#(It’s been a while since I last drew Law by himself)

[fangirl-of-the-end]

Shambles

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #op law #one piece #op fanart #(It’s been a while since I last drew Law by himself) #(I think his Onigashima outfit is one of my favorites) #(Ig may have something to do with the fluffy cape) #(Just maybe) #(I’ll probably take a break from drawing this week because I caught a bad cold and am completely drained) #(But hopefully I’ll be back to drawing soon) #(Can’t go too long without drawing my favorite meow meow) #(Take care!)

[find-roronoa-zoro]

Roronoa Zoro X CisFem Reader

4

How utterly fucking embarrassing,

Zoro dragged his hand over his face as he sat near the fire pit in your backyard. The entire day was just a disaster. When Luffy invited him to this party he didn't put much thought into it; but then he walked into your room by accident and you looked so cute barely awake, hair tussled all over.

He was thankful for the lack of lighting as heat crept up his neck, ears and face.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Over the last few years he'd seen many photos of you displayed in the Newgate home and the boys spoke of you often. He just wasn't prepared to come face to face with you out of the blue. Everything about you that was even remotely attractive in photos was amplified in person under the mood lighting of the bar. Your eyes were bigger and brighter, perfect full lips parted just so and he hated to but he had to agree with Shanks (though not as crudely); the small vein of silver that you had to be too young for added to your beauty.

Then he spent that evening trying to figure out your relationship to Shanks, it was definitely unique as you swatted at him most of the night. But there were times where the redhead drew from you the most genuine laugh. Your head thrown back and hair falling away from your face, it looked just as beautiful as it sounded.

So of course the day of your party you had men fawning over you, worst of all, that shitty cook. It was so obvious and cliché; using your knife skills as an excuse to touch you. He was thankful for Ace's interruption, if he didn't get out soon he'd cave in to his desire to sock Curly Q right in his stupid fucking mouth.

He found himself wanting to speak to you, he couldn't deny his attraction, however there was something incredibly intimidating about initiating conversation with you that he hadn't experienced before. With everyone you came in contact with you were bubbly and sweet, except for him. When your eyes met you suddenly clammed up. He knew he wasn't much of a talker and could himself be a bit intimidating, but you grew up in a house full of tough men, you could take care of yourself. So, it had to be something else.

Now he was forced to watch with feigned disinterest as Shanks flirted with you on the dancefloor. It wasn't that he hadn't tried. He thought after some drinking and letting the music loosen you up perhaps you'd speak to him like you did everyone else. Robin helped him get close enough to cut in but he couldn't get passed Luffy's flailing - you hadn't even noticed. As the song came to an end Shanks fearlessly swooped in.

"Sorry." Robin murmured taking a seat next to him.

"It's fine." he sighed leaning back on the bench, "Let's just not talk about it. It was a long shot."

"I'm sure there will be other opportunities." she smiled softly.

He only hummed in response.

"Opportunities for what?"

His gaze snapped back to the pinkette taking a seat on Robin's lap.

"Mind your own business, Perona." he grumbled.

"Nothing dear." Robin moved a lock of curly pink hair off her shoulder and wound her arms around the other.

The song ended bringing Zoro's eye back to the dancefloor. You hugged Shanks and made your exit heading back toward the house. He rose intending to get a word with you.

______________________

You turned meeting a pair of half lidded slate eyes. A navy beanie concealed unruly raven locks, slender tattooed fingers adjusted the lapel of his jacket.

"It's not." you replied, "You're the surgeon right?"

"You've heard of me?" he quirked a brow and took a seat, "It's Law by the way."

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Shanks pointed you out when we were dancing." you chuckled slouching back in your chair.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"It's your body, but you'd think a doctor would know better."

"Stressful habit," he replied lighting the cigarette, "so, what's the lady of the hour doing out here alone?"

"It's been a while since I've been around a group of people like this." you shrugged, "It gets a little overwhelming. What about you? Surely you could have your smoke out back with everyone else."

"I just thought I'd take a moment to get to know who we're celebrating." he leaned back watching you.

"I'm not that interesting, I assure you."

"Yes, so uninteresting all of these people came out to welcome you home." he smirked, "Some of which you don't even know."

"You know Luffy invited half the town. I'm sure you're one of them." you offered him a quick glance.

"That is how he operates." he chuckled.

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of furniture being pulled around inside the house.

"There you are!" Luffy shouted bursting through the screen door, "We've been challenged. You have to come defend our title"

"What?" you asked rising from your seat.

"Beer pong!" he hollered, "Kid and his friend think they can beat you guys."

"Well, Marco doesn't really drink like that anymore." you stepped passed Law.

"Zoro said he'll play instead."

You couldn't control the small smile that ghosted your lips.

"I'll be there in a second then." You turned back to Law who remained seated, "Sorry I've got a reputation to uphold. It was nice chatting though."

"The pleasure was mine, F/N-ya." he rose slipping a business card into your hand, "Hopefully we can do it again soon."

"S-sure." you stammered stashing the card in your pocket.

When you entered the house the boys were already filling the cups placed in a triangular formation on both ends of the old ping pong table.

"Full cups?" you asked Ace watching him fill them.

"Don't think you can handle it squirt?" a massive redhead sneered stepping next to you.

"Don't underestimate her Kid." Sabo pipped up handing Ace another pitcher of beer.

"Everyone clear on the rules?" Ace asked, "Balls that go right in are worth one cup, bounce and sink is two cups, and house rule if you miss you have to take a shot of tequila."

You took off your sweater and pulled your hair up in to a messy bun. Zoro stood nearby quietly admiring your tenacity and mentally preparing himself to not disappoint you.

"Best of three rounds?" you asked taking the ping pong ball from your younger brother.

"Whatever you say sweetheart." Kid smirked cockily.

"Alright." You grinned back bouncing the ball right into the furthest cup to the right in the third row.

That was the first time you saw Zoro smile.

#one piece #the one #shanks #x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #whitebeard pirates #whiteboard #roronoa zoro #marco the phoenix #trafalgar law #lyndsyh24

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Criminal Organizations: The end of an era

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

The door to the council room creaked and groaned as it was pulled open. The edges were caked in rust and grime needing twice as much effort to pull it open, but eventually it finally gave way and the new figures entered. It had been nearly six system rotations since Mobly had been in here. His memories from his last time still vivid in his head as well as each time he took a deep breath and felt his reset bones pressing against his sides.

He wasn’t the same starry eyed dust dealer trying to make a name for himself. Jimmy, his “Friend”, had beaten that Karkogan out of him. Every kick and punch that had been landed had molded Mobly into something stronger and deadlier then he had ever been.

No sooner had he dragged himself from that room did he begin organizing a “restructuring” of the crime organization that they had built together. For too long the rules Jimmy had laid out had cut into profits and forced many of the dust dealers to skirt the law to prevent causing waves.

Mobly gathered up similar likeminded dust dealers within their ranks and launched a vicious surprise attack on the other half of the organization in a bid to take control.

Open gang warfare rocked the streets as each side sought to destroy the other. Businesses under protection were raided, drug dens set on fire and destroyed, even members of the council were assassinated on the streets in broad daylight.

Either by dumb luck or fate Jimmy had avoided the initial violence and kept up his leadership as the war dragged on and on, but Mobly knew that he would win in the end. Jimmy still played by his rules and thus was limited in his responses to Mobly’s aggressive tactics.

Now after six months of brutal fighting Jimmy had contacted Mobly and offered a ceasefire. On the surface it looked like he was trying to smooth things over so the gang could get back to making money, but Mobly knew that Jimmy’s manpower and war chest were critically low and this was no doubt some attempt to buy himself some time to rebuild.

It was rather pleasing to Mobly to now see his once partner turned rival sitting across from him. He was flanked by two guards only while Mobly had brought at eight with him, each one armed to the teeth beneath their clothes should things turn sour.

Mobly had contemplated using this meeting as a chance to kill Jimmy once and for all but had decided to play things out diplomatically. If he killed Jimmy there was no guarantee that the dust dealers under him would fall in line and join up with Mobly again. Worst case scenario they would splinter off and form their own gangs. Each considerably smaller than Mobly’s group, but enough of them to ensure that no one would have the entire criminal market under their control for some time. Mobly needed to have Jimmy submit and surrender so they could join up again as the one and only criminal group on the planet.

“You’re late.” Jimmy said as Mobly sat down at the table. There were only two seats at it now; no need for councils or group discussions when both were the de facto leaders of this criminal civil war.

Mobly gave the impression of indifference. “I had to get myself all fancied up.” Mobly chuckled, “It’s not every day your rival comes begging to kiss your ass.”

The two guards behind Jimmy got tense but Jimmy held up a hand to calm them down. Mobly had learned much from watching how Jimmy conducted himself as a crime boss when they were still partners, and he felt that he could expand upon the persona he displayed so often.

“You never were one for diplomacy, were you Mobly?” Jimmy said dryly. He pulled out an igo stick and lit it before taking a deep drag. He blew the smoke out and looked at Mobly like he was a bug that wouldn’t just die. “It is a poor negotiator who opens with insults.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Mobly calmly drew his finger across the dusty table, looking at the gathering dust before flicking it away dismissively. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Oh?” Jimmy leaned back in his chair. “Then what is this?”

“This is a surrender.” Mobly stated calmly. “No negotiations, no deals, no handshakes and happy endings; I’m going to give you terms and you’re going to either accept them or I wipe you off the face of this planet.”

When Jimmy said nothing Mobly continued. “You’re going to go back to whatever crack in the wall you have the rest of the dust dealers under you and tell them that they work for me now. You’ll sign over all the properties under your name to me and then be on the first transport out of here by weeks end.”

“Do this, and I’ll let you keep 25% of your profits; plenty to start a new life somewhere far, far away.”

Jimmy said nothing and continued taking deep intakes from his igo stick. He held out his hand with the stick still in it and pointed at Mobly.

“I still remember when you were just some punk kid way over his head about to get his brains bashed in by a magistrate. You remember that day?”

Mobly shook his head. “I’m a new man now, a man of the present and future Jimmy; I have no time for the past.”

There was a momentary look of sadness at this that crossed Jimmy’s face, but just as quickly had it appeared was it already replaced by a mask of indifference.

“I can see that,” he said as he leaned back to the table and dabbed out his igo stick on its surface, “for who else but a man of the future forget the friends who helped get them there?”

“Friends?” Mobly asked in disbelief. “You speak to me of friendship?”

Mobly pointed to a corner of the room. “Last time I was here you nearly beat me to death, your own partner, and now you have the gall to speak to me of friendship?!”

“I could have killed you,” Jimmy replied, “but because you were a friend I thought it best to give you one more chance; and now here we are”

“Yeah, here we are.”

The two of them stared at each other in silence while the guards behind each of them shuffled about uneasily. Mobly could see now that this meeting had been a waste of time. There was no way Jimmy would relinquish control of his half of the organization, and that Mobly would have to pry it from his dead hands once the fighting stopped. With how things had been Mobly imagined that it’d be another system rotation or two max before Jimmy lost what remaining support he had and was killed by his own men or by Mobly’s crew. It was a timetable Mobly was happy to abide by.

Seeing no further need for these talks, Mobly stood up and was about to call an end to this farce when suddenly a small canister fell from the rafters. The canister bounced once off the table before exploding outward in a great ball of white light.

Mobly’s eyes clenched shut and he could barely hear through the now deafening ringing in his ears before he felt a pair of hands grab him from behind and throw him to the floor.

At first he thought it was one of his men rushing him to safety but that was quickly dispelled when he felt his arms painfully yanked behind him. The cold press of metal clamped around his wrists and through the endless ringing Mobly could start to make out what sounded like someone shouting at him.

“Down on the ground scum sucker!!!”

Mobly blinked several times to clear his eyesight from the flash and was startled to see a full armed squad of magistrate enforcers now in the room. Looking over his shoulder he has the door to the chamber had been blown in and was rattling on the floor nearby. The signs of explosive breaching charges on either side of it while outside were still more enforcers piling into the room.

All of his men were likewise subdued on the ground him; none of them even being able to defend themselves before they were taken prisoner. Mobly turned once more to expecting to see Jimmy in the same predicament when instead he saw him and his men calmly rubbing their eyes while Jimmy spoke to own of the enforcers.

“What the hell is this Jimmy?!” Mobly demanded. Jimmy turned back to Mobly as if just remembering him and smiled.

“This is what I like to call, “Checkmate”.”

Jimmy patted the enforcer he had been talking to on the shoulder. The enforcer nodded to their men who began picking up Mobly’s crew and lining them against the wall as Jimmy knelt down to Mobly.

“What you never understood was that sometimes it is more important to have friends then Profit.”

Jimmy playfully slapped Mobly’s face as he was then hauled to his feet and led over to the others.

"You were too busy being gun ho you made quite a name for yourself; a name people in power started noticing.”

Mobly was shoved against the wall as the enforcers stood opposite him. Their hands rested on their plasma rotators and he knew if he or any of his men tried anything they’d be dead in seconds. So he played along and kept Jimmy talking.

“So you got your friends in high places to come after me? Couldn’t do it yourself, huh?”

Jimmy smirked. “Let’s just say that it looks good on their report card to be known for stopping the terrible crime wave that’s been ravaging the planet.”

“You know I’ll get out of jail.” Mobly spouted in defiance. “I’ve got friends to; I’ll be back on these streets in no time.”

To his surprise Jimmy shook his head. “It’s funny that you think you’ll get the chance.”

Mobly was about to ask what Jimmy was talking about when the lead enforcer spoke up.

“Payment has been confirmed, let’s get this over with.”

In unison the enforcers brought up their weapons and the harsh reality of their situation finally came crashing down on Mobly. He saw Jimmy tilting his hat at him before the plasma rotators fired and the world went dark for Mobly for the last time. -------------------

“In recent news, Governor Jobu announced that a daring raid last night had been carried out against the gang of criminals that have been plaguing our world for the last few system rotations.

The new magistrate chief had placed several sources within the criminal group who informed him that they were meeting at a remote abandoned plant to plan out their next series of attacks against our people.

Once this information was passed along proper channels to governor Jobu he acted without hesitation and ordered the magistrate chief to launch a massive raid on the facility and capture all those present.

A team of highly trained enforcers surrounded the abandoned facility and waited for all the criminal leaders to appear before springing their trap. Through their daring cunning they were able to then enter the facility unnoticed and had nearly reached the conference room hosting this meeting when one of the criminal guards spotted them and sounded the alarm.

What followed was a gripping and chaotic gun battle as enforcers traded blows with the criminal thugs that have terrorized our planet for so long. Despite repeated demands to surrender the criminals refused every one of them and continued fighting, injuring several enforcers in the continued struggle but thankfully not killing any.

Eventually each member of this heinous organization was killed, including the infamous crime lord himself known only as “Mobly the Dust King.”

With many of the organizations leaders now confirmed deceased, the magistrate chief assured the governor that the remaining elements of the organization would be hunted down and arrested in short order.

We can all breath a thankful sigh of relief knowing that these troubled times are behind us, and that life as we know it can return to normal.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies! Starting with the one related to our Jamil art from yesterday hehehe.

Anonymous asked:

Scarabia n.1 boyfailure! You made him look so cool!!!!!!! I tend to rag on this design quite a bit, but I think Jamil's OB has become my favorite exactly because to me it's almost equally ridiculous and awesome. With the kind of life he has, he deserves to act a bit silly (violently attacking people).

Also I can't stop thinking about the jp fandom calling his outfit "ecchi". Honestly, I really can't blame them... I like the legs...

Yessss him!!! Thank you so much, Anon ❤️ Ah Jamil and his silly emotional self… laughing maniacally kicking people around lol

He really is ecchi, the legs are amazing. While it took us 4 days to finish this one and I’m very satisfied with it, a part of me wishes we drew his legs too, they are absolutely criminal.

Overblots are such a delight and a pain to draw at the same time. I’m very happy we finished Jamil… it’s been a year since our last OB boy…

irregardlessly-tish asked:

The headcanon about Ortho and Mira got me thinking about Ortho being rivals with a house Alexa and similar things. Ortho hating on commercial use AIs being all grumpy "you're giving the rest of us a bad name! >:["

(this is related to this post)

Omg YES Ortho and his surprisingly serious beef with all these AIs!! He is MUCH BETTER THAN ANY OF THEM, right? >:( !!!!

Anonymous asked:

So I saw that in a past ask that only two guys in Idia’s shippings is actually interested in becoming serious with him. How does Lilia see him then? As a friend with benefits? And is Idia aware of this or does he think they could become an actual thing?

The thing is, I don’t think Lilia is interested in having actual committed relationship with anyone at this point. I don’t know if he ever did (well, with one particular exception in his youth), but now he pretty much lives in the moment and enjoys human connections that happen to him right here and right now. Idia is pretty young, so Lilia wouldn’t want him to get too attached. While Idia isn’t a fae and his lifespan is much shorter than Lilia’s, Lilia is pretty old and yeeeeaah actually dating him would be rather cruel. I also think that Lilia probably considers himself not really... worthy of such a dedication? Idia is young and is going to change someone for serious relationships, and Lilia doesn’t see himself as someone who Idia would actually be in love with. Lilia doesn’t know how much he means to people around him, and Idia is no exception. So this approach would actually hurt Idia more in the end.

But another thing is, Lilia also hates having these conversations, so he isn’t going to have one lol To him he’s just having fun with Idia as long as it’s fun for them to be around each other. And since Idia is pretty young, Lilia also naively believes that whenever they stop spending time together, Idia will get over it. So yeah in a way he is still being cruel, albeit unintentionally.

Idia doesn’t know what their relationship is. He is a pessimist, and he just knows that something is unavoidably going to go wrong at some point, but he is also in love and really doesn’t want it to end. He probably tries not to overthink it to avoid getting too hurt and disappointed, but deep inside he would love to spend time with Lilia forever.

This reply ended up being not so funny, I’m sorry—

Anonymous asked:

Say, a quick question about fem Kalim, since she is the heiress of her family, would she be subjected to the same marriage law as Princess Jasmine where she has to marry by the time she turns eighteen?

Huh! 🤔 Good question, I haven’t thought about it.

It’s a bit tricky because the Asims aren’t really royalty + Jasmine was the only daughter and Kalim has 30+ siblings…  but for the sake of some juicy drama it could still be the case (being forced to marry during your 3rd year of college, yikes).

I guess it’ll depend on the scenario we’re going to go for any specific post or comic.

Anonymous asked:

hey saw you're getting into Treyvil! I read a really adorable fic on AO3 called Adequately Inadequate. I think the author was something like FabFoxFics or something like that.

Thank you for your recommendation, Anon! ❤️

While I don’t really read fanfics, I’ll still post it in case anyone is interested. Maybe I’ll check it out too…

#replies #lilidia

[sambhavami]

Ehi Murare - Mitravinda (Part 5)

Mitravinda stared into the horizon of the city of Avanti. The colourful tents adorning the outskirts of the illustrious town gave her no joy today for they were but a reminder of her impending fate. Her swayamvar was to take place the next day. The tents were populated by her suitors from across the world. She felt a shiver running down her spine every time she thought of marrying any of them. How could she? Wasn’t it a sin to surrender oneself to more than one man? How could she marry any of them when her heart already belonged to Krishna, the best among all men, and the Yadavas? Rukmini must have performed unparalleled penances for she was able to send a message to her Lord in just the nick of time! Her brothers were wary of the possibility now. She was effectively on house arrest since the announcement of her impending marriage was made.

She turned around puzzled, as the tinkling laugh of a familiar voice drew closer. She smiled for the first time in a long time as she saw the bright, smiling face of Subhadra, her Lord’s sister and her cousin. “Well, well, if it isn’t my least favourite cousin!” Teased Subhadra as the women embraced. Despite the initial surge of happiness, Mitravinda found herself unwilling to partake in normal sisterly banter. She smiled and politely nodded while Subhadra kept chattering about the highlights of her visit, seemingly unaware of her cousin’s disinterest.

That afternoon, as the sun rose to the helm of the sky, and scorching sunlight ricocheted off the golden kalash at the tip of the temple of Sri Mahakaleswara, the girls retired to their chambers seeking the sweet midday nap. Soon, most of the women had fallen asleep. Even the kanchukis fanning the royal ladies were nodding off at intervals. Yet, sleep evaded the lotus eyes of Princess Mitravinda. Nervously, she kept repeating prayers under her breath beseeching the great Lord Mahakala.

Rolling over to her side, she found Subhadra wide awake and staring at her expectantly. “Dearest sister mine, do you have anything to say?” Mitravinda raised an eyebrow markedly, “Do you have nothing else to do but tease me all day?”

“Well, isn’t it customary to tease the bride-to-be? I heard it’s good for an auspicious marriage.” Retorted Subhadra, “Last chance cousin, anything to say at all? I’m just putting it out there- the entire city of Mathura saw you practically fainting when my brother walked past you the last time you came to visit, you couldn’t hide it even if you tried!” Mitravinda blushed bright red at the mention of that faux pas. Was it really that obvious? 

“Well, I suppose it would have been nice if he were an option in the swayamvar, but both you and I know that’s not happening.” She said with a sad smile. 

“In fact, I am really surprised my brothers let you come here in the first place!”

Subhadra smiled mysteriously, “So, you would choose him if he were an option, right?” Mitravinda nodded silently. 

“Good to know,” Subhadra yawned and rolled over to the other side and as far as appearances go, she was fast asleep in a minute.

---

As the sleepless night rolled into a glaring morning, Mitra’s anxiety grew. She felt as though Lord Nataraja himself were dancing within her heart. People ran hither and thither all around her, while Mitra felt like the world itself had stopped turning. Her sisters-in-law had gathered around her, adorning her in a bride's garb. Under their breaths, they muttered consolations. Nearly all of them had been abducted from their homes by Mitra's brothers, Vinda and Anuvinda. Suchitra, the youngest wife of Vinda complained, like nearly every other day, "Your brother is lucky we took our vows in the temple of Mahakala! It's the only reason, I don't just stab him in his sleep! He killed all my brothers and my nephew! He was only fourteen!" Suchitra ran away, hiding her tears. She had not yet adjusted to her life here. Devadarshita, Vinda's oldest wife shook her head in disapproval. While she hated the ways of her husband, she didn't approve of the open hostility. She had after all bore the physical brunt of her husband's anger, long back, when she still had had the heart in her to protest. Instead, she simply sighed and concentrated on braiding Mitra's hair. Her silence also stemmed from the fact that she was the only one who had chosen Vinda in a swayamvara, and held herself responsible for her fate to some extent.

All four of Anuvinda's wives were abducted. They mostly preferred to keep their heads down and get on with their lives. There had been a fifth wife, Anuvinda's first wife. She had stood up to him once, refusing to allow him entrance to his newly-abducted second wife's room. By the next week, she had vanished from the palace. No one knew where she went or what happened to her. Even today, five years later, the second wife made sure to offer special prayers to Mahakaleswara on the date of her disappearance. No one had any doubts about the quality of the Kings and Princes who would be invited to this swayamvara. Quietly, Chandrika, one of the queens whispered into Mitra's ears, as she tied something to the end of her saree, "We are all bound by the promises we made before the Lord Mahadeva, but you won't be. Try out your new life for a week. If it is truly as unbearable, here's the finest poison I could find. Either take it yourself or feed it to him. Don't suffer like we do!" A lone tear rolled down Mitra's cheek as she stared off into the distance, barely heeding the remonstrations about ruining her makeup.

Subhadra, however, was bouncing around, happy as ever. She leaned in close to Mitra, applying kohl on her long, lotus-like eyes. She whispered to Mitra when no one was looking at them, "Just eat light today okay? We can't have you fainting again!" Mitra glared at her cousin. How could she be so insensitive? She was definitely as heartless as her brother! 

Mitra pushed Subhadra's hand away from her face. "How would you feel if your brothers stopped you from marrying someone you loved?" She said.

Subhadra's face broke out into a wide grin, "I'd like to see them try!" Subhadra cupped Mitra's face in hers, "Just promise me, you'll hold on tight, will you? All the love, all the trust that you have in your heart, just bundle it all up, and hold on to it!"

"Hold on...to what?" Mitra asked.

"Just, hold on." Subhadra said kindly, "No matter what I tell people, you are my favourite cousin. How did you ever think I'd give up that easy? Just you wait and see."

Even though Mitra wanted to believe Subhadra, she had come to understand that this happy little cousin of hers was just overtly optimistic, and just a bit spoiled. She couldn't decide if she should pay her any attention or not. She did, however, cry comparing Subhadra's brothers to hers.

---

Mitra felt numb and could hardly perceive her surroundings as she was led onto the arena of the swayamvar. Vinda and Anuvidya had tightly gripped an arm each. Vinda bent down to whisper to his sister, "I'll press hard on your arm when you reach our choice prince. Put the garland on him." She looked around with a well-laden garland of flowers in her hand. She felt less like a bride, and more like an animal led up to the dais for execution. No one in the arena caught her eye, for they were blurred out by a thick film of tears forming in her eyes. So, this is how it ends. Now will begin a lifelong slavery to a man other than her Lord. Even if she consumed the poison, she would still be bound to a random man for the rest of her mortal life, and be remembered eternally as his cowardly wife!

Mitravinda called out one last time to the dakshina-murthi Lord Mahadeva- the south-facing Lord of boundless compassion. Sati, his first wife, had embraced the flames for the honour of Shaivya’s Lord Shiva. If he didn’t show compassion now, Krishna’s Shaivya would also definitely meet a similar fate! Mitravinda felt her brothers discreetly dragging her up the aisle of suitors. She could feel their eyes boring into her, sizing her up. Some of them had the decency to look uncomfortable, but no prince charming burst out of the row, putting an end to the farce. Instead, she was marched up and down twice by her brother. Both times he had pressed arm when she had stood before Prince Duryodhana of Hastinapura. She could feel her brothers' glares almost piercing a hole through the back of her neck. She could also feel the forced smiles they still donned for the sake of appearances. Mitra felt a strange rebellion bubbling inside of her. She had never been so determined. She would not raise the garland around his neck on her own. If she was to be married to him, her brothers would have to physically make her go through the motions, shedding all garb of decency. If she went down now, she would go down kicking and scratching.

Suddenly a loud noise shook the sabha. Everybody turned to look at the locked main door. Someone seemed to be trying to break it down. Mitra's brothers immediately let go of her, drawing their swords instead. Most of the suitors followed suit. She gasped as, with the second bang, the heavy wooden doors of the guarded arena burst into a hundred pieces and a humongous golden chariot rolled in, enveloped in a startling ball of light. Her horror turned into incredulity as she spotted the figurine of the great bird Garuda at the helm of the chariot and the realization dawned on her. Subhadra, that sly little devil! She could have kissed both her and her brother right now!

Without a word, Krishna bent down and lifted her by the waist onto the chariot and immediately turned it around on its wheel, as her garland lay abandoned on the floor. The barricades of the Yadava army helmed by Balarama and Satyaki quickly flanked into two pieces making way for Krishna’s while simultaneously blocking the path of the other kings who attempted to follow. Terrified of her brothers’ reaction Mitra looked over her shoulder and sighed in relief to find that the Yadava army had again merged into a single front behind them. She gulped however as she saw Vinda and Anuvinda who had somehow broken free of the barricade and were now chasing them down on horseback. Krishna had also noticed them. He turned around with the speed of lightning and started raining numerous arrows on the brothers. He switched so quickly between fighting and driving the chariot, that Mitra could've sworn he had four hands, not two! Eventually, he managed to injure both of their horses, leaving them stranded on the road, as he sped up the chariot.

She looked back at Krishna whose gaze was fixated on the road as he guided the chariot over the rough terrain. Mitravinda took a deep breath and spoke with a smile, “You could have hurt me, you know?” Krishna spoke without looking up, “Don’t you get sassy with me miss! Heard you fainted?” Mitravinda blushed and laughed, and Krishna joined her as he finally slowed down the chariot over the plain road ahead of them.

The burning midday sun had never seemed so pleasant. Mitra turned back and whispered a quick, grateful prayer in the direction of the ancient temple.

#krishna #original writing #fanfic #mahabharata #hindu mythology #ashtabharya #Ehi Murare #mitravinda

[p-artsypants]

Paint It Black (1) Meeting

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a correlation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself?

Read on Ao3

Robin had been missing for three months. One day he went out on patrol, and never came back. There was no evidence or clues to his whereabouts. Just a message to their communicators, "I have a lead. I'll be home later." He in fact, wasn’t home later. The hours drew on, and then days. They never knew what his lead was, or who he was investigating. That was his fatal flaw, having secrets from his team. And this time, it ended him, at least, that was the horrible conclusion they had come to.  

His picture appeared on the news for weeks, the population frightened that the leader of the team was gone.

The Titans had looked everywhere for Robin, even going so far to reach out to Batman in Gotham city, but to no avail. The powerless hero was gone, perhaps for good, and the city seemed like such a darker, sinister place.

Outside the tower, the Titans did their best to pretend that they could still handle themselves without him. But back at home, things were different. They missed him. More often than not, the team would separate and do their own thing. It was easier not to notice who was missing if they weren’t together. 

But they always had dinner together. Conversation was usually absent, and to fill the silence, the news would play. 

“It’s been several months since Teen Titans leader, Robin, disappeared without a trace. In the last few months, it seemed like Jump City picked up the slack. A number of amateur vigilantes have done their best to put an end to needless crime in our fair city. Criminals of all varieties have ended up at the police station, either walked in by people wearing cheap masks, or anonymously bound on the steps with a note on their person. The phenomenon has had mixed reception.” 

The shot changed to show the Chief of Police, Anderson Duffy, talking at a press conference. “While the sentiment surrounding the efforts of these vigilantes is appreciated, the actual work of crime fighting should always be left to the professionals, be it the police or the Titans. What these well intentioned folks are doing is creating a problem farther down the pipeline. Without confessions, many of these petty criminals end up right back on the street.” 

Beast Boy groaned. “Dude, it’s the same stuff every day. I don't care about these petty criminal vigilantes! Let them do what they want!” 

“Beast Boy, vigilantism is against the law. The only reason we get to do it is because Batman set a precedent and we have an agreement with the police and Mayor.” 

“Yeah yeah, I know, but ever since…you know, these shady dudes think it’s free reign to loot the city. Makes us look bad.” 

“You could start patrolling more often,” Cyborg smirked. “If it bothers you that much.” 

Beast Boy groaned again. “I hate that you’re right ‘cause I don’t wanna!” 

“Since the press conference from Chief Duffy, the rate of vigilantism in the city dropped drastically, but not entirely. Still, on a near hourly basis, the police are receiving criminals ducted taped with a note explaining what got them captured. Each note is signed with the letter ‘B’ and a heart. No one knows who Mr. B Heart is, but theories about Batman being in town are circulating.”

“Dude, the idea of Batman signing a note with a heart is so funny.”  

Cyborg scoffed at the TV. “These people see the Batmobile drive through town once and now they think he lives here.” 

“Another notable difference in the criminals turned in by Mr. B Heart is the injuries they sustained. Nearly all of them have to be hospitalized. Perhaps that serves as a warning for the other crooks out there? If you aren’t scared of prison, perhaps be scared of the hospital!” 

Raven turned the channel, not caring about what was on now. “I have had enough. Let them theorize.” 

Starfire sat quietly at her end of the table, scooting a brussel sprout around her plate.

“What’s wrong, Star? You love strange round food.” Cyborg asked, already knowing the problem.

“Hey! My brussel sprouts are not strange!” 

She gave them a half hearted smile and stood. “I simply no longer have an appetite.”

“Are you going back to the office?” Raven asked. “Are you sure you should?”

 Starfire shrugged. “I am unsure. But if there is a clue to his whereabouts, it would be in his notes.” 

“Good luck,” Beast Boy said sincerely. “I could barely read his chicken scratch.” 

“Could you simply not change into a chicken to read it?”

The team smiled, as Raven answered. “He means bad handwriting.” 

“Oh. Of course. I should have known.” 

One thing was for sure, even Raven was out more often than Starfire was. She was hurt the most by his disappearance. Robin was her counselor, her guide to this world that she didn't understand. He was her best friend, and she loved him very much.

—

It was Cyborg's turn for patrol duty. Normally, he'd drive the T-car around and ask some questions to people, check in on businesses; but tonight, he just wanted some fresh air. He parked downtown, in a safer place for his precious car, and then walked to a less than friendly part of town.

The streets were not so crowded. Especially of late. News of the amateur vigilantes had done enough to dissuade some of petty criminals, but the initial boom of petty criminals discouraged late night walks by civilians. It was a vicious cycle. 

Cyborg walked the main streets, tuning his radio to pick up cell phone frequencies. When phones picked up certain keywords, he’d hear it. He had to have discernment, as most crooks were going to say outright ‘I’m selling cocaine’ or ‘I just robbed that store’. 

But Cyborg had been in the business long enough to know what to listen for. 

“Is that it?”

“It doesn’t look like much, but it’s way more potent than the other stuff.”  

Bingo! Cyborg checked his computer. The frequency was coming from a block away, in between some buildings. He made his way there, quietly. 

“How much?”

“120 per gram.” 

“Oh you’re shittin’ me. No way.”

“Like I said. This stuff is potent. 10 grams of this is like a kilo of heroin.” 

“No kidding? Is it cut with anything?”

“Nah, I’ll let you do that yourself.” 

Cyborg reached the alley, the map on his arm indicating that these two were around the corner and down a floor, where the street descended for basement access. He snuck closer, recording the conversation. 

“How many grams you got on you?”

“Just one, cut in halves.”

“So 60 per bag?”

“Yeah. Cash or credit?”

The other guy laughed. “You take checks?”

“Man, get out of here.” 

“Here’s 60. I’ll take a half.” 

There were just two guys. One smaller than the other, but the bigger guy was huge, probably the same size as Cyborg. But of course, he didn’t have cybernetic enhancements. Just as he was about to break up the deal, a shadow dropped from above and knocked the smaller thug out. 

“What the hell?!” The ‘roided out thug shouted.

The figure quickly turned on the thug and tried to knock him out. It was a teenager, and he expertly dodged and weaved every swing the big guy threw. Cyborg watched for a moment, waiting to get involved, but wondered if perhaps this was one of the vigilantes from the news. 

The thug growled, “stand still you little maggot!” 

“It’s not nice to call people names!” The young man sang. Then he threw a solid punch to the thug in the face, knocking him off balance. Then in a few more precise, bone rattling punches, the thug was unconscious. 

Impressed, Cyborg stayed hidden for a moment as the kid riffled through the thug's pockets, and took some money.

"Hey kid, that's stealing," Cyborg announced, coming into view.

The kid turned to look at him. He was wearing all black. Black jeans with large holes in the knees and thighs, mismatched black boots, a black, raggedy trench coat over a black v-neck tee. His hands had fingerless gloves. His black hair was shaggy, and cut short on one side of his head. The kid shook his hair from his face and stared at the Cyborg with wild blue eyes and an eerie smile. More than any of his features, his smile struck Cyborg to the core. On the right side of his face, from the crease of his mouth almost to his ear, a gruesome, angry scar jogged across his face. 

"Did you need this?" He held out the bills in a fist.

"No. Put it back."

"It's drug money!" The kid shouted, suddenly becoming defensive. He clutched the money to his chest. "When he comes to, he'll just use it to get high or buy a prostitute! I need it to eat!"

"Okay, calm down...but did you have to take him out?"

"Most people couldn’t. I’m the exception. That's what heroes do. It’s all I know." The kid said, his smile widening. “Besides, he’s a punk. Been having trouble with him around here, selling fentanyl. Won’t be a problem for long. Go ahead, look in his pockets. I’m right.”

Cyborg shivered. The conviction this kid held was intense. "What's your name kid?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. I really don't remember my name, or much of anything, but that's what they call me." 

"Uh…well, I can see why..." He surveyed the kid's duds. "Listen...you can't just go around and beat people up. Even if they are selling drugs. That's what we're for. You’re still stealing, even if he’s a criminal. Got any friends or family around here?"

"Don't know."

"How do you not know?"

Black chuckled weakly and pointed to his head. "It’s a little fuzzy up here." Then he did a couple of flips before landing right in front of Cyborg, foot extended.  

Cyborg became defensive, and opened his cannon as a threat. 

Black simply tilted his head. “Where’s your hand, homie?”

Cyborg grit, “Don’t. Move.” 

“I was only offering a handshake,” Black wiggled his foot. 

Cyborg studied the boy, taking in his ratty appearance and disheveled clothes. He realized that this kid wasn’t pretending to be crazy, but likely was some sort of psychotic. As a sign of good will, Cyborg dropped his cannon and shook his foot. 

Black flipped around, landing back on his feet. "So who are you supposed to be?" He cocked his head.

"You don't know?" Cyborg asked, perplexed.

The strange boy shook his head.

"I'm Cyborg, temporary leader of the Teen Titans."

"Teen Titans? What? Is that a gang or something?"

Cyborg laughed. "No, we're a band of superheroes. You know, protecting the city from evil villains?"

"Oh." Black crouched. "Well, that's what I do! Am I a superhero?"

"I wouldn't say that…" he scratched his head. "Look, we see all kinds of wanna be vigilantes around here trying to be the next Batman. We’ve seen them and we keep tabs on them. You though…you’re new. And you should know what you're doing is not legal…especially since you don't have permission from the city…"

The boy looked mortified. "You have to have permission to do good around here?!"

Cyborg grimaced, "no…just…" he sighed. "You can't go around beating people up. Okay?"

Black pouted. "I don't understand. I'm only hurting the bad people."

"And who are you to judge whether they're good or not? That's not your job."

"And so what's going to happen if I stop taking out the pimps and drug dealers? Are you going to? Are the police?"

Cyborg felt hurt. "Well, the police can't do anything without solid evidence, and we…are busy with emergencies."

Black stuck out his tongue. "So, therefore, I believe I should be able to deal with these punks. After all…" he kicked a stone on the ground. "Got nothin' else better to do."

Cyborg rubbed the back of his head. He tried to be subtle, but he opened the computer on his arm and performed a vital sign scan on Black. “What kind of crime are you fighting? And how are you doing it?”

“Let’s see…I’ve dropped drug deals, maimed some muggers, busted some burglars, and stopped a stabber.” 

“You beat ‘em up? Like that guy?” He gestured to the thug still unconscious on the ground. 

“Yep! Then I duct tape their hands and drag ‘em outside of the police station with a love note pinned to them.” He pulled out a roll of duct tape from his pocket. “Totally legal!”

“It totally isn’t.” Cyborg snorted. According to his quick scan, this kid’s vitals were fine and normal. He didn’t appear to be tripping or anything. 

Just an eccentric teenager with some cognitive impairments. 

“Do you go to school?” 

Black shook his head. 

“Do your parents know you’re out here doing this?”

“Don’t got any.” 

“Oh…Sorry to hear that.” 

Black shrugged. “Well, I might. Maybe me mum and me da are out there somewhere.” 

“You really don’t know?”

“Nopers!” 

“Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll see if we can find someone who knows who you are, okay?”

Black stuck his pinky in his ear, seemingly considering it. Then his wrist beeped. “Uh oh! Look at the time! I gotta poop! Bye bye Cyder!”

“Hey wait!”   

"I will protect this city! Agent Black! Over and out!" He stuck his fists out in front of him and ran away, making 'whoosh' noises.

Cyborg sighed hard, feeling rather depressed after the encounter. "This city is making everyone go insane." Then he cringed. “Damn kid took the money too.”

—-

Beast Boy had patrol the next night. He was working on the east side, the ghetto. He was looking in windows, in the form of a cat, for suspicious activities.

Suddenly, a hand nabbed him and lifted him off the ground. "A green cat. A blue rat. A polka dotted purple bat!"

Beast Boy shifted back into a human and fell out of his captor's grasp. "Dude!" He came face to face with a boy, maybe a year older than him, hanging upside down from a fire escape. The boy wore all black and had a gnarly scar on his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hanging out!" He cleaned his ear with his pinky. "I'm on patrol."

"Patrol? Oh man, are you one of those wannabe vigilantes? Duuuude go home!" 

"Why are you green? Did someone add green dye to your soap? Are you an artist? I bet your favorite color is green. What are you doing here?"

Beast Boy blinked. "Are you high?"

"I'm higher than you are...I'm probably taller than you, too." He gestured to the general area. 

Beast Boy groaned. "I mean, have you had any drugs or alcohol this evening?" He tried to exert some authority. 

"Nope...I had a cheeseburger and a Dr. Pepper at six o'clock. But that..." He rolled up his sleeves and looked at the various watches on his arms, about a dozen. "...Was a very long time ago."

Beast Boy was thrown off balance by this kid. There wasn’t a person in Jump that didn’t recognize the only green person in the city. Maybe this kid was new in town? "Um...what's your name?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. But I don't like black, I like red. And green. And sometimes yellow, when I feel like it. Black's not a bad color, it just is dark. Scary things hide in the dark. Like clowns." He blanched.

"Nice to meet you. Now, I have to finish my rounds. I wanna get home for movie night. You dig?"

“For gold? Often.” Black rubbed his nose. “What’s your name, Jolly Green?”

“Beast Boy. You new in town?”

“Don’t know. Are you friends with that really tall metal-y guy?"

"Cyborg? Yeah, he's my best friend. Did you see him?"

"Yep, I saved him from a mugger, last night," Black said proudly, his face turning red from hanging upside down.

"You saved him?"

"D’Naawwww, I took down a mugger though. Wait, I think it was a drug dealer. Anyways, the robot man was just there. He tried to tell me to stop fighting crime. Psh, I'm the hero!"

Beast Boy sighed. It was always sad to see someone trapped in a hero fantasy. "Hey Black, um...feeling like...letting me join you on your 'patrol'?"

Black put a finger to his chin. "I don't know. You kinda cramp my style. Green and black and purple? You look like the one lady from the one movie by that one guy.”

“That narrows it down.”

“No no, it’s a big one. A cartoon, with a Princess that sleeps a lot.”

“Are you talking about the witch from Sleeping Beauty?”

Black snapped his fingers. “Nope, I got it. The Shining.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the one in the Hotel with Richard Nixon?”

“Jack Nickleson?” Beast Boy gawked. 

Black shrugged. “I guess you had to be there.”

Beast Boy shook his head, “You’re crazy, dude.”

“And yet, you’re the one who’s green.”

Beast Boy scoffed. “I didn’t choose to be green, if that’s what you’re insinuating!” 

“Oh, you didn’t? I’m sorry. I heard it’s not easy being green.” 

“Oh har har. Haven’t heard that one before.”

Black pouted and rested his hands on his hips. “You're a stick in the mud.”

“Am not! I’m hilarious!” 

“Doubt it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patrol to finish. I wanna get home for movie night.” He effortlessly flipped up the fire escape, twisted free and swung up the scaffolds to the roof. 

“Hey! That’s my line! Hey!” 

But by then, Black was gone.

Oh well. Beast Boy was sure he’d run into him again. "Weird kid."

—-

In mid afternoon, Cyborg sat at the kitchen table with a stack of reports. Usually, this was Robin’s job, but with him gone…

The Titans often traded this duty, but Cyborg was the best at it, so he did it more often than not. 

A video call came in, and Beast Boy paused his video game to answer it. 

“Heeeeey Duffy!” Beast Boy greeted the Police Chief. After the look the Chief gave him, he cleared his throat and corrected himself, “Ah, hello Chief Duffy.” 

“Titans,” the Chief said curtly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a question for Cyborg regarding the fentanyl dealers you turned in two days ago.” 

Cyborg looked up from his report. “Sure thing, Chief.” 

“In the recording you gave us, Mr. Alexander states that he has two half grams of Fentanyl to sell to Mr. Hartline. But as we took inventory and booked them, we only found one bag. Did you happen to take it for evidence and forget to turn it in?”

“No, I turned in everything at once. Did you check to see if he was lying on the recording?” 

“The punk has a chip on his shoulder. Swears up and down he had two bags, and that someone stole from him and is trying to sell his supply.”

“I’m sorry Chief. Maybe it fell out of his pocket. Half a gram isn’t that big. It may have gotten lost in the shuffle.” 

“I’m sure you’re right. Thank you.”

Cyborg should have thought about it more, but these reports weren’t going to fill out themselves.  

—-

Raven had Wednesday night patrol. She never minded patrolling. Sure, there are lots of things she would have rather been doing, but it was usually peaceful and quiet.

Usually.

She hovered over a rooftop of a church. "Hello," said a deep voice. "So glad you could make it. I've been expecting you."

Raven turned rapidly to see a young man perched on a gargoyle, smiling wickedly at her. The long bottom of his raggedy coat fluttered in the wind. Suddenly, he fell off and kicked his legs in the air, laughing jovially.

"Your face!" He shouted. "You should have seen it."

"Kid, you're messing with the wrong girl."

Her threat seemingly fell on deaf ears as he reclined on the stone. "Is that your natural hair color?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yes..." She exasperated.

"Purple's a nice color. Usually purple and blue clash, but you pull it off."

"Uh thanks.” She said flatly. “What are you doing all the way up here? You’re trespassing." 

"Chatting with some friends. Right Hugo?" He patted the gargoyle. Then he laughed. "He's such a card!"

Raven took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to get nasty with a civilian, no matter how stupid or annoying they were. "Right, well, I have a job to do. So unless there’s a crime you need to report–"

"Oh, like the guy that almost raped that girl in the alley?" He pulled out a candy bar that was already opened. "Took care of it. Did you know that duct tape is the greatest invention ever? Anyways, the girl, Annie, is in the church with the Padre, along with half of my candy bar." He looked at the wrapper dismally.

Raven looked at him in shock. “You stopped an assault?”

“And how! I’m the hero of Jump City, didn’t you know?”

"What's your name?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. Despite my name, I'm white. And this," he held up the candy bar. "This is milk chocolate. Not that I don't like dark chocolate...actually, I don't like dark chocolate. White chocolate is okay, but yes. What was I saying?"

Raven shook her head, this kid was giving her a headache. "Do you live around here?"

“Uhhhhhhhh yeah, sometimes. I’ve got a couple of holes I burrow in.” 

Her irritation waned slightly. “You’re homeless?”

"Oh! I don't know."

"...you don't know..." She droned.

"I mean like, if home is where the heart is, then your real home is in your chest." He bit into the chocolate. "You ask some strange questions."

That was it. This young man was clearly unwell. She closed her eyes and prepared to enter his mind. "Azarath … metrion … zinth-"

"Ohh! Are you casting a spell? On a church? Are you a bad guy? Do I need to beat you up?"

She kept her eyes closed, attempting to focus. "No. I'm going to read your mind. I need to evaluate your mental state."

"Okay! What am I thinking about?!"

Raven shook her head to rid the images of pink fluffy bunnies. "Look! Knock it off! Who are you, really?!"

"I told you, I'm Black, hero of Jump city! And if you don't mind, you've been extremely rude." He curled his lips and scrunched his nose. "Who. ARE. YOU?" He spoke with an English accent and excessively rolled his 'R's.

"They call me Raven. I’m with the Titans."

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore…"

"No, no no." She snapped. “I’m going to stop you right there. As much as I love that poem, I’ve heard the joke a few too many times. So, no thank you.” 

Black pouted. “I have the whole thing memorized and everything.” 

“Perhaps I’ll indulge you another time,” she offered a patient but not entirely friendly smile.

“I look forward to it, Mrs. Magpie!” He saluted. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to beat up a janitor!" And he ran and jumped off the roof. Raven raced to the edge, staring back in shock. Black was hanging from a water spout below. "Oh, by the way, he's not really a janitor, that's just his cover. Agent Black! Protecting the peace! Away ho!" He swung out and caught a ledge, and maneuvered his way down the side of the building like he had done it a hundred times before. 

Raven shook her head. It was a little sad to see someone so young act like such a lunatic. Perhaps they’d cross paths again. 

—-

Back at the tower, Raven came into the common room where the boys were watching a movie. Starfire looked dismally out the window. Raven sighed and made some tea.

Cyborg paused the movie. "Hey Raven, how did it go?"

She went to the kettle that someone had kindly started for her. "It was fine until I ran into some weird kid. Said his name was Black. He didn't give me any trouble, just a headache."

Beast Boy hopped up to his knees to look at her. "Wait, teenage boy? Dressed in all black? Wicked scar on his face? Did he say he was a hero?"

"Yo! I totally saw that kid!" Cyborg exclaimed. "Totally nuts!"

"You saw him too?" Raven asked, eyebrows raised.

Starfire looked in interest.

"Yeah, he beat up some punk in the narrows," Cyborg explained.

"He actually beat someone up? I thought he was full of hot air. I saw him in an alleyway," said Beast Boy.

"I met him at a church. Said he had just stopped an assault on a young woman. Didn’t seem all that shaken up about it though."

"What an odd coincidence that you would all run into the same person," Starfire mused as she came over.

"Strange thing is, the more I thought about it, I could have sworn I've met him before." Cyborg scratched his head. "He seemed so familiar. But when I looked him up in our records, I didn’t find anything.”

“I swear I’d remember someone that cuckoo for cocoa puffs.” Beast Boy scoffed.

“To be fair,” Raven slightly smirked. “He wasn’t as cuckoo as some of the other crazies we come across.”  

"Who knows? You might get to meet him next, Star."

—

It happened at the docks. Starfire had just finished staking out the North pier, where drug deals or gang initiations often happened. There were none tonight. It was actually rather quiet. The weather was pleasant, and the water was calm. There were even a few visible stars, despite the light pollution. 

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" A familiar voice spoke. Starfire, in her excitement, turned around, expecting Robin, but instead, a young man at the same age was lying like a board on a wave breaker. "They should take a picture of you and put it in an art museum." He stated, staring at the sky.

"Oh, thank you." She blushed.

"What? Oh no, I was talking about the moon."

Starfire frowned.

“But you’re not so bad. You could be on a billboard."

She blushed again. "Thank you."

"You don't thank someone for a compliment like that." 

She opened her mouth to question him, but shut it instead. 

He rolled over to look at her, and scrunched up his face. After about a minute, he let out a long hum and then said, “nope, nothing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem familiar, like somebody I used to know,” he sang that last bit to the tune of the song.

"Oh?" She asked, hovering next to him, not catching that he was making a reference. "What was she like?"

"I don't know! I used to know her! I'm pretty sure she was beautiful though, and I think I might have loved her. Maybe I still love her."

Starfire examined the boy's clothes, and then noticed the scar by his mouth that Beast Boy had mentioned, despite the lighting.. "Are you...Black?"

"Girl, I’m as pale as the day is long."

"Please do not confuse me. I meant your name."

"Oh...Yep, but you can call me Black. I was taking a break from my patrol. Being a hero is hard business."

"You are a hero?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm undercover."

"You seem...odd."

"Only to normal people. Tell me, are you normal?"

"I don't think so...I am not of Earth after all."

He sat up. "An alien! Gadzooks! Can you fly? Do you have super strength? Can you shoot lasers from your eyes? What's your favorite color? Where do you reside? Are you allergic to carrots? Will you be my friend? Can I kiss you?" 

"Yes, yes, yes, orange, Titans Tower, no, of course, and no."

He leaned closer.

She rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. "I believe I said you could not kiss me."

"I'm not gonna kiss you."

"What do you call this then?"

Their noses were almost touching. "Close talking."

She pushed him away, gently though, aware of her strength. "Um, will you please tell me your name?"

“I did. It’s Black.” He cocked his head. 

“Your real name.”

He shrugged. "Don't know it."

“You don’t?” 

“Nope! Not a single solitary clue!”

"But-"

"You know, I asked some people about it before. One guy said I'm a psychopath. Another said Schizophrenic. I think I’m just lactose intolerant.” 

“Were any of those people professionals?”

“Yeah, professional buttheads.” 

“Perhaps I could help you? We have resources to help with cognitive impairments! We offer it to some of our villains.”

“Nah, I’m good. Just missing some memories. I figure they weren’t all that important if I lost ‘em in the first place. Right now I’m working on making new memories and friends.” He pouted like a kicked puppy. "I don't have many friends yet. Just this really tall robot guy, a green kid that can shape shift, and a very grumpy mind reader with purple hair."

"Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven!"

"You know them?"

"Yes, they are my best friends."

He pouted. "No! They're my best friends!"

"Black, we can share friends."

"That sounds like a reasonable deal. Your eyes remind me of grass."

The sudden topic switch gave her whiplash. “Thank…you?”

"Do you have a name?" He asked.

"Yes, my name is Starfire."

"Geez, I didn't ask what your name was, just if you had one!"

"Oh, my apologies?"

"You're welcome." He did a handstand and walked around. "It's a nice name though. Reminds me of...toothpaste."

"Tooth…paste…? In what way?"

"It’s a shiny name. I'm allergic to carrots. They make my tummy feel icky. But sometimes I can eat them when they're in soup. Just kidding, I've never had carrots in soup."

Based upon what her friends had said about this boy, he seemed unwell. This conversation only cemented that fact. Starfire was concerned, as she would be for any civilian. "Do you have a home?"

"I live in a hat. I'm not a rabbit though, my ears are too short and I can't eat carrots, as stated previously."

"What do you mean you live in a hat?"

"There's an old hat warehouse on the south side of town. I live in the big ol' hat on top with my pet pigeon. I named him Frankie 'cause he doesn't like chocolate."

“I do not follow.”

“Frank Sinatra didn’t like chocolate.” 

“Oh! He is named after a person! I have a pet worm named Silkie." Starfire smiled.

“That’s wonderful! You have a worm, I have a bird! It’s like we’re bestest buds already!” He popped up to his feet. "Welp, I best be leaving. Gots to find me a criminal."

“Wait! You’re leaving just like that?!”

“Crime never sleeps!” 

“But–!”

He did a triple backflip and landed on his feet. "Boobies, weenies, and underwear! Sometimes I'm naked but I don't care! Agent Black, over and out!" And he took off running.

She had to report this to her friends. He gravely needed help.

#fanfiction #teen titans #dc robin #robin #starfire #koriand'r #dick grayson #cyborg #beast boy #raven #paint it black

[pixiemage]

There's Not a Word Yet - Pt. 1

[ — | Next ]

Inspired by this post by @raviodoesstuff {This work can also be found on Archive of our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a rumbling and a sparking and the overwhelming churning hum of a portal that drew everyone to the rift again, in the end. Jimmy was not the first to arrive but not the last either, his wings tucking tight against his back with his dive and snapping out to catch the air again before he can collide with the ground. (He ended up alighting on the bridge alongside False and Scott, their eyes all locked on the purple glow emanating from the cliffside. Fwhip was saying something to Sausage off to the side but he refused to listen, too focussed on the rift and its sudden activity to pay any mind to his ex-deputy.)

The Festival had only been a few days ago, and there hadn't been a response to the message they'd sent through, and - well. This was the most active the rift had been since its unexplained appearance a few weeks back.

"Was anyone mucking around with it?" Jimmy asked Scott, the closest to him, all while squinting at the flowing purple light from beneath the brim of his hat. Beside him, Scott hummed thoughtfully.

"Not that I know of," he drawled, his words slow, even, pensive. "I was one of the first few here. Gem was first but she seemed about as confused as I did, and Sausage showed up with me, so..."

"...so it started doin' this all on its own?" Jimmy guessed, and Scott shrugged.

Very helpful.

Nobody dared get too close, nobody except Lizzie, but Fwhip was quick to pull her right back to the bridge the moment she tried, muttering about 'Gary' and 'Sniff' and 'we don't know if it's safe'. Safe or not, Lizzie didn't get much of a chance to argue either way, because before anyone else could say much of anything the hum of the rift increased in volume, the light coming off of it increasing in intensity, and every person on the bridge had to cover their ears and turn away when a blast of purpureal magical energy radiated outward from the portal with enough force to nearly sweep Jimmy's hat from his head.

(Except, of course, any good Sheriff with even an ounce of self-respect had a proper and well-fitting hat, so it wasn't so easy to knock it free from its perch.)

Jimmy rubbed at his eyes to dispel some of the imprints from his vision, barely aware of Joel murmuring soft comforts to Hermes and Pixl muttering to himself about unprecedented phenomenon. And then–

“There’s people!”

Lizzie’s gasped shout drew Jimmy’s attention in an instant and his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing in on the rift. People? …holy moly, there were people. A whole crowd of them, at least a dozen in total if not more, all littering the small platform that had been built for the Festival. They were strange too, some in various forms of armor and elytras, all in vastly different styles of dress. Many, too, weren’t fully human as far as Jimmy could tell - the man with parrot wings looked strangely familiar for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint - but the appearance of hybrids and non-humans wasn’t all that strange. After all, the folks standing with Jimmy on the bridge weren’t exactly the most normal people around. Maybe…maybe the newcomers were from other empires, from another place? Maybe they were each rulers in their own right? Maybe–

Maybe, as the Sheriff around these parts, Jimmy ought to greet them and see what had brought them here in the first place.

Jimmy was in the air before he could really stop himself, his wings catching the air quickly. He heard a few of his friends protesting his decision but just as many seemed to be joining him in the air if the sound of rockets behind him was anything to go by.

“Do you even have a plan here, Jimmy?” Scott called out, catching up quicker than the rest. (Perhaps he had followed first?) “Or are you just running headlong into trouble like you usually do?”

“I was planning on being polite,” Jimmy snapped back. “I’m also the law around here, aren’t I? I should make sure they’re not planning on causing trouble in the first place.”

He beat his wings a little harder, a little quicker, darting ahead again and ignoring whatever new protests Scott might have been tossing his way. (If there were any, he couldn’t hear them past the wind in his ears anyway. The feathers around his ears twitched and curved, trying to lessen the noise.) When he landed it was with slightly less grace than usual, his boots barely catching him and his knees giving out a bit from the harsh landing. He ended up in a crouch, one hand planted on the wooden platform to catch him, his wings splayed out for balance. He cast a glance up from beneath the brim of his head, trying to get a good look at the gathered newcomers before he started off with introductions.

Many of them were distracted, their focussed pulled in every direction by the members of the other empires that were landing around the edge of the platform. Joel, most notably, was being as bombastic as ever, though - thank the void - he was standing at his normal, human-sized height for the time being. Jimmy huffed in frustration. It looked like it would be difficult to gain anyone’s attention in this chaos.

“...Timmy?”

Or…not? Jimmy straightened, confusion dancing over his face at the sound of almost-his-name, his eyes finding a shock of red as one of the shorter players shoved through the crowd to the front. Red sweater, blond hair, a cheeky grin, parrot wings–

“Grian?” The name left him before he could stop it, immediately followed by utter bafflement when the name in question met his own ears. Grian? How did he…?

“I…know you,” he mused, eyeing the other avian and his vibrant, strangely-familiar feathers. “How do I know you?”

“What d’you mean?” the guy - Grian - asked, chuckling incredulously. “Tim, we’ve known each other for years.”

“...have we?”

Had they? Jimmy wasn’t sure, but that sounded right. Though…something about the red and yellow and blue of Grian’s wings and the dark color of his eyes felt…off, somehow. He frowned, flicked up the brim of his hat, and tilted his head to the side.

“Aren’t your wings supposed to be purple?” he asked, unable to really stop himself. He must have said the wrong thing - or maybe the right thing - because Grian’s expression dropped and he stared, his eyes wide.

“...oh. Oh, I’m sorry, you–” Grian’s eyes flashed, a vibrant violet, and he took a polite sort of step back. “Sorry, Jimmy. This world is - right. Right. Of course. Sorry–”

“Jimmy!”

Jimmy barely had time to turn toward the shout before someone was tackling him in a ridiculously warm hug, his wings flailing to keep them both balanced while Jimmy got a face full of blue-gray fluff. He pinwheeled, staggered slightly, then awkwardly patted his strange attacker on the back with a baffled chuckle.

“Uh…hi?”

The stranger stepped back, and it was only now that Jimmy got a good look at him. He was decked out in dark blacks and blues, a mage’s robe of some sort, with keys hanging from his belt and fur lining his cloak. He wasn’t human either, his eyes and hair glowing a sort of soul-flame-blue (and maybe it was actual flames, he mused, remembering how warm the guy’s hug had been), and when he grinned at Jimmy his smile was inhumanly sharp. Netherborn, maybe? That sounded right, felt right, though Jimmy couldn’t recall having met a netherborn before in his life.

“I’ve missed you!” the guy was saying now, an immeasurable level of excitement and joy in those three words, and Jimmy…blinked blankly at him.

“Er…”

“Tango–” Grian reached a hand toward him, looking uncomfortable, looking sad.

“What?” the guy - Tango - rolled his eyes at Grian, shaking him off with a laugh. “Maybe it hasn’t been that long since Double Life, but forgive me if I’ve missed the guy. You get to see Scar every day. It’s not even–”

“Er, sorry, but–” Jimmy interrupted him, waiting until Tango’s focus was back on him before pulling on a polite smile and carrying on, “–who are you?”

There was a moment, a brief moment, where Grian seemed to hold his breath. Tango stared at Jimmy owlishly for all of a second then let out an aborted and uncertain sort of laugh, his mouth still grinning but his eyes turning confused.

“C’mon Jim, I know I look a little different, but it hasn’t been that long…” He cast a look toward Grian. “...has it?”

Grian opened his mouth, closed, it, glanced between them, then swallowed.

He murmured something into Tango’s ear that Jimmy couldn’t hear, shooting a pointed look over his shoulder to where a white-haired man was watching Joel and Sausage with a strange look in his eyes, a dark mask hiding the lower half of his face from view. Jimmy wasn’t entirely sure what Grian was getting at - hell, he could barely remember why he even knew Grian at all - but something about the little exchange must have made sense to Tango. The (presumably) netherborn’s eyes widened and he seemed to understand, nodding jerkily. He let go of Jimmy’s shoulder and hip where he’d still been hanging on and stepped back with the same politeness as Grian. When he gave Jimmy a friendly sort of smile it wasn’t quite as bright as Grian’s had been, something that Jimmy might not have even noticed if it didn’t seem…familiar, somehow. He was smiling though, and that had to count for something. Right?

Somewhere in the rush of the crowd, Grian slipped away, whispering hurried words to the rest of the newcomers that had appeared through the rift as he went. Jimmy watched him go with a thoughtful frown.

“Sorry man,” Tango said, huffing out an awkward sort of laugh and drawing Jimmy’s attention back to him. He was fussing with the goggles that Jimmy hadn’t noticed hanging around his neck, his other hand running through the blue flames licking across his hair. “I think I got you mixed up with someone else. No hard feelings, right?”

Jimmy blinked at him but returned the smile with a friendly one of his own.

“Er - no, of course not,” he denied quickly. He tugged on a brighter sort of grin. “I think this entire situation is a bit chaotic for everyone involved. I’m not surprised there’s a bit of confusion going around.”

“Yeah, totally!” Tango nodded. “Totally.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders looking a bit hunched - though that could have been the fluff of his hood playing tricks. “You, uh…yeah. Hah. I’ll just–”

“Tango, hey!”

Another one of the strangers separated from the crowd, this one seemingly human. He was dressed in yellow and black, the beard and fashion of his clothes reminding Jimmy startlingly of a dwarf even though his height certainly didn’t match it. Tango knew him too, clearly, because when the guy slung an arm to hang around Tango’s shoulder, the netherborn all but melted into his side.

“You good, buddy?” dwarf-guy asked, sounding worried. His eyes flicked to Jimmy for half a breath. “Grian said to look for you.”

“Hey Impy,” Tango murmured, his grin looking forced. (Though Jimmy wasn’t sure how he knew that.) “All good. I was just introducing myself to, uh–”

“Jimmy Solidarity,” Jimmy was quick to chime in, a friendly grin on his face as he extended a hand to Tango’s friend. “Sheriff of Tumble Town.”

“Impulse,” the new guy grinned right back, his handshake firm. “Nice to meet you. You’ve already met Tango, it sounds like.”

“Sheriff huh?” Tango smirked, eyeing Jimmy curiously, and Jimmy couldn’t help the way he went a bit stiff, readying himself for some kind of scathing remark– “That’s a good look on you. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sheriff.”

…oh. Jimmy blinked, warmth rising in his chest at the genuine compliment he heard in Tango’s words.

“I - oh. Er, thank you.” He nodded, tipping his hat with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you too.”

Impulse cleared his throat.

“C’mon Tango, Grian wants to round everyone up.”

Tango didn’t move for a moment, still watching Jimmy with something in his eyes that Jimmy couldn’t quite name. Hope? Loss? Sadness? Longing, maybe? He wasn’t sure… But then Tango was gone, sticking to Impulse’s side as they made their way through the throng toward the flash of bright feathers Jimmy could barely see through the crowd.

For the next few moments, Jimmy did his best to banish the strange feeling in his chest, the one that told him he was forgetting something important. He swallowed back the feeling of melancholy that welled up at the back of his throat, and ignored the way his eyes kept seeking out flashes of blue flames as he and Scott and Fwhip tried to wrangle in the chaos and come up with a plan. He tried not to think of how much he already missed the warmth of Tango’s hug, that brief moment of excitement and joy that had washed over him even when he hadn’t known why Tango was so excited in the first place.

(He still didn’t fully understand that, either, and Tango brushing it off as ‘mistaking him for someone else’ made less sense when Jimmy remembered that Tango had outright called him by name, but…but he couldn’t think about it.)

Above all, he tried not to wonder why he felt like he knew Tango already, why he could recognize the differences between his real smiles and his fake ones and why some of the netherborn’s mannerisms were dancing at the back of his mind.

The look on Tango’s face when Grian whispered in his ear. The resignation, the stiffness, the wide-eyed understanding. The way his pointed ears pressed back against his head for a tick or two, and the way his tail lashed at the air behind him even while he grinned through the rest of the conversation.

He was upset, Jimmy found himself thinking, the realization making something ache in his chest for reasons he couldn’t pin down. When his tail twitches like that - it means he’s upset and he’s trying not to show it. Or that he’s so upset that the energy doesn’t have anywhere else to go but out his tail.

Jimmy didn’t know how he knew that, and he didn’t know why the thought pained him so much, but he couldn’t pay attention to that. Not right now. Right now, he had to be the Sheriff, because they had a dozen strangers to handle, and - if Lizzie was to be believed - the rift wasn’t letting them back through to wherever it was they had come from.

If Joel would quit trying to declare himself in charge of the situation, then maybe they could get this whole mess sorted before sundown.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: Title inspired by lyrics from "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday" from The Muppets - "There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met". Actually, the entire first verse of that song hits real hard for this one shot but - well. I limited myself to just that one line lol. ANWAY! Hopeful ending? I did leave in threads for a potential continuation if folks are interested. BUT ALSO this was written on 10/23/22 so whatever events MIGHT happen between Hermitcraft and Empires have not happened yet, thus there's potential that this entire fic will be rendered completely canon non-compliant lol. Hope you enjoyed anyway!]

[ — | Next ]

#Team Rancher #Trafficblr #Solidaritek #Kinda? #HC x Empires #Pixiemage Writes #There's Not a Word Yet #Can be read platonically or romantically #though if I continue it'll probably lean more toward romantic #Empires S2 #The Rift #TangoTek #SolidarityGaming #Jimmy Solidarity #TNaWY AU

[painted-bees]

*ahem* good sirs. Please. What is Wolves of Danu about?

Inquiring minds want to know!

Oh, wow look at all this totally unexpected, totally unprompted interest in my current hyper fixation!! Truly blessed coincidence! Lemme tell you all about it!! It's a historical horror/fantasy that takes place in 1880's British Isles and follows a Druid named Áine as she tries to survive in a world that has been long starved of the fae magic which once flowed abundantly through the lands both above and under hill. The faefolk--the Sidhe were once powerful creatures in these lands, and their mercurial meddling in human affairs had made life on the Isles much more treacherous to navigate. For the average person, the absence of magic and of the Sidhe in daily life has long brought a kind of peace they otherwise may have never known. But for the druids, this was a calamity. Cut off from the sustaining magics of their Mother Danu, the Sidhe slowly withered into starved husks of their former selves; and over the following centuries, became animated only by their clawing hunger for the last remaining wells of magic present in the overhill: druids. Relentlessly hunted by the undying Sidhe, a Druid's best hope of survival comes in the form of creatures who exist in the between; neither human nor Sidhe but both at once. Áine's search brings her to the country-side estate of a wealthy aristocratic family where their best-kept secret locks himself away for weeks at a time. Their seventh son; a wolf of Danu. Back when the the Sidhe ruled the Isles, aaages ago, they brokered a deal with the [human] clans that sought to wrestle control over the land. The Sidhe would live Underhill and leave the world above to human rule so long as certain rituals, offerings, arrangements were maintained. Among these was the agreement that the seventh son of the seventh son thenforth would be a son of Danu; compelled to follow her laws and serve as her most loyal eyes and ears in the lands above. They would exist among their human communities, advantaged by their fae charisma...to live most privileged lives as long as the goddess Danu lived. But as the moon drew closer to the earth, the would be compelled to take on a sidhe appearance and return to their Mother Danu until the moon pulled back from the earth once more. Though Danu had been vanquished centuries ago, this accord still survives among the descendants of the clan who agreed to it. Though most else surrounding this ancient agreement has long since decayed. The problem is, for these half-sidhe creatures, the drought of magic has affected them, too. While their human needs may be well met, the wolf slowly starves as all Sidhe do. Over time, this starvation is known to drive these sons of Danu mad as the hunger-driven wolf commands control more and more aggressively with the passing years. Unfortunately, the Ó Faoláin family are unaware of this inevitability regarding their youngest son. But, in a mutually beneficial arrangement, a druid could, perhaps, satiate the wolf's hunger with consistent offerings, in exchange for the wolf's protection against the other, far less restrained Sidhe. Such begins the relationship between Áine and Lomair.

here, have a bunch of sketches of explorative/unfinalized designs!:

this too, even though I only just posted it. why not!:

#wolves of danu #thank you guys haha

[debtsunpaid]

i'm still going apeshit over my new guy while i write their backstory but i'm being a perfectionist about it, so in the meantime here's a few lil things about klavier:

formerly an astrophysicist working for the ESA (and one-time astronaut, but that wasn't always the plan). their colleagues remember him best for their mental math prowess, his ferocity in advocating for their team & their project, the six separate times he almost knocked himself out on the wing of their own spaceplane, and the very, very formal weekly dinners they hosted that no one ever expected to be that formal bc he brought them up like inviting friends over to watch the game on sunday.

re: the dinners: they love to cook for people. love it. very picky about the process and doesn't often like other people helping them (he takes hosting and courtesy towards houseguests very seriously), but doesn't mind people watching or taste-testing. he doesn't do it as much these days, because all the joy was really in the social aspect & he considers themself too dangerous to get close enough to people to invite them over, but they'll still pull out absolutely flawless cutting technique when applicable.

met their fiancée (magdalena) in university bc he was arguing with a professor in the law library where she worked. she came over to tell them to shut the fuck up, and he jumped so badly that she felt guilty later & went back over to apologize, to which he Also apologized & suggested that hitting him with one of the heavier books would have been equally effective. they started talking about each other's work & majors, were going to part ways when the library closed, then awkwardly ended up walking the same way home. to the same apartment complex. for a while after that, whenever klavier went to the library while magdalena was working, she'd catch his eye and pretend to line up a shot with the heaviest book she had on hand, which always made them laugh.

currently a drifting adjunct professor & substitute teacher, as well as an occasional german, spanish, & math tutor. he tends to focus more on teaching/talking about mathematics these days rather than astrophysics, though they've done a few physics lectures here and there; if asked why, they'd say it's because he's still hiding from the german government + MI-6 and it's smarter to avoid being found within his field of expertise. but really it's because the last time they knew what was real & what wasn't was in 1990, the world's ideas about the cosmos have changed drastically since then, and he no longer feels like an expert in anything, or like he even knows the world they're standing on, let alone any worlds elsewhere.

CLIFF NOTES ON THE GOD PROBLEM: klavier was psychically bonded with jallakuntilliokan during his first (and only) spaceflight on the spaceplane hermes because their orbit put them Directly over the geotroniks facility where the magi caecus were firing the fear machine, at the exact moment when john constantine, zed, and marj were completing their ritual to summon its anima (other godly half) and negate its intended damaging influence on the world. but while the beings themselves balanced out, the summoning rituals did not (pagan nation involved 3 people, geotroniks involved 2), and they could not co-exist unevenly in the world, so jallakuntilliokan had to draw on more psychic energy in order to even things out.

luckily for jalla, there was a spaceplane with 3 powerful potential psychics perfectly aligned with the ley lines that it drew its power from, courtesy of string-pulling and secret testing led by the UK magi caecus and klavier's own mother for over a year prior. it was a flimsy backup plan based on the (so they thought) astronomically slim chance the summoning would fail, with the intention that the spaceplane would be intentionally crashed into the facility and some poor suckers would be sacrificed for enough psychic potential + public shock & alarm to rev the fear engine all the way up to its purpose. they just didn't count on jallakuntilliokan sniffing out the supply first.

the other two astronauts were fried, but klavi survived; the burst severely damaged the hermes and it crashed back to earth, veering off course and hitting the baltic sea. all klavier remembers is the burst, seeing his colleagues burn out, the agonizing sensation of something segmenting their brain like an orange, and then being dragged out of the ocean later. he was then secretly held by the german government for three years in the hopes of determining what the fuck had happened & what was now wrong with him, until jallakuntilliokan shoved their consciousness into the Dreaming long enough to take hold of the body and bust out. he's been on the run ever since, all but convinced there's an alien living in his skull, unaware that he's playing host to a god.

#ooc tbt. #KLAVIER HC. ( we hold all the secrets we hold all the words. ) #can you imagine taking a math class where your teacher is lowkey possessed by a primordial fear god. #math is bad enough without being asked a question and feeling your innermost fears rise unbidden to the front of your mind #& then disappear as if you never feared at all. only to see your professor in your nightmares later #safe to say that his ratemyprofessor reviews are Fucked #sched.

[honeyblair]

i'm bored so here's a list of yuri on ice headcanons that i have concerning attachments to

yuuri studied music in college. doesn't matter if he majored in it or minored with a more "realistic" major but i refuse to believe that music hasn't played a part in his life (also there's a lot of evidence that he's a pianist.)

victor is an avid literature enjoyer. in the blu ray version of the show the scene with victor's home is changed to have literally wall to wall bookshelves filled to the brim. you cannot tell me that man hasn't read every single one backwards and forwards.

when phichit and yuuri met in detroit, phichit immediately attached himself to yuuri. at first, yuuri probably didn't understand phichit's extroverted insistence. but eventually phichit drew yuuri out of his shell and got him to actually socialize like a normal college student.

to add on to the last one, yuuri actually was pretty well known at his college but he himself thought he was invisible. little did he know, he was actually pretty popular but many people thought he was intimidating or scary to approach when, in reality, yuuri thought that of everyone else.

yuuri arrived in the united states already fluent in english. it is really REALLY common in the skating world that camps and coaches teach you english as a second language if you're competing internationally. also, it would make sense for the katsuki's to know at least a little english as they run a one-of-a-kind inn in a town popular with tourists.

yuuri never really was into anime as a child/teenager but was formally introduced when phichit forced him to watch a handful of shows after learning his friend had little anime knowledge. yuuri responded well and took interest to various soundtracks and anime composers.

phichit introduced yuuri to vocaloid and yuuri's life has not been the same since. phichit almost regrets it as yuuri became obsessed with the technology behind the vocaloid software but is glad he's obsessed with the music aspect rather than the anime girls.

yuuri has attended a hatsune miku concert. do i really need to elaborate.

yuuri hated wearing warm and super bright colors for the longest time. if it wasn't blue, purple or black, get that shit out of here. victor slowly opened him up to the idea of other colors though.

victor isn't fond of teenagers. i mean, i think we all know how close he was to snapping at yurio multiple times throughout the show. he's fake nice to their faces but is probably fucking tired of teenage angst.

victor's had some sort of major injury in his career. it's been alluded to in the show but i seriously wouldn't be surprised with his work ethic and constant training since he was a teenager.

yurio knew of yuuri before the sochi gpf. maybe he was even a fan of yuuri's.... but he'd rather be six feet under than admit it to his face.

victor and yuuri don't get married until a few years after their barcelona engagement. while i feel like victor would want to rush into marriage, yuuri would most defiantly push back and need more time to adjust to the new state of their relationship. they went from strangers to fiancés in the span of only 8 months after all.

yuuri and victor don't stay in russia for long. depending on in-universe laws and stuff, same sex marriage might not be legal in russia and, to be honest, i don't know if i could see yuuri or victor happy in russia for the rest of their lives.

yurio absolutely hates the faux parental roles yuuri and victor have adopted and pisses them off on purpose. he grows to appreciate it eventually and values their commitment to him even while he was an angsty dick of a teenager.

yurio has a handful of bands he listens to in secret and would murder anyone who found out. these bands consist of my chemical romance, panic at the disco and other emo classics.

victor eventually takes on more students in addition to yuuri and quickly realizes that he has no idea how to properly coach younger skaters because how are you supposed to train children when your only coaching experience is the unprofessional methods (literally just flirting) you used on the man you crushed on

#yuri on ice #yoi #god help me #yes most of these will be in my fic #and yes i have thought about yuuri being into vocaloid a lot #his favorite producer would be kikuo fight me

[bailesona]

also i just wanna yeet some deets abt the new oc in my head:

his name is daniel "danny" estrada, and he's the estranged paternal uncle to elena ruiz, aka aisling's foster daughter.

his fc is ped.ro pas.cal bc i am a weak, weak, weak woman.

he basically gets kicked out of the family for trying to stop his brother, miguel, from continuing into a shady business deal with james palmer, aka the financial genius responsible for funding and financing the company of v. he attempted to call in interpol and arranged for a deal that would keep his brother safe while causing unfathomable damage to the company of v, but his sister-in-law, lana, betrayed him with miguel, leading him to go on the run from the company after leaving behind a small envelope of money and intel in little elena's bedroom.

ten years passed. elena's sixteenth birthday drew near. danny had been unexpectedly helped in his survival; in fact, an anonymous friend left him a key to a safehouse in wyoming, where he kept himself safe, sane, and off the beaten track. he even changed his last name. danny ruiz was no more. estrada, the surname of his first and most beloved babysitter, became his new title. and on the eve of elena's birthday, danny estrada became the first to learn that she was after calling up interpol herself. no deal. no negotiation. no strategy to protect her parents from the consequences of their greedy, loveless motives. she sold them out in a phone call that lasted 1 minute, 7 seconds.

but ten years was a long time. and even though the company was gone underground, and his brother and his brother's wife were both locked up for consecutive life sentences, danny was reluctant to return. it wasn't until he realized elena was being taken in by a foster mother in manhattan, that danny decided to set out and find her.

since arriving in manhattan, danny has found work at stanley's diner. he has also made the decision for elena that she doesn't need to know who he is. that, as of now, she has a chance to leave the batshit insanity of her old life behind her, and start a NEW batshit insanity with aisling and the kids. aisling knows who he is. he knows she knows. but that's all. they never discuss it. aisling figures he's able to deal with the ramifications if it goes sideways.

danny is ultimately a dad without kids. but that doesn't mean he's necessarily a good one. his self-sacrificing tendencies cloud his ability to see if others can do anything for themselves, he flat-out refuses to let anyone help him or talk about his feelings. stanley and richard basically insisted that he go to therapy, but it lasted twelve minutes before he stormed out. danny is a good man, but he suffers from the burden of responsibility that many eldest siblings do, and this weight means that he's almost desperate to remain a one-man-island until his final days. unfortunately for him, he decided to work at stanley's diner.

#bio. #ooc. #( MUSE: D. ESTRADA. ) #( can u tell that my tlo.u brainrot is crippling? )

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Small Stories Hour: Ballad of Kid Corduroy

Close Call or The Losing Battle That Kid Will Fight for Another Fifteen Years

↳ The barkeep set a tankard of amber beer on the counter with a little more aggression than strictly necessary. His beady eyes found the dirt patching every surface of Russell's face disdainful, his upper lip curling beneath a thick black mustache.

That was not Russell's immediate concern, however, as he had to stop himself from dumping the contents of the tankard down his gullet in one go. He hadn't had a proper drink in days; a sip of river water here and there wasn't enough to sate him, especially under the experience of having vomited shortly after the last river disagreed with him. The beer, though lukewarm and stale, got the job done, and he gulped it down in desperation, holding his hat to his head as he tilted it back to pour as much of the bitter liquid down as possible.

"What's goin' on over in Winslow?"

Russell paused mid-pull and lowered the tankard from his face to hear the three men in the corner of the small saloon without drawing too much attention to himself.

"They still ain't heard from that boy, the one that ran away," another man said. "The Corduroys' boy, Russell. I think they called him Kid. It's been a couple of months since he's gone. Got a cousin lives over that way an' she's sayin' the whole town can't find hide nor hair of him."

"He just up an' left in the middle of the night, ain't that right? He runnin' from the law?"

Russell dropped his head and slumped his shoulders, the mention of his hometown igniting the usual feelings of guilt and shame while also kicking off his self-preservation instincts. He slid a couple of coins across the bar top with two fingers.

"Not from what I hear," one of the men said. "He was a good kid, but he might as well be dead by now."

Suddenly not as thirsty as he'd been when he first arrived at the saloon, Russell made a point to avoid revealing his face to the men as he slid off the stool to make a quick exit. He mounted his horse and rode away, reminding himself never to stop in that town again. It was too close, too risky.

A few hours into the afternoon, however, he regretted not taking more advantage of having a source of beverages at his disposal. Thirst clutched his throat in a tight grip, addling his brain.

"Where we goin', Radish…?" Russell muttered, keeping an ear open for running water. "I'm lookin' at another rough night if I don't get somethin' to eat soon—"

Shots rang out in the too-near distance, and Radish jolted to a stop, whinnying his complaint. Russell clutched the reins and attempted to calm him while also searching the endless trees ahead.

A wail started from the forest, growing louder with each passing second until a man exploded from the bushes, screaming at the top of his lungs and brandishing a rifle in one hand while bleeding profusely from the other one.

"Run!" he shrieked, tearing past Russell and Radish. "There's a wolf after me!"

Russell glanced back to the trees, about to question the man's claim, when an actual wolf sprang forward, hellbent on making a meal of the man with no prejudice whatsoever. Its hungry jaws snapped and drool flew every which way from between its razor-sharp teeth, paws making craters in the dirt underneath it. Upon noticing Russell and Radish—apparently an easier meal—it skidded to a stop and bounded in their direction instead.

Without giving it much consideration, Russell drew his revolver from his gun belt, slapped the hammer back with his palm, and aimed true between the wolf's eyes, firing in the midst of its arced pounce. The momentum carried its body under Radish, who began to rear and spook in response to all of the action happening at once, and a hoof came down and snapped the wolf's neck before he took off.

"Hey, whoa!" Russell grabbed the reins again. "Easy! Calm down, boy, you're alright!"

Radish finally slowed near the bleeding man sitting at the side of the road, and it became clear that the man wasn't from anywhere nearby as he had on a peculiar arrangement of clothes, not the least of which was the bright red tailcoat worn over a slim-fitting vest and golden ascot.

Russell retrieved a handful of loose bandages from the saddlebag and dismounted. "Sir…here, I just got these yesterday for emergencies." He caught sight of the bloodied appendage as he got closer, his stomach lurching once he realized that half of his hand was missing, leaving only an index finger and a thumb. "Oh, sweet Jesus…and this might be an emergency…"

"Thank you," the man said in a peculiar accent. It sounded very formal, probably English, and he set the rifle down next to him to shakily wrap the bandages around what was left of his hand. He failed to start the wrap several times. "Not sure what the point is…it's not just my body that's ruined now."

Crouching in front of him to help, Russell did his best to ignore the sharp coppery stench wafting from the wound. "What d'you mean by that, if you don't mind me askin'?"

The man sighed. "Young fellow…my name is Horace Purcell, and you just killed my life's work."

Russell paused pressing the wound with bandages and looked at Horace. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful…I am endlessly in your debt for saving my life." Horace pointed with his good hand to the lump of fur lying motionless in the road. "That was the star of my entire act. 'Horace Purcell and the Wolfman,' I'd called it. You could watch me perform tricks with a wolf as big as a man. We'd toured the whole West, just me and Angelo. I'd worried for a while that things were going poorly when Angelo started to clear out chicken coops about a week ago…"

"That was your first clue?" Russell said. He shook his head. "Not that you decided to go runnin' around with a wolf bigger'n a lion?"

Horace chuckled, a surprising reaction given his current state. "You're right, I know. I was never one to shy away from a challenge back home, not a mind here in foreign lands."

"You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Yes," Horace said, and he seemed sincere. "If all else fails…I'll take the next boat out of here."

Russell tilted his head, frowning. "Well, I meant are you gonna be okay without half a hand."

Horace blinked at the bandages as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh, yes…I suppose I don't have a choice, do I? I'll adjust. Better a hand than my life, as it were."

"D'you need a ride somewhere? I ain't goin' nowhere in particular."

"Normally I would say no, as I'm quite self-sufficient; however…circumstances may require I at least have help to my next destination."

Russell finished patching him up to the best of his ability then assisted Horace Purcell onto the saddle before securing the rifle and mounting. "This is Radish," he said, patting the horse on the neck. "Say hello to the nice gentleman, Radish."

Horace chuckled again, arms looping around Russell's waist. "How quaint. Good afternoon, Radish. I hope you don't mind an extra passenger. I'm staying at an old friend's homestead not too far from here, and I think I can navigate from where we are."

The road split off into a stretch of plains that went on for miles, boasting very few hills and even fewer distant mountains. A gathering of deer bounded away from the road through the tall grass and scattered a flock of indignant birds into the air.

Russell kept Radish at a steady canter for much of the ride, the wind cutting across his skin. "What happened back there, anyhow?"

"Ah," Horace said, booming voice carrying over the impacting hooves and the wind. "Bit of a disaster, I'm afraid. I'd opened Angelo's cage to feed him, and he decided my fingers would be better suited for his dinner than the rabbit I'd caught."

"You'll wanna see a doctor for that, by the way," Russell advised. "Wounds have a nasty habit of gettin' worse."

Horace remained silent until they reached the homestead—a small wooden cottage in the middle of a sprawling field, tucked against a hill blanketed in tiny white flowers that mimicked snowfall. It all looked so new, it didn't even have a path leading up to it.

Russell slowed Radish to a stop and helped Horace down. "You got someone lookin' after you, sir?"

"Not until this evening." Horace grunted in pain despite the two of them going out of their way to avoid making more contact with his hand than needed. "I'll soak my wound in whiskey, metaphorically speaking."

Russell gestured for him to go ahead to the house while he unloaded the rifle. "If it ain't too bold of me to say so, I'd like to stay until then to make sure you're okay."

The worst of it had started to sink in as evidenced by Horace's perpetual grimace and slack walk toward the house. "Yes, of course..." He pushed the door open with his shoulder. "Please…make yourself at home. It's the least I can do, Mr. Corduroy."

Russell froze with the rifle in hand and his entire spine tensed. He peered at Horace from under the brim of his hat.

Through growing discomfort, Horace managed to imbue him with a cheeky smile that pinched the corners of his eyes. "Word gets around, I'm afraid. But you don't have to worry…it stops with me."

"Mr. Purcell, I can't say enough how important it is that I'm not identified by anyone."

"I admit it crossed my mind to alert the sheriff of Winslow of your whereabouts, but you did save my life…" Horace's face fell into something melancholic. "And what kind of man would I be if I condemned another man to being found when I'm guilty of evading the same?"

Russell's fist whitened around the rifle. "Swear to me you won't tell a soul."

"On my dear mother."

A tense silence swelled between them until Russell felt it safe to breathe again. He hitched Radish's reins to a post at the corner of the fence and followed Horace into the house.

The next several hours consisted of Russell watching Horace sleep off his pain on a cot against the wall of the living room, and when a friendly-faced woman arrived by way of carriage long after the sun had set, he explained what happened and that Horace should see a doctor by morning at the very latest.

He made sure he'd be looked after, then he hopped onto Radish's saddle and rode off full gallop into the night, chills still bolting through every appendage from the previous few hours.

#small stories hour #Ballad of Kid Corduroy #TAtK #repost

[teenageread]

Review: The Perfect Marriage

Synopsis:

Would you defend your husband if he was accused of killing his mistress?

Sarah Morgan is a successful and powerful defense attorney in Washington D.C. At 33 years old, she is a named partner at her firm and life is going exactly how she planned.

The same cannot be said for her husband, Adam. He is a struggling writer who has had little success in his career. He begins to tire of his and Sarah’s relationship as she is constantly working.

Out in the secluded woods, at Adam and Sarah’s second home, Adam engages in a passionate affair with Kelly Summers.

Then, one morning everything changes. Adam is arrested for Kelly’s murder. She had been found stabbed to death in Adam and Sarah’s second home.

Sarah soon finds herself playing the defender for her own husband, a man accused of murdering his mistress.

But is Adam guilty or is he innocent?

Plot:

Sarah and Adam have been married for 10 years. In those 10 years, Sarah made partner at a law firm known to get the most horrible clients off scot-free. Adam was a writer, and when they met his book was quite popular, he has not been able to follow up on that success. Sarah does what she can to help, celebrates his mild successes, provides the liquor to help his writer's brain, and even buys a lake house so Adam can go there to write and not be disturbed by the business of downtown Washington D.C. At the lakehouse, a house Sarah promises to come to but never does, is where Adam meets Kelly, a beautiful woman trapped in an abusive marriage. Adam and Kelly have their affair, full of love and passionate sex, Adam leaves her one morning in his bed, knowing he will leave Sarah for her. Not that he gets the chance, as police barge in on Adam and arrested him for the murder of Kelly Summers. Kelly's body was found in the lake house by the cleaner with multiple stabbed wombs making this a crime of passion. Where Adam was the last person to see Kelly alive makes him the number one suspect in her murder. Lucky for Adam, his wife is the number one defense attorney in the state and agrees to be his lawyer for the murder trial. As Sarah works through the emotions of proving Adam’s innocence while learning more about his affair, Adam tries to help as well by doing his own investigation with a local reporter. As the trial dates near and none of the evidence adds up, Sarah has to defend a man she can willingly believe killed his mistress in a crime of passion.

Thoughts:

Wow, wow, wow, Jeneva Rose wrote one thriller of a mystery novel. This book takes place from the perspective of Sarah and Adam, our married couple who finds themselves in a tough spot when Adam’s mistress is brutally murdered in his bed. Talk about some plot drama. One on the side we have Sarah who is in emotional turmoil as she goes through Adam’s affairs. She works tirelessly as a lawyer and emotionally as a wife to prove Adam’s innocence. Adam on the other side is a complete buffoon acting like a spoiled child and doing more illegal things to get himself out of the trouble he is in. This made the plot move so quickly and really drew you into the story as you wanted to see what Sarah discovered, and how crazy Adam gets. Rose's writing does take a bit to get used to, as the usage of swear words, and how Sarah hates every woman she meets in public, does draw you out of the story to question Rose’s style. It is not only the writing that takes you out of the novel, but the multiple plot holes within the series, and Rose definitely does not have a good idea of how police investigations work because there are so many things that just seem unlikely to happen. This wildly unrealistic novel can be a turn-off for some, but to me, it just made me more interested to see how this crazy story ended, and if Adam received the death penalty, because that's legal in this version of D.C. The one part I am disappointed in the most is the lack of trial, as Rose has it pretty much at the end of the novel and it only lasts a few chapters. Since the entire book is building up to this, I felt like it should have been near the ending, but gives us more time to create an aftermath of the story, rather than just an epilogue that happened years later. Given all the negatives, this novel is quite interesting, and it leads readers to guess along with Sarah to see if Adam did kill Kelly, and if not, who did? While it can be predictable at times, some of the twists were fun to get to and makes this novel one reader will not forget for a while.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

#The Perfect Marriage #Jeneva Rose #book review

[oftarotandnoodledragons]

Sixty-Two: XIV Temperance (Reversed)

Temperance is reason's girdle and passion's bridle, the strength of the soul, and the foundation of virtue. -Jeremy Taylor

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly, not one. -Rumi

Nor love, nor honour, wealth nor pow'r, Can give the heart a cheerful hour When health is lost. Be timely wise; With health all taste of pleasure flies. -John Gay, Fables

Besides each one of us working individually, all of us have got to work together. We cannot possibly do our best work as a nation unless all of us know how to act in combination as well as how to act each individually for himself. The acting in combination can take many forms, but of course its most effective form must be when it comes in the shape of law — that is, of action by the community as a whole through the lawmaking body. -Theodore Roosevelt, The Strenuous Life: Essays and Addresses

Some cards come easy, and some cards don't. Temperance is definitely in that latter category for me. When I first started making my notebook and had my initial run of twenty-five cards before I started this blog, Temperance was the first card I drew. As a result, the notes I made for this card set the format for all others to follow; yet, being the first, my notes were tentative and messy. I feel I am somewhat at a disadvantage for this card as a result of this and, as it has been nearly ten years since I last saw this card, it still retains a lot of mystery for me.

That's not to say that I don't get its basic tone. Out of Bunning's themes, the most resonant is "balance". It defines the card for me and forms the focus for my intuition to immediately follow. Upright, things are harmonic and at equilibrium, they co-operate and there's a sense of security. Reversed, things are discordant and imbalanced, unco-operative and that sense of security is blocked. And were that the full theme of the card, this card would be very familiar and, interruptions aside, I would have written this blog sooner rather than struggle with trying to pinpoint what energy in my life is being signposted here, and how. But this card is of the Major Arcana, and thus has greater significance than balance's lesser Two of Pentacles. Hence, the very name of the card itself literally and recursively tempers these themes.

But what does temperance mean? The word may immediately bring to mind the alcohol temperance movements of a century ago; but, that to me suggests its intended outcome of abolition. And that is one extreme of a swinging pendulum, with the other extreme being excess. Temperance calls for that midway point, that balance, that middle-ground. Compromises, not absences nor wholesale admittance. Dams are built across rivers not to stop water from flowing downstream, but to control it. Mitigation and moderation. That summary is basically another of Bunning's themes, an eponymous one. Fairchild's diagnosis is also along these lines, although he then goes on to suggest that perhaps the querent is not being objective, that others have closed minds and that one needs to see the other side of the story. I feel his words are perhaps too attached to one thread of thought stemming from this card.

Temperance also brings to mind another idea, and that's of temper-ing. Thirteen runs with this theme as the basis for his analysis, where he describes the RWS angel as combining fire and water to make something new. Paschkis, while having a woman rather than an angel, still uses the RWS-like imagery of two pitchers, but has the sun and the moon, and the tortoise and the hare. Bunning also has "combination" as one of her themes. For me, though, tempering brings to mind the blacksmithing system in Legend of Mana, where a player can make their weapons and armour out of found materials, and then temper it through a long, if somewhat repetitive process, where, little by little, the characteristics of that weapon or armour change. Various endemic, mystical spirits come to the fore as feathers or scales or little odd things get added as the item is forged and reforged again and again, leaving behind an imprint of their presence in (hopefully) improved statistics. In such a way, I see Temperance as referring to this sort of situation where, rather than the sheer combination of opposites, the addition of little seemingly unrelated elements give something new energies. It's not the creativity or passion of Cups and Wands, nor the know-how or the materials of Swords and Pentacles, but a blending of all of them in the right measure.

This blending is also what gives rise to the further esoteric connections of this card. Thirteen says that Sagittarius is the sign that Temperance relates to, Paschkis has included the symbol in her drawing, and it makes sense: the combination of the bow and arrow makes an effective weapon out of two fairly useless components on their own. In turn, this is wielded by the centaur, the combination of the human and horse. I bring special attention to this as I have learned that Sagittarius is my Ascendant and, on further reading and looking at my natal chart, the sign is governed by Jupiter, which was in Capricorn, which further exudes the combinatory aspects of which Temperance speaks. This card seems to suggest a greater personal significance for me than I first imagined.

It's Bunning who throws me a curveball in analysis this time, and that's of the theme of "health". I suppose that homeostasis is, in effect, the blending and moderation of various elements in one life, and that the card speaks of good physical, mental and spiritual health when viewed through its lens. Brigit lends nothing to add to this aspect, but her analysis refers to staying composed, following the middle path, taking the moderate approach to long term goals and even higher learning.

So with this all said, I still find myself scratching my head. Temperance appears to be a sign in the form of a hammer and tongs, just like the ones in Legend of Mana: in and of itself, ineffective, until they are used in combination. It's both a sign and a tool, and perhaps the catch-cry for many solutions should a spread point towards it. But a tool doesn't always come with a set of instructions; I've never seen a hammer come with a manual. Thus, how does Temperance get used? That is perhaps what I find the most puzzling about this card, and the seat of its mystery for me, because it's not about prescription but experimentation. It doesn't call a querent to do this, but to try this. And along the way, one needs to expect failures among those successes, a lesson that I feel I need to impart whenever this card comes into play.

Yet, with this card Reversed, I feel even more confused. Jumping onto the Blockage Bandwagon (capitalised for effect), I could say that fire and water are being prevented from combining. But what does that mean? This card is highly metaphorical, which means that concrete descriptions are actually quite fluid; the precise definition is of something quite broad. I feel as if this card has been a signpost saying "this way" and pointing into a desert. Fairchild diagnoses others playing to win, lots of posturing, to avoid being self-centered or foolish yet remain skeptical, to be kind and accept kindness while listening to one's higher self...not exactly ideas that I find congruent with instability. That there seems like the boiled-down kernel of this card Reversed, "instability", but even Upright the formation of blended results comes from the forcing of an unstable state to make things malleable. Is this perhaps a Nascent or Waning time? Is Temperance Inappropriate or Superficial? My intuition says no. I find myself turning to Brigit once more, where she suggests it is a period of self-evaluation and of self-healing; and while her words are comforting and resonant, in terms of music it's a section of the orchestra off doing their own thing quietly but subtly in the background.

Given the message from my Reversed old friend, the Three of Cups, I have been a little more spendthrift than usual with my time and energy and, indeed, my money. It's all come to a head today, though, when I woke up and felt too unwell to work. Brigit's words also make a Reversed Temperance a card to heed a warning of not overdoing things, of aspects being out of moderation, and even of a warning sign that something is not quite right and to listen to that inner voice before it becomes too big to ignore. While I don't feel that things have become that dire, it does remind me that I need to be careful with my resources. And despite my initial dismissal, Fairchild's words are finding greater resonance given the very interesting times at work, where my store manager became persona non grata in the blink of an eye amidst an environment of posturing and playing to win that yet continues; indeed, not believing everything I hear is proving to be a good strategy amidst this time of upheaval, of instability, of imbalance.

So, I feel as if the last few cards have pointed out a maelstrom of energies around me that I've tried to address, and despite the shaky ground I find myself on at the moment, I've been quietly cultivating a greater sense of self-confidence that is helping me to weather the storm so far. Temperance Reversed, though, has pointed out the hurricane around me, and that I must try to stay in the calm central eye wherever it may move. That place it's moving to seems to be where the Page of Cups resides; and like the last five cards before it, it too is Reversed. Another lesson awaits.

#temperance

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

[cherrycheridarling]

dap me up | t.h.

tom holland x actress!reader

warnings: somewhat smut? swearing and fluff

summary: during an interview for your new film, tom exposes your odd routine during intimate scenes and your favourite flower.

a/n: i got carried away. there's a lot going on in here. enjoy?

wc: 2.6k

"Hello! I'm Adrien Fox with Pop Sugar and we are here with stars of the new film 'Week Off', Tom Holland and Y/N Y/L/N!" Adrien introduced you and Tom to the cameras.

You and Tom gave little waves, "Hello!"

"Now, let's get right into it."

Adrien began asking generic questions while you tried your best to prevent any spoilers from leaving Tom's lips.

"Can you explain the movie a bit to anyone who is unfamiliar with the book or hasn't watched the trailer?"

Tom opened his mouth to speak before closing it, "I think I'll let Y/N do that."

Adrien laughed before you spoke, "Yeah, um. It's basically a comedy with a little rated R content. Some romance, but mostly raunchy and hilarious stuff. It follows the employees in this law firm and their vacation away from work. Lots ensues during said trip including relationships, arguments and too much drinking."

"And you guys worked with many famous actors and actresses in this film. Like, Jennifer Lawrence, Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Zendaya, Chris Hemsworth, Kevin Hart, Jonah Hill, Channing Tatum and The Rock. How was working with that many iconic people in the industry? You guys are obviously incredibly well known as well, but I imagine some of these people were your idols growing up." Adrien asked and you and Tom nodded.

"Yeah, uh, yeah. It was an honour. Absolutely amazing. Like, I never imagined I'd be making films, let alone films with stars like Kevin Hart and Emma Stone, you know? I'm just really proud of this one and I love everyone who we worked on it with." Tom gave his answer making you nod.

You cleared your throat, "Yeah, Zendaya is my best friend and she has been for years, long before this movie came along, but I still got so excited about working with her. Jennifer Lawrence is amazing, so hilarious. You put her and Chris into a room together and it's just comedy central." you laughed with Tom at the memory.

"We've seen in the trailer that you two share many intimate and – may I say – risqué scenes in this film. Was it hard to keep that level of professionalism and friendship while shooting those scenes?"

You let out a little chuckle at the question before Tom rubbed his chin and spoke, "Since Y/N and I are already good friends off screen, I thought it would be awkward filming those scenes, but Y/N does this weird handshake after every take and it wasn't awkward 'cause it just made me laugh."

Adrien laughed a little before speaking, "What handshake?"

You shook your head with a smile as you recalled the first time you ever did the handshake with Tom.

"Ready, Holland?" you had your pyjamas on and were making your way to your mark in the set of your character's hotel room.

Tom nodded before following you in, cameras and crew hot on his heels, "Ready as I'll ever be."

He was shirtless. A pair of loose fitting grey shorts hung low on his waist. His costume for this scene as Niko Sai.

A black silk slip hung carelessly off of your frame. Ending at the middle of your thighs, v-neck dipping low on your chest. Your costume for Kora Patel.

"We're going to take it from Tom's line; 'You want me just as much as I want you'. Okay?" you and Tom gave a thumbs up, "Action!"

"You want me just as much as I want you. Everytime you sneak a glance at me and you think I don't see, but I do because I'm already looking at you, Patel." Tom walked behind you, looking at you through the mirror in front of you. "I don't blame you, I am incredibly good looking." he smirked to himself.

"I'm guessing you couldn't fit your shirt over your ginormous head?" you rolled your eyes.

Tom's smirk only grew, "Is that a little bit of drool on your mouth, Patel? Who knew the Kora Patel had a thing for Niko Sai? Oh, the Lord is good."

You rested your hands on the sink and leaned forward, "This is a useless conversation, Sai." you turned to face him, "I feel nothing for you. Don't you get that?"

He stepped closer to you and cupped your face in his palm, "Yes you do, you just don't want to." his face showed pain, all humour drained from his character.

You shook your head with a dry laugh, "You're only trying with me because it's convenient. The company's quiet little Kora Patel, right?"

He took another step towards you, holding your hip in a tight grip, "That's a lie. Nothing about us is convenient."

You chuckled before your hand flew to grasp his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls. Your other hand pressed against his pec. Nails tracing patterns on his skin. Tom's breath hitched along with yours as his body automatically drew closer to you.

You tightened your grip on his hair, "It is convenient because you know I keep to myself. You know that I won't go running my mouth about how long you last or if size really does matter. You know that I'm an easy one to fuck," you pulled him closer, "And toss aside, right, Sai?"

"No." Tom swallowed, "You're wrong, Patel."

You shrugged, "I can give you what you want," you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, "Physically." your eyes met his with heavy lids, "Not emotionally. That's why you need Remedy. Not me." your lips brushed his as you spoke, your voice just loud enough for the mics to pick up.

He leaned in and nearly kissed you before you pushed him away slightly by his chest, foreheads still touching, "Let me kiss you." he whispered, sounding so desperate that you nearly abandoned the script and pulled him into you.

You rolled your lips between your teeth, "And if I don't?" you raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"I'll leave you alone. If that's what you want, I'll go and have a useless one night stand with a girl who could never measure up to you." he pulled your hips flesh against his, "But if you let me kiss you. I promise to show you how much I mean it when I say that I'll spend all night showering every inch of your body with the love it deserves." he brushed his lips against yours again before bringing his mouth to your ear, "Just say the word, darling, and I'm yours."

Your heavy breaths were the only things that could be heard besides the small sound of shuffling behind the cameras. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips before you closed the distance and pushed your lips to his.

Fighting for dominancy, teeth clashing, hands roaming. Unscripted groans falling from Tom's lips as you tugged on his hair, running your fingers along his scalp. His hands gripped the bottom of your thighs before you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I still hate you." you breathed against his lips as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

You felt him smirk, "You sure have a funny way of showing it."

He carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down and climbing on top of you, never breaking the kiss. His hands running down your sides, squeezing and rubbing. Your lips moving in sync until he pulled away only to attach his lips to your jawline, leaving slow but hard kisses down your neck, leading to your collarbone.

"Still hate me?" Tom mumbled against your skin.

You let out a breathy moan, "More than ever."

"What do you hate about me, Patel?" he lifted up the bottom of your black slip.

"E-everything." you fake gasped as he rolled his hips into yours.

He laughed dryly, "Everything, huh? The noises you're making say otherwise."

"You're such a dick." you moaned.

He smirked against your breast, "You're about to take my—"

"—Don't finish that fucking sentence, Sai."

Soft moans fell from your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist again and pulled him closer to you. He groaned against your skin as the cameras picked up every noise, every movement, every kiss. You ran your nails down his back, surely leaving marks in its wake. His grip on your hips was almost punishing, as if he wanted there to be bruises the next day.

"And cut! Great work, guys. Ten minute break and we'll shoot it again."

Tom immediately got off of you and sat to the side of the bed before looking at you with concern, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

You let out a laugh before shaking your head, "No, you didn't hurt me. Dap me up." you held out your hand and he stared confused.

"What you up?" he chuckled.

You smiled before lifting his hand and doing the movements for him, "Just like that." he finally got it down and smiled.

"You Americans are definitely odd." he teased.

You tossed him a wink as an assistant handed you a robe, "See you in ten, Holland."

"And that's the handshake. It's not really a handshake, more of a greeting. I just did it after our first intimate scene because Tom was acting weird and I didn't want things to be awkward." you explained with a shrug as Adrien and Tom laughed.

Tom nodded, "I thought I hurt her! So I asked if I did and all she said was 'dap me up', like, what?" he laughed with you.

"You guys have really great chemistry on and off screen." Adrien complimented making your cheeks heat up.

You nodded, "Thank you. It took a lot of work to break through his industrial ego." you joked with an exhausted sigh as Adrien laughed.

Tom gasped beside you, "I do not have an industrial ego!"

"Mhm, sure." you joked before reaching over and giving Tom's thigh a gentle squeeze, "I meant indestructible."

Tom huffed and crossed his arms, "This is bullying."

Adrien laughed again, "We have to talk about something," he started and you already knew what was coming, "Lots of fans have speculated that the romance on screen carries on off screen." he smirked.

You and Tom laughed nervously. Almost awkwardly.

The situations that you went through with Tom while filming definitely built your relationship with him and strengthened it. In all honesty, you didn't know if the feelings you had for him were reciprocated.

In Tom's head, he was adamant that you had no feelings for him beyond the big screen. Both of you were too timid to confess first. His feelings for you developed a few weeks into filming and since then have only gotten stronger as your friendship grew and you spent more time together.

The amount of times that this topic had been brought up today was tiring. Every answer was the same: "No, no. We're just really good friends."

You decided to joke around, "Honestly, I've asked Tom out at least twenty times and he keeps rejecting me." you pouted and sniffled.

Adrien let out a joyous laugh as Tom gasped and choked on air at your words.

"That is not true! She has never asked me out!" he defended himself.

You shook your head with a deep frown, "He's broken my heart too many times. This is probably my last time acting with him." you continued on with the joke.

Tom shook his head furiously, "That is one hundred percent false. If she had asked me out, we would already be dating." he let the words fall from his lips without a second thought.

You fought the instinct to snap your head towards him. His confession catching you off guard. You played it off with another pout and shrug. Unsure if he was joining in on the prank or not.

Adrien raised a suggestive eyebrow, "What I'm hearing is that Y/N just needs to ask you out and we have our new couple."

You fake gasped, "Why do I have to ask him out? He should be asking me out with a million roses and a horse drawn carriage." you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

"You don't even like roses." Tom laughed, "You like dandelions because they turn into those fluffy things that you can make a wish with." he remembered the information off of the top of his head, "And because it sounds like you're saying 'dandy lions' when you say their name."

You nodded with a smile, "A million dandelions then. And maybe I'll think about it." you joked with a yawn making the two men laugh.

"You heard it here first. We have a new couple on the rise. Tom just needs to find a million dandelions and a horse drawn carriage." Adrien laughed again.

Tom scoffed dramatically, "Find? I already have them in my garage, ready to go."

Adrien cheered as you felt a heat creep up your neck, "Did I say dandelions? I meant daisies."

"Got those, too." Tom smirked making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, we need to end this interview before Tom buys all the flowers in Berlin." you joked.

After the interview ended, you said your goodbyes to Adrien and the crew before you and Tom made your way back to your temporary hotel suite for the week of press junkets.

Tom walked you to your room, stopping at the door, "That was an odd interview." he chuckled.

You nodded, "Indeed. It was fun, though." you smiled and he returned the expression.

There was an awkward beat of silence before he spoke again, "T-that whole asking me out thing. You were kidding, right? Like, just a show for the cameras?" he laughed nervously.

You swallowed air before replying with a timid smile, "Y-yeah. Totally. Just for the fans." you nodded again, "Um, I should head to bed. More interviews tomorrow. See you in the morning." you gave him a little wave before turning to your door and pulling out your key.

He nodded with the smallest of pouts before turning on his heel and starting the walk back to his suite.

Just as your hand was turning the knob, Tom's voice called out to you again.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" he spoke in one breath.

You bit your lip to conceal your smile, but it was no use. His question sparked a flame in your stomach that wasn't dying out anytime soon.

You turned with a bright grin, "I'd love to."

His features went from pure fright to relief in a matter of seconds, "G-great. I'll- uh, I'll text you the details. Goodnight." he gave you a little salute making you laugh.

"Sounds good. Night, Holland." you nodded your head before entering your hotel room.

You leaned against the door as soon as it shut. A euphoric glow radiating off of you. You were going on a date with Tom Holland.

Tom happily punched the air. Skipping down the hallway, a new found joy in his step. Chris Hemsworth walked out of his room and examined the gleeful boy.

"What's got you all smiley?" he chuckled.

Tom stopped and smiled, staring at the ceiling, "I just got myself a date."

Chris raised an impressed eyebrow before laughing, "You really are Peter Parker. Night, kid."

"Goodnight, Chris." Tom's smile never faded as he made his way back to his suite.

Not even ten minutes had gone by since he last spoke to you and he already missed you. He pulled out his phone and pressed on your contact.

Tom: sorry i didn't have any dandelions. hope you can make an exception x

Y/N: i suppose but the horse drawn carriage is a must x

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