, case closed), and the dialogue for them is usually minimal or at least pretty simple. yeah sometimes they come out a bit cringe but that's what editing is for.

#writer meta asks meme

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hiii can I request a oneshot where the other other Shelbys never really approved of Tommy and reader's marriage even though she's nice (idk maybe because she seems like she doesn't fit into their life? or seems naive, whatever reason works tbh) but they start to realize they were wrong when they see how much she cares for him when he's really injured and how happy they are sometimes or just when they see that she's not as weak as she seems. Does that make sense? Idk I just thought about it and I can't write but you don't have to! 🥰

//This was one of my favorite one shots in a while. I had a lot of fun with it so if you ever want a continuation I would LOVE to do so.

            Tommy came in like a storm. “Alright, everyone’s on their best fucking behavior, right now.”

            His family was all sitting in the open part of the betting shop as Tommy had requested that they be there.

            “Why-”

            “No.” Tommy held up a hand to stop John from speaking any further. “No questions. Just do as I say.” He said before going back to the door connecting the shop and Six Watery Lane. He returned arm in arm with a beautiful young woman who had bright eyes and a friendly smile.

            Polly looked a little surprised but was quick to welcome the woman. Tommy, while he’d been in London on business, called his aunt about a woman he’d met. He said she was a socialite daughter of a long line of blue-bloods. But that didn’t concern him. What did was she had a love for charity work, especially regarding orphaned children.

            One night and she’d captured Tommy’s heart. It was quite a remarkable thing. And now he was bringing her to meet his family for the first time.

            “Everyone this is Eve, Eve, this is my family.” Tommy introduced with a tentative tone.

            “How do you do?” She greeted.

            Only four words in and Arthur and John were about to burst out into laughter. The combination of her posh accent with the greeting made them almost doubled over. And they didn’t make it conspicuous either.

            So much that Eve’s face fell and she looked self-conscious.

            Tommy wasted no time whacking John upside the head. “These are me idiot brothers and my aunt, Polly.” He glared at Arthur.

            “It’s good to finally meet you.” Polly stood up to readjust the mood and shook Eve’s hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

            “Oh.” Eve forced a small smile. “Well, thank you. Tommy has spoken very highly of you all

as well.”

            “Might’ve been speaking too soon,” Tommy muttered under his breath. “C’mon. I’ll show you my uncle’s yard.” He took Eve’s hand to lead her out of the shop, throwing his brothers one more deadly glare as they left.

           ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Later, when Eve was freshening up for a night at the Garrison, Tommy went downstairs to tell off Arthur and John.

            “What did I say when I came in?” Tommy snapped.

            “Oh, Tom, c’mon.” Arthur protested.

            “She’s a fucking toff.” John threw a hand up. “You honestly think she belongs ‘round somewhere like here?”

            “You nearly made her cry, you bastards.” He snarled. “She’s a good woman, it doesn’t matter where she’s from.”

            “Yeah, then what happens when you get into trouble and she’s clutching her pearls running back to London,” Arthur replied. “We’re only tryna protect you, Tom.”

            “I don’t care what either of you thinks. But she wants you to like her. So, you both better start acting nicer ‘round her.” He spoke in a threatening tone.

            Arthur sighed seeing how upset his brother was. “Alright, alright. We’ll be nice.”

            “’Long as her family tosses us some money,” John muttered under his breath.

            “Enough.” Tommy hissed as he heard Eve coming down the stairs. He smiled as he saw her wearing a flashy gold dress.

            “I hope I’m not overdressed.” She apparently had taken the Shelby brothers’ reaction to heart and was self-conscious about her appearance and demeanor. Truthfully, she felt out of place in Small Heath. Eve had been raised in the highest echelon of society. For the first seventeen years, she lived in the countryside, where the nearest neighbor was at least a mile away. She had horses and toys, nurses and tutors to raise her, and practically anything else she desired. When she turned eighteen, she began to live part-time in one of her father’s properties in London. It was the first time she’d truly seen poverty and it made her realize her privilege. With her father’s blessing, she began a charity to help build and fund proper orphanages that took care of their children.

            She became of trying not to come off as snobbish. But being in Small Heath, she was hyperaware almost to the point that she came off as shy and awkward.

            “You look beautiful,” Tommy assured her. “The Garrison’s got a bit of a makeover itself so you’ll fit right in.” He linked arms with her and guided her toward the door, away from his brothers to avoid any other contact.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            The party was in full swing and Eve was starting to feel less out of place. She found Tommy’s friends and family to be amiable and enjoyed their company. Class didn’t really matter when it came to having a good time with plenty of drinks.

            Halfway through the night, Tommy left Eve at a table while he went to get another round of champagne. She decided to take a breather and left the pub. There were a few people mingling outside, talking and having a smoke.

            “Tommy said we made her cry. Fuck’s sake.”

            Eve heard a familiar voice and saw Arthur talking to a woman who Tommy introduced Eve to earlier that night.

            “I didn’t think Tommy would want someone so sensitive.” She replied with a shrug.

            “Maybe he just wants a leg up. Wouldn’t blame him.”

            Eve had heard enough, she went back into the pub and found Tommy waiting for her. He frowned when he saw her face.

            “What’s wrong?”

            She shook her head and tried not to look upset. “Do you mind if I go back to the flat?” Her voice trembled.

            “Ev…what happened?”

            “Please, Tom, I just-I’m tired.” She felt like everyone was looking at her. “Please.”

            “Okay, okay.” He stood up, leaving the champagne flutes on the table. “I’ll get our coats.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Tommy refused to back down. Arthur and John apologized to Eve who accepted the apology with a smile. She said she didn’t care but Tommy still wasn’t happy. His brothers were still doubtful of her and made jabs at her upbringing.

            She couldn’t load a gun. Didn’t know how to drive a car. Didn’t smoke. Asked too many questions about their operation.

            Eve felt like a child, naïve and so out of touch with the way they lived. But her true test of strength came in when a few weeks after she originally visited Small Heath.

            Tommy was ambushed, and a bullet grazed his side. Arthur and John managed to get him to safety, half dragging him back to Watery Lane.

            Polly and Eve were sharing a chat in the parlor when Arthur burst in with his brother hanging off his arm, bleeding a profuse amount. John still had his gun drawn, afraid they had been followed back home.

            Eve, shockingly, didn’t go into a panic. Arthur thought she might’ve become overwhelmed or even faint at the sight of blood. But immediately, she went into a work-like mode.  

            Paired with Polly with Arthur’s strength, they got Tommy onto the table. Eve hurried to get Tommy’s layers off to find the wound. “Get some towels and water.” She ordered the eldest brother in a strong voice he hadn’t heard from her before.

            He didn’t even hesitate, always a soldier he responded to firm direct commands.

            “Ev…” Tommy moaned, his vision spotting.

            “You’re okay.” She said softly. “It’s not too bad, just need to stem the bleeding.��� When Arthur returned, she made quick time, disinfecting, washing the wound, and bandaging it tightly. “Doesn’t need stitches.” She reassured Polly and the boys who were watching her with a bit of surprise. Usually, they were the ones who had to put Tommy back together again after an altercation. But she had worked so quickly that there was no need.

            Eve pressed a cold cloth to Tommy’s head and dabbed the sweat from his brow. “Take it easy and rest.” She said softly and kissed his cheek.

            “Where’d you learn to patch up gunshot wounds?” Arthur asked, still unsure of what he’d just witnessed. The posh girl had taken command and very well could’ve saved his brother’s life.

            Eve looked a little shy, tucking a curl behind her ear. “My friends and I all took red cross courses during the war. They enlisted as nurses but-” It felt like a terrible admission to make to a veteran. “My father talked me out of going. I was his only child and he said he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to me.” Her brow wrinkled as she rinsed the bloody cloths in the water basin. “I always regretted it. One of my friends lost her life in France because of a grenade. Every so often I’ll take a course just to make sure my skills haven’t gone rusty.” She smiled weakly. “Especially now that I know Tommy treats everywhere like a battlefield.” She affectionately touched his hand as he was still recovering from the shock of being shot.

            Polly gave John and Arthur a side-glance and a small smirk.

            Arthur cleared his throat. “I s’pose we misjudged you then, Eve. That’s very erm-admirable of you.”

            She smiled; a bit relieved she had proved herself to Tommy’s brothers. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s good to put some of the things I learned to good use. Although I do hope none of you encounter another bullet.”

            Polly rolled her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath with these three.”

            They shared a chuckle and Tommy began to stir again. He grasped onto Eve’s arm, his head still spinning from the blood loss.

            “Ev?”

            “I’m here.” She sat down beside him and stroked his hair back. “You’re alright.”

            “Yeah, glad the red cross taught you well.” Tommy smiled as he stared up at the ceiling.

            “I told you those classes weren’t for nothing.” She teased him gently, weaving her fingers in with his.

            “Was all her, Tom. Fixed you up good as new.” Arthur chimed in.

            “Yeah, no surprise. She’s good at a lot of things you bastards aren’t.”

            “Oh, Tommy, hush.” Eve scolded.

            “Well, once we teach her how to shoot a gun, I think she’ll be on her way.” John took a seat with a good-natured smile.

            “That’s right.” Arthur tousled John’s hair. “We’ll turn her into a Peaky girl soon ‘nough.”

            Tommy shook his head and closed his eyes to rest a bit. “I like her the way she is now.” He mumbled.

            Eve squeezed his hand. “I’d like to learn how to shoot, though.”  

            Tommy just laughed weakly before nodding off.

#ugly crying asks

[anestheticrage]

Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately. 

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho. 

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi-   and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F   W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏  defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself. 

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊🏻; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got: 

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H) 

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

   - everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

   - the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

   - make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊). 

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..." 

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs 

Yours Truly, 

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘 

#magia record #magireco #pmmm #iroha tamaki #magical girls #puella magi madoka magica #magia record anime #gen urobuchi #waifus #weebs #thirsty weeb iroha #shitpost #yachiyo nanami #mitama yakumo #kaede akino #rena minami #momoko togame #sana futaba #tsuruno yui #aniplex #magia record na #i love this game so much #and im devastated that the servers are closing #yes this is how i deal with emotions #gatcha #fuck aniplex #i hope this brings a few laughs to some of you #Tsuruno is best girl #<3

[juliandev0rak]

Education & Occupation 🏛📚

Four: Education – did they go to a private school, were taught at home, or taught themselves? Did they have a favorite subject?

combined with 

Seven: Occupation – did they work/have a job or trade of any kind? Did they have a mentor figure there?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Freya Viano, she/ her

Bérault University, Port Tremaire

14 years before the events of The Arcana, Freya is 16, ends at age 22

Words: 2240

Warnings: young naive blonde becomes vengeful blonde on a mission of destruction 

read about freya’s arrival in the city here

Note: I have no idea if this educational system has any basis in history, but at this fantasy school a professor can offer to sponsor a student, agreeing to take them on as a student for no cost. These students have higher expectations placed on them because their success at the school is seen as a reflection of their sponsor professor. It’s a rudimentary scholarship system that’s based entirely on either merit or recognizable family name. 

When Freya arrived at Bérault University in Port Tremaire she thought it would be easy to convince them to let her in. She'd basically run away from home for a chance to study in a big city and make something of herself, but she soon found herself alone, penniless, and in over her head. 

She’d heard from passing merchants that the school admitted students even when they couldn’t pay the tuition, but it turns out they only did that for students who already had a faculty sponsor. She had knocked on every professor’s office door, trying to find someone who would take a chance on her. It always went the same way, they asked her “Who is your family?” and “What are your talents?” and as Freya has neither, she has no hope of admittance.

During her third week in Port Tremaire she’s nearly given up. Just as she had begun to fear that she’d have to return to Vesuvia empty handed due to a lack of funds she’d accepted a job at the Inn she’s been staying at. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s enough to let her stay while she tries to find someone to sponsor her. 

She’s been through every department; mathematics, philosophy, literature, and so on, but none of the professors are willing to vouch for someone with no background and no prospects. The only professor she’s yet to ask specializes in architecture, and although she hasn’t thought much about studying architecture before, Freya doesn’t have much of a choice. If this professor won’t vouch for her, she’ll have to find another university or somehow raise enough money to afford the tuition. 

Freya’s walk to the university is fraught with tension as she tries to remind herself why she’s doing this. Despite every door that closes in her face, she is determined to get in to this school. The connections and reputation she would be able to gain at Bérault University are her only chance to make a name for herself as a young person alone in the world. She might not have a fancy family name or a coveted apprenticeship, but she can work her way up if she only gets the chance.

She stands outside the office door for a minute as she tries to collect her thoughts. Finally, she tells herself to stop delaying, steels herself, and knocks. She hopes that this professor will at least politely decline instead of laughing in her face like others had done. 

“Come in!” A voice calls, so she does. Sitting behind a large wooden desk is a regal looking middle aged woman with greying dark hair and jewel rimmed glasses. She looks intimidating, put together, and like everything Freya wants to be someday. 

“Hello M’am.” Freya says politely as she walks in, unsure whether she should sit or stand. “My name is Freya Viano.”

“Well, Freya Viano, my name is Madame Gérard. Would you like to take a seat and tell me why you’ve come to see me?” The woman says, gesturing to the comfortable looking chair in front of her. Freya tentatively sits down, smoothing her dress down and trying to seem more confident than she is. 

“I’m trying to find a professor to sponsor me, you see. I really want to attend this school but it seems all of the other teachers are… already occupied.” Freya says, trying to put her situation into the most tactful words as possible. 

“I see.” Madame Gérard clasps her hands together. “Do you have an interest in architecture, Freya? You do understand, I’m sure, that if a professor is to sponsor you, you are then expected to follow their course of study?” 

“Yes, I understand that Madame. I do have an interest in architecture. Though, I must confess, little practical knowledge.” She replies, forcing herself to meet Madame Gérard’s steady eye contact. Her facial expression is inscrutable and Freya tries not to hold her breath as she waits for some sort of response.

“May I ask why you want to study at this University? Surely a girl your age would be better suited by a home education.” Gérard asks, eyes shrewdly watching Freya struggle to come up with a response. 

“I want to succeed in life, and I need an education to do that.” Freya smiles, it’s a bit wobbly, but she thinks her answer will suffice.

“Hmm, and you think attending a university will automatically make you successful?” Gérard frowns. “What do you intend to do after your studies?” Suddenly Freya is unsure, she hasn’t really thought that far ahead.

“Well I suppose if I study architecture, I’ll become an architect.” She responds, trying not to fidget under Gérard’s stare.

“Perhaps, but what if you have no talent for it? What if you’re unable to find clients? Do you have any other talents to fall back on?” Gérard questions. Her tone is not unkind, but it’s a dose of reality Freya’s been trying to avoid since leaving home.

“Well.. what if I do have talent for it?” Freya counters, she’s not giving up this easily. 

“It is quite a risk to take on a student who only might have talent.” Madame Gérard says and Freya’s heart drops, it seems another rejection is imminent. “However, we were all unmolded clay once, and I believe myself to be an expert potter, if you’ll forgive the use of metaphor.” 

“Does this mean-” Freya says excitedly, but is stilled by the raise of Madame Gérard’s hand. 

“It means that I am willing to give you a chance.” She states firmly. “You’ll need to prove that you are up to the task.” 

“Of course, Madame. I promise you won’t regret this!” Freya grins, nearly rising from her chair in excitement. 

“That is a very presumptuous promise to make, Miss Viano. Do not make promises you cannot know that you will keep.” Gérard says, turning around to search through a drawer of files. “We shall see what you are capable of in time.” 

Freya leaves ecstatic, she’s finally gotten her chance. She’s been so certain that if she can only manage to get a formal education she’ll be a success. However, she soon finds it’s much harder work than she had assumed. 

She has daily classes to attend, usually small seminars with Madame Gérard and the five other architecture students, as well as her job at the Inn to attend to. While she doesn’t have school expenses, she still needs to be able to afford food and shelter. The long hours at the Inn coupled with the sheer amount of coursework she’s been assigned leaves her little time to sleep. 

She had expected architecture to be easy, it’s just buildings, how hard could it be? The reality is that instead of simply looking at silly buildings all day, she’s studying mathematics, physics, history, art and technical skills, ancient languages, and developing a trained eye for aesthetics. She spends every night after classes and work studying to keep up. She’s behind the rest of her class by far, and the rest of the students come from more privileged backgrounds and clearly have more time to focus on their studies.

Freya always arrives at her morning classes late, tired, and usually quite behind on her work, but she’s still determined to succeed. Gérard isn’t a harsh teacher, but she isn’t afraid to warn Freya that every missed drafting assignment or slip up in verb conjugation could lead to her expulsion if she doesn’t show an improvement. She won’t let herself lose this chance. 

In the beginning, she hates architecture, the harder it gets to remember column types and drafting techniques the more she curses herself for ever moving to Port Tremaire. A few months in, her attitude changes. She finds herself taking the long way home so she can pass by the ornate city hall building, or spending her lunch breaks sketching roof designs. Soon enough she does begin to improve, she still shows up tired and late but she can understand her lectures and discussions with her classmates, she begins to develop her own opinions and taste.

The work never gets easier, but Freya starts to enjoy it more and that makes all the difference. By the end of her first year of studies she passes her course review and Madame Gérard agrees to allow her to advance to the next year. It’s the sort of achievement Freya wishes she could write home about.

She’d vowed not to need her family anymore and she can’t bring herself to start a letter, as much as she knows that her younger sister (and possibly her mother) are worried sick. Aside from the occasional letter to her aunt, Freya doesn’t talk to her family back in Vesuvia, and she tries not to think about them if she can help it.

It’s not long before she gets her first big break. Madame Gérard is commissioned to redesign a home in the wealthy area of town and she chooses Freya as her assistant. Gérard offers to let Freya submit a design and the homeowners end up selecting it. Word of mouth spreads and before she’s even finished her formal course of study Freya’s architectural designs are in demand. 

Her style is modern, opulent, and personalized. She seems to have an eye for what a person will like without needing to ask, and her charming confidence (however feigned) makes business deals easy. Freya is able to quit her job at the Inn and move into a place of her own, she finally feels like she’s succeeding.

When she finishes her studies four years later Madame Gérard offers her a full time place in her architecture firm and Freya accepts.  Her life in the city is great, and things seem to be going her way. She begins to live more lavishly, buying fancy new clothes and moving into a large home in the nicest city district. 

She even starts dating someone, a man named Enzo who she’d had a few classes with during university. She doesn’t give him a second thought at first, but he’s persistent, sending flowers to her house, inviting her to operas and horse races and lavish parties. He’s handsome, charming, and from a wealthy family, it’s the kind of attention she’s always dreamed of having. 

Rather than being a distraction from her work, Enzo seems to support her,  even occasionally traveling with her when she takes on commissions in other cities. He seems perfect and Freya begins to expect a marriage proposal any day. He’s never invited her to meet his family, but she assumes it’s because he’s simply a private person. It only takes a few months for him to show his true colors. She opens the newspaper one morning to find his name in the headlines, announcing his engagement to a woman from the nobility.

When she confronts him about it he explains that he’d always been planning to marry this woman, he’d never viewed Freya as anything more than a fling. After all, Freya has no family name, no reputation aside from her work, he couldn’t possibly marry her. She leaves his house heartbroken. but it’s not the only bad news she receives that day.

Freya arrives at the architecture firm a few hours later, eyes still red from crying but determined to work through the pain. Madame Gérard calls her in for a meeting and Freya is blindsided when she’s asked to leave the firm for “stealing clients”. She’s accused of doing too much under her own name rather than the firm’s. 

She later finds out that Gérard had grown jealous of her student’s success, which was the real reason for her dismissal. It feels like she’s been fired for being too successful, which doesn’t make any sense to her. She’d had everything she wanted and had it taken away in the course of one day. 

After these revelations she’s forced to reevaluate. The people she’d trusted had only wanted her until they’d gotten what they needed, then thrown her away like garbage. It’s a hard reality for her to cope with, and when she finally returns home at the end of the day she’s nearly ready to stop trying, maybe she should just give up and move back home.

Her house feels so empty, the rooms echoing as she walks. The marble floors she’d admired just this morning seem like nothing but cold, useless stone. She lets herself feel sad for a few hours, but eventually her sense of self preservation kicks in and before she knows it, she starts thinking of revenge.

The next morning she gets a letter in the mail from her sister, it says that her aunt is sick and Freya needs to return to Vesuvia as soon as possible. It’s an alarming letter, especially after not hearing from her sister for six years. Though Freya has successfully distanced herself from her family over the last few years she still feels a sense of obligation.

She tells herself she’ll be on the first carriage over, as soon as she finishes her business in Port Tremaire. If Enzo doesn’t want her, she’ll make sure that no one will ever want him. If Madame Gérard feels threatened by her success, Freya will have to get rid of the competition to prove just how successful she can be.

They might not want her, but she’ll make sure that everyone else does.

#arcana eotp #freya viano #i wrote this while listening to nintendogs music which isn't relevant to anything but i thought i'd share lol #enzo pulled a warner huntington iii - if you know legally blonde then you know lol #this is her villain origin story sdfjhdsjd #welcome to the cutthroat world of architecture lol

[purplesurveys]

1185

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (3/3)

Please believe. - P

How many pages did the last book you read have? I don’t even remember the last time I opened it; but if I have to guess, it’s probably anywhere between 600–800 pages.

What do you like on your pancakes? Soaked in butter, with peanut butter and maple syrup on the side. My dad will also sometimes mix bacon into the batter, and it always turns out delicious.

Do you like small parties or large parties more? I love going to any kind of party, but I like large ones just a little bit more just because it’s easier to blend in and go unnoticed for the most part. I usually feel pressured at smaller parties.

What was the last exam you passed in? I have no idea. Maybe a history exam? I remember taking a Rizal exam right before the pandemic started and I never got the results for that since classes were canceled shortly after. I’ll never know if I actually passed that test haha.

Do you think paw prints are cute? Yesssssss.

How much would you pay a neighbour to do your lawn? We have someone in the village who does that, and my mom usually gives him a tip of I would guess around ₱100.

Ordinary pens, scented pens, gel pens or felt tip pens? Ordinary. The other ones write horribly.

Are you a people person? I’ve grown to be one over the years. I do like my alone time, but I have the most fun with a person or two or ten around me.

Do you put pepper on your scrambled eggs? No. I never use pepper myself, actually.

Who, except yourself, has the nicest pet? Angela’s, at least one of her dogs are. Hailey is super nice and she doesn’t really care what you do with her hahahaha.

What's your favourite piece of clothing? Right now, probably my IVP sneakers since they’re my newest purchase. Other than that, my mom jeans are always super reliable.

What place have you gone to that you never would again? Police stations that I had to visit to cover stories for my journalism classes. Maybe it’s other people’s passion – and I thought it was mine at one point, too – but once I found myself in places like that I slowly realized that I didn’t have the fire for journalism I once thought I had.

What do others seem to have plenty of and you have little or none? Nice photos of themselves. I’m very camera shy.

Is pink a nice colour, an okay colour or icky? I personally love pink, so.

Give me a description of a great film plotline? ...I don’t feel like it :(( I also haven’t watched/rewatched any films in a while, so my memory is a bit rusty.

What do you have in your pockets? Nothing I’m wearing right now has pockets.

Do you listen to podcasts? Not really. I’m part of the minority that finds podcasts a little boring.

Have you ever played Poker? I’d guess I’ve tried playing it one or two times, but I’ve never understood the rules and I probably just did some random moves when I did try it.

Do you have a pond in your garden? No.

How about a swimming pool? We don’t.

Do you like Poptarts? I loooooove Pop Tarts and I wish we had more flavors here :( and that they weren’t so expensive.

Do you write notes on post-it notes? Sometimes; but lately I’ve mostly just been making to-do lists on my laptop. Writing takes too much time considering how hectic my job is.

Quiet darling, shh. - Q

Do you ever use the word quaint? Very rarely. I never really get into situations where that word would be most fitting to use.

Do you know what quantum physics is? I know of the term from watching The Big Bang Theory, but I don’t know what it refers to.

Are you a quiet or loud person? Depends on the people I’m with, my general mood, and my level of comfort.

Do you usually ask a lot of questions? I never do. I feel like that’s a weakness of mine, too. My mind never wanders too far, and I’m only able to recognize good questions when someone else raises them.

What's your favourite quote from a film? “Rome. By all means, Rome.”

Favourite quote from a song? “Now I’m told this is life, and pain is just a simple compromise so we can get what we want out of it.”

Are you quick witted? In what aspect? Not always; but yeah, I guess it comes out sometimes. I’m pretty good at witty or funny comebacks, especially with people I’m comfortable with.

Do you find the word queer offensive? Er, no?

Roses are Red and Romance is dead. - R

Do you listen to the radio often? I used to, since I once drove to school everyday and I liked having the radio on - especially in the morning, since there was a morning program I was hooked to. But now that I’m at home 24/7, I don’t really tune in anymore; I don’t even have the slightest clue what songs are trending rn.

Do you prefer rain or snow? We only get rain, so.

Have you ever ran into someone and injured you or them due to it? Fortunately no, for both circumstances.

Do you listen to rap music? K-Pop groups always have their own rap sub-unit, so yeah I’ve definitely been more exposed to rap these days.

Do you find pet rats gross or nice? Why? I guess it’s cute when they’re pets, since I’m sure they’re harmless. Not so much when they’re big black filthy rats that are house pests and probably carrying a lot of diseases.

Have you ever been to a rave? No. I’d love to experience it once.

Are you somewhat of a rebel? Nah.

How about reckless? Now this hits the spot more, especially when it comes to money lol

Do you prefer red, black or purple dresses? Black, then red, then purple. I don’t wear a lot of the latter to begin with.

Do you know how to reload a gun? I don’t; I’ve never even held a real gun before.

Do you remember your first best friends Mum's name? I don’t think I ever met her mom. Our friendship was super short-lived and didn’t go beyond preschool.

Do you have a good or a bad reputation? Idk, you’d have to ask other people for this I think.

What song do you request most often on the radio? I’ve never requested a song to radio stations.

Do you prefer rice or tofu? I need rice for literally every meal, otherwise it won’t feel filling. I like tofu too, but I only have it occasionally when it comes with some dishes.

Have you ever held a rifle? Nope.

Do you know a Robert? What's he like? I have an uncle-in-law named Robert. He’s very nice, and super intelligent; he’s from New Zealand but currently lives with my aunt and their family in Vietnam. Since he’s from a different country, he has lots of fun stories and different perspectives to share at family reunions, which makes me always want to sit at whichever table he’s at so that I can be part of interesting conversations.

Do you like rollercoasters? No.

Been to Rome, Italy? Nope.

Are Roses your favourite flower? They’re one of them.

So sweetheart, lets fan. - S

Do you feel safe in your neighbourhood? Yeah, I mean that’s kind of the whole point in living in a gated village. I’d be pretty alarmed if I ever hear of a crime happening here.

Whose the Patron Saint of your Country? St. Lorenzo Ruiz. I actually didn’t know that for a fact, so thanks for the Google search and impromptu lesson!

Do you put salt on your fries? Yessssssss, I need my fries to be very salty. Unless it was already seasoned with something else, I’d find it boring if it wasn’t salty enough.

Do you think we are all born the same? In some ways, yes; in some ways, no. I know everyone is born as humans worthy of love and respect, but when it comes to factors like privilege then that’s when circumstances start to get all different.

When did you stop believing in Santa? I never bought it. I used to always get frustrated that I was never allowed to meet Santa (none of my relatives ever played as him), and that he apparently just likes to leave gifts at midnight. Not seeing a Santa made me doubt and eventually I just kinda stopped buying it by the time I was like 5.

Do you think the name Sarah is pretty? Erm, it’s fine but I find it a little common.

Is Saturday your favourite day of the week? Fridays are, but Saturdays are a very close second.

Have you ever watched Saved By The Bell? Opinions? Nope.

What about the Saw films? Opinion? I haven’t, but I know they’re my eldest cousin’s favorite so it must be a good series.

Are you easily scared? In certain ways. I hate jumpscares for one, and I easily get offended by them.

What's your secondary language, if any? English.

Name all the things you can see from where you're sitting? The entirety of my bedroom.

What's the last sentence you spoke out loud? “JAY KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY”

Have you changed your default settings on your computer? Some of them just to change some aspects of the appearance, but I didn’t do a complete overhaul.

What year did you turn seven in? 2005.

How important is sex in a relationship how important is sex from 1-10? For me, probably like a 3 or 4.

What is your favourite shade of blue? Sky or royal.

Shade of Purple? BTS purple, I guess? Hahaha.

Favourite shape? I don’t have one.

Do you know a girl called Sharon? Nope.

How about Shari? Nope.

Do you shave your arms, legs, pubic hair and/or somewhere else? I shave, but not all of these areas.

When was the last time you were sick? May 2020 was the last time I felt like death.

What's the worst side effects you've had due to a medication? I’ve never gone through side effects from a medication.

What does your signature look like? A very lazy scribble of the first and last letters of my whole name.

Do you like silk? What do you own that is silk? It’s okay, but I never actively search for it. I have one set of silk pajamas but that’s it.

Do you sip or drink hot drinks fast? As much as possible I don’t like getting in contact with hot beverages. I wait for them to cool down considerably before I take my first sip.

How about with alcohol? Sure, I like to take them fast so that I don’t feel the nasty burn on my tongue.

Do you have sisters? How many, what ages and what're they called? Nina is turning 21 this year.

Is your grandmother older than sixty five? Both of them are, yeah.

Do you slam doors often? Nope.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? For what reason? Yes. Because he had slapped me first. I was in so much shock that my first and only instinct was to hit back.

Do you snack a lot or just eat big meals? I like letting myself go hungry then reward myself with a very generous serving to eat in one go.

Do you smile more often, or frown? Smile.

Are you wearing socks? No, I haven’t worn any in a while.

Do you say sorry too often? Yes.

What's a sound that always soothes you? This. I always play it before turning in, or when I need to calm down.

Do you carry a lot of spare change? How much is on you now? Not so much anymore, since I’ve been increasingly going cashless.

Do you own a swimsuit of the Speedo brand? I don’t think so.

Do you like sunflowers? They have a personal meaning to me, so yes. It’s not my ultra favorite, though.

#survey #surveys #i just realized the author never wrapped this up :( #so i guess we're stopping this at S hahahaha

[lilacmoon83]

Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 17: Mirror, Mirror

David gently sat on the edge of the bed beside her, as she cried into her pillow. Gently, he rubbed her back in a soothing manner and her hand sought his free hand and they laced their fingers together.

"I'm so naïve," she lamented, as she sniffed and looked up at him.

"No...don't mistake your hopeful nature for naivete," he admonished. She rubbed her face free of the tears and sat up beside him.

"In those moments, as the curse was on the brink and I held you in my arms...I held onto the hope that you'd survive and that Emma would return to us," Snow said.

"And she did...you were right," he implored.

"But I didn't for a second have time to consider what kind of life she would have had when she did," she replied. He shook his head.

"There was no way we could have known," he reasoned.

"Maybe not...but we sent her into this world alone," she said.

"Because we were lied to. And you know it was this or she might not have made it all. Regina's men cut me down that night and had the same thing in mind for her. They were ruthless, Snow...they would have thought nothing of killing her," he replied.

"I know...I just wish she could see that," Snow said.

"She will...she just needs more time," he promised.

"What if she never comes around?" Snow asked. He shook his head.

"Gold said that he saw that she breaks the curse. He just doesn't know when or how. But she does," he reminded her. But Snow shook her head.

"But Charming...what if she does and she decides she still doesn't want anything to do with us? Breaking the curse helps the rest of the town wake up, but it doesn't help Emma," she said and he deflated a little. It was a really good point.

"I'm her mother...and I don't know how to comfort her or help her. I'm her mother and I can't comfort my own daughter!" she cried and he pulled her into his arms, as she sobbed against his chest. He gently rocked her and kissed her hair, as he held her and mourned for all they had lost with her.

~*~

"Yes Madam Mayor...I'll make sure the story is done for the morning edition. When I'm done, the entire town will be appalled by what Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy are doing. Trying to take your son away from you will not stand," he promised, as hung up the phone and sat down to work again. Finishing the hit piece on David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard, as well as one on Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy was a tall order. Normally, he could work through the night, but with the Miner's Day celebration that evening, he had an obligation to attend and cover that as well. He sighed and stood up, happening to catch his reflection in the mirror. He didn't consider himself a vain man, but he had always been drawn to mirrors and could never really explain why. After a few seconds of staring, he broke out of the trance and continued to the kitchenette in his office to make more coffee. It was going to be a long afternoon, followed by a very long evening.

~*~

Many Years Ago

The newly coronated Queen Eva glowed radiantly, as most newly expectant mothers did. She exited the carriage, as the footman opened the door and she gazed at her parent's magnificent castle. She only wished they were still alive so they could soon meet their grandchild. But now, her home Kingdom was ruled by her beloved sister, Queen Narcissa.

Growing up, they had both been what most would expect. Privileged and vain, but being Queen had humbled Eva greatly since her days as a bratty princess. She had learned much humility as Queen and saw that it was not her right to rule over her people; but a privilege to do so. As a result, the people in her husband's Kingdom had taken to her nicely and she to them. Their humbleness and kindness had rubbed off on her and she showed them the same in return.

Her selfish ways were behind her and now that she was with child, she could barely contain her joy. She had already promised herself that she would make sure to raise her child to respect others, no matter royal or otherwise and instill these newly learned values in her from the beginning.

Unfortunately, her older sister had not learned the same lessons that Eva had yet. She loved Narcissa, but she worried about her vanity and selfishness. It did not make a good ruler and her Kingdom was showing the signs.

"Narcissa?" Eva called, as she entered her sister's private sitting room and wasn't surprised to see her primping in front of the mirror, as usual. She gasped and turned to face her.

"Eva!" she called with excitement, as they embraced and once they pulled back, the blonde looked up and down.

"Look at you...you're glowing," she complimented. Eva grinned from ear to ear.

"Thank you...I'm so happy," she said.

"I'm so glad and I cannot wait to be an Aunt to this little bundle of joy," she gushed. Eva smiled.

"Me too...but what about you? I know you've had many suitors approach you. Have you chosen one? This could be you then," Eva replied. Narcissa brushed that off though.

"Oh…I don't know, none of them quite measure up and I'm not sure I could do this to my figure," Narcissa said, indicating her baby bump.

"Oh trust me, once you are with child, you won't care," Eva assured her. But she knew her sister's vanity was often her greatest enemy and she worried that, in the end, it would lead her to being alone and unhappy.

"Perhaps...but for now, why don't you make your way to the dining room and I'll join you shortly. The kitchen staff has prepared all your favorites and I'm sure you're famished now that you're eating for two," Narcissa said. She smiled.

"I am...and this little one can't seem to get enough cinnamon," Eva mentioned.

"Ahh cinnamon, if I recall, you've always been fond of it as well," Narcissa said.

"Very true," Eva replied.

"So...did your fairy friend tell you what you're having? Will it be a Prince or a Princess?" Narcissa asked.

"Well…I decided that we should be surprised, but I have a feeling it's a little girl," Eva replied.

"Oh yes...a little Princess to dress up and spoil. I know she'll be the most beautiful Princess in all the realm, well, second most beautiful," Narcissa said, indicating herself as the first. Eva smiled.

"She will...I'll see you downstairs. Don't take too long primping. You look beautiful, as always," Eva assured her. Narcissa smiled and stepped into her chamber where her personal mirror sat.

When she was very young, her parents presented her with an enchanted looking glass and since that time, she had asked the mirror one question everyday. And everyday, she received the same answer.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall...who is the fairest of all?" Narcissa asked and watched as the gray, mask-like face appeared before her.

"My Queen...you are the fairest, most beautiful woman in all the lands," the mirror answered. Narcissa smiled and fluffed her blonde hair, before turning away, intending to join her sister downstairs. But the mirror spoke again.

"At least for now," the mirror stated. Her smile melted into a frown and she turned back to the mirror.

"For now? What do you mean, mirror?" she asked.

"My Queen, you are indeed the fairest in all the lands, but there will soon be another that will someday hold that title," the mirror answered.

"Who? Who is this person!?" she demanded to know.

"My Queen...she is not born yet, but it will be your niece," the mirror revealed.

"My sister will have a girl?" she asked.

"Yes, My Queen and I foresee she will be so fair that many will be stunned by her beauty upon first glance," the mirror answered.

"She will steal my place?" Narcissa squeaked, as she was almost brought to tears by this.

"She will be kind, loving, and generous. She will be fierce in heart and spirit. She will have hair black as ebony, lips as red as a rose...and skin white as snow…" the mirror foretold.

"No! I am the fairest! I must remain the fairest!" Narcissa cried, as she stormed out of her chamber and what she must do became very clear. Her sister could not have that child…

~*~

"Are you sure about this? We don't have to go," David said, as he helped her put her coat on. They had grieved together for a while for all they had lost and then after they had fallen asleep for about an hour, they awoke and proceeded to shower and clean up. That evening was the Miner's Day celebration in the town square and they had planned to go together, but that was before the hard day they had experienced.

"I know...but I actually want to, because I finally have someone to go with. As you can imagine, they were pretty lonely in the past and always the same. This year will actually be different," she replied, as she put her arms around his neck. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"If you're sure...then we'll go," he said, as he grabbed his jacket. They joined hands and began the walk toward the town square.

"So...what is the point of this thing?" he asked. She snickered and looked at him.

"It's sort of like a festival of sorts to celebrate Storybrooke's founding by...miners," she explained.

"But it wasn't…" he replied.

"I know...I guess it's part of the curse. I'm not really sure why and it's probably going to be boring," she said.

"Any evening with you is wonderful," he replied, as they shared a smile.

"I just wish I could have made all this better for you...for us," he said.

"David...none of this is your fault," she replied.

"I know, but before me, at least you had Emma as a friend and I hate that I might have ruined that," he said. But she shook her head and they stopped on the corner.

"You didn't...you're my husband. You're the love of my life and father of our daughter," she said.

"I never considered what she might face in this world when we put her through the wardrobe. But I know that, as much hardship as she endured, it was still her best chance," she continued.

"It was...we did the right thing," he assured her.

"Then we have to hope that she sees that eventually. I'm going to have hope," she said. He smiled and kissed her passionately.

"Me too...and I know she's going to come around," he promised, as he hugged her tightly.

"Come on...let's get a cocoa and then you can show me what this festival is all about," he suggested, as she hooked her hand on his elbow and they made their way toward the square for the celebration.

~*~

At the town line, a luxury sedan crossed into Storybrooke, carrying a blonde woman and she slowed her car as she reached town proper. She parked along Main Street and stepped out. As usual, she was dressed to the nines in an expensive pantsuit, complete with an equally high end winter coat. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a twist with no hair out of place and her makeup was pristine. It was easy to tell by her appearance that how she looked was very important to her.

She looked around and was immediately unimpressed. This was definitely not New York and the Inn would be a far cry from her Manhattan penthouse apartment. Her stiletto heels tapped the pavement, as she made her way toward town square and she smirked. It seemed they were having a celebration and she was eager to join.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Henry Mills #Regina Mills #Mr. Gold #AU #romance #adventure #family #angst #Clarity #A 7x15 am AU

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

#Loki #father #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 7 #lokilover9 #The Slutty Webs one Weaves

[n8thegr8]

My Avengers Academy Chapter 1: An Old Fashioned Notion

Not everyone is created equal. There are people in this world that are born with privileges and advantages that put them ahead of everyone else. There are people that are born with nothing and must climb their way out of oppression. These lessons of privilege should be taught to children with care and respect. To help them understand. These lessons should not, however, be taught to children with violence.

Peter Parker learned this lesson at the age of five. He laid there motionless; eyes widened as he looked towards the sky. He had bruises on his arms and legs, dirt stained his cheeks, and his head was pounding with pain. All he could do now was crawl into a ball and cry his eyes out.

It was supposed to be a fun day for him; his kindergarten cancelled all classes due to a nearby villain attack which cut out all the power on that grid. A day off of school is supposed to be a fun time for children. It was supposed to be fun for Peter. It was, at least in the beginning.

He had a playdate with his best friend in the world, Eugene “Flash” Thompson. He was so excited when his aunt dropped him off at his house; he couldn’t wait to play hero. Their playdates consisted mostly of watching old footage of battles between heroes and villains, and any live fights happening on the news. Today, however, was different. 

“Hey, Pete, wanna ditch this, and go to the playground? I’m getting kinda bored,” Flash said.

“Um, yeah! Let’s go tell your mom and-“

“Nah,” Flash said, “Let’s just go, we’ll be back before she knows anything.” This was unusual for Peter. Going to the park without any adult supervision? His Aunt May and Uncle Ben always told him to never go anywhere without an adult that he trusts. But, he trusts Flash. He wouldn’t let Peter get hurt right? Besides, Flash has this really cool quirk, if any bad people try to kidnap him, he’ll protect him. 

Peter agreed, and off they went. Getting out of the house was easy since Flash’s mom was sleeping on the couch in the living room with some sort of bottle in her hand. This usually happened when Peter had a playdate at Flash’s home; his mom was asleep most of the time, letting them have free reign of the house. Whenever Peter asked why his mom sleeps so much, Flash would say, “She just works a lot, okay? Stop asking.”

The journey to the park, however, was difficult because they had to stay out of sight, so no adult would see them and call their parents, or aunt and uncle in Peter’s case. They ran from bush to bush, and jumped fences to get to their destination. Eventually, they came to the wall that separated the park from the playground. It loomed over the two kids, and it cast a great shadow over them. To Peter, it was the highest wall he’d ever seen. 

Peter heard Flash chuckle. “This wall ain’t nothing to me.” Flash’s arms became covered in this black goop. The goop seemingly crawled up his arms and eventually to his hands, turning his small hands into big claws. Flash looked at Peter. “Lemme show you how a man climbs a wall.”

Flash stepped back five steps and then dashed towards the wall, jumped, and stuck to the wall, digging his claws into the concrete. Peter watched in awe as Flash effortlessly climbed up. Once Flash got to the top of the wall, he peered down and looked at Peter, flashing him a toothy grin. 

“Well, come on!” he exclaimed.

Peter stared at the wall. Noticing it’s craggily state, how long has this wall been standing? Before he was born? Before Auntie and Uncle were born? Before quirks?

“What are ya waiting for?!” yelled Flash, “Just climb the stupid thing!”

Jolted out of his thoughtful daze, Peter looked for his path to climb up the wall. 

“Come on, Peter!”

The more Flash shouted the more nervous he got. Finally, he found his path. Peter took five steps back and then sprinted towards the wall until-

“I AM IRON MAN AND IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO WAKE UP! I AM IRON MAN AND IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO WAKE UP!”

This phrase loudly repeated throughout Peter Parker’s bedroom, bouncing off the walls, and making his ear drums perform a drum solo. He let out a loud scream of confusion as he was rudely awakened by the pre-recorded message. He jolted from laying down comfortably to sitting up uncomfortably. Holding his head in discomfort, Peter groaned. “I hate that dream…” The alarm clock blared on his bedside table. Peter sighed as he clicked it off. It was a special alarm clock, a special edition Iron Man alarm clock, with a small figurine of the hero acting as the “turn off” button. Peter sighed once again and he flopped back on his bed. He took a moment to look around his room. He didn’t know why. It’s been the same for as long as he remembered. Plastered along the walls were memorabilia of his favorite heroes: Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Hulk, etc. Figurines of said heroes stood atop his shelves. His walls were a deep shade of blue. His bedsheets were red, but his blanket was Avengers-themed. He was fifteen-years-old, but his room was one of a twelve-year-old. Peter didn’t mind; he really liked heroes. He absentmindedly reached over to his bedside table, and grabbed his phone. The bright screen blinded him for a small moment. His eyes readjusted themselves, and he looked at his messages.

Wanda Maximoff :P (6:30 AM): Get out of bed sleepyhead. May made pancakes.

Pietro Maximoff (6:35 AM): Is my sister at your house? She’s not answering my texts. 

Pietro Maximoff (6:36 AM): Never mind lol I took a quick run around town and saw her in your kitchen lol

She’s downstairs? Peter thought. It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to be over before school started, but sometimes Peter questioned if she ever ate breakfast at home. “Your Aunt’s cooking is just too good!” she’d say. He had his doubts, of course. She always said that Pietro was cranky in the morning, so maybe that’s why she spends her mornings here.

“Peter! Breakfast is almost ready!”

Peter groaned as he heard his Aunt’s voice calling for him. “I’ll be down in a second!” he shouted back. 

“A second has passed!” he heard a shout from downstairs followed by a hearty laugh.

Oh, Ben, he thought. His Uncle really was a joker.

~A~

“How long have you been mastering the art of dad jokes, Mr. Parker?” Wanda asked inquisitively, “Because you need a lot more work.” 

Mr. Parker lowered his newspaper, took off his reading glasses, and gave a thoughtful look. Mr. Parker was wearing what he always wore: an ugly red sweater with aged blue jeans. “It’s my look!” he’d always say whenever he was questioned about his choice of apparel. “Well let’s see… when Peter was born! His father hated whenever our dad joked with us, and I just knew that he wouldn’t do it for Peter. So I wasn’t going to let Peter live his life without the best form of humor.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. Highly subjective opinion he’s got there, she thought. She turned her gaze to Mrs. Parker who was just finishing cooking the last pancake. “Mrs. Parker, how do you live with this?”

“A strong will and wine, my dear,” she said, grabbing the plate of pancakes and bringing it to the table where Mr. Parker and Wanda sat, “A strong will and wine.” Mrs. Parker was also wearing what she normally wore. Underneath her cooking apron, was her usual yellow shirt and blue jeans. Unlike her husband, she knew fashion, which Wanda appreciated. 

“Oh please,” Mr. Parker said, “You love it; you know you do.”

Mrs. Parker chuckled as she put down the plate on the table. “No dear, I love you, not your jokes.”

Wanda let out a small laugh. “See, she’s the funny one here.”

“No one here appreciates my stellar comedy,” lamented Mr. Parker. 

“I do,” a fourth voice said. Wanda turned her head towards the stairs that led to the upper floor, only to see her best friend: Peter Parker. Peter looked like he crawled himself out of a grave. His eyes were droopy, heavy bags surrounding them. His skin was paler than normal and his hair was also more ruffled than normal as well.

“Ah, my hero,” joked Mr. Parker, “Jeez, son, you look like a zombie.”

“I always appreciate your jokes, Ben.” Even his voice was coarse. 

Wanda eyed her best friend and gave a cocky grin. “Did you even shower? I can smell you from here.” 

Wanda saw Peter roll his eyes at her. “Well, good morning to you too,” he said.

~A~

The ensuing breakfast was also per the usual for the Parker family. A lot of banter between Uncle Ben and Aunt May, but even more between Wanda and Peter. “Don’t pass out from being a geek when you meet Dr. Banner today.”

“And don’t try to pass out from boredom when he starts talking about the dangers of gamma radiation,” he retorted. However, Peter couldn’t deny his excitement. For the first field trip of the school year, his high school, Midtown High, was going to Avengers Tower to meet the heroes and watch a lecture from the Incredible Hulk himself, Bruce Banner, the fourth most popular hero in America. Eventually, the pair finished their breakfast. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Parker! The food was great as always,” Wanda said. She always said this after having a delicious course of Aunt May’s cooking, which at this point was every other day or so.

“Oh you’re always welcome here, dear,” said Aunt May, “Now go, you two are going to miss the train.”

The two said their goodbyes to the married couple and off they went out the front door and onto the sidewalk, where an impatient Pietro waited.

“Took you two long enough,” he said while tapping his foot incessantly. “Mom and dad missed you at breakfast, dear sister,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Well get back to me when dad can actually cook something worth a damn, dear brother,” she fired back.

Pietro shook his head in disappointment, his silver hair flowing side to side as he did. “Hey Pete, ready for the field trip?” he asked excitedly, a complete change in his composure. 

“Dude, you know it!” Peter exclaimed, high fiving Pietro. 

Wanda groaned. “I’m surrounded by geeks.”

The walk to the train station was yet again, per the usual for the life of Peter Parker. Talking to Pietro about the villain fight that was on the news the night before while Wanda playfully mocks them.

“So the paper is due Friday right?” Wanda asked.

“Yep,” responded Peter. 

“But does that mean 12:00 that morning or at 11:59 that night?” replied Pietro. 

“No, it’s du-“

 sudden explosion was heard. The trio stopped in their tracks and looked to where they heard the explosion. They see smoke in the direction they were looking. 

“That’s the station…” Peter said. 

“That explosion…” Pietro said. 

Peter turned to Pietro. “Which means…”

Wanda eyes widened in horror. “Oh God, please no.”

Peter and Pietro's eyes lit up. “Villain attack!” they both exclaimed. Then the two ran off in the direction of the station. 

“Hey, wait up you two!” Wanda exclaimed, running after the pair. 

When Peter, Pietro, and Wanda got to the station it was a sight to behold. On top of the tracks was a villain they’d never seen before. He was gigantic in size and was entirely made out of sand. He stood on the overpass and roared out, daring any hero to attack.

“A new villain?” Peter asked with extreme curiosity. 

“Yeah looks like it,” Pietro responded with eagerness, “He looks so cool!”

The villain reeled back his fist and punched a chunk out of a building. The crowd that was surrounding the scene screamed as debris threatened to crush them. That is until a blue and red blur flew in and destroyed all of the debris that dare harm the populace. It was the Avenger Captain Marvel, one of the strongest members of the team. 

“Oh Cap’s here? This’ll be done in no time,” mused Pietro. 

Peter swooned. “She’s so cool.”

Wanda huffed and crossed her arms, a small blush cascaded her cheeks. “She’s okay.”

The villain’s voice echoed and roared. “Get outta here pipsqueak, before I slaughter ya!”

Captain Marvel floated above the crowd, glowing with a golden light, her hair defying gravity as it floated upwards. Her very presence exerted the power she possessed. She looked back to the crowd. “Multiple Man, form a barrier!” she ordered.

“Alright people, don’t move past the clones y’hear?” multiple voices echoed.

The trio looked and saw the rescue hero Multiple Man! A new up and coming hero who could create a seemingly infinite amount of clones of himself. A sea of clones barred entrance to the battle. “They’re exact copies of him,” Peter whispered. “I gotta...” He reached into his book bag and took out a notebook and a cheap digital camera.

“And there he goes,” Wanda sighed.

He took his camera, aimed at one of the clones, and snapped a quick picture. Then, he opened his notebook. It had the number twelve written in sharpie pen on the cover. Peter opened it and flicked through the pages and pages of hero analysis until he found Multiple Man’s entry and feverishly wrote in his new finding.

“Oh, it warms my heart to see such an enthusiastic youth!” A laugh rang in Peter’s ears. He looked to his right and saw an older looking gentleman. Balding, but still has his white hair, a bushy mustache, and a cool pair of black sunglasses. 

A blush danced onto Peter’s face. “Ah, well it’s just a hobby of mine.”

The elderly gentleman chuckled. “Oh don’t try to fool me, young man! I know exactly what you are! A fanboy!”

Peter’s face was bright red from embarrassment. “I, well I-“

“Hey there’s nothing wrong with being a fanboy!” Pietro exclaimed, standing up for his friend.

The gentleman continue to chuckle. “Not at all, young man! Why when I was your ag-“

The villain roared once again. “Don’t you come near me!”

Captain Marvel flexed out her arm and pointed at the villain. “Flint Marko, you are under arrest for illegal quirk usage and destruction of property! Anything you say can and will be us- gah!” The heroine was suddenly cut off by a gigantic fist made out of sand punching her into a nearby building. 

“I ain’t going to jail!” the sand villain yelled as he reeled back his other giant fist, “And I’ll be sendin’ ya straight to hell!” The sand giant flung his fist into the building where Captain Marvel crashed into, but the attack was blocked by an invisible force field! Peter looked to the top of the building to his left, and standing there was the Invisible Woman, one third of the Future Foundation!

“Ah! It’s Susan Storm!” Peter heard Wanda squeal in delight. “She’s gonna kick this sand dude’s ass!”

“Nah, my money’s still on Cap,” replied Pietro, “She can probably bench press the continent if she wants to.”

Wanda groaned. “Not every problem can be solved by brute strength, dear brother,” she said in a mocking tone, “You need finesse and to think outside the box! Right, Pete?” She stood with her hands on her hips in a stance of confidence. However she got no response from her friend. “Pete?” When Wanda turned to face him, all she saw was him feverishly writing in his notebook. Deaf to the world around him.

“So Invisible Woman actually doesn’t disappear she just bends the light around her to make the illusion that she’s invisible so does that mean that she can’t see when she’s invisible or maybe the light is still hitting her eyes anyway so maybe she sees but you also have to consider…” Peter rambled on and on.

A moment of awkward silence fell upon Wanda, Pietro, and the gentleman as Peter muttered away. “Oh Pete.” Wanda sighed.

“Does your friend usually do this?” the gentleman asked.

Pietro scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s hard for him to stop when he gets going.” Another crash was heard and the attention of the group was once again focused on the ensuing fight. 

“You ready, Sue?!” yelled Captain Marvel as she flew upwards towards the sky.

“The barrier’s up, Carol; turn this villain into glass!” yelled the Invisible Woman back as she flexed her arms out.

The sand villain tried to reach for the flying superhero but found himself unable to move past the invisible barrier that blocked his path. “Wh-what the hell is this?!” he screamed in terror. 

“This is the end of your villainy, Marko!” exclaimed Captain Marvel. 

The crowd went wild, this was the public’s favorite part in villain fights: when the hero triumphs over the villain and saves the day. “Come on, ma’am! Show us a flashy finish!” the older gentleman exclaimed.

“I told you so,” Pietro said as he bumped Wanda’s arm with his elbow.

Wanda shot a dirty look at her brother. “Oh, shut up,” she said. She put her hand on Peter’s shoulder who was still writing in his notebook. “Peter, it’s about to finish. You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Peter’s consciousness came reeling back into reality as he saw Captain Marvel floating in the sky. Her golden aura intensified as her hair stood straight up. Peter internally squealed as he knew what was coming, he quickly aimed his camera at the hero. It was Captain Marvel’s signature move! The golden aura stopped being an aura and started to be the color of Captain Marvel’s skin as her body stored energy. Her quirk: Binary Engine, allows her to store energy inside of her and release it at her will. She yelled out a battle cry and flexed her arms forward. “Binary Ignition!” A beam of golden energy erupted from her fists. If one were to ask the crowd what occurred that day, they would say that they felt the Earth shake beneath them as they saw the furious fiery energy hurdle itself towards the giant sand villain. With a loud scream of pain, the sand villain took the blast in his giant sandy chest. The extreme heat from the energy started to solidify the sand that it hit.

“No!” the villain roared, “I-I can’t move!” With the invisible barrier now closed fully around the villain, the extreme heat from the binary blast went to work. The heat was trapped and had nowhere to go, just like the villain. The villain was quickly calcified in glass, unable to move. A statue to the victory of heroes, the sand villain was. 

The crowd erupted in cheers and chants as Captain Marvel slowly descended back to the ground and the Invisible Woman followed suit. The heroes gave the all clear for the police to restrain the villain, a tall order given his size but the police always came prepared. 

Peter, on the other hand, was feverishly writing in his notebook about the intricacies of what he saw of Captain Marvel’s signature move. How much heat it truly produced being the main point of intrigue for him. “So for sand to turn into glass the sand has to be exposed to a temperature of 3,090 degrees Fahrenheit or 1,700 degrees Celsius which means that Captain Marvel’s energy output is far greater than what I initially calculated for her maybe…”

“He really likes to write doesn’t he?” the gentleman asked. 

Wanda sighed with a tinge of embarrassment. “Yeah, he really does,” she said. She then put on a big enthusiastic smile. “But, he’s going to be the best hero of all time. I just know it.”

“Wow, thanks, sis,” said Pietro.

The old man let out a light chuckle as he saw the two siblings bicker and Peter mutter and write in his notebook.

“... and you also have to consider the possibility that with enough stored power she can become a walking sun and that would be devastating for villains but maybe she can also solve any future energy crisis that the world will face and-“

“Hey, kid.” Peter felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the old man standing next to him. “You don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t be a hero, alright? If somebody doesn’t believe in you, prove them wrong. Think of heroism as the classic mask and spandex costumes, it doesn’t matter who’s behind the mask. Anybody can be a hero.”

Peter felt the warmth and kindness of the old man’s words. He flashed him a goofy grin. “Thank you, sir! I promise to become the world’s greatest hero.”

The old man returned with a big smile. “Excelsior, young man! Now go out there, and become the best hero that you can be!”

The trio thanked the gentleman for his time and walked up to the train platform as the police gave the all clear to enter the station. They got on their train and sat down. Peter glanced out the window and a small smile formed on his face. Across the river he saw the apple of his eye. Adorned with a stylistic “A” on its face, stood Avengers Tower, HQ of the Mighty Avengers, the most popular hero agency in the world. While Avengers Tower was the HQ for the agency, it was also a school, Avengers Academy, where teenagers learn to become heroes. The school only taught from sophomore year to senior year of high school. Apparently because there wasn’t enough material for a full four years of hero education. “Hey, guys?” Peter called out to his friends.

Pietro and Wanda snapped out of their individual dazes from the painfully normal train ride and turned to their friend, his face plastered with an even bigger smile. “What’s up, man?” Pietro asked. 

“Let’s apply to Avengers Academy,” Peter said. “Let’s be Avengers.”

Wanda’s face grew a soft smile. “Peter, you always say that,” she pointed out, “We’ve been wanting to be Avengers since we were kids!’”

“I think he just forgets that we made that pact years ago,” said Pietro, laughing as he did. 

Peter turned to his left to face him. “No, I didn’t forget! I just want to make sure,” he said with a hint of anxiety in his voice. Peter’s face went from cheerful to solemn. This usually happened to him after being excited about heroes and his dream to be one. Almost as if somebody completely different swapped places with him. He would go from raving about heroes and claiming he was going to be an Avenger one day one second, and then the next second he would become eerily quiet. His eyes would darken with sadness. His whole demeanor would shift. He became reclusive and antisocial. In his head he thought to himself,

They’ll be the ones going to AA… not me. There aren’t any quirkless heroes in the first place, why would I be the exception? 

Wanda noticed the drastic change in him. “Hey, hey, hey look at me,” she urged him. Peter turned to look at Wanda, and felt her hand on his shoulder. Her gaze met his. “You are going to be the best hero ever, okay? It doesn’t matter, okay? You’re already my hero.” She pointed to the red bandanna wrapped around her head as she said this. As Peter glanced at the accessory, he noticed how it wrapped down her cheek, under her chin, and was tied at the top of her head in a nice bow. Peter knew what she meant. 

It’s been five years and she still remembers. To him, helping her up and tying his bandana around her head to keep her jaw in place was just the normal thing to do when someone trips and falls on their chin in Physical Education class. 

He shot her a small, but genuine smile and said, “Okay.” Wanda shot a big smile back at him. As she did this his stomach became infested with butterflies and his face felt like it was lit aflame. He swore that he heard Pietro behind him groan and mutter, “Jeez, get a room.”

After yet another painfully average walk, they finally made it to their destination: Midtown High. Midtown High was just another average year 9-12 public high school located in Forest Hills, New York. Moderate in size, but gigantic in population. The school had trouble with too many students and not enough teachers to teach them. Cramped classrooms didn’t look good in the paper and it needed to be fixed. So to combat overpopulation and to promote transferring to other schools, there is a field trip to Avengers Tower for the freshman. If you want to tell kids to get out of your school, might as well tell them to be superheroes.

Unfortunately for Peter, the trio had to part ways for the time being since they all had separate homeroom classes. Peter sat in his classroom, and his gaze wandered around, looking at the 4x4 room that confined him. 25 desks filled the room in a semi-orderly fashion, Peter sitting near the back, which was unusual for him considering how studious he was. The floor was stained with age, under the coat of yellow was once a beautiful marble floor. The blackboard could never be truly cleaned as there were always remnants of past classes leaving their chalk footprint. Peter sighed and took a glance at the clock at the front of the class, however, he couldn’t make out the time with his bare eyes. He sighed once again, reached into his bag, and took out a container. He opened them and groaned as he was reminded that his glasses were ugly. Bright red covered the frame and the circular lenses felt as if they were half the size of his head. He put on his glasses, and the world suddenly became much clearer. He glanced at the clock again and saw it say it was 8:00 AM, right on the dot.

He groaned and let gravity claim his head. It made a nice and loud “bump” as it hit the desk. Peter knew what was coming. He counted down from fifty. He always comes in at 8:01 AM. Throughout the years of being bullied, Peter picked up a thing or two about personal quirks. At exactly 8:01 AM, he walked through the classroom door. His black hair stood in a spiky fashion, he wore a black muscle shirt, and baggy dark blue jeans. He was laughing as he entered the classroom, as if someone had told him a hilarious joke. Peter quickly stood up a book on his desk and opened it, creating a makeshift barrier between himself and the rest of the world. He fumbled with his glasses as he tried so desperately to put them back into their case. He lowered his head, below the book barrier. He didn’t want him to ruin today. It was supposed to be a happy day. He was going to Avengers Tower, he was going to see his heroes! 

The world went silent and all Peter could hear was the sound of shoes hitting the floor, and it was getting closer. Peter silently whimpered. Why did he have to come after him today? Wasn’t he tired of this? Making his life hell? The footsteps stopped right next to him.

Oh no. 

Pain was all Peter felt as his hair was being pulled back, forcing him to sit up straight. He felt every single strand of hair being unsuccessfully pulled from his scalp. He reluctantly opened his eyes, he had to face him now. All Peter saw was the black-haired kid smiling at him with a devious toothy smile.

“What do you want today, Flash?” Peter groaned, “Can you please let go of my hair?” Peter struggled as he grabbed the hand that had a fist full of his hair.

Flash gave a hearty laugh. “Aww, is Puny Parker all alone today? Is the quirkless wannabe sad that he can’t have his friends save him?”

He hated when Flash said that. It just reminded Peter of his true nature, that he was just normal. He doesn’t have the X-gene, he doesn’t have a quirk, he isn’t a mutant, he’s just human. Peter focused all of his might into digging his nails into Flash’s hand to make him let go. Suddenly, as he did that, Peter felt a gooey and slippery substance cover Flash’s hand, Peter squeezed but Flash didn’t let go. He only laughed.

“Oh Parker, did you piss off Venom?” he asked in a mocking tone. “Oh, is that right?” Flash said to no one in particular. Peter continued to thrash in pain as Flash kept his vice grip on his scalp. He felt like his hair was going to be pulled out, and his brain right with it. “Parker,” Flash said, his voice deepened, “Did you try to hurt me?” At this point, his voice became deep and twisted, almost demonic, as if two people were speaking in unison. 

Peter grunted as he continued to struggle. “Yeah, so what? Let me go, damn it!” He glanced up at Flash and saw that his neck and a portion of his face were covered in black goop. Peter’s gaze then went to Flash’s mouth, he was baring his teeth, but they were all razor sharp. Oh God, Peter thought.

He saw this before. This black goop. Flash pulled Peter closer to his face. He could practically smell him failing to brush his teeth properly that morning. “That wasn’t very smart of you, Parker,” Flash said.

“Christ, Flash! Just leave me alone!” Peter exclaimed. Peter then curled his free hand into a fist and swung it at Flash. Momentum was stopped as Peter’s arm was caught, not by Flash’s arm, but a mouth, a mouth with sharp teeth. It wasn’t Flash’s mouth, but it was the black goop’s. It was a macabre sight to say the least. The mouth shot itself from Flash’s abdomen and latched on to Peter’s fist. Peter didn’t feel any pain, however, but he did feel the sharp teeth prick his wrist as it held it in place. 

“Oh, Venom. You always know how to make me proud,” Flash said with a small chuckle. “Oh, that’s right! I didn’t feed you today, did I?” Peter’s eyes widened in horror. Flash gave a sinister smile. “Go wild.”

Peter shut his eyes as the word went into slow motion. Was Flash serious?! Was he going to let Venom devour his hand?! He could get suspended! Expelled even! He’d be charged with assault and battery and be tried as an adult! This is what perplexed Peter about Flash, he had great grades, was the school’s star quarterback, but he always did reckless activities that could have the potential of ruining his life. Even from a young age he was like this. Peter felt the terrifying mouth start to close on his fist, it was slow as if it was taunting him. As if it was letting his host enjoy the scene play out in front of him. He snapped back in reality, his gaze darted across the room, looking for someone, anyone to help him. His heart sunk as he saw the cruel reality; others had arrived by that time and they were all in their own groups, their own cliques, and they were watching the events unfold. They all just intently stared at the scene. No one dared make a move. Would anyone stand up and intervene? Peter closed his eyes, and braced for the pain that was to come. 

It happened. Peter felt the teeth rip and tear into his skin. He tried letting out a scream but more black goop shot out of Flash’s chest and onto his mouth, which muffled Peter’s scream for help. The mouth kept slowly clamping down, it wasn’t long until it was going to hit Peter’s bone. Peter started to hyperventilate. His chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Over and over again. As he saw what was happening to his hand his mind raced. Why him? Why today? Today was supposed to be a good day. Why? Why? Why? Peter felt the sharp teeth graze the top of his carpal bone. He closed his eyes and whimpered. 

“That’s enough!” A voice pierced the unsettling air like a bullet. 

Peter glanced towards where the voice was shouted from, and there he saw Wanda and Pietro. Pietro had his hand on Flash’s shoulder, grasping it with an iron grip, and Wanda stood near Peter, grabbing his arm and pulling it out of the jaws of the beast. Peter looked at her eyes, her pupils were glowing a bright red. She looked at the lacerations on his wrist with a deep and sad look. She took in a deep breath and put her free hand over the wounds, and then the magic started. Red energy started to flow out of her hand and into Peter’s wounds. When the red energy entered the wounds, Peter felt an extreme warmth run up his arm. It felt odd, but it wasn’t strange to him; he had felt this many times before. When Wanda first got her quirk five years ago, she’d been the person to heal Peter’s scars and bruises he sustained from his run-ins with Flash. The reason why Uncle Ben and Aunt May didn’t know how bad Peter really had it was thanks to Wanda’s quirk. He looked down in embarrassment, he could already tell that she was worried about him. The day had just started and Peter was already hurt.

“You got a death wish, Maximoff?” Flash growled.

“Leave him alone, Thompson,” Pietro demanded. Peter looked at the two feuding teens. To him, it was as if two forces of nature collided. Pietro, a benevolent mountain standing tall no matter the condition, and Flash, a ravaging tornado destroying everything in its path. Two titans facing off against each other, and it’s all because of a quirkless boy. 

Flash scoffed and all of the black goop retreated back into his body, out of sight. He looked directly into Peter’s eyes. “You’re lucky your body guards came to rescue you, wallcrawler,” he said. He then went and sat in his seat at the other side of the room.

“Alright kids,” Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington said, “As you all know, today is the field trip to Avengers Tower.” Mr. Harrington was always an odd fellow, even in this world of superpowers. He was a tall lanky man, with brown hair and a bushy beard and moustache. Just by looking at him you can tell that he was a nerd in his youth. He wore brown suits to class, always had a neat tie on, and wore black dress pants. On his desk one could find memorabilia of the wonderful world of science. Globes, a model of the solar system, a Newton’s cradle, a map of the periodic table, etc. Peter liked Mr. Harrington; the appreciated his love of science, and even though Mr. Harrington gave the aura of a man who has been punched in the face one-too-many times, Peter related hard.

“Just so you all know, two students from different classes have requested to join ours for today.” Peter then took a glance at Pietro and Wanda who were sitting to the left and right of him respectively. As Peter looked at her, Wanda proudly showed him a small doodle of Flash being punched in the face by the Hulk. Peter smiled at the rough sketch. No matter how bad he felt, she could always make him laugh.

Peter’s gaze trailed back to his notebook in front of him. This was Peter’s Quirk Analysis book. It was open. The name Wanda Maximoff was written in the title section with neat handwriting. A picture of her was clipped on by a paper clip. Peter smiled at the photo he had taken last summer when they visited the planetarium. Her pose was odd, but unique. She had her fingertips touch one another, her legs spread and bent, her torso bent forward, and a big toothy smile plastered on her face as if she was saying, “Come at me, ya scoundrels!” She stood in front of a model of the planet Saturn. A small grin created itself on Peter’s face; that was a fun time for him.

Beside her picture were the words, “Quirk: Hex,” and below that were notes. Peter read these notes every so often. They were notes on Wanda’s Quirk. He came up with the name himself after seeing it in action so many times. Hex was one mystery of a power as it just showed up one day. For years people thought that Wanda was quirkless, until one day when she saved Peter from being Flash’s punching bag for the day. The memory flew through Peter’s mind like a bird through the sky. He remembered being pinned up to a tree, gazing into Flash’s eyes, which were filled with murderous intent. The next thing he remembered was Flash being lifted in the air by a mysterious red glow, and then seeing Wanda glowing with that same redness. This didn’t stop the bullying for her, however. Before she was being bullied for being a foreign quirkless girl, now she was being bullied for being a foriegn freak who got her quirk late. 

Peter had spent hours studying Wanda’s quirk. There was one conclusion that he came about, Hex was a sort of probability manipulation, similar to Dr. Strange’s quirk: Mystic Arts. Her power could bend the fabric of probability in her favor. He theorized she can probably cause a gun to backfire just by looking at it, but he’d rather not test it. She can also shoot out red energy bolts as projectiles, they don’t hurt much, but it still was a force of concussive energy. Her quirk also allowed her to “heal” people, however, this was contested by Peter. The only thing she had done to heal him was close his wounds; he still felt sore and achy afterwards. Maybe since she doesn’t know the intricate details of the human body, she doesn’t know how to heal someone fully, or maybe she was just scared of screwing it up. In the end, Hex was an amazing quirk in Peter’s eyes. He couldn’t wait to see her become a hero one day.

He turned the page and came across Pietro’s entry. His picture was a one-in-a-million shot that Peter took at one of Pietro’s soccer games during Physical Education class. Pietro’s pose was simply art, his left leg outstretched after kicking the ball, his right arm crossing his body as his left arm is outstretched, keeping him balanced, and all the while a big goofy smile that screamed, “Yeah, I’m the best!” Peter remembered how much he and Wanda were cheering for him that day. In the end, Pietro’s team won and got bragging rights for a whole year. 

Like Wanda’s entry, next to Pietro’s picture was the name of his quirk: Superspeed. It was fairly self explanatory, Pietro’s quirk allowed him to move at superhuman levels. He could outrun any car, train, plane… Well, maybe not a plane, Peter thought to himself. However, his quirk also granted him enhanced metabolism. Pietro was always fit, any scrape or bruise would be gone within minutes, and he had to eat a lot to keep up. Pietro always wanted to be a hero, and his quirk locked in his future to be one of the greatest heroes of all time. 

Peter's smile turned into a frown as he turned to the next page. The name in the title box was Eugene “Flash” Thompson, and below that were the words “Quirk: Symbiote.” Flash’s quirk was the scariest of them all, it was a living organism that was bonded to Flash’s body. Its base form was a black goop that would cover Flash if it felt like it or Flash was being threatened. In reality, the symbiote was always on Flash. It was Flash, and Flash was it. It also gave itself a name: Venom. Venom can form any weapon from itself, be an impenetrable shield for Flash, and can enhance Flash’s strength fivefold. Flash and Venom were one and the same, they talked to each other, and they looked out for each other. Sometimes Peter would see Flash mumbling to himself, when in actuality he was having a conversation with Venom.

However, Flash wasn’t the only person in the world with a symbiote. Symbiotes were a quirk that arrived late to the scene as they’ve only been around for the past 80 years or so. Nobody knew where the symbiote quirk came from, and some even theorized they were a failed experiment caused by the Weapon program that was never properly disposed of. Unfortunately for people with symbiotes, there was a dangerous stereotype connected to them: cannibalism. It’s no secret that people with symbiotes need to have a larger intake of food since they’re effectively eating for two, so naturally rumors started to spread about people with the symbiote quirk. This stereotype was derived from one entity, a villain named Carnage. 

The only symbiote that was able to leave its host and live on its own was one of the most dangerous villains alive. Its original host was a serial killer called Cleetus Cassidy, a cannibal with over 30 confirmed murders, most of them women and children. Cassidy was as messed up as a human could get. He truly believed that human life was meaningless, and he was doing his victims a favor by murdering them. Cleetus Cassidy’s religion was murder and cannibalism, and the symbiote believed as well. Eventually, the symbiote grew tired of Cassidy, and murdered him. Police found the gruesome corpse of Cassidy strung about the apartment, but Carnage was nowhere in sight. It escaped and bonded with a new host; It would continue this cycle for the next 26 years.

“Hey, uh, Pete?”

A voice pulled Peter out of his day dreaming, he looked around the room to see all the desks empty and Wanda and Pietro at the doorway of the classroom. Peter’s face turned red in embarrassment. 

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed as he gathered his belongings and joined the duo. 

At 200 Park Ave. in New York City sits a skyscraper unlike any other. It was a business center, R&D center, a laboratory, a Hero HQ, and an academy for young heroes-in-training. Adorned with a stylized “A”, Avengers Tower stands as a beacon of heroism. Peter Parker muttered these words to himself as he found himself standing outside the front door. He had so many questions to ask, but one stood out amongst all the others. A question he’s had since he could talk. A question on that day he would finally have answered. 

As he stood in front of the building in a daze, Wanda and Pietro stood by his side, they both gave him a big smile. “Avengers Assemble?” Wanda asked them. 

Pietro nodded. Peter looked Wanda in the eyes, and smiled as well. “Avengers Assemble.”

~A~

“Boss, there’s an emergency at Central Park. Reports say that Carnage has been spotted and is on the run.”

“Any heroes on patrol near there?”

“Negative, boss.”

“What about Carol?”

“Captain Marvel is currently with the Invisible Woman, they’re at the Raft making sure the villain they captured earlier is in proper custody.”

“... So you’re saying that I-“

“Boss, get off your ass and be a hero.”

“I don’t remember programming you with a potty mouth, Friday.”

“And I don’t remember asking for your opinion. The suit is at 100%.”

“How long will the charge last this time?”

“About two and a half hours, boss.”

“Heh, plenty of time.”

The shutters to the darkened room opened, revealing the city down below. A man clad in red and yellow armor walks out onto a balcony. 

“Time to be Iron Man.”

To be continued...

#My Hero Academia #Avengers #Marvel #My Avengers Academy #Spiderman #Wanda Maximoff #Spideywitch #Pietro Maximoff #Venom #Iron Man #Fanfiction #Avengers Fanfic

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What Intentional Language Study Actually Looks Like

I have the great privilege of being partnered with/living with a pretty fantastic German teacher who is endlessly patient with me. In an effort to be more organized with my language learning, I stumbled onto the graphic below in a reddit post and she helped me turn it into concrete actions I can take when I want to put in the time. I wanted to share it with Langblr because I’m grateful with the inspiration it provides me and I hope if people have concrete steps they can take then more people will post in this tag to keep me inspired! Selfish I know. :P

(Click on it to enlarge it, it’s easier to read that way)

Language Course/Language Grammar Study

For people looking to learn using completely free materials, this is the section that will be the hardest from what I can tell. 

Her recommendations for me were to use a book we have on German Grammar Drills she found for cheap at Half Price Books. Each section opens with a little bit about the grammar rule in question and then is followed by several exercises. She recommended I take notes on the grammar section as if I was trying to explain it to someone else. Then perform the grammar drills on a separate page or make a copy so that I can redo the drills later if I need. 

We also have other books on Verb, Pronoun, and Proposition Drills that she’s picked up over the years and she recommended a similar course with them. 

After doing the exercise, she recommended using a German graded reader (mine is Cafe in Berlin), a song, or a German book and looking for examples of the grammar rule in action. I can copy the sentence, underline the relevant part and label it. 

After that she recommended producing sentences with the grammar rule itself either with vocabulary I’m learning or as a part of language journaling - where you journal about your day in another language (maybe using a site like lang-8 or by hand).  Language Core Vocabulary

Here again I’m very lucky because my partner found a frequency dictionary at Half Price a while back and it is unendingly helpful. But frequency word lists can also be found for free online. 

Here I’m slowly working through making flash cards both digital and physical for the first 1,000 most common German words. 

I am also collecting words from my reading/listening practice and turning them into flashcards too. 

She will occasionally give me vocabulary lists for related topics when I ask her to. They’re usually related to conversations we have the most frequently. And I turn those into flashcards too. 

Basically, make flashcards and review them.

Making labels for things in your house in the target language helps too.  

Reading Practice

I have a graded reader I’m using called Cafe in Berlin. It’s an ebook and it’s fantastic. I highly recommend looking for something similar in your target language if possible. 

We also have some German children’s books that I’ll be using eventually. She got me The Little Prince in German for Christmas since it was a text I’d read in English and French. 

My goal is to someday be able to read through Siddhartha in the original German as it’s one of my favorite books. 

I also use German news sites to get used to reading that style of writing in the language. I’ve got a few German comic books on my wishlist. 

Basically find texts in your target language that aren’t super outside of your level. Note grammar rules used. Write down vocab you don’t understand well and add it to your vocab system. Review it when you do your vocab time. 

Listening Practice

If you’re studying a fairly well used languages, a lot of times the government of the country most associated with the language will put out learning materials for free online. Germany is amazing with this and is honestly the best out of any language I’ve studied. 

One series I’m using for listening practice is called Nico’s Weg that follows a guy who speaks next to no German (with an inexplicably perfect accent) who lost his bag and his passport when he came to Germany and his trials and tribulations to get the bag back and reunite with his aunt who he came to visit. It’s kind of bizarre but it covers a lot of good ground. It’s got German subtitles and people speak slow so it’s perfect beginner’s practice. 

Try to find a graded video series in your target language. It might take some googling but many have them. 

I also will use News in Slow German when I’m slightly further along since being able to listen to that kind of information is important in a language. 

For my french, I found Le Petit Prince on youtube as an audiobook and I’ll be using that to review. Look for children’s audiobooks, especially classics, on YouTube. 

My partner is also a big fan of song dissection where you listen to a song through and try to write down as many of the lines as you hear them. Then look the song up and try to sing along with it as you’re able. 

With all of these, translate the words you don’t know and add to vocab. 

Speaking Practice

Here I’m very lucky, I usually just strike up a conversation with my partner and see how long I can last. 

But for reviewing French where I don’t have a conversation partner anymore because of my mom’s stroke, she recommended reading aloud. 

For people who are further along, she recommended finding questionnaires (her suggestion was specifically for RPG characters and the like) and answering them out loud as if someone has just asked you it as a question. 

Another option is to read a text and have an imaginary conversation with someone about it out loud. You could ask a character questions, perhaps make up their answers. 

The point is to practice spontaneously producing the language out loud. 

Conclusion

I hope this helps other people like it’s helped me. So often language learning just felt so vague and I had no idea what to even do. Having concrete actions like this along with how much time to spend on it and what to focus on has made a big difference. 

#langblr #langspo #studyspo #how to study a language #studyblr