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creative-type · 3 years

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wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary: Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room—try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

“Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

#wake from death (and return to life)#creative-type writes #holy crap it's been forever since I updated this #I think I missed several chapters on tumblr #I apologize in advance for being bad at promoting my own work #one piece #kuina #One Piece Fanfiction

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darthrevans · 3 years

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you can fly away with me tonight;

in which we pretend levitating by dua lipa exists in the star wars universe because look me in the eyes and tell me listening to that song doesn’t make you feel like you’re partying in a nightclub in a galaxy far far away having the ABSOLUTE time of your goddamn life… so this is basically just a dumb fun lil oneshot, enjoy // lady revan x bastila shan, 1.5k words.

(i wrote this months ago when this song was more popular, but i just found it again, and it’s cute, and it’s canon to my revan so... just gonna post it here).

The surprise sandstorm which had struck Anchorhead had battered the Ebon Hawk, and the mechanic crew simply said it would take a few days to clean and fix her up again for viable space flight.

The answering groans had quickly morphed into wary excitement: after all, this provided them with a rare opportunity. The crew would have a few days off while the ship was being repaired, and they’d already found the Star Map, so there was nothing to do but make the most of their remaining time on Tatooine.

And so it was that Bastila found herself that evening being dragged into a foul-smelling hole of a cantina, with the few stranded spacers, locals, bounty hunters and off-duty Czerka employees seemingly all crowding in for a night of drinking and dancing.

Bastila certainly didn’t mean to stick her nose up as they entered, running her gaze over everyone inside and gauging the mood, but… Nataya was right. Even if she didn’t really like to admit it.

“Come on, Bastila! When else are we ever going to get a chance to relax like this?” Nataya’s dark eyebrow had raised knowingly, and Bastila had sighed, already conceding. If anything, as Nataya had pointed, it offered her crew a chance to take a break before the more arduous work they had to do once they left Tatooine. The morale boost would be good for them all.

It didn’t mean she had to like being forced into a place like this. But Nataya had so naturally taken control of the mission in her charming way, and so it seemed foolish to insist she stay behind at the ship while everyone else went out with their de facto leader.

They’d dressed down; Nataya’s, Juhani’s and her own Jedi robes all safely back on the ship so they wouldn’t attract unwanted attention, but even still Bastila felt as though she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She just wasn’t built to relax like this, she complained as she and Juhani settled in at a table. Jedi weren’t taught to…

Nataya seemed fine enough, though, she thought with a grumble as the woman returned laden with alcohol. Carth and Canderous took to it as easily as everything else they did, but even Nataya seemed just as fine drinking Tatooine liquor.

Well, she wasn’t going to be left behind. She scowled at the strange liquid and took a small sip, gagging a little as it burned down her throat and immediately put it back down.

It was nice, though, Bastila finally understood, as the hours moved on and their dinner came and went. To get a break, to catch their breaths… morale boost, indeed. It wasn’t exactly the most brilliant move or anything, but the way Nataya knew what her people needed… well. It was nice to be thought of. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d simply sat down and lived in the moment like this.

The cantina staff eventually pushed all the tables on the dance floor out of the way while the music cranked up, and suddenly bodies poured onto it to dance. Carth, Canderous and Juhani were long gone from their shared table, somewhere in the bar, and it was only Bastila still sitting there, nursing her drinks a lot slower than Nataya was.

Nataya was a blur. Quite the social butterfly as a drinker, Bastila observed, bright smile and flushed cheeks as she met and spoke to all sorts in the bar, drifting around, coming back to her always with gossip about what Carth, Canderous and Juhani were up to, sounding almost scandalised in a way that made herself smile each time, amused.

She didn’t know how late it was, but she was definitely in lighter and lighter spirits as the evening wore on, the alcohol hitting her much slower than her companions at her slow pace.

She sipped, watching Nataya drift around, watching everyone around her dancing, when the DJ put on a particular song Nataya seemed to know, and her eyes lit up, turning to stare at Bastila excitedly.

If you wanna run away with me, I know a galaxy, and I can take you for a ride…

“Bastila! Come!” Nataya was already back at the table, one hand clutching her drink, the other grabbing for Bastila’s hand to drag her out onto the dance floor.

“No, no!” Bastila complained, allowing herself to be pulled up but shaking her head vehemently at the idea of dancing.

“Yes!” Nataya retorted, but obligingly let go, already dancing to the beat, huge smile in place and eyes slipping closed as she let the music wash over her.

I had a premonition that we fell into a rhythm where the music don’t stop for life… Glitter in the sky, glitter in my eyes, shining just the way I like…

Bastila stared at her for a moment, and then caught herself, blushing. Nataya’s eyes opened, a dreamy look in her eyes before she focused on Bastila.

Bastila simply shook her head, and Nataya frowned at her, pouting slightly.

Ridiculous, Bastila thought, feeling the blush spread more over her, heating her cheeks. She was simply not having it… all the people who would stare at her… she may not be dressed like a Jedi but surely they could tell…

Nataya sighed, and allowed Bastila to hover at the edge of the dance floor as she drifted farther back into the crowd, eyes on Bastila all the while before she let herself get caught up again in the music.

She casually, effortlessly moved to the beat, and Bastila continued to stare at her as she sipped at her drink.

The chorus hit, and Nataya threw her head back and let out a WHOOP! with everyone around her, running her hands through her hair and singing along just as loudly as the rest of them.

I got you, moonlight… you’re my starlight… I need you all night, come on, dance with me…

She beckoned to Bastila once more, but when she again shook her head, she rolled her eyes good-naturedly and, upon downing the rest of her drink, climbed up onto the bar with several others as the beat hit.

You can fly away with me tonight… you can fly away with me tonight… baby let me take you for a ride… I’m levitating…

Bastila had another one of her out-of-body experiences where she was both watching Nataya having the time of her life in a seedy nightclub on Tatooine, and also realising that she was watching Darth Revan dancing on top of the bar in a seedy nightclub on Tatooine. Darth Revan!

She took a long swig of her drink at the thought, trying and failing to stop herself from picturing the Sith Lord in those dark robes of hers in the same place and position.

“WOO! I GOT YOU!” Nataya yelled the lyrics, jumping down from the bar to the cheers from other patrons and joining Bastila, breezing up to her and continuing to dance happily.

Bastila continued to shake her head, but Nataya wasn’t having it anymore, and danced with Bastila, until she started to move awkwardly to the beat.

“Let go!” Nataya told her, rolling back.

She still felt awkward, but the liquor was making her bolder, and so she began to dance more actively with her, to the delight of Nataya.

The drinks continued into the night, and with the passing hours they drifted closer, and closer. At one point, they were the only ones on the dance floor, but people continued to drift in and out.

I need you all night, come on, dance with me…

When had Nataya’s arms wrapped around her waist? When had her own wrapped around Nataya’s neck?

Glitter in the sky, glitter in my eyes, shining just the way we are…

Their lips met. Right there, in a frankly awful cantina, surrounded by aliens of all kinds and grinding bodies, to a song that had played more than a couple times that night.

Nataya pulled back, staring into Bastila’s eyes. Her high cheekbones were flushed, her beautiful bright blue eyes darkened by her wide pupils, and as they stared at each other, Bastila felt their bond sing. She’d never felt closer to her, physically, emotionally…

Nataya smiled softly at her, and Bastila’s responding smile was just as soft.

They came back together, kisses sweet and right, until finally they left that seedy bar for the abandoned Hawk and a place where they could explore each other more fully, all night long.

#my writing #kotor fic #bastila shan #darth revan #kotor #nataya l'hnnar #this is not the first time i've made a post on here about levitating.#the grip this song has on my star wars fantasies #and for what?#sorry if you're sick of the song but too bad put it on and think about partying in a seedy star wars club and tell me you wouldn't LIVE

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

inpetus

a/n: watched ‘burlesque’ today and got an idea stuck in my head!! this is the unedited result of it.

warnings/genre: mature settings, ft. kuroo & fem!reader who’s an exotic dancer/stripper, unedited, some angst

wc: ~3.0k

What am I doing here?

That’s the first thought that runs through Kuroo’s mind when he walks down the concrete steps, his coat fluttering at the ends from the draft that breezes through. A small, neon arrow bolted to the brick wall offers the path to what many would consider as indulging in sin, an uncontrollable desire and want. “It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” his co-worker had expressed to him with wonder in his voice, one that he preferred keeping at arm’s length. “Take advantage of your bachelor days,” he had been told while clapped on the shoulder. “Being married is only fun for the first two years and then it goes to shit.”

Disgust had coursed through his veins at those words – they were greedy men who held the financial world in their hands, convinced into a delusion that nothing in the world could measure to their expectations. Constantly complaining about how their partners were never good enough, weren’t pretty enough, didn’t have the right body type, were too busy bitching at them for leaving their sock strewn around the house, their list of demands went on and on. Kuroo, only 25 years of age, felt lucky to be a consultant at a world-renowned investment firm in Tokyo where every morning, he rides an elevator 45 floors up through a fiberglass and steel skyscraper in one of his many tailored suits and sits at a desk by the window. At any point, he can stand from his chair and gaze out towards a wonderous view of the city with a cup of tea in hand, ignoring how ironic it seems to be when the higher the floor, the more entrenched they are in the smog.

Kuroo hadn’t meant to reveal that he might have been feeling a little lonely. He had some sake running through his veins when his co-workers pressed on as to why he didn’t have a partner or someone to go home to every night, and after kindly but vehemently refusing their offers to set up blind dates for him, they had spoken to him of the place. An environment underground that made you feel alive, that reminded you of the unspoken beauty in the mundane of everyday life, that left your soul winded at the fact that such a place could exist on this earth. “You should go when you’re feeling down, if you catch my drift,” the main proposer of this new adventure had snickered, elbowing the man on the other side. “It’ll be worth the money.”

Part of him felt shy once he had slipped through the metal door, coming to a stop at a stand with a woman, a guard, a red velvet rope, and blackout curtains. Kuroo took a cursory look at the sign and pulled out the exact cash he needed for the cover fee, a heftier one than usual, according to his co-workers. The woman thanked him sultrily, nodding to the guard to grant him access. When the velvet rope was unhooked and the curtains pulled back, Kuroo stepped into a new world.

The dark shadow from the entrance had been replaced with soft lights of crimson and chateau rose, blending in with icy hues of blue. Faux-crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling in the faintest royal yellow, yet they were second to the harsh colors on the stage before him. Granted, there were numerous round tables before him, but with no desire to be seen as the poor, nervous newbie, he sat at one that wasn’t directly by the stage, but wasn’t too far from it either.

Part of him had expected the air to be filled with smoke and fumes of alcohol, yet instead, there was a hint of something floral. Whatever it was, it had instantly relaxed his nerves and put him at ease. He had only been sitting for a few minutes when a waitress came into his view to take his drink order. Naturally, she was gorgeous, her outfit shaping her curves sensuously and slightly revealing, yet leaving just enough skin covered to be desired. He gives a side-thought on how his co-workers would have commented on her being an ultimate tease, but wipes it from his brain as he orders a glass of cabernet sauvignon. She scribbles it down on a notepad before giving him another look, slightly tilting her head to take him in.

“Is it your first time here?” She enquires in a genuinely curious tone. Kuroo is thankful that it’s too dark for her to see the faint blush on his face as he nods. At first, he’s worried she’ll poke fun a little bit, but instead he’s given a warm, inviting smile. “In that case, welcome to the Covet Noir. You’re in luck today, one of our best dancers is showing her new routine tonight. When she’s done, I’ll let her know to give you a special visit. It’s something we do for any new clients.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Kuroo immediately replies. “I’m just…observing today?”

“Very well then. She’ll want to come, but you have every right to refuse. Though, after you watch her…I’m sure you won’t want to,” she says cheekily, sending him a quick wink before weaving between the tables towards the bar. Kuroo focuses on the stage again where a few men and women seem to be freestyling to some faint jazz over the speakers, some by poles and others with just the floor. They seem to be at varying stages of nudity, though none were fully nude. Their styles of dancing seemed to cater specifically to the audiences nearest them, accepting the tips given.

The waitress returns with his libation, silently setting it before him with a square napkin. He pulls out a couple large bills and hands it to her, to which she thanks him for and pockets it in her waist apron he didn’t notice last time. As if on cue, the jazz ends and the dancers saunter off stage, their hips swaying as they disappear into the darkness. A soft tenor speaks into a microphone somewhere off-stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for joining us this evening. I hope you enjoyed our wonderful dancers just now – aren’t they absolutely riveting?”

His pause leaves enough time for the patrons to give a polite applause, though some were more bold in their praise with short ‘whoops’ and affirmations. “We’re glad to hear that,” the tenor continues. “Now, with a new performance she’s been working on, please welcome our one and only, Camellia.”

The overhead lights are shining on the stage once again, though the red seems more harsh and daring. He and the other clients give a small applause as the sound of heels clicks against the stage, and everybody seems to be waiting with bated breath. The anticipatory air overwhelms him as the clicks come to a stop and suddenly, a bright spotlight is cast center stage.

You, Camellia, stand just inches away from another male – while the male is rigid and muscular in all the right places, you are more soft and highlighted in curves, body in a knee-length dress the color of Kuroo’s wine that possesses a slit that’s dangerously close to the top of her right thigh. Even from Kuroo’s distance, he can see your lipstick in the very shade of the blood that runs through their veins and the dark, winged eyeliner.

Low string instruments creep into the speakers in a familiar tune, followed by the sharp entrance of a contrasting soprano note played by a violin. Your movements are quick and crisp, yet your body seems to always be moving, sensuous and delicately smooth. Kuroo is absolutely enraptured already, his body already leaning forward and wine forgotten. As much as he despises his co-workers’ lustful habits and thoughts, they were right about one thing: the beauty in everyone’s dancing is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

His eyes never leave your figure, subconsciously encoding every movement into his brain. It isn’t until about halfway through your routine that he feels his mouth is dry, and even as he lifts his glass to his lips to let the bitter liquid slide down his throat, he makes an effort to never miss a second. At one point, you are facing his direction and Kuroo finally understands the meaning of the waitress’s words: your eyes, the shape of them, the color, the intensity and fire in them, he feels as if he’s ready to jump into them, willing to be consumed by the flames. But you are turned away and spun into your partner’s arms, hands splayed over his shoulders as his own creep down the arch of your back.

El Tango de Roxanne, Kuroo finally recalls the name of the song playing, though it’s a slightly altered instrumental version of it. He had been roped into watching Moulin Rouge many years ago by an ex-girlfriend in high school, who had showered praises on the scene for this song. While he couldn’t match her enthusiasm at the time, he had understood her reasons. Yet with the current performance before him, he would argue that this is more beautiful, even without all the aesthetic cinematic cuts.

Before he knows it, the routine is done and he’s clapping along with the other clients. It’s almost thunderous, and Kuroo takes a quick look around him, only to notice that the space had filled up significantly since he had arrived. Yet many were beginning to trickle out as the lights dim again and an ambient jazz song washes over them. Kuroo contemplates on leaving, the waitress’s words echoing in the chambers of his brain. He’s so focused on his decision-making that he doesn’t notice the star of the show making their way to his table.

“I’ve been told you’re new here,” you interrupt his thoughts, donned in a silk robe and hair undone from the bun it had been in. Kuroo startles and looks up towards you incredulously, a whirl of shock and embarrassment and being caught off-guard stewing in his gut. Your eyes seem frozen on him and somewhat mirror his emotions, but they quickly soften. Kuroo watches you slide into the seat next to him, your robe slipping off a shoulder and revealing the black lacy bralette you’re wearing. He finds himself gulping as inconspicuously as possible, directing his gaze towards your face that’s currently grinning at him.

“Do you need help speaking?” You ask with a teasing lilt. Your voice strikes triggers a feeling of déjà vu within him.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I was still thinking about your performance,” he musters out, desperate to save some reputation he believes he has. “Am I allowed to buy you a drink? As a way of saying thank you?”

“Normally, yes,” you reply, your tone now gentle and calming. “I’m not quite in the mood for a drink right now, but maybe next time. You came on a good night.”

“The waitress told me the same thing,” he chuckles, fingers sliding his wine glass in a circle against the tablecloth. “You’re a wonderful dancer. Do all of you have stage names as flowers?”

“Most of us, but some others wanted a different stage name.”

“Do you dance here full time?”

You shake your head. “Only part time. Something I like doing, as well as earn some extra money on the side.”

“Ah, I see.”

Silence falls over you two. However, you sigh and begin to stand from your chair. Of course, Kuroo would rather you not leave, but you have other clients to visit, and this was only a one-time special conversation for a new visitor.

“Will you be coming again?” You ask gently, as if you’re worried this’ll be the last time you see him. Your tone surprises him – he feels wanted, he feels like you, specifically, want him to return to this underground escape. But he knows he’s not special, that it’s just business for people like him to fall to your siren calls.

“Maybe,” he smiles. You step closer and into his personal space, causing him to twist slightly so he’s more directly facing you. Even though he’s sitting, with his height, you’re barely towering over him. He only needs to tilt his chin up a little bit to meet your gaze, trying not to flinch when you place a hand on his thigh. Once again, your eyes trigger something within him – in most circumstances, he would probably be feeling unsure of what to do. Yet now, he feels comfortable, as if this is something he normally experiences.

“I hope to see you come back then,” you murmur, in a way that’s only reserved for this job, before pulling back, your hand lingering on his thigh. Kuroo remembers his manners and hands you a few large bills, more than what he had given the waitress. You take them between your right index and middle fingers and tuck them into your bralette. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replies as you saunter away. He downs the rest of the contents in his glass before moving to pay his tab at the bar counter. Soon after, he’s greeted by the black curtains once more, the guards letting him through and past the red velvet rope. As he steps into the night air with his coat shrugged on, he feels the stark contrast between the world behind him and the one in front. The floral scent has been replaced with the city air, his nose wrinkling at the stale cigarette smell mixed with general pollution.

About an hour later, he’s in bed back in his modest, minimalistic apartment, his two-year old cat stretched out in the space between his arm and the side of his chest. Donned in nothing but briefs and gym shorts, Kuroo stares at the ceiling, reliving the memories as much as possible. Your dance, the passion, the atmosphere, it had been something he thoroughly enjoyed, much to his chagrin. He wish it hadn’t been his co-workers who introduced him, but perhaps he was somewhat thankful for them.

In sleep, he dreams vividly. He’s suddenly back in Nekoma High School, red jersey and shorts on his figure, walking a cart of volleyballs past a cheering audience. His eyes are searching the stands for someone, landing on a girl donned in his spare jersey. He feels his mouth split open into a cocky grin, but it falls when he sees the face on the girl. Your eyes, the winged eyeliner, the lips blood-red, cheering for him—

And he’s thrown into the next sequence.

This time, he’s in a café, one he recognizes to be close to his parent’s home. He’s in a casual button down and jeans, sleeves neatly rolled up past his elbows. His foot taps against the ground and he feels the sensation of waiting for someone, eyes shifting between the window and his phone screen. Familiar hands cover his eyes and he finds himself playing along. “Ah, who could it be?”

“Who else would it be?”

The words are spoken in your voice, the same softness with the slight lilt, and he’s turning abruptly to look at this girl. Once again, those eyes, the makeup, your lips—

Yanked into the next sequence.

He’s sitting on the couch in front of his TV – his parents are gone, and he assumes it’s his ex-girlfriend that’s got her shoulders with his arm slung over. A movie plays on the screen as the girl munches on popcorn from the bowl in her lap.

“Tetsu, you have to pay attention to this scene, okay? It’s genius,” she says excitedly, shifting closer to him. Kuroo plants a kiss on top of her hair as he focuses on the movie, looking out for this clip that she seems so passionate about.

But his eyebrows furrow when the beginnings of El Tango de Roxanne begin to play, dancers on a large stage with Ewan McGregor’s face cutting in.

“First, there is desire. Then, passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy, anger, betrayal! Love is for the highest bidder, there is no trust. Without trust, there is no love!”

A wave of affection for this girl washes over him as she sings along, her voice attempting to match the intensity of the man’s on the screen. Instead, it only comes off as absolutely adorable to him, and he gives her a tight squeeze. The rest of the scene passes by in a blur, but he feels impressed, the pain of Ewan’s character, the dreadful chill that ran down his body.

“That’s probably the best part of the movie,” she sighs happily. “Do you agree? How freakin’ genius it is?”

“I can see it, yeah,” he laughs, looking down at her. But for the third time, it’s your face, your features, your hair—

He sits up abruptly, startling his cat and causing it to give him a sleepy yowl. His chest is heavy and panting as his brain trudges through the visions, his dreams playing on the back of his eyelids. His body falls back and his head hits the pillow, an arm strung across his eyes. One night and you’re already haunting your dreams, but why? Why was he so comfortable with you? Why did the song take him back to happier times? Why was it that your eyes made such a deep impression on him? Why…

His eyes snap open. It hits him like a ton of bricks. The breath is removed from his lungs and he can’t believe it.

Camellia is you. You are his ex-girlfriend.

A pain wrenches his heart, twisting it horribly so. Feelings that he had long buried, memories he had long filtered and filed away, were all swimming to the surface again – he almost wanted to scream or cry, he wanted to run to a court and jump serve balls until his arm falls off and his legs fail him, he—

After all this time, he opens the lid on a truth he wishes he didn’t know: in all these years, he was still in love with you.

And even now…he still does.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsurou #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #it's midnight and i need to sleep #kuroo angst #i'm also hungry

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zaddywilk · 4 years

Text

Tease

Florian Munteanu x black!reader

Word count- 3,357 (whoops, I may have gone a little overboard)

A/N- This is the first smut I’ve written in a very long time. Please be gentle 🥺

Warnings- 18+ Smuttttt, overstimulation, teasing (is that even a warning?), fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool).

Florian. Fucking. Munteanu.

Your boyfriend has no reason to be looking that damn good right now.

A slew of dirty thoughts ran through your mind as you continue to look at him while he got dressed. Thinking about how bad you wanted to stay in and not even go to the dinner you planned with your friends. No matter how good your manz looks, you know can’t break a promise.

You got out of bed and slipped on your new Savage X Fenty lingerie set and Fashion Nova black velvet dress you got the other day. You knew this dress would be perfect solely because Flo loves him some damn velvet.

https://www.fashionnova.com/collections/velvet/products/sugar-coat-velvet-dress-black

Once you were done putting on your makeup, heels, and fixing your curls, your boyfriend was now the one staring at you in admiration and a smidge of lust. Hazel eyes a little darker as he came up behind you to pepper soft kisses on your neck while he wrapped his arms around you.

“You look absolutely delicious, Prinţesă.” He said nuzzled in your neck as he gripped you tighter, eyes boring into yours.

Even in heels your boyfriend still towered over you like the giant he is. You sighed softly and closed your eyes as he went over that one spot he knew you loved so much, “Oh yeah? Are you hungry, baby?” You reply as you turn around and hook your arms around his neck, nails playing with the short hair he’d been growing out. The look in his eyes says it all. You guys might not make it to dinner after all. But you had another idea in mind.

“Then we better get going! Can’t keep them waiting. Plus, I haven’t even all day and I’m starving.” You said nonchalantly while you turned around to grab your purse as if you didn’t just get this man on brick mode in 2 seconds. Flo just looks at you in disbelief for a moment, mouth slightly agape but silently follows you to the car.

Ever the gentleman he is, he opens the passenger door for you, slapping your ass as you get into the car. You started thinking about your action plan for the night. Since Flo was usually the one to tease you while you were out and about, hand on your thigh, whispering in your ear, you figured it was time for a little role reversal. Connecting your phone to the car’s Bluetooth, you pull up your ‘Stripper Songs 💃🏽’ playlist, put your hand on Flo’s knee and settle in as Florian drives away.

Dance for you by Beyoncé came up on shuffle and you initiated your game plan. Singing along to the song you made sure to look directly at Florian as the lyrics tumbled off your tongue with ease. Grinding and rolling lightly in the seat as you not so subtly moved your hand up further his thigh. Florian’s eyes switch between the road and your movements. As he approached a red light you unbuckled your seatbelt and got next to his ear as you lowly sang along to the song.

Loving you is really all that's on my mind

And I can't help but to think about it day and night

I wanna make that body rock, sit back and watch

Tonight I wanna dance for youuuu

You made sure to drag out the ‘you’ while you ran your hand over your boyfriend’s hardening length as you slipped back into your seat. Flo was silent. Still flicking his eyes between you and the road as the light changed, jaw clenching and he gripped the steering wheel tighter. You smirked to yourself. This is going to be a fun night.

You guys finally pulled up to the restaurant your best friend Denise texted you the address to. Seems kinda boujee on the outside but you excitedly unbuckled your seatbelt nonetheless. Florian was right behind you, hand almost covering the entirety of your ass as you both stepped inside. The ambiance was classy, but not too serious. You scanned the room to find your friends and finally landed on the sight of Denise once you see her bright red bob. You pulled Flo over to your friends as Denise got up from the table to greet you guys.

You and Denise have been friends for years, meeting once you moved to LA to pursue your acting career, D was one of the only few people to be truly nice to you, eventually having you meet Michael and through Michael you met Flo. You gave a hug to both of your friends as you sat in the chair Florian had pulled out for you. You placed your hand on his leg again and you guys chatted for a bit, looking over the menu when the waiter came over and asked if you’d like some drinks to start off. Florian and Michael being the designated drivers, decided to opt for water while you and Denise settled on some Rosé and then you ordered your food.

Once your food got to the table your group conversation expectedly split off into two different conversations. One between the guys and one between the girls. While the guys were talking about their acting plans after Creed II, you had slid your hand a little further up Florian’s thigh. He jumped a little and stuttered in conversation because you had kept your hand in one place for so long, he had basically forgotten about it.

“Yo man, are you good?” Michael asked, seemingly confused.

“Oh yeah, just caught a little chill.” Florian responds, gripping your hand under the table. You stifle your laughter at his response as Denise continues her story about how she almost unknowingly auditioned for a porn film.

“So I got dressed up, went to this “audition”, saw the casting couch and felt a weird sense of déjà vu.”

“Hol up, D. How you know about the casting couch?” Michael asked.

Denise groaned, “Women can watch porn too, Jordan.”

As they continued their conversation about whether or not women watch porn, you continued going higher and higher on Flo’s thigh until you reached his length. He was hard.

Very hard.

Upon this realization you whispered in Flo’s ear, “Sometimes when you’re away and busy with interviews, I look at porn with guys that look like you,” you started as you palm him. “Tall, bearded, and muscular, although not as big and thick as you are. I get so wet just thinking about what you’d do to me if you had walked in on me playing with YOUR pussy. My fingers and toys don’t even compare to the real thing. I love it when you have me pinned down to the bed with your strong arms. I love how your beard feels in between my thighs. I love when you talk dirty to me in Romanian, not even using your voice but spelling out the words on my clit with your tongue. I could swear I died and went to Heaven.” You whisper.

“Eu iubesc mai ales când mă tratezi ca pe o doamnă în public, apoi mă futi ca o pornstar când ajungem acasă. Știu exact de ce te numesc Big Nasty.” That sent shivers up Florian’s spine. He knew you’d been practicing Romanian but he didn’t expect you to be so filthy so soon. He decided that that was the final straw. He takes out his wallet and throws his black card on the table as he takes your hand and stands up to leave.

“Woah woah Flo, you’re leaving? You’re not even done with your food.” Michael exclaimed unbelievably. A guy as big as Florian never leaves a plate with food on it.

“I have more pressing matters to attend to. Ask for boxes if you can and bring that and my card back to me tomorrow.” Flo said hurriedly, trying to conceal his straining dick as you gathered your purse and quickly said goodbye to D. And just like that, you were out the door.

“Damn, I wonder what’s gotten into him.”

“Negro are you dumb? It’s not what gotten into him but what’s about to get into Y/N,” Denise said, not even trying to hold back her laughter. “Oh well, homegirls gonna get dicked down and we get a free meal. I think this is a win win situation.”

Florian rushes back home, taking every opportunity he can to go as fast as possible. Normally, you’d be dreading the impending night you’d have for teasing Flo like that in front of your friends but right now you don’t care. Maybe it was the wine or the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack playing but you were extremely excited.

You got home not so surprisingly fast but surprisingly without a ticket. You rushed inside with Florian hot on your heels. Giggling as you made your way up the stairs, Florian catching up to you as he softly pushes you on the bed you open your legs a little wider to make room for him. “So Prinţesă, you think it’s funny to tease me like that while we’re with our friends? You’ve been a very bad girl since before we left. But instead of punishing you, you’re lucky I feel very giving. And plus, we missed out on dessert, so I’m still hungry.” Florian spoke lowly.

He pulled you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles and lifted up your dress. Even through your panties, he could tell that you were soaking wet. “You look absolutely mouth watering, Dragă.” He quickly said before ripping your lingerie. Your brand fucking new lingerie. You had half a mind to cuss his ass out but all thoughts went out the window as he put his mouth on you. A brief face of upset turned into a face displaying absolute pleasure. You quickly brought one hand to the back of his head as the other was brought up to your chest, slipping inside your dress to play with your nipples as Florian continued to work his wonderful mouth on you.

“F-Fuckkk Flo! More, please.” You moaned loudly. “Mai Mult? Orice pentru tine, prințesă.” Florian replied as he got his fingers wet with your juices. He slowly entered you, wasting no time going directly to your g-spot. You arched your back as you released a string of curses mixed with his name. His eyes never left you. He thought you looked absolutely gorgeous right now. Your chest heaving, your head tilted back, eyes screwed shut, mouth open letting cute little sounds out along with your wondrous moans while grinding your pussy on his face. All this had him rutting into the sheets because seeing you get off got him off.

He added another finger and you could swear you were done for. Between the magic words he was whispering on your clit, the humming, the insane sharp shooting accuracy this man had with your g-spot, and the consistent eye contact, it would be any second now. “Vă pot spune cât de aproape sunteți, iubirea mea. Ți-ar plăcea cum? Faceți o mizerie pe mea fața și degetele, prințesă. Știu că asta vrei tu, dragă.” Florian said sweetly as he went back to work. You didn’t understand half of that sentence but it was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs shook as your hips buck wildly against your boyfriend as he kept licking and sucking up all you had to offer him but removing his fingers.

You shuddered as he continued. Head moving side to side as his tongue’s assault on your clit never let up, causing you to start to cum yet again. “Don’t-fuck, don’t stop! Oh God! Flo! I’m- I’m about to-.” a squeal escaped you as you clenched on nothing. Your second orgasm had you almost seeing stars. After cleaning you up again, he removed his lips from your clit and kissed up your body, removing the dress and bra you still had on. He looked at you hungrily for a moment before he attacked your lips as he palmed one of your breasts and tweaked your nipple. Removing his lips from yours, he focuses on littering your neck and collarbones with kisses and bites as his hand returns to back down to your clit, still sensitive from your powerful previous orgasms. You try to warn him about this but he ignores your unsuccessful attempt to get him to stop, instead, he goes faster. This orgasm coming a lot faster than the other due to your increased sensitivity but it was just as powerful. Leaving you a shaking panting mess beneath your boyfriend.

“That’s it, Dragă mea. You’re being so good for me. But I know you have a couple more in you by the way you were acting tonight.” Florian cooed softly in your ear as your panting lessened. Your eyes were heavy and your body was weak already. You were already ready to tap out, but mama ain’t raised no bitch so you try to keep up with your boyfriend’s evil intentions. He stood up to take off his pants and shirt and gently massaged your legs as he laid down on the bed, ushering you on top of his length. This man made you cum so hard just using his mouth and fingers you had almost forgot he had brought dick with him too.

He helped you raise up slightly as he pushed the tip into you, hissing at your tightness and extreme wetness. You fell forward a little on his chest as he entered you. Filling you up deliciously, it was almost unbearable. He helped guide you up and down his dick because he knew you couldn’t do it by yourself. His tip brushing over your g-spot over and over had you moaning his name repeatedly like it was the only word you knew. “That’s right baby, fuck, you feel so good for me. So fucking wet and tight for Daddy. I feel you squeezing my dick, are you close again baby?.” He asked as he kept bringing you down on his dick, harder and faster each time than the one before. At this point you couldn’t even properly speak because of the pleasure that was enveloping you so you just nodded and continued trying your best to ride him. He apparently didn’t like that because he slapped your ass and held your hips tight and he fucked up into you. You started moaning louder and louder, trying to string together a somewhat coherent sentence.

“D-Daddyyyy. I’m so close. I’m gonna cum-mm. Can I please cum? Please?” You begged, hips rotating as Florian continues to pound into you. “Go ahead, Prințesa. Cum on this dick, you’re doing so well for me.” Florian praises as he brings you back down on his length one last time, bringing your body close to his as you ride out the aftershocks your fourth orgasm.

He laid you down on the bed, a sweaty, shaking mess. But he still wasn’t done with you. “Flo baby, I, I don’t know how much more I can take.” You panted, trying to see if you can just go with four for the night.

“Uh-uh, Dragă, I know you have one more in you. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Florian kissed your lips softly as he entered you slowly, making sure to be cautious of your very heightened sensitivity. Slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl with every stroke he delivered as he placed kisses all over your exposed chest. Soft moans exchanged between the both of you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You guys made love often but this felt completely different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but you felt completely wrapped in blanket of love and protection. Your hands on his face, legs around his waist, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. It gave you a new feeling. It made you feel warm, loved, and cherished. You loved this feeling.

Not only that, you could feel your orgasm approaching again. You moan rather loudly as you warn your boyfriend. You feel him twitch inside you and know that he’s close as well. He starts rubbing your clit as you rack your brain trying to piece together the last few words you know in Romanian that you know will send you both over the edge. You look deep into his eyes as your nails rake down his back.

“Sunt pe cale să cum. Te rog să mă completezi. Te iubesc. Am nevoie de tine. Vă rog. Vino cu mine.”

And with that utterance, Florian spills into you. The feeling of his warmth inside you coupled with him rubbing your clit was enough to push you over the edge one last time. Breathing heavily, you both let out a happy, euphoric sigh as you came down from your respective highs.

After a minute or two Florian moved off of you to grab a wet washcloth to clean you up, making sure to be careful. He also grabbed your makeup wipes and bonnet to help you get ready for bed because he knew you definitely wouldn’t be able to walk to the bathroom and do it yourself.

Once you were both cleaned up, he laid back beside you, stroking your arm as you started to drift into a peaceful slumber. Before dozing off you mumbled something he almost couldn’t make out, but once he did he gave a light chuckle in response.

“Remind me to tease you like that again If that’s what’s gonna happen.”

And just like that, you both were out like a light.

You woke up to your phone going off. 2 missed phone calls from Michael, a missed FaceTime call and 3 missed messages from Denise. You started to read the messages when another call from Denise started to come through.

“Hello?”

“Girl we’ve been callin yo ass for the past 10 minutes.”

“Sorry, I just woke up.” You look behind you to your sleeping boyfriend, the gentle giant, still snoozing peacefully.

“Damn bitch it’s 12:30, y’all left at 10. He really put it down on you last night, huh? Details later. We’re outside with your stuff, come get it.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a min.” You hung up and drug yourself out of bed and almost fell to the floor with the first step you took. Your legs were like complete Jell-O. “D has no idea how right she was.” You chuckled to yourself. You put on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of Flo’s gym shorts as you make your way to the door.

You finally made it down the stairs and to the door to be greeted by your two friends. You stood and talked for a couple minutes before you started to feel your legs buckle again. Before Denise has the chance to comment about your sexual conquest, you grab the boxes of food, Florian’s card, and told her you talk to her later. Quickly closing the door and hearing her laughter from the other side you make your way to the couch.

“Was that Michael and Denise?” You heard Florian ask as he can down the stairs clad in some black sweatpants. How can he manage to look so fine just waking up? You question internally.

“Yeah, dropping off our stuff.” You say as you give him the food to put away with a good morning peck.

You start to relax in the sofa until you hear Florian in the kitchen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” He yelled, causing you to jump a little.

“What? What is it baby?” You asked, concern in your voice.

“This damn bill is $200! Looks like D and Michael got another entree to take home and dessert after we left.”

You didn’t even try to hold back your laughter because that sounds exactly like something they’d do. As you watched him head back upstairs to call and tell off Michael, you turned on the T.V. and pulled out your phone to Google ‘Wheelchair stores near me’ because you know you’ll need one for the rest of the day.

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

Translations:

Prinţesă- Princess

Eu iubesc mai ales când mă tratezi ca pe o doamnă în public, apoi mă futi ca o pornstar când ajungem acasă. Știu exact de ce te numesc Big Nasty- I especially love when you treat me like a lady in public, then fuck me as a pornstar when we get home. I know exactly why you're called Big Nasty.

Dragă- Darling

Mai Mult? Orice pentru tine, prințesă- More? Anything for you, princess

Vă pot spune cât de aproape sunteți, iubirea mea. Ți-ar plăcea cum? Faceți o mizerie pe mea fața și degetele, prințesă. Știu că asta vrei tu, dragă- I can tell you how close you are, my love. Would you like that? Make a mess on my face and fingers, princess. I know that's what you want, darling.

Sunt pe cale să cum. Te rog să mă completezi. Te iubesc. Am nevoie de tine. Vă rog. Vino cu mine- I'm about to cum. Please fill me up. I love you. I need you. Please. Come with me.

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@bluestarego @lotusss-flowerbomb @savvy-ivvory @amelatonin @melanated-writersblock @blackvscogirl @atyourbestyouareluv @blowmymbackout @melinda-january @munteanhore @melaninmarvel @honeychicana @tgigoldie

#florian big nasty munteanu #florian munteanu #florian munteanu smut #florian munteanu x black reader #smut #florian munteanu x reader

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missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 2 Part 9- The First Vault

Hello, everyone.

There is good news! I seem to have my mojo back, that spark every writer needs to adequately make their craft. So expect updates to come a lot more often.

This chapter is the vault chapter though it will not mark the end of Year 2. For the record, I intend to write all seven years but that is going to take a hell of a long time given JC's very slow updating schedule haha.

Anyway enjoy this chapter! As always comment what you think. I enjoy it immensely.

Year 2 Part 9. The First Vault

Ben’s hopes for an uneventful end of the semester turned out to be oddly prophetic. The number of ice attacks dropped so significantly that even the first years seemed to be more relaxed going into the latter part of May and into June. Tension ran much lower and even the most brooding Slytherin or skeptical Ravenclaw had to admit things were looking up. Though Dumbledore was still noticeably absent, Professor McGonagall filled in more than adequately as deputy headmistress.

All the while, David felt…conflicted. He was certainly happy that the ice attacks had stopped, and the danger seemingly gone. But that didn’t lead him any closer to finding out what happened to his brother nor the identity of ‘R’ and what they wanted in general. Would he trade for more clues about the cursed vault just to have more information on Jacob? No, he wasn’t that selfish, unlike those such as Merula who only thought about themselves. But it didn’t ease that same longing he’d felt since he was nine years old, nor satisfy his curiosity.

Ben, of course, was ecstatic and Rowan tried to see the bright side as usual, telling him that no curse meant more time to study for their upcoming exams (whoop de doo) and reduce their chances of getting in trouble with the teachers. Bill, however, was the only one who remained unconvinced that the danger had truly passed.

“A magical cursed vault doesn’t just stop cursing people,” he explained one day while at the training grounds. “From what I’ve researched, cursed objects are often unpredictable and not at all stable due to the sheer amount of dark magic they contain.”

“Are these vaults even dark, though?” Rowan pointed out, as he fired a stinging hex towards his target. “It could just be a natural defense mechanism of someone trying to interfere with it.”

“I don’t personally trust anything that has the capacity to seriously maim or kill someone,” David opined.

Bill send a burst of flame forth, incinerating a dummy to ashes.

“If it turns out that this was nothing more than a false alarm, I won’t complain,” he said. “But until we can actually confirm that, it’s best to remain on our toes.”

And remain on their toes they did, thanks to Bill. Three times a week, they were down by the ground training and when they weren’t Rowan was often in the library searching for more books on the ancient Aramaic language they found the previous year, or anything on the vault’s origin. Penny received several new potions books from her mother and was pouring through them for more ideas or possible brews they could use in the event of an attack.

For his part, David tried to juggle the rest of his schoolwork with the vaults. His mother in particular was expecting higher marks this year and constantly reminded him of that in her letters.

Do as I say, not as I do he lamented. It was typical of his mum to offer instruction but little sympathy in doing so. If only Dad actually had a backbone. Whatever, it’s not like they’re actually here seeing what I get up to

All of these things were to bound to come to a head sooner or later and when it did, it was in the most unexpected fashion imaginable.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day of pandemonium coincidentally was on the last Quidditch match of the season, where Gryffindor was due to play Ravenclaw for the title. The air was abuzz with excitement, and though the Slytherins were more than a bit glum at being out the running, it was expected to be an even, prime time matchup. It was not an atmosphere concerned with the cursed vaults.

That included David and Bill, who in their eager anticipation of the match, rose early and sped down to breakfast both for the purpose of eating and wishing Charlie luck. Since his first match against Slytherin, his ascent into superstardom had been rapid. The game against Hufflepuff was as equally lopsided, with Gryffindor winning 400-100 in a span of about half an hour. But it wasn’t simply the score that had the Lions on the cusp of their first cup since the late seventies, it was a generational talent and that person was Charlie Weasley. His natural ability on a broom was so spectacular, many people openly talked of him playing for England someday. True to his nature, the second eldest Weasley merely shrugged such talk off, choosing instead to focus on the Quidditch Cup but the chatter was undeniable.

“Good luck, little bro,” Bill teased him moments before heading down into the locker room. “You know Fred and George are going to want a full play by play after you win.”

“Knock it off, Bill,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes but there was a small smile on his face all the same. “Just have the butterbeer ready when we come back.”

Giving each other fist bumps, Skye Parkin called over as she tossed the quaffle back and forth between herself and fellow chaser Ruth Barrett.

“Oi, Weasley! Orion’s called us to the pitch! Let’s go!”

“She has a way with words,” Bill observed mildly.

Charlie raised his hands as he got up from the table.

“Just who she is.”

“Knock em, dead, mate. We all know you’ll be brilliant,” David encouraged, giving one last slap on the back.

The red head thanked him and quickly exited the Great Hall to the applause of the Gryffindor table, while the Ravenclaws paid them no mind.

“Gotta say, definitely different than playing Slytherin from a pregame standpoint,” David observed.

“Ravenclaws don’t need to use shady or underhanded tactics to try and intimidate opponents,” Bill pointed out. “Their talent and tactics are usually enough. Besides, their team left for the locker room already.”

“Good point.”

Checking out his watch, David began to wonder where Rowan and Ben were. Both had assured him they’d be down just after himself. Even if his best friend wasn’t the earliest riser when it came to Quidditch matches, he was usually sufficient enough to dress and shower quickly.

“Where are those guys?” he muttered to himself. The Great Hall was beginning to empty out. Even the Professors were absent from the table. Something wasn’t right.

Bill tried to reassure him in his usual cool, collected manner.

“I’m sure they’ll be along s-”

He never was able to finish the sentence as screaming and panic began to erupt from outside of the hall. Whoever was left eating breakfast immediately ran to the scene of the commotion, including the two Gryffindors. What they saw was pure pandemonium: adolescents and teenagers from all houses were running back and forth and wasn’t hard to see why. Numerous spores of ice were blooming all around them, growing at a rapid pace threatening to engulf all in their path.

David and Bill, both glanced at each other, simultaneously gulping. Suddenly, wave of blonde slammed into them.

“Ack! Penny?!”

“Dave! Bill! Oh, I’m so glad I found you,” she said through a tight hug around David’s midsection (he blushed ever so slightly). “Is this the cursed vault?”

“Has to be,” the young Gryffindor replied. “What else could be making such gigantic icebergs?”

Just then, a large mass could be seen moving towards them through the crowd and given his height advantage it wasn’t difficult to spot who it was.

“Dave? Bill? All yehs thank goodness yer alrigh’.”

“Hagrid? What on earth is going on?”

The exceedingly large man’s warm, beetle eyes were saddled with watery worry.

“The cursed ice is spreadin through all o’ Hogwarts!” he replied, nervously tapping a pink umbrella by his side. “It’s getting ter be madness out there. Gryffindor Tower is completely blocked in, the dungeons got icicles stickin out everywhere. An’ apparently the Ravenclaw Quidditch team are trapped inside the changing rooms. The blasted ice is expandin so fas’ that the Professors can’t keep up with it and there’s only so much they can do. Especially with Professor Dumbledore off searchin fer that curse-breaker.”

Hagrid paused and mumbled to himself.

“Ah, shouldn’ta said that, should not have said that.”

“What curse breaker?” David asked curiously. But the groundskeeper waved off their concerns with one of his trash can lid hands.

“Never mind tha’ now. My job is to keep you lot safe until the ice is under control. Now head back into the Grea’ Hall while I go assist Professor McGonagall.”

As he sped off, or as fast as one of his girth could go, David looked back towards his two companions, blocking out the hysteria around him.

“We have to move fast,” he told Bill and Penny. “It sounds like the ice is back with a vengeance.”

“But shouldn’t the Professors handle it?” the blonde asked, fear evident in her crystal, blue eyes.

“It sounds like they have too much on their plate in order to properly deal with the cursed ice. And this time it might not be enough to save the day,” David pointed out.

“We’re forgetting one key thing,” Bill added. “The Professors don’t even know where the origin of this ice is. They may not be able to fix it.”

“But we do. And we can,” David declared. “Bill’s right. No one besides us knows where this vault is located. It’s time for a third and final visit.”

Bill looked over his shoulder to ensure no one was listening, simultaneous worry and conflict on his handsome features. However, he also appeared resolved.

“I didn’t want to go back in there without at least four or five us just so we could have each other’s backs, but it looks like there’s no choice. The three of us will go in, break that curse, and save Hogwarts.”

David nodded in complete agreement. As much as he wanted Rowan and Ben with them, his two roommates were effectively trapped within the common room. They were the last remaining hope.

“It’s settled then. Penny, are you in?”

Though her own misgivings could still be seen in her face and body posture, Penny didn’t hesitate in her answer.

“Absolutely. I told you David that the next time something like this happens to involve me. Well, you’re going to keep that promise whether you like it or not.”

She truly is the most loyal Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen

“You’re amazing, Penny. Alright let’s go!”

And without so much as a second thought, the three teens took off running towards the thirteenth corridor.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It didn’t take long to reach the corridor nor for David to reveal the hidden entrance. Being the third go around, he could pinpoint the spot precisely and the power of being an advanced Transfiguration student certainly didn’t hurt either.

When the eerie hallway and steps were exposed, Penny was taken aback.

“Whoa,” she uttered softly. “I’ve never seen a cursed vault before, but even this is a lot to take in at one time.”

“Stay close,” David nodded towards her. The last thing he needed was more casualties on this trip. Rowan and Bill had nearly frozen to death in each of the last instances. He would ensure nothing of the sort happened to Penny. However, her inexperience was showing already. The two Gryffindor teens already knew what to expect unlike the blonde Hufflepuff.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her. “It’s okay to be scared. We all are.”

“But it always helps to have a bit background. Especially for someone who’s never seen all of this macabre rubbish,” Bill joked.

Penny gave a frail smile, nevertheless she remained quite frightened of the ominous knights and ancient statues that surrounded them.

“What should I expect?” she asked bravely.

“If memory serves correctly, there will be a chamber with a massive door of ice in front of us, guarded by a giant shield shaped like a snowflake,” Bill explained to her.

“You’re taking the mickey, right?”

David resisted the urge to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

“It sounds pretty unbelievable but trust me, Penny. We’re not lying.”

As if to prove his point they came across the same giant wall of ice that stood against their path to the doors, twice as thick and formidable as before.

“Well…this is a problem,” David observed. “Will the knockback jinx be enough, Bill?”

“It’s our only hope, mate,” Bill told him, pulling out his wand. “If we hit it at the same time, it should be enough to create a big enough entry way for us to fit through.”

The two second years copied the older boy and prepared to fire.

“Give it all you got, Penny,” David told her, giving a look of encouragement. “Whatever ounce of power you think you have….summon every ounce of it.

I’m going to need it too

“On the count of three,” Bill announced and Penny’s normally cute, bubbly features took on an uncharacteristic degree of determination. “One….two….THREE!”

“Flipendo!”

Beams of blue light struck the ice with a tremendous force but to their dismay, only a slight dent was made, indicating the defenses were much stronger than originally thought of.

“Try it again. One…two…THREE!”

“Flipendo!”

This time a small hole was made through the ice, but it was barely big enough for a man to go ice fishing.

“One more,” Bill breathed heavily. “We can do this. On my count…one…two…THREE!”

This time, their efforted yielded paydirt as the combined power of their spells blasted the ice apart, leaving a man sized opening just big enough for them duck through.

“When you get inside, spread out and be ready when the door starts blasting its freezing charms,” the eldest Weasley informed them. “Penny, you remember the fire spell, yeah?”

“Incendio, right?”

“That’s the one. As soon as you get close enough to it, blast it with all your power.”

David nodded in affirmation. There was no time to think or get fancy, the only objective was to get past that door and ensure that this curse was broken once and for all. As for what came after….they could deal with that later.

Sure, enough as they entered the icy chamber and drew close, the snowflake shield began firing off freezing curses, causing the three teens to roll off to one side in order to avoid them.

“I see what you mean!” Penny yelled, drawing her wand. “Also, really wish I’d worn something other than a skirt had I known we’d literally be going into a cursed vault!”

David fired a knockback jinx to buy them some time, but their offensive nearly stalled as a freezing spell nearly hit Bill, causing him to slip forward on the slick, unstable surface.

“That was too close,” he muttered. “Alright, after the next curse it shoots off, fire away with everything you got.”

David drew his own wand and aimed carefully, shrinking low on the steps, concentrating all of his magic into the biggest inferno ball he could imagine in his head. By the hardened look on Penny’s face, she was evidently doing the same. As soon as the next freezing spell (aimed for Bill again) passed, he and the Hufflepuff were on their feet charging the door.

“INCENDIO!!” they roared simultaneously.

With their combined strength, huge plumes of fire issued forth and made contact with the shield attached the door. Through the heat and acrid smoke, David could see that the icy fortification was melting into a pool of water onto the floor. By the time the fire barrage ended, it was completely gone.

“YES!” he exclaimed. “We finally got rid of that bloody thing.”

The group barely had time to celebrate however as ominous rumbling could be heard from inside of the door, the ground quaking as though a giant were approaching.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Penny stated, anxiety back on her face.

“I just realized, David,” Bill said turning to him. “All this time we thought this door was keeping us out of the vault…but what if it was keeping something IN?”

It was a consideration they had no time to discuss more for at that moment, as the massive doors opened to reveal a terrifying sight: an Ice Knight, made of iron but covered completely in chunks of snow and frost, about ten feet tall carrying a massive sword. It did not look pleased at their intrusion.

“Merlin’s Beard,” Bill breathed. “Everyone, take cover!!”

But he was too late. The knight struck out with his sword creating an icy wind so fierce, so deathly cold that one could not stand against it without plunging into a winter induced coma. In a quick succession, Bill’s body was quickly entrapped in ice as was Penny’s. Fortunately for David, he had managed to jump out of the way in time, all except his foot, which he managed to free.

“Blasted thing…” he muttered, ripping his foot away and breaking the containment. He ignored the rising chill in his bones as he saw his two friends stuck in blocks of ice so thick, it was a wonder they could move at all. Both of their faces were already turning blue.

“L-look out!” Bill warned threw chattered teeth as the knight swung his blade once more.

Again, David had to dive out of the away to avoid getting caught in the same prison. Wheeling around, he aimed his wand and issued out another fire blast. It caught the knight square in the chest, causing it to reel back but otherwise had no effect.

“Uh oh.”

For the third time, he avoided a blizzard blast but only just barely. There was no telling how long he could keep this up. Not to mention the health and safety of his friends were increasingly in jeopardy. He wasn’t going to win by simply dodging the strikes.

“D-D-Dave,” Penny managed to utter out. “C-c-come here. Reach into m-m-my j-j-jumper pocket.”

He did not argue, running over to her and doing as instructed. Within seconds, a bottle of green potion was in his hand.

“It’s f-f-fire breathing p-p-potion. I know i-i-it’s risky b-b-but it might be our only h-h-hope.”

“S-s-she’s right!” Bill called out in agreement. “You h-h-have to use it n-n-now!”

In a split second David managed to consider the options: fire breathing potion could damage someone’s esophagus and stomach beyond repair if too much was ingested at one time. And would it be enough to actually take down their adversary? Unless…

Wait a second, I have an idea

Ducking another blast from the Ice Knight, David wasted no more time. He quickly chugged the potion, feeling its warmth rush down his throat and into the pit of his gut (it was rather like ingesting tasteless, extremely hot water). Putting his wand directly in front of his mouth, he ran up to the Knight, and knelt down on one knee.

Summoning a deep breath, David aimed straight for its midsection with only a second to spare.

“INCENDIOOOOO!!!!”

The fire breathing potion combined with the spell of his wand issued a concentrated beam of fire so powerful that it cut through the giant’s armor like a hot knife through butter, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of its body. As soon as the damage was recognized the silent knight looked down, fell to its knees before bursting into a cloud of snow and dust.

Panting heavily, David barely even registered his victory, rushing over to help Bill and Penny. Using the last of his fire breathing reserved, he managed to carefully blow a ring of fire around the ice, cracking it to the point where both could effectively free themselves.

“D-Dave, do you know what you j-just did?” Penny asked him, her pretty features in full awe.

“Careful, Penny. You’re still shivering pretty badly.”

“F-forget me, that was the m-most amazing thing I’ve ever s-seen!”

“She’s right you know,” Bill concurred. His body still quaked as well but his larger size and body mass ensured he did not feel the effects quite as badly. “Dave, I’ve never seen a second year do that before. You just took down something ancient, something way beyond what most wizards have ever seen.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the compliments, but David had seen this story before. Rowan and Bill each required sufficient time to recover from the door blasts and the knight’s power was far stronger than that. They needed to get to the hospital wing.

“Guys, let’s go see Madam Pomfrey before you freeze to death, come on-”

“Not before you enter that vault,” Bill cut him off.

“Forget the vault,” David insisted, supporting Penny with his own body weight. “We need to leave this place.”

“Leave after everything we did to open the bloody door?” Bill barked out with a laughter. “Not likely. David we’ll be fine. This is what you wanted: the first step in finding the answers about your brother. Go, I can take care of Penny.”

Before he could protest, the blonde placed a soft, feminine hand over his mouth.

“Hush,” she said with a smile. “B-Bill’s right, we’re b-both okay.”

Swallowing, but also nodding his head, David acquiesced to their insistence. He didn’t like the idea of leaving them behind whilst they were still in considerable trouble, but curiosity and desire overrode his fear. Any immediate threat was gone now. It was time to see just what was behind those frozen doors.

“Together,” he said to them. “All three of us.”

His friends smiled at him.

“If you insist, David.”

And just as he insisted, the three friends stepped inside the doors into the unknown.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In contrast to the snowy, ice cream covered walls of the chamber outside, the inside of the vault was quite similar to the hallway in its décor and decoration. It was also considerably warmer. Inside was a dark, copper green colored room lined with four different knight statues, all resembling the one they had just fought. In the center was a lit column, situated upon a stone pillar, lit by a soft, yellowish glow the emanated from the inside. Upon the column, was an ancient language, the same that Rowan translated a year earlier.

“Unbelievable,” Penny breathed out.

“There is definitely something to this column here,” Bill said, rubbing his chin.

“Perhaps it has something inside?” David suggested to which eldest Weasley shrugged.

“Only one way to find out, mate. You can do the honors.”

The second year Gryffindor didn’t hesitate. Foolish as it may seem to touch a mysterious magical object of unknown origin and power, the nagging desire was too much to resist for him. He didn’t know what to expect really, if anything at all. However, a curious thing occurred upon his finger resting on the column. It began to shift and unfold as though it were a flower in bloom. What lay inside was odder still. They seemed to be hovering in midair in a yellowish mist.

“A broken wand and a book? Not exactly the treasure I was hoping for,” Bill observed.

“Who knows? Maybe their clues,” David countered. And before he could stop himself he reached inside and attempted to take the two objects. Upon doing so, a familiar voice began echoing loudly inside his head.

Find the other four vaults, David….Find my room…

Could it be…Jacob?

“Find your room?” he asked the voice aloud. “I don’t understand.”

You can’t let ‘her’ get there first! Hurry!

“Who’s her?” he asked again. “What do you mean?”

Just then he was pulled back from the center of the column by Bill.

“Dave! Snap out of it!”

“Wha?”

Bill looked at Penny and back to him, his expression confused and concerned.

“You were in some kind of trance. You kept talking to someone lime if they were in the room with us.”

“I…heard a voice,” David admitted, not knowing what else to say.

“Who?”

“My brother….told me to keep finding the other vaults. You must think I’m mad, don’t you?”

They must think I’m off my rocker. I don’t blame them either

To his surprise, neither Penny nor Bill seemed to regard him as a madman waiting to go to the looney bin.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you, Dave,” Penny spoke up.

“So do I. I could believe anything after what we just went through,” Bill agreed.

“Did he say anything specific?”

David regained his senses and analyzed the situation for a moment. How was it possible that he had just heard his brother? Even in the wizarding world, witnessing voices that weren’t there was not a good sign and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling what he heard was not the work of insanity.

“He told me to locate his room and that there are four more vaults, specifically. And to find them before ‘her’. Whoever that is.”

“Her?” Penny repeated. “This just keeps on getting weirder.”

“I concur,” Bill said. “But what about the wand and book?”

David inched closer once more and took both of the objects without further visitation from the voice. Upon inspection, he recognized the wand’s true owner.

“This is Jacob’s wand. The one he had while at Hogwarts. I’d know it anywhere.”

Bill took the leather bound journal from him and began flipping the pages, his eyebrows furrowed in befuddlement.

“This book, whoever it belonged to, is nothing but scribbles and random drawings. It appears the author was quite mad.”

“Could it be a clue to the location of the next vault?” Penny asked.

David didn’t know what to think. Far from answering questions, their journey and entry to the vault seemed to invite more questions, thickening this mystery even further. The quest to find his brother now took on a whole new meaning.

“I have no idea,” Bill said quietly after a moment of pondering. “But what I do know is that we need to get out of here before we get caught.”

Snapping back to his senses, the second year almost forgot how long they had been in here. It was long past overdue for their departure.

“Bill’s right. We don’t want to find any of the teachers waiting for us by the time we get back. It’s time to go.”

“Do you think that we stopped the cursed ice for good?” Penny wondered aloud. “I hope no one got hurt.”

It was a sentiment they all shared but one they had no way of knowing until they returned back to the halls of Hogwarts. With enough adventure completed for one day, the trio made their way out of the vault and into the thirteenth corridor.

#hogwarts mystery #fanfiction #hphm #hphm fanfiction #david grant #bill weasley #charlie weasley #penny haywood #gryffindor #hogwarts #cursed vaults #ice vault

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

Note

9 and 10, shiro ship or voltron ship of your choice :D

trope mash-up prompts

this is pure silliness tbh

9 & 10 — Dance AU + Airport/Travel AU with Shallureith

A twelve-hour layover on paper didn’t seem that bad. They were all together so they could take turns taking naps, and there was a nice reprieve in being stuck in an airport. It was like a break from reality, an excuse to eat doughnuts cross-legged on the floor and watch Netflix at 3 PM. Or at least that’s what Allura kept telling herself. By hour nine, though, it was becoming apparent that her theory didn’t work so well off paper.

Shiro was working through his series of physical therapy stretches, less because he actually needed to and more because he’d finished the book he was reading. Keith, meanwhile, had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes because he’d sat still for a grand total of thirty. Propping herself up from where she’d been laying back on the floor, Allura huffed out an exhale and eyed the both of them. As if following some unspoken cue, Keith paused in his pacing to meet her eye, and Shiro lifted an eyebrow in question.

“We could play a card game,” she offered. Canting his head, Shiro seemed to consider it, but Keith’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Despite being the one to offer it, Allura sympathized; her legs itched with restless energy, a need to move, and not just sit and occupy her mind. “I have an idea,” Shiro said, “but uh…it’s dumb.” Naturally, that seemed to pique Keith’s curiosity, and he inched closer. Allura stifled her laughter but inclined her head. “I’m okay with dumb,” she said. “It’s midnight and we’ve run out of snacks.” Their backpacks got stashed under the seats, and within five minutes, they were on the moving sidewalk. Shiro, as the one with the idea, got to lead, and Allura had to fight back giggles as he directed them into plies. It was the same combination he always fell into when he was warming up or teaching a class on the fly, and they were synchronized as they sunk into a grand plié in fifth. At the end of the track, Keith took over and they move onto fondus on the one rolling the opposite way.The airport was quiet by now, but the few people who passed by paused and squinted at them a moment before hurrying on their way. A couple of the younger ones stopped long enough to take a picture or video, grinning as they turned away to carry on to their gate.They skipped some steps, trading tendus and degages for pas de cheval and piqués. Anything that didn’t work well on moving rubber tracks while they were wearing tennis shoes was thrown off; this was just for fun, after all, not a real class. They stretched with ankles resting on the railing, and developped on an angle to keep from blocking the one or two other passengers trying to get one way or the other.Jumps were skipped for safety reasons, as well as turns, but that didn’t stop them from going into lifts like they’d had a whole class to warm up. Shiro pressed her up over his head like they were standing on steady ground, and she couldn’t help a grin breaking over her lips that was half nerves and half delight. There was always something exhilarating about big lifts, about soaring through the air with the floor eight feet below. She could hear the announcement as a plane deboarded, and a new rush of passengers started trickling through the terminal. Oh no, she thought, holding in some cross between a giggle and groan as she held up her arabesque. They’d started this as a silly distraction while the terminal was occupied only by sleeping passengers, but now they were getting something like a crowd. People stopped, first just a couple, then a whole cluster along the railing.As Shiro stepped carefully from the track and settled her on her feet, there was a round of muted applause — not too loud, as if mindful of those still sleeping on the floor and across the bench seats. “Maybe we should call that enough,” she said.Before Shiro could answer, though, there was a burst of startled laughter and applause, more raucous than before, and looking over, she covered her mouth with her hand. Keith had unfolded into a handstand, body perfectly perpendicular as he trundled down the moving walkway. Shiro bleated out a strangled laugh as Keith shifted to full splits, still inverted, completely ignoring the couple who now rode behind him and stared blearily at his antics.“Shall we?” Shiro asked, grinning, and offering out his hand.“Will you be my Romeo?” she replied.It had been their last performance this season, and the pas de deux was still fresh in her mind and body. Shiro broke into a grin at the challenge and accepted immediately. Onstage, the process of getting into the lift was simple, graceful; on the walkway, it was a little more utilitarian. Shiro knelt, reaching up his arm, and Allura laid out on his shoulders in the same motion. He took a step onto the walkway as he rose, in time for her to extend her leg to the ceiling and let her arm drape down across his chest.“Holy shit,” someone gasped in their little audience, and Allura grinned. Shiro turned in a tight circle rather than the usual steps and swung her legs down so that she hovered as if en pointe in thin air, chest arched to the sky. Lifting her back up, he braced himself for the second developpe, higher this time so she nearly unfurled into the splits still draped over his shoulders. He stepped onto firm ground, settling her lightly on her feet, and the crowd broke into a round of true applause. Laughing, Allura dipped in a curtsy, extending the hoodie around her waist like a skirt.“Now that’s just cheating,” Keith laughed, coming up behind them. “How’m I supposed to top it?”“Well, you could always lift me,” Shiro replied, jostling Keith’s elbow with his.Catching the light in Keith’s eyes, Allura laughed.“You two figure that out, I’ll buy some time with our audience,” she said.Trading classical for modern, she stepped onto the walkway to toss her leg up into a full tilt, fingers placed delicately under her chin. She’d been hired for a music video over the summer, her first big commercial contract, and as she pivoted into an illusion, leg fanning in a great circle behind her, she heard a murmur of recognition.“Hey, wait,” someone started as popped a hip and flicked her long white braid over her shoulder, “she was in Leon!”She shot a wink in the general direction of the speaker and, as the walkway rolled to an end, dropped into an inverted cabriole before springing up and into a messy pirouette. Carpet and sneakers didn’t make for a good turning combination, but she got a whistle as she stepped out of it, laughing.On the other end of the walkway, Keith and Shiro were already starting, and she stole glances as she hurried down the length back to their starting point. It wasn’t that different from peeking from the wings during a crossover, only she was usually in a skirt and stage makeup for that rather than her worn-in leggings and airport-bathroom face wash.The prep into this one was deceptively simple: Keith crouched as Shiro tossed his weight onto his shoulder, flopping like a particularly bulky sack. There was a smattering of confused laughter, as if the audience thought they’d traded dance for a farce, and Allura grinned. She knew this step, remembered this piece. It was an older one — a pas de deux about the homoeroticism of trench warfare created by a guest artist on Keith and Shiro back when they were still students. The lift was, admittedly, a little more effective with the achingly intimate cello solo that normally accompanied it, but she could already feel anticipation tingling under her skin at what came next.From his limp drape over Keith’s shoulder, Shiro straightened up into a handstand, arms tight around Keith’s waist and feet pointed to the ceiling. The laughter shifted into quiet gasps. Keith’s hands hooked around the back of Shiro’s thighs, guiding them in a motion almost like an upside-down cartwheel. As his legs came around, though, Shiro didn’t neatly step off but froze, body perpendicular to the ground. Keith’s wiry arms shifted, lean muscle straining under his t-shirt. A few steps from the end of the walkway, Allura froze. That lift was supposed to swing around, Shiro rotating across Keith’s waist — but there were glass walls cutting their path off. Swinging him forward was bound to leave Shiro with a concussion and knock both of them on their asses on the walkway. Her hands tightened, involuntary, with worry.As she watched, Keith bent, shifting so that Shiro was nearly diagonal to the ground as his legs came around, slicing a breath above the rail. She gasped, startled despite herself by the fluidity as the two of them shifted, reoriented the choreography and brought Shiro neatly into an inversion before stepping off to a chorus of whooping and claps from their transient audience. Looking out over the little crowd, she could spot half a dozen cellphones lifted up, filming, and she held back a laugh. Coran was going to have a fit.A boarding call came over the PA as Keith and Shiro reached her, both breathing a little hard, and the crowd started to disband. Drawing her bottom lip in under her teeth, Allura rested her hands on her hips.“I think it’s time for our finale,” she declared.“That didn’t count?” Shiro breathed out, laughing.“Nah,” she said. “Hey, remember that character class we took with Nikola Kaminski?”Shiro’s eyebrows rose, but Keith’s lips turned up in a grin, and he started nodding before he even replied.“Oh hell yes.”She wouldn’t have been able to do it with Shiro, not with their height difference, but Keith was the same height as her if she didn’t wax down her hair. They took the walkway grinning, two steps apart and bouncing slightly in rhythm with each other. The dispersing crowd paused, lingering to see what was going on, and Shiro stalled with the first steps of Nutcracker’s Russian. Allura laughed, shoulders shaking, but gave Keith a firm nod as they approached the center of the walkway. He took one chasse, throwing himself up into her arms. She heaved, pushing off with her thighs, and flipped him up so one leg extended to the sky. Suspended there for a moment, he flicked one hand up to salute the audience before she swung him back down and they pranced off their impromptu stage. Despite the hour, their tiny crowd burst into cheers and applause. They’d accumulated more than she’d realized during the mini performance, and Allura laughed as they took bows from either end of the walkway. Drawn away at last either by boarding calls or by the sense of the performance ending, the crowd trickled away and Keith and Allura wandered down to where Shiro waited for them. Her heart raced under her t-shirt, cheeks flushed with adrenaline and endorphins. Keith’s cheeks were as pink as hers felt, and Shiro’s bangs stuck to his forehead. Reaching up, she combed them back, and he laughed.“Well, that is a new stage for me,” he remarked.“Your dumb idea was pretty great,” Keith said, looping an arm around Shiro’s waist. Shiro grinned, and Allura pressed a kiss to his cheek before tangling her fingers with Keith’s. “I honestly thought you two were going to get concussions doing that Huntsman lift,” she admitted as they turned back to their waiting bags. Keith shrugged his near shoulder, as if unbothered. “Keith had me,” Shiro said. “I wasn’t worried. Did you hear them during your Leon solo?” Laughing, Allura dropped into her seat, twisting around to drape her legs over Keith’s lap. Now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, she was finally almost sleepy. “I wondered if anyone would recognize it,” she admitted, leaning her head against her hand. “Too bad you didn’t have the costume,” Keith remarked, dropping his arm over her shins. Shiro snorted and Allura reached over to pinch his arm. The costume in question had been little more than a white bralette and shorts — and an entire bucket of red and black paint. Keith only grinned, unrepentant. “Next time I do a bikini dance, you guys are doing it shirtless,” she declared.

Glancing over to meet Shiro’s eye, Keith lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “Deal,” he said. “I assume that’s our first summer layoff project,” Shiro agreed. Allura laughed, settling more fully into her seat. The metal arm rest pressed into her back persistently, but if she leaned in toward Keith and shifted most her weight into the pleather back, it wasn’t so bad. “Perfect,” she said, eyes slipping shut. “You two come up with some choreography and I’ll run final edits.” Already sleepiness curled around her, lulling her off. Distantly, she could hear a quiet chuckle and feel the gentle warmth of Keith giving her leg a light squeeze. The last thing she heard as she drifted off was Shiro: “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

#voltron #voltron ficlet #shallureith #dance au #shiro #allura #keith #voltron fic #my writing #ask games #this is such nonsense but was fun ty!!#machidielontheway #asked & answered

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sunny-st-james · 4 years

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Pas De Deux Ch. 9 - Departure

Whoops it’s just making out. I’m not actually sorry. Words - 1,505. Read here or on ao3.

Remus turned to look at the clock, or tried to turn as best as he could with his lip between Sirius’s teeth. He turned back to kiss Sirius one last time and pulled away.

“It’s 2:55,” Remus said before sitting up. Sirius groaned and threw his hands over his head, arching his back. Remus blushed and stood up.

“James is probably waiting for me.”

“Well, he’s probably not alone,” Remus said, purposefully not looking at Sirius.

“Did you invite someone?”

“Her name is Lily and if James is anything like you described him, they’re probably fighting right now.” Sirius groans.

“Well.”

“Yep.” Sirius paused, before sitting up to kiss Remus once more. Remus laughed, a small and breathy exhale, and turned to go put clothes on.

And when Sirius followed him, he managed to send a “we might be late” text to Lily before the door closed behind them.

—-

In the park, passersby turned their heads to look at what they assumed was the brunette-and-redhead couple arguing beneath a tree.

“So do you just flirt with everything that moves?” Lily snapped.

“I wasn’t flirting.” James crossed his arms and Lily scoffed at the way he acted like an angry child.

“Oh, really?”

“You wouldn’t know flirting if it bit you in the ass, Evans.” Lily turned, eyes flaming, to say something snappy back, but Sirius and Remus raced around the corner. Lily and James stepped apart quickly.

“Sorry we’re late, we-“ Remus started to say but Lily cut him off.

“Judging by the marks on your neck that you hid very poorly, I think we can tell exactly what you were doing,” Lily said. The other boys looked alarmed but Remus heard the fondness in her voice. Still, he shifted his sweater to cover his neck a bit more.

—-

After a short walk in the park and a goodbye to the very obviously aroused Sirius and Remus, Lily and James turned to each other.

“It sucked meeting you,” Lily said, sticking her hand out.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” James replied, shaking her hand. Lily rolled her eyes and pulled a marker out of her bag. She wrote something on James’s wrist.

“Call me,” she said, turning to leave the park. James caught her hand.

“What?” she asked.

“Should we spy on their next date?” he replied. She looked at him and smiled.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she said, high-fiving him.

—-

Sirius and Remus walked down the street holding hands.

“Where do you want to go?” Sirius asked as they passed Ann’s.

“Who’s place is closer?” Remus’s voice was thick and he seemed to pull Sirius even faster.

“Mine.”

“Let’s go to yours.”

“But you don’t have any clothes,” Sirius said, unable to keep up with Remus despite Sirius being almost a foot taller. Remus slowed down just enough to look at Sirius, and his breath caught. Remus’s pupils were blown wide and the desperate gleam caused something to stir deep in Sirius’s stomach.

“Do I look like I care about that right now?” Remus half spoke half gasped. Sirius just swallowed and walked faster.

The streets were packed with people and they maneuvered through the crowds. Eventually, Remus slowed down to follow Sirius, who took them into a tall and fancy building that Remus felt too poor to even be allowed near. Sirius nodded to the lady at the front desk and she pressed a button that opened the elevator doors.

The sliding doors closed behind them and as the elevator moved upwards, they looked at each other. It was then that Sirius noticed the well-placed bag in front of Remus’s upper thighs. He reached out to touch the skin of his neck, stopping as Remus shook his head.

“Not here. Inside.” With every word, it seemed harder for them to breathe.

Finally, the doors opened directly into Sirius’s apartment. Remus led the way in and threw his stuff onto a couch.

“Do you have to dance tomorrow?” Sirius asked.

“No.”

“Good.” Sirius smirked. Remus blushed and Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Remus pulled him in by the collar. After all, you can’t tease someone if their tongue is in your mouth.

—-

They kissed in the middle of the room. It was deep and passionate and slow, nothing like their first kiss. Remus rose onto the balls of his feet but Sirius just picked him up. Wrapping his legs around Sirius’s waist, he felt a hand slide into his hair and pull, giving Sirius access to his throat. His breath came in pants as Sirius worked his way up to his jawline.

“You want to do this now?” Sirius asked, seeking permission.

“Yes.” It came out breathy and high pitched and he would have been embarrassed, but Sirius just sighed happily against his neck and walked them to his bedroom. Remus made quick work of his shirt and tugged Sirius’s off too.

Sirius laid him gently on the bed and began kissing up the line of his inner thigh, pushing Remus’s shorts up. The feeling of Sirius’s mouth on his thigh sent his heart racing.

It was slow and deep, and then all of a sudden, it overwhelmed them. It started as a marathon and ended as a sprint and they went all the way past the finish line.

—-

They laid side by side, the blue glow of the moon casting shadows across their faces. Remus had his head tucked against Sirius’s side. From across the room, the city lights reflected off of buildings rising high in the sky and the stars blinked outside the window. Remus had never realized how warm Sirius was.

“I’m so tired,” Remus whispered, laughing softly. Sirius just threaded his fingers in Remus’s hair.

“Then go to sleep, baby.” The city noise is drowned out a little as Remus was pulled into Sirius’s chest. His curls tickled Sirius’s chin.

Remus shifted a bit. “Mhmm,” he sighed, causing Sirius’s heart to flutter. Their legs tangled together under the blankets. It was warm and soft and everything.

High above the streets, Sirius realized that he loved Remus.

They fell asleep around the same time, but Sirius took time to study Remus’s softened face and parted lips before falling asleep too.

—-

For someone who prided themselves on their common sense, Remus had really left his eight o clock alarm on. So, at eight in the morning, the piercing ring of his alarm rang out through the apartment, frightening both of them awake. They both swore considerably before Remus leapt out of bed to shut it off. From where he was standing across the room, Remus watched Sirius flop back on the bed and threw his hands over his face.

“Wha’time’sit?” Remus hears from somewhere in the blankets. He looks at his phone.

“Eight o’ one.” Sirius let out the biggest groan Remus had ever heard and sat up. He rummaged around in his nightstand drawer, and Remus was confused until he pulled out-

“You wear glasses?”

“Reading glasses.” Sirius put them on his face, and it took all of Remus’s willpower to not melt into a puddle and join the sun flowing through the window. “I don’t wear them very often.”

“You should.” Sirius looked confused. “You should wear them more often, I mean,” Remus finished. At the implication of these words, Sirius smirked.

“So you like them? I never would have guessed you had a thing for glasses, Remus,” Sirius said, slowly getting out of the bed and walking to Remus. As the spaces between them lessened, Remus swallowed thickly. He felt large palms settle on his waist, squeezing slight, and he sighed involuntarily.

Sirius was a sight to behold. Between his long dark hair tied up in a messy bun and the thick frames that somehow made his eyes look even better, Remus had no idea how he had even survived before Sirius. He ran his hands along the soft fabric stretched across Sirius’s chest.

Remus was suddenly pushed back against the table. He shifted to sit on the surface and looked up at Sirius.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Remus whispered, and Sirius nuzzled his neck before slowly undressing them both.

They moved from the table to the couch, and then to the shower. Sirius was sure he’d die when Remus tilted his head back to rinse his hair. He would have leaned down to kiss his throat if he hadn’t been worried about Remus getting a lungful of water. He just settled for looking.

In the golden sunlight, they lounged on the couch, wrapped in fluffy white towels. Remus could barely pull his eyes away from the heated, blushing skin of Sirius’s bare chest. The feeling of being there next to him overwhelmed Remus, suffocated him and made him aware at the same time.

On the back of the couch, their intertwined hands rested, glowing gold in the sun.

Chapter Eight Here!

#remus lupin #sirius orion black #writing #wolfstar

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

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Day Six - Quiet Hours

AN: I have been looking forward to this day all week, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s done for this! I absolutely love College AUs, and would love to do more of them! Thank you @spideychelleweek for getting this all together for us!

Prompt: College AU

Here is about 4k (oops i went overboard) of fluff, college, humor, and a teensy bit of angst

“Karen, I think I’m in love.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe it.

No, he really couldn’t believe it.

She’d actually said yes.

She— girl-of-his-freakin’-dreams Michelle Jones— said yes.

Yes to a date with him.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, how she was able to decipher the fact that he was asking her to coffee from whatever that jumbled, painfully awkward mess was that came out of his mouth when he’d asked. And he’s not sure exactly how many times he’d said the words “cup of coffee,” in the span of a minute, but if he had to make a guess, it’d probably have been in the low-thousands.

They’d agreed to Friday at 3:30 at one of those cute coffee shops just outside of the campus.

Two days from now.

Alone.

On an actual date.

He briefly contemplates pinching himself; this has to be some kind of a dream. The polar opposite of whatever a nightmare was. He feels lighter than air as he swings from building to building, the smile under his mask threatening to burn through the fabric.

God, what a day.

He’d only just met Michelle this semester. He remembers briefly seeing her on moving day, both of her parents helping her move into the room next to his. Her father had been grumbling about the idea of a co-ed dorm, her mother playfully smacking him on the arm as she chided him about the progressing times.

And though they were neighbors, Peter only got to know her through their shared Psych 100 course. He’d nearly burst into the classroom on day one, having less than a minute to spare as he scrambled to the closest seat he could find.

He would not be late on the first day again. No, sir.

He was starting this year off right.

The girl next to him— Michelle— had thrown him a fleeting side-eye glance, though not actually looking up from sketching all over the syllabus the professor had just handed out.

Peter wished, hoped, prayed to God that she couldn’t hear him breathing like he’d just run up four flights of stairs.

(Which he had.)

He’d fumbled, the awkward energy radiating through his bones as Dr. Cabot called his name during attendance for the second time— the first he’d missed because he was too busy staring at the doodles on Michelle’s paper. The girl had snorted at his near-incoherent bumbling, disguising the huff of amused air under her hand, biting back the smirk.

The shade of red on his face almost matched the pen on her desk, his stomach erupting in butterflies at the toothy grin that flashes across her features at the speed of light, almost missing it entirely.

Okay, maybe the embarrassment wasn’t so bad.

And it seemed to go like that the rest of the fifty-minutes; him finding himself unable to take his attention away from the girl next to him, even when his eyes are trained right on Dr. Cabot as she reads the most-likely plagiarized section that’s totally ripped from other professors’ syllabi, Academic Dishonesty.

Ever since that day, it was safe to say that Peter was smitten. Embarrassingly so. He had to contain every ounce of enthusiasm that threatened to explode from his body when he’d been paired with her for the first project of the semester.

“Okay, so I figured one of us can talk about Vygotsky and the other can have Piaget. Sound good?”

Though he was making direct eye contact, listening as intently as he could, none of Michelle’s words registered, Peter way too caught up in how freaking enchanting she looked, back-lit by the hues of orange and gold provided by the early-evening sun.

Maybe working on the quad had been a mistake.

“Yo. Parker.”

Oh, great. And now he’s been caught staring. Now she knows he’s a certified, grade-A creep.

And just like that, he’s snapped right out of his daydream. “Oh! Uhm— Uh…” He stammers, mouth hanging open as he tries to figure what the hell to say, feeling himself shrink back at her expectant stare. “Wha—What?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

She turns her head, eyeing him from the side, brow quirked. “I asked you if that sounded good.”

“If what sounded good?”

“If one of us talked about Vygotsky and the other talked about Piaget.” There was only a hint of exasperation to her tone, something which Peter’s pretty damn thankful for. “Theory of cognitive development? You know? The project we’re supposed to be working on?”

Though, he knew she was probably way more annoyed than she let on.

And he couldn’t really blame her.

There wasn’t really anything in either psychologists’ theories about the staring at pretty girls in the sunlight stage of life.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods thoroughly. “Yeah. Of course. That sounds great.”

“Are you good?”

He wonders if his skin looks as hot as it feels. “Uh, yeahyeahyeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

Judging by the look on her face, she can see right through that bullshit. But thankfully, she doesn’t press, either completely uninterested or just unable to find it in her to even bother.

It takes a month... or two... or three, but he finally gets the guts to actually do something about his feelings when he sees her studying in the library one day, her nose buried in the pages of the textbook she’s poring over.

The library’s normally about a thousand degrees, give or take, but today it seems especially balmy as he rocks back and forth on his heels, hands wringing together as he tries to come up with any kind of coherent sentence that isn’t this inane mumbling he’s currently doing. It only takes about another three seconds of panic before he mucks up just enough courage to ask her if she’d want to get coffee sometime.

And, for whatever reason, one that is beyond him entirely, she says yes, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she stares back down at the convoluted words littering the pages.

Honest to God, he feels like he could sing every octave of Beyonce’s Love on Top at this point. With choreography.

Patrol goes on without a hitch that evening, Peter having successfully stopped a poorly thought out break-in before it even happened, the criminals actually trying to use a crowbar in this day and age to open the backdoor of some guy’s place. A few thwip-thwips here and there, some well-timed kicks and punches, and boom. Taken care of.

Easy-peasy.

Oh, he’d also helped a little boy get his balloon back after it had floated away.

And he’d prevented a shoplifter from implementing their five-finger-discount on a set of particularly expensive purses outside of one of those designer shops.

An actual car thief— he had made sure to check this time, not wanting a repeat of his early Spider-Man days— thought he was being especially sneaky before he found himself webbed to the side of the parking garage.

Overall, it’s been a pretty successful night.

And Peter can 100% account that to this new, magical, walking-on-air, invincible feeling that’s flowing through his veins, radiating from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. The evening sun bleeds into night as he flips through the air, whooping and hollering with each leap and bound, the lights of the city twinkling around him. Maybe he throws in a few more aerial tricks and spins as he swings by a crowd, his smile growing exponentially when a chorus of cheers eggs him on.

This happy-go-lucky feeling carries him all the way back to campus, and his stomach does almost the same acrobatics that he’d done seconds before when he sees MJ exiting the library, eyes glued to her phone as she walks through the quad. He knows if he makes it back in time, he might get the chance to see her— talk to her again, for just a little bit, to catch her as she’s going into her room.

McClain Hall isn’t that far from where he’s perched on the Student Union Building, just on the northern edge of campus, the slightest bit separated from the surrounding dormitories. His own room is on along the outside perimeter, perfect for when he needs to sneak back in from a night of vigilante justice. It’s definitely a step up from Freshman year, that’s for sure.

Plus, McClain has suite style rooms, so he gets his own bathroom now, which is pretty sweet.

He lands perfectly above his window, internally fist-pumping as it slides open easily. There had been a few too many times where past-Peter had forgotten to unlock the dang thing before leaving, resulting in a very awkward, “Hey, RA, can you unlock my dorm for me? I forgot my keys in there. And yes, I also forgot… my… clothes… too…”

Since then, he’s been a lot more careful, both carrying a spare key in his utility belt, and leaving the window unlocked at all times.

He climbs in, the dark surrounding him as he lands silently, pulling his mask off and throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the room without a second thought.

Though something seems… off.

Almost instantly, he’s hit with the faint smell of perfume lingering on the air, and he briefly wonders if Ned and Betty had been here. He glances around, eyes adjusting to the light, seeing his grey sheets replaced with a deep navy.

Oh, God.

Oh, good God.

He’s such an idiot.

This isn’t his room.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit SHIT.

He doesn’t have any time to process the utter terror that starts to pulse through him, the hairs on his arms standing ramrod straight as the jingling of keys and as a soft voice is heard on the other side of the door.

In a moment of panic, he debates on whether or not he should just web the doorknob, thinking it could buy him some time. But he takes a millisecond too long trying to decide. The lock turns, and he ends up hurling himself behind the de-lofted bed as the door opens, effectively trapping himself between the wall and the wooden frame.

How he hadn’t noticed the difference in how the room was arranged when he’d first come in, he had no idea.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, was he to Spider-Man while distracted, he decides right then and there.

“—studying in the library all day. Felicia’s gone on some sisterhood trip, or whatever.” Michelle’s phone is tucked into her neck as she kicks the door shut with her foot, bypassing the main light switch and electing for the much more muted tones of her desk lamp and fairy lights.

Peter’s lungs seem to be collapsing second by second, and he briefly wonders if it’s possible that he could be having some kind of heart attack. He can see her slightly through the thin gap between the mattress and the bed frame, his stomach lurching into his chest at the sight of her.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“Yeah… Yeah… Mhmm… Yeah, classes are fine… just three or four big midterms next week, and one of them’s a project.” She drops her backpack on the chair, her back to the intruder in her room as she puts her books back on her desk. “Yeah… Uh-huh…. Yeah…” Her tone is monotonous in response to the cheery voice on the other line, her own droning the same automated reply every few beats. “Uh, yeah. Peter’s fine… I guess?”

Instantly, the sound of his own name in a conversation that he’s not a part of in any way and kind of has no business hearing piques his interest.

There’s a hint of hesitation to her tone as she continues, as if she’s not completely sure she’s willing to divulge any more sensitive information. “I mean… I’m kind of… getting coffee with him… like a date, I think.” She pauses, holding the phone away from her ear at the excited rambling on the other end.

She thinks??

“Mom, oh my God, please stop...:” She lets out an melodramatic groan, running a hand over her face in exasperation. “I’ve told you before, I didn’t think he was interested, geez. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

She talks to her mom about me??

His insides are a mish-mosh of this weird concoction consisting of utter horror-panic and pure unadulterated elation. It’s ultimately a very confusing feeling, and he’s not sure if he’s going to end up barfing all over her carpet out of fear or happiness. If his mask was still on he’s about 105% sure Karen would have already called an ambulance for him.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay… Listen, I’m gonna get ready for bed, take a shower. I’ll talk to you more about this later, I promise… Bye, Mom…. Yeah…. Love you, too.”

If at all possible, his anxiety seems to spike as she hangs up the phone.

MJ rolls her shoulders once, shaking her hands out as she releases a relieved sigh.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Unseen.

And alive.

His chance finally comes when she steps into her bathroom, and he waits for the sweet, wonderful, holy sound of that door clicking shut. He holds his breath, listening for any movement on the other side of the door. He’s able to pick up on her faint shuffling as she (presumably) changes out of her clothes and into nothi—

He immediately decides that he absolutely cannot think about that right now. Very dangerous territory.

When he’s sure that the coast is clear, he makes a break for it, snatching up his discarded mask as he leaps for the window.

But perhaps it would have been a better idea to listen if the shower had been turned on yet.

Before he can even get a foot on the windowsill, the bathroom door opens again, revealing his potential inamorata in nothing but a dark burgundy bathrobe. His eyes are immediately drawn to every patch of skin visible; her neck, her collarbones, her unfairly long legs.

He’s not sure who screams louder.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!”

A fair question.

What the fuck is he doing in her room?

“I’M SORRY—”

“—JESUS CHRIST—”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR— I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER—”

“—SO YOU SNUCK INTO MY ROOM?”

“NO! GOD NO—”

“—HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN HERE?!”

Peter tries to lower his volume, hoping that she’ll follow suit. “Like maybe five minutes!”

“OH MY GOD—”

“I didn’t mean to— God— AH! I’m so sorry, MJ!”

She stops yelling, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“How did you even get in here?! Did you seriously climb all the way—” She immediately cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the window before giving him a quick once over that makes him feel at least fifty-times more hot under the collar than he already was. It was a wonder the suit wasn’t burnt to a crisp at this point.

He can practically see the dots as they connect in her head.

Michelle considers herself to be more perceptive than most people, which is why she’s known all along that something was up with this Parker dude. By their third or fourth week of knowing each other, she’d come to the deduction that this boy was either a crime fighting vigilante or a serial killer. Really, could have been either one. She was just glad to have at least something confirmed.

Though she would have preferred it to not be from Spider-Man himself sneaking into her room at midnight when she’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“It’s not what it looks like!!” Peter immediately tries to derail her train of thought, hands held out in defense. “It’s uh— not mine.” He stares blankly at her, his expression wide in sheer terror as he scrambles for an answer. “Yeah.” He trails off, his eyes momentarily drawn the the trail of skin from her neck down to the valley between her—

No. No no no. Stop that.

She fixes him with a calculating stare, eyes narrowing as she quirks a doubtful brow. “Then who’s is it?”

His scoff is nothing if not a little over-the-top, his expression scrunching slightly as if the answer’s obvious. “Spider-Man’s.”

Her only response is a slow, deliberate blink.

“Who I am definitely not. I just make the suits,” Peter quickly spits out, and he starts to shrink back the longer her eyes are on him. “Just… Just test driving... the new model… Because I’m his suit… crafter… guy....”

He’s met with another blink. “Are you done?” She asks.

There really was no way out of this.

Peter sighs dejectedly. “Yeah…”

“Tell me something, Parker.” Her tone is a bit too casual for comfort. “Do I look stupid?”

“No! God, no!” He groans, running a tense hand through his hair. “You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met! Just…” He brings his volume down even more, though he doesn’t seem to know what to say, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

He decides that there’s really nothing he can say, nothing that can convince her that he’s not a superhero.

A sharp exhale escapes him as he finally looks up at her, eyes pleading. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“What? That Spider-Man’s a creep who sneaks into girl’s dorms?”

“No!!” Peter shouts, voice cracking. “I mean, I don’t sneak into—Ugh! That’s not what I— God, I meant don’t tell anyone that I’m—” His mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together as he lets out a sharp exhale. He glances right and left, voice now barely above a whisper. “Spider-Man.”

She’d almost be amused if it weren’t for the way her ears and skin burned in embarrassment at being caught in just a bathrobe by the cute boy she likes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He seems to notice her discomfort. “Michelle, I’m so sorry, I—” And it’s then that he starts rambling. “And I just got so excited about our date and I just wasn’t thinking clearly… like at all, and I usually sneak back into my room after patrol and since we’re neighbors and everything I guess I just got confused, which doesn’t usually happen, I promise this has never happened, and then I didn’t know what to do and all of a sudden you’re in here and I’m hiding behind your bed and— “ He takes a deep breath, hanging his head in shame. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

There’s a sharp knocking on the door; Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and MJ seems just as jarred.

“RA on duty,” A firm voice calls from the other side of the door. “It’s quiet hours.”

“I should— I should, uh…” Peter stumbles over his words, unable to take his eyes off of the girl in front of him. “I should go back… to my room.”

“Oh, uhm— Yeah.” MJ nods awkwardly. She gestures to the door, eyebrows raising in question.

Peter shakes his head, breathing out a shaky chuckle. “Oh, no… I’ll just go back the way I came.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder before planting his hands on his hips, giving a firm nod.

It really stings how she doesn’t even look at him as she mumbles out another near-silent, “Yeah.”

And he leaves without another word.

Man, he knew that Parker luck was something that had plagued his family for years and years, but he hadn’t expected it to hit so hard all at once. It had been quite a while since he’d fucked up that badly, so he thought he was in the clear. Maybe that had been his first mistake of many. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his guard down.

A pit forms in his stomach, twisting and pulling in a vice-like grip as he returns to his own room.

And now, the girl-of-his-dreams Michelle Jones, because he had been so lost in his own thoughts, because of his complete lapse in basic attention, probably wanted nothing to do with him. He knew he didn’t need to ask if their date was still on, and truthfully, he couldn’t really blame her, given that he’d invaded her personal space and embarrassed her. No, he didn’t expect her to want anything to do with him now. Especially not after the way she’d yelled at him.

There’s been plenty of times that Peter’s fucked up, almost too many to count. But this… This was up there.

He doesn’t hear from her the next day, nor the day after, only seeing her when she comes to Psychology class that Friday. He can’t even bring himself to actually look at her when she sits in her usual spot next to him.

He mopes about the rest of the day, knowing full well that it’s his own stupid fault. Ned points this out, though he tries to remain sympathetic as he agrees that yes, Peter’s an absolute dumbass sometimes.

But Ned also suggests actually talking to MJ about all this.

Peter immediately shoots that down.

Instead, he decides to do the rest of his moping at the campus Starbucks, cheek resting against his hand as he reads the same sentence about the zone of proximal development over and over, his vanilla latte completely forgotten in all of his sulking.

“Why the long face?”

Her voice startles him out of his brooding state, and he immediately looks up, heart thumping in his ears as his eyes land on one Michelle Jones, two coffees in either hand.

“Uh—” Peter’s response isn’t his smoothest. He blinks in surprise, briefly wondering if he might be dreaming. “I—” His voice cuts off, finding that he can only stare up at her with this dopey, blank expression.

“What? You thought I forgot?” She lifts her index finger from the side of one of the cups, pointing to her watch. “It’s 3:30. I’m right on time.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, though she still seems to wait for his invitation to sit, the faintest hint of insecurity behind her eyes.

Finally, Peter smiles back up at her, a breathless, shy chuckle escaping him. Her smirk turns into a full grin, and she pulls the chair out with her foot, setting both cups of coffee down as she sits.

“I gotta say,” Peter starts, eyebrows pulled together in happy confusion. “I’m kinda surprised you still wanted to… get coffee with me. After… After, well, you know… I’m so, so sorry about that. Again.”

Michelle pushes one of the cups to him, taking a thoughtful sip from her own. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Really?” Peter asks, pitched raised in minor disbelief. “I mean,” He pauses, huffing in amusement and slight embarrassment at his previous actions. “I’m kind of a dumbass.”

She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she glances up from behind the cup. “Yeah,” She agrees readily after a moment’s contemplation. “You are.”

They both laugh quietly.

No argument there.

“But… I’ve been thinking about it.” She puts her cup down, bracing both elbows on the table as she leans forward slightly, her voice incredibly nonchalant. “I think I kinda have a thing for dumbasses.”

“Oh? Really?” He breathes, butterflies in his stomach erupting.

“Uh-huh.” MJ nods, eyes squinting as she fixes him with another sly smirk. “Especially ones that look that good in a skin-tight onesie.”

Peter’s sure his face could blend in with said onesie if he was actually wearing it, and he nearly chokes on his new latte.

She tries to hide the snort that comes out of her, but fails miserably.

“Well, don’t worry,” Peter lets out another, slightly less nervous, laugh, firing finger guns at the girl across from him, attempting a not-so-smooth wink. “There’s way more dumbassery where that came from.”

Her lips press together in a thin, yet incredibly cute smile that makes Peter’s heart soar, a welcome warmth washing over his body. “Good,” She says through a quiet laugh, shaking her head at him as she takes another sip from her coffee.

Yup, he’s definitely in love.

#spideychelleweek2k19 #spideychelle #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #fic #peter parker x michelle jones #college au #i hope you liked it!!#i had so much fun writing it #i want to write more!!

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theculturedmarxist · 4 years

Link

My dad was born in 1917. Somehow, he survived the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918-1919, but an outbreak of whooping cough in 1923 claimed his baby sister, Clementina. One of my dad’s first memories was seeing his sister’s tiny white casket. Another sister was permanently marked by scarlet fever. In 1923, my dad was hit by a car and spent two weeks in a hospital with a fractured skull as well as a lacerated thumb. His immigrant parents had no medical insurance, but the driver of the car gave his father $50 toward the medical bills. The only lasting effect was the scar my father carried for the rest of his life on his right thumb.

The year 1929 brought the Great Depression and lean times. My father’s father had left the family, so my dad, then 12, had to pitch in. He got a newspaper route, which he kept for four years, quitting high school after tenth grade so he could earn money for the family. In 1935, like millions of other young men of that era, he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a creation of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal that offered work on environmental projects of many kinds. He battled forest fires in Oregon for two years before returning to his family and factory work. In 1942, he was drafted into the Army, going back to a factory job when World War II ended. Times grew a little less lean in 1951 when he became a firefighter, after which he felt he could afford to buy a house and start a family.

I’m offering all this personal history as the context for a prediction of my dad’s that, for obvious reasons, came to my mind again recently. When I was a teenager, he liked to tell me: “I had it tough in the beginning and easy in the end. You, Willy, have had it easy in the beginning, but will likely have it tough in the end.” His prophecy stayed with me, perhaps because even then, somewhere deep down, I already suspected that my dad was right.

The COVID-19 pandemic is now grabbing the headlines, all of them, and a global recession, if not a depression, seems like a near-certainty. The stock market has been tanking and people’s lives are being disrupted in fundamental and scary ways. My dad knew the experience of losing a loved one to disease, of working hard to make ends meet during times of great scarcity, of sacrificing for the good of one’s family. Compared to him, it’s true that, so far, I’ve had an easier life as an officer in the Air Force and then a college teacher and historian. But at age 57, am I finally ready for the hard times to come? Are any of us?

And keep in mind that this is just the beginning. Climate change (recall Australia’s recent and massive wildfires) promises yet more upheavals, more chaos, more diseases. America’s wanton militarism and lying politicians promise more wars. What’s to be done to avert or at least attenuate the tough times to come, assuming my dad’s prediction is indeed now coming true? What can we do?

It’s Time to Reimagine America

Here’s the one thing about major disruptions to normalcy: they can create opportunities for dramatic change. (Disaster capitalists know this, too, unfortunately.) President Franklin Roosevelt recognized this in the 1930s and orchestrated his New Deal to revive the economy and put Americans like my dad back to work.

In 2001, the administration of President George W. Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney capitalized on the shock-and-awe disruption of the 9/11 attacks to inflict on the world their vision of a Pax Americana, effectively a militarized imperium justified (falsely) as enabling greater freedom for all. The inherent contradiction in such a dreamscape was so absurd as to make future calamity inevitable. Recall what an aide to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld scribbled down, only hours after the attack on the Pentagon and the collapse of the Twin Towers, as his boss’s instructions (especially when it came to looking for evidence of Iraqi involvement): “Go massive — sweep it all up, things related and not.” And indeed they would do just that, with an emphasis on the “not,” including, of course, the calamitous invasion of Iraq in 2003.

To progressive-minded people thinking about this moment of crisis, what kind of opportunities might open to us when (or rather if) Donald Trump is gone from the White House? Perhaps this coronaviral moment is the perfect time to consider what it would mean for us to go truly big, but without the usual hubris or those disastrous invasions of foreign countries. To respond to COVID-19, climate change, and the staggering wealth inequities in this country that, when combined, will cause unbelievable levels of needless suffering, what’s needed is a drastic reordering of our national priorities.

Remember, the Fed’s first move was to inject $1.5 trillion into the stock market. (That would have been enough to forgive all current student debt.) The Trump administration has also promised to help airlines, hotels, and above all oil companies and the fracking industry, a perfect storm when it comes to trying to sustain and enrich those upholding a kleptocratic and amoral status quo.

This should be a time for a genuinely new approach, one fit for a world of rising disruption and disaster, one that would define a new, more democratic, less bellicose America. To that end, here are seven suggestions, focusing — since I’m a retired military officer — mainly on the U.S. military, a subject that continues to preoccupy me, especially since, at present, that military and the rest of the national security state swallow up roughly 60% of federal discretionary spending:

1. If ever there was a time to reduce our massive and wasteful military spending, this is it. There was never, for example, any sense in investing up to $1.7 trillion over the next 30 years to “modernize” America’s nuclear arsenal. (Why are new weapons needed to exterminate humanity when the “old” ones still work just fine?) Hundreds of stealth fighters and bombers — it’s estimated that Lockheed Martin’s disappointing F-35 jet fighter alone will cost $1.5 trillion over its life span — do nothing to secure us from pandemics, the devastating effects of climate change, or other all-too-pressing threats. Such weaponry only emboldens a militaristic and chauvinistic foreign policy that will facilitate yet more wars and blowback problems of every sort. And speaking of wars, isn’t it finally time to end U.S. involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan? More than $6 trillion has already been wasted on those wars and, in this time of global peril, even more is being wasted on this country’s forever conflicts across the Greater Middle East and Africa. (Roughly $4 billion a month continues to be spent on Afghanistan alone, despite all the talk about “peace” there.)

2. Along with ending profligate weapons programs and quagmire wars, isn’t it time for the U.S. to begin dramatically reducing its military “footprint” on this planet? Roughly 800 U.S. military bases circle the globe in a historically unprecedented fashion at a yearly cost somewhere north of $100 billion. Cutting such numbers in half over the next decade would be a more than achievable goal. Permanently cutting provocative “war games” in South Korea, Europe, and elsewhere would be no less sensible. Are North Korea and Russia truly deterred by such dramatic displays of destructive military might?

3. Come to think of it, why does the U.S. need the immediate military capacity to fight two major foreign wars simultaneously, as the Pentagon continues to insist we do and plan for, in the name of “defending” our country? Here’s a radical proposal: if you add 70,000 Special Operations forces to 186,000 Marine Corps personnel, the U.S. already possesses a potent quick-strike force of roughly 250,000 troops. Now, add in the Army’s 82nd and 101st Airborne divisions and the 10th Mountain Division. What you have is more than enough military power to provide for America’s actual national security. All other Army divisions could be reduced to cadres, expandable only if our borders are directly threatened by war. Similarly, restructure the Air Force and Navy to de-emphasize the present “global strike” vision of those services, while getting rid of Donald Trump’s newest service, the Space Force, and the absurdist idea of taking war into low earth orbit. Doesn’t America already have enough war here on this small planet of ours?

4. Bring back the draft, just not for military purposes. Make it part of a national service program for improving America. It’s time for a new Civilian Conservation Corps focused on fostering a Green New Deal. It’s time for a new Works Progress Administration to rebuild America’s infrastructure and reinvigorate our culture, as that organization did in the Great Depression years. It’s time to engage young people in service to this country. Tackling COVID-19 or future pandemics would be far easier if there were quickly trained medical aides who could help free doctors and nurses to focus on the more difficult cases. Tackling climate change will likely require more young men and women fighting forest fires on the west coast, as my dad did while in the CCC — and in a climate-changing world there will be no shortage of other necessary projects to save our planet. Isn’t it time America’s youth answered a call to service? Better yet, isn’t it time we offered them the opportunity to truly put America, rather than themselves, first?

5. And speaking of “America First,” that eternal Trumpian catch-phrase, isn’t it time for all Americans to recognize that global pandemics and climate change make a mockery of walls and go-it-alone nationalism, not to speak of politics that divide, distract, and keep so many down? President Dwight D. Eisenhower once said that only Americans can truly hurt America, but there’s a corollary to that: only Americans can truly save America — by uniting, focusing on our common problems, and uplifting one another. To do so, it’s vitally necessary to put an end to fear-mongering (and warmongering). As President Roosevelt famously said in his first inaugural address in the depths of the Great Depression, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Fear inhibits our ability to think clearly, to cooperate fully, to change things radically as a community.

6. To cite Yoda, the Jedi master, we must unlearn what we have learned. For example, America’s real heroes shouldn’t be “warriors” who kill or sports stars who throw footballs and dunk basketballs. We’re witnessing our true heroes in action right now: our doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel, together with our first responders, and those workers who stay in grocery stores, pharmacies, and the like and continue to serve us all despite the danger of contracting the coronavirus from customers. They are all selflessly resisting a threat too many of us either didn’t foresee or refused to treat seriously, most notably, of course, President Donald Trump: a pandemic that transcends borders and boundaries. But can Americans transcend the increasingly harsh and divisive borders and boundaries of our own minds? Can we come to work selflessly to save and improve the lives of others? Can we become, in a sense, lovers of humanity?

7. Finally, we must extend our love to encompass nature, our planet. For if we keep treating our lands, our waters, and our skies like a set of trash cans and garbage bins, our children and their children will inherit far harder times than the present moment, hard as it may be.

What these seven suggestions really amount to is rejecting a militarized mindset of aggression and a corporate mindset of exploitation for one that sees humanity and this planet more holistically. Isn’t it time to regain that vision of the earth we shared collectively during the Apollo moon missions: a fragile blue sanctuary floating in the velvety darkness of space, an irreplaceable home to be cared for and respected since there’s no other place for us to go? Otherwise, I fear that my father’s prediction will come true not just for me, but for generations to come and in ways that even he couldn’t have imagined.

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cottontail20 · 5 years

Text

Children Of Iron, Chapter 7: Copi De Fier

Summary: After their awkward first meeting with Nick Fury, Vision, Wanda, and Harley vow to prove themselves worthy of their new places on his team.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323687/chapters/50420588

Vision maintained his anger as he marched away, but his expression instantly softened when he found Wanda and Harley at the mouth of the tunnel. Harley looked rather downhearted, and though clearly a little down herself, Wanda laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Do you really think I was only Tony's Plan B?" Harley asked her.

Wanda thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"No, I do not think so.."

"Are you sure? I mean, Fury knew him.."

"But Tony knew you" Wanda countered. "I won't pretend I knew him well enough to know exactly what he was thinking, because I didn't, but I do know that he cared about you. I don't believe Tony chose to recruit Peter first because he thought he was better than you. In fact, I don't think it was even really a choice at all. He was just waiting until he knew you were really ready."

"I guess that makes sense" Harley perked up a little. "And you know, I don't think Mr. Fury was right about you, either. You're not a wildcard.. not anymore, anyway. All the bad stuff happened when you were still learning, right? Now, you're pretty awesome."

"Thanks copil" Wanda chuckled, gently ruffling Harley's hair.

For a moment, still watching quietly, Vision found himself thinking that Wanda would be a good Mother.. Then suddenly felt a little sad, as that was something she would probably never have, with him. He shook his head, broken out of his thoughts when Harley continued to speak.

"There's rumors that you took on Thanos one-on-one and almost beat him.. Is that true?"

"Yes" Wanda smirked. Not an attention seeker, she usually chose not to confirm or deny these rumors, but figured it was safe to trust her future Husband's little brother with the truth. "That's true. I probably would have beaten him, if he hadn't ordered missiles to rain down on the battlefield."

"Wow.." Harley fell silent for a moment. "So, what do we do now?"

"I'll tell you exactly what I think we should do" Vision decided to reveal his presence, although the smile Wanda flashed his way told him that she'd known he was there the whole time. "We'll do just what we came here to do in the first place: Help Peter. And in the process, we will show Nick Fury who we are, and what we can do.. Then maybe he will see that 'Plan B' should have been the A-Team all along."

"Yeah!" Harley whooped, extending a fist.

Vision looked confused, until Wanda caught his eye, subtly knocking her own fists together. Vision smiled thankfully at her, then fist-bumped his little brother.

"To the A-Team!" Vision declared.

"The A-Team!" Harley happily declared.

Wanda burst out laughing.

"What?" asked Vision, confused.

"The A-Team is a really cheesy TV show from the 80's" Wanda explained, still laughing.

"Oh.." Harley frowned.

"Might I suggest.." Wanda offered an alternative. "Copi de fier.. Children of Iron.. For Tony."

"Yes" Vision smiled. "That sounds perfect."

So the trio, putting on brave faces and a united front, marched back into the HQ, asking where they could fit into the current plan. Only Wanda noticed the way Beck's face fell slightly when they returned, though he had quickly recovered. Wanda kept her own expression neutral, but inside, the Scarlet Witch was frowning. She decided that she would keep a very close eye on Quentin Beck. --

Vision, Wanda, and Harley remained with Fury and his team as they set off for Prague. Along the way, Fury filled them in on everything they knew about the upcoming attack of the Fire Elemental, the finer points of the plan to defeat it, and how each of them could fit in to said plan. Fury had been quietly impressed with the capabilities of Harley's Iron Legion.

So was Quentin Beck, although his smile seemed just a little too forced for Wanda's liking.

Harley was just happy with the attention.

As they all listened to Fury's revised plan, Vision kept one eye on the equipment monitoring Peter. A female Agent whom Vision hadn't met had just finished taking his measurements for a new suit, one that Fury hoped would remove the potential problem of Spider-Man being recognized. One of Peter's classmates had walked in on him while he was with the Agent, and Peter seemed rather frantic about the situation.

Though Vision did not understand the reason for Peter's panic, he felt an immense amount of pity for the boy. This mission, everything Nick Fury wanted from him.. it felt too big, too much. Tony would never have put him under this amount of pressure.

Though he had never moved into it, Vision remembered Tony designing a room for Peter at the Avengers Headquarters, mostly because the room would have been next door to Vision's. He remembered Tony filling the room with Video Games, new Lego sets, a Homework desk.. Even if Peter was going to be an Avenger, Tony had wanted him to have the space to still be a kid.

Fury was taking that space away from Peter all too fast.. Vision shook his head. The fate of Earth was at stake, again. His concern for Peter's stolen childhood would have to wait until the danger had passed. With Peter now safely back on the bus, opening the gift Tony had left for him, Vision returned his attention to the task at hand.

Noticing that Wanda seemed a little tense, Vision reached to lace his fingers with hers, gently squeezing her hand, and she gave him a small smile in response. They listened to Beck's account of his previous battle against the Fire Elemental, learned that they absolutely must keep it away from metal.. before they were interrupted by the rather concerned voice of Maria Hill.

"Sir, a swarm of Stark drones have just locked on to Peter Parker's school bus.."

"What?" Fury frowned. "Why the Hell would Stark drones attack Parker's bus?"

"Parker may have accidentally deployed them against a fellow student, Sir.." said Hill.

"Damn! How could he be so irresponsible?"

"Because he's a kid, and sometimes kids do stupid things, particularly when there is too much pressure on them.." Wanda pointed out.

"Okay, you made your point Maximoff.." Fury grumbled. "How long before this kid is in real danger?"

"About ten minutes" Hill replied.

"Mr. Beck" said Fury, "Can you.."

For the first time, Beck looked unsettled.

"I really need to save my energy for the Elemental.."

"Wanda and I will handle it" said Vision quickly.

"We will" Wanda agreed.

"Alright" Fury nodded. "Go. But don't you dare get killed. We've already reworked the plan, I don't want to have to do it again."

"I'll send some Iron Legion droids as back-up" said Harley, putting on the headset Maria Hill had just handed to him.

"Good idea.." Vision, remembering the earlier conversation outside the old HQ, fist-bumped Harley once again. "It is lucky we brought you with us."

"Baiat bun" Wanda ruffled Harley's hair again. "You stay here and be Copi de fier Mission Control."

"I will" Harley grinned, nodding.

Wanda and Vision checked the location of Peter's bus, then the incoming drones, before quickly departing to stop them.

"Copi de fier?" Fury was confused. "What the Hell is that?"

Harley just laughed.

Notes:

Translation:

Copil: kid

Baiat bun: good boy

#scarlet vision #ScarletVision #vision mcu #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #harley keener #spiderman far from home #peter parker #Avengers #endgame fix it #MCU #wanda x vision #vision x wanda

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Impolite 'Thank yous': Chapter one and two (Branjie) - BlackHighHeels

AN: I finally decided to get an account on here, because I was inspired to write this story because of a request I found here by chance while battling with another Branjie idea. This is for Akarana, who made the request. I hope I’ll do the idea justice.

This is inspired by Call me by your name (the book more than the movie)

(Read on AO3)

Chapter 1

When I saw him for the first time, it was also the first time I became aware that a ‘Thank you’ can sound fucking rude. I mean, not the intentional aggressive or ironic 'Thank you’ you say when you’re damn angry or want to be rude. But the kind of 'Thank you’ that just shows that the person saying it, doesn’t mean it one bit.

He stepped out of the taxi, let the driver dump all of his bags and suitcases onto our front lawn without helping him and then just said 'Thank you’ with his stupid Canadian accent.

I walked over to him, and was surprised by how much taller he was than me. I’m not exactly tall, but him… Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Blonde curls, blue-green eyes, bushy eyebrows, white, milky skin…different from me in every way. He was a pretty white boy.

Maybe that’s when I fell for him?

I helped him carry his stuff inside anyway, because otherwise Alexis would surely whoop my ass. Blondie was his guest after all, the prodigy drag daughter of one of Alexis’ pageant friends from Canada. He would stay with us for six weeks to get an idea about the pageant system in the US and then he would leave again. And I was asked to be on my best behaviour and help my 'drag sister’ out. I even had to move out of my room and into the drag room, so he had a bed and the bigger room.

“Jose,” I held out my hand once we stood inside the house, surrounded by his luggage.

“Brock.” We quickly shook hands and I was surprised how cold his hands were, here in the Florida heat.

“Alexis! El muneco de nieve esta aqui!” I watched his face for a reaction to the stupid nickname, but there was none. Looked like he didn’t speak Spanish. His face showed no emotion at all. He was intimidating.

“Brooke, so nice to meet you,” Alexis came out of his office with a large smile and followed by his husband Jeffrey.

“Nice to meet you, too.” While the introductions were made and smalltalk about the travel exchanged, I let my eyes wander over him again. He wore grey sweatpants and white trainers. A large, red T-shirt that had a hole just above the seam on his back. Beside his obvious lack of fashion sense he seemed very confident, but kind of aloof as he spoke to my drag parents.

“Jose will show you your room,” Alexis said and brought the attention back to me.

“You mean my room,” I couldn’t help but grumble.

“Take his bags with you, por favor,” Alexis ignored my remark.

“Who am I? The bag boy?” I turned to the guest and pointed to one of his huge ass suitcases. “You can carry that yourself, you hear me, white boy?” Then I grabbed the smallest of the other bags and led the way to what was usually my room. “This is yours now, usually it’s mine. Keep your fingers off my stuff on the left side of the closet. Right side is yours. I’m in the room over there and we share the bathroom. You better not be a messy ho, put the toilet seat down and don’t leave toothpaste in the sink.” With the warning I left the room and went over to my temporary home. Jeffrey had put a small bed into Alexis’ drag room, but it would do for the time being. I had a bed, a tv and my video games and make up.

***

When Alexis called for dinner I knocked on his door and waited until he finally came out so I could take him downstairs with me. He was still wearing the same stupid outfit, even though I had heard him taking a shower earlier. To celebrate his arrival nearly every member of the house of Mateo was present.

“Jose, gambas?” Victoria asked me and already handed the plate over, knowing that I wouldn’t eat much of the rest of what was served. Meanwhile Brock didn’t seem to have that problem and stacked his plate with a little bit of everything and uttered his stupid “thank you” after each plate that was handed to him.

“You’re only eating shrimp and rice?” he addressed me at some point, after the discussion about his long travel and the placements in pageants of my drag sisters had come to an end.

“Yeah, I’m a pescatarian.”

“Really?” he smiled. I felt that he made fun of me and wanted to punch the stupid grin of his face.

“Really. Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all. Just surprised, because everyone else seems to be enjoying their meat.”

“Don’t want any animals to be killed for my dinner. And I prefer a different kind of meat or sausage. Just need a gay club and some juicy trade for that, though, if you get my drift.” He nearly chocked on his beans and started coughing and finally the smile was wiped off his face. I just raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Jelitza. What kind of drag queen was he? Surprised by a comment about sex? This could be fun after all. Maybe the six weeks of him staying wouldn’t be as horrible as I had first thought and I could like fucking with him at least. Instead I grew to hate him over the next couple of days.

***

Maybe it happened when he came along to walking the dogs, my own dog Riley and Alexis’ dog, the next morning and I showed him the neighbourhood. A black cap backwards on his head, his feet stuck in black espadrilles while the rest of him wore the same outfit again. One curl snuck out from underneath the hat and fell into his face a couple of times. Each time he stroked it back and huffed in annoyance. He held the leash of Alexis’ dog more loosely than I ever did and still, the dog pulled less than it did with me. We walked quietly side by side, except for the moments when I pointed out a shop, the house where two of my drag sisters lived or the dog sitter.

It might have also been wile we worked on the new pageant costumes out on the patio. He glued rhinestone after rhinestone to the fabric with incredible accuracy, while I got distracted every couple of minutes by the chatter around me, a bird that few by, Riley who wanted my attention and by him, by his concentration and total lack of attention to what was going on around him. Whenever he glued on the last stone in a row his tongue peeked out between his teeth and wet his lips. The wetness it left behind glistened in the sunshine until it dried a couple of seconds later and was gone.

Possibly it was when we went grocery shopping together. Or during the first joined dance practice when he twirled around the room on his tiptoes. Or maybe when I woke up during his second night at the house, because his loud snores could be heard through the wall between our rooms.

“You want me to show you the pool?” It was Sunday afternoon and only the two of us were home. I could use some time in the sun and the water before I had to go back to work the next day. It was also the perfect offer in this heat and everyone always came over to cool down in the water.

“I think I’ll go to the mall instead. But thank you.” There it was again that polite impolite way of keeping people at arm’s length. Me being one of them. It hurt. And it busted the dream bubble I had of the both of us in swim shorts, all wet and delicious.

“Suit yourself, mami.” I shrugged and turned around to go to my room and get changed anyway.

“Can you drive me?” He stopped me. He’d only ben with us for three days and didn’t know the way to the mall yet.

After deciding that the clothes he wanted to buy would be better bought at the outlet center, I drove him there instead. The drive was silent until he made me stop the car and took the key from me. I was banished to the passenger’s seat in my own car, because of my 'erratic, irresponsible, crazy and dangerous driving that will kill us’- his words, not mine. I took revenge by letting him buy some more ugly ass shirts and shorts, because he only had brought clothes that were too warm. How damn stupid could you be? Bringing sweaters and long jeans to Florida?

“Alexis said you have to go back to work tomorrow. What do you do?”

“Drag.”

“Beside drag. Or is it your day job as well?”

“I work at MAC. I’m a make-up artist. And you?”

“Drag.”

“Beside drag? Or is it your day job as well?” I repeated his words, mocking him.

“Yes.” I snorted. Of course it was. A guy that looked like this and could dance like that could totally make a living simply by doing drag. “I used to be a ballet dancer though.” He smiled. I smiled back. He looked younger when he smiled, not that he looked old otherwise. Just his aloof behaviour and the stick up his ass was kind of getting old. “Ever did some ballet?”

“No. I was just always on the dance team at school. We rocked out ghetto style, grinding and shaking out booties.”

“I can see that.” No laughter, not even a smile. I couldn’t place the look he gave me. It gave me hot flashes.

“It’s getting fucking hot. Wanna hang out by the pool now or go to the beach? I got shorts and towels in the car.” I offered, seeing as he wiped the sweat off his forehead again, as we were sitting outside, sipping cold drinks in the shade.

“You go ahead. I still have to get some stuff. And I have to get a rental anyway, so I’ll drive back on my own. ” With another 'thank you’ he got off his chair and left, vanished into the Nike outlet store.

I felt stupid for even offering spending more time with him and getting rejected again. If he wanted to keep sweating and shopping then that’s what he was gonna get. I grabbed my wallet and keys and drove my erratic, irresponsible, crazy and dangerous ass to the beach and hung out with my cholas. Fuck him, thank you very much!

***

Most likely I fell for him without really realising it. I always noticed what outfits he was wearing.

When he finally showed up at the pool for the first time on his fourth day and shook the water out of his curls, making it fly everywhere, I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, then down over the slight stubble on his cheeks, tangle them in his chest hair. I yearned to see if his white skin would turn red, if I sucked on his neck and wondered if his skin would taste like the pool water, sun lotion or just him.

Five days into his stay I showed our new dance routine to the other dancers. They had problems with the slight jump before the death drop and were afraid they would hurt themselves. I showed them how to do it, then went on to show them the rest. Half way through the routine I felt his eyes on me. I kept dancing, concentrated on the music and the beat. I added a little jaunt to my steps, turned up the energy, straightened my shoulders. Still, I was aware of his wandering gaze, the keen smile and the warmth in his gaze that melted the ice which usually surrounded his whole being. It made my heart beat even faster and the flush on my face had nothing to do with the dancing.

When the music stopped I looked at him, our eyes met, but instead of the admiration I had hoped to find, I was met with disapproval and something similar to hatred. It nearly knocked my over and I stumbled backwards. What had I done to deserve this? My dancing surely wasn’t that bad. Honestly, my ability to dance was the only thing I had ever really been confident in. It shook me to the core and suddenly I didn’t want to dance in front of him anymore. Or be in his presence in any other way, if he disliked me that much.

I stayed away from him for the next two days, which wasn’t hard. Usually when I came back from work he was already gone. “Out clubbing” Alexis let me know and wiggled his eyebrows. We didn’t even talk to each other when we accidentally ran into each other in the bathroom or anywhere else around the house.

***

When the weekend came and another 'family dinner’ came up before we’d all go out to do drag together at the club, I felt his eyes on me all through dinner. I ignored him and kept talking to Victoria in Spanish, knowing he didn’t understand it.

“You want one?” he asked me, holding out a cigarette, when we were waiting for Jeffrey to bring the van around, our costumes already loaded into the car.

“I don’t smoke,” I told him.

“You’re smarter than me, papi.” He smirked and blew the smoke out into the night.

“I know.” I mirrored his smile and laughed when he bumped his shoulder playfully into mine. Just like that we were talking again.

Chapter 2

Even now, years later, there are many things that remind me of his first week with us. The scent of the sunblock he used back then, feeling the hot wind of an even hotter summer’s day against my skin or hearing one of the songs that played the night he first came to the club with us and saw me in drag the first time. Also anything that is hot and cold at the same time, like deep fried ice-cream; hot and cold, hot and cold, hot and cold like him during those first weeks. His mood changed so quickly I couldn’t keep up and got burned each time. Freezer burn or burned by the heat, it didn’t matter; the pain was still the same.

He stayed close while we got ready in the small changing room backstage. Alexis and Jeffrey were next door, but me and my drag sisters always got ready together and then the parents would join us and fix what we missed: Make up not blended correctly, a loose curl here or a missed button somewhere.

Brock wouldn’t go on stage with us that night, he was just there. He watched us carefully, watched me carefully, but didn’t offer help, not even when my zipper got stuck. Once Nivana had fixed it I turned and said 'Thank you’ in the same detached way he always did. Niv’ got the joke and we both cracked up. He didn’t laugh with us. Instead a meaningless small smile showed on his face and stayed there until we were in full drag.

I knew he was somewhere in the crowd when I hit the stage and did my first number of the night, could feel his gaze again. I crouched down, slowly went back up and shook my ass as much as I could. Did he want a piece of that? Did he want to touch me, not with looks but with his hands, his lips, his tongue, as much as I wanted to touch him? Did he like me better in or out of drag? Yet, I questioned if he liked me at all. His face was not giving anything away.

I should just stay away from him.

I de-dragged after my second number and wiped the make-up off the best I could, before I went out to the club.

“You drink Tequila?” he asked me when I had barely stepped out from behind the curtain and shoved a shot glass in my hand. I’d had three already on stage, but who was I to say no? I simply tapped my glass against his and we both downed the shot.

“Trade looks good tonight. Anyone you like?” I wanted to find out what he was into and smirked. Twinks? Bears? Muscle guys? Latinos? Fuck, I didn’t even know if he was a top or bottom.

“Maybe.” He didn’t smile, didn’t blink. Just looked over to he bar and ordered us two more shots.

“I’m gonna dance, white boy. You good here?” I didn’t want an answer to the question, I just wanted to get away from him. His mood was killing my mood and that wasn’t acceptable on a Friday night. This was the time for drag, drinks, drugs and sex. Screw him if he wanted to sulk in silence.

He surprised me by following me to the dance-floor. “I love that song.”

“It’s Ri-Ri, of course you love that song, bitch!” I exclaimed and started dancing. So did he and watched me at the same time once again.

“How do you do that?"

"What?”

“That move? How do you move your hips that way?” Heat shot through me, when I realised which part of my body his eyes were focussed on, his full attention on me.

“Ever tried belly dancing?” I gave him a smug smile and showed him the belly roll move, holding my shirt up with my chin so he could see it better.

“That’s not the move I’m talking about.” He was finally smiling, showing off his cute dimples. I did the same movement, but reversed the belly wave. He started laughing.

“Not the move either. And you know it.” His eyes sparkled, his mouth was still laughing and I realised we were flirting with each other.

“Oh, you mean this move?” I moved my hips from side to side, as sensually as I could. Aware of his eyes on me I felt my dick getting hard. Wrong time for that, absolutely. He tried to mimic my movements, but failed.

“How’d you do it? What’s the secret?” His tone was a mixture of frustration and amusement.

“Get on your tippy-toes, mami, and follow my fingers with your hips.” I touched his right hip bone through his jeans, careful not to brush against any skin. Then his left lower back. Right lower back. Left front. Left back. Once he got the hang of it and loosened up, I stepped back, stopped touching him, ended the sweet torture and got my dick back under control before he would notice.

“I think I got it.” He looked so damn proud of himself and his smile lit up the whole dance-floor.

“Keep going in figures of eight and you a belly dance ho now.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“My dance teacher at school was half Egyptian and showed us. Just with different music.” It switched back to hip hop, Ri-Ri long gone. I went back to dancing along to this beat, but Brock stopped.

“Thank you,” he told me and it sounded as fake as always. He turned around and left me dancing on my own, while he went to the bar and chatted up some guy there. I was back to hating him, stupid asshole, and gave myself over to the music and the cute guy who came over a couple of minutes later, grinding against my body and feeling me up right there. I didn’t give a fuck if Brock was watching us. He could say 'Thank you’ for the show later.

***

It was the next day, I was lying in my room, catching Pokemon, when he knocked and walked in before I even said something. He must have realised me giving him the cold shoulder after the night before. I hadn’t really slept, because I kept wondering how much he had seen. Just the dancing and grinding? The kissing? The hand down my pants? The hand job in a dark corner of the club? Anything? Nothing? Did he even care? I had finally fallen asleep in the early morning hours when I made myself giggle by imagining him hooking up and then saying his fucking stupid 'Thank you’ during or after.

“Wanna come swimming with me?”

“Pool or beach?”

“Pool. Vic and Niv’ called, they’re already there. Alexis told me.” I nodded, switched my video game off and got up.

“I’m gonna change. Five minutes.” When I made it downstairs he had a whole backpack with stuff. Later I found out it was sunscreen, food, a small ball and a book. We walked the short distance to the neighbourhood pool in silence. I didn’t know what to say, without sounding stupid or getting a fucking 'Thank you’ back. We took two chairs which were standing side by side and I took off my shirt, spread the towel out, lay down and closed my eyes. Imagining him shirtless was better than really seeing him shirtless, because he couldn’t see my thoughts and dreams, but he could see where my eyes linger on his white, creamy skin, his nipples, his belly button.

I smelled the scent of his sunblock and could hear him squishing the tube and the way his hand glided over his own skin. I wanted him to ask me to rub the lotion on his back so badly. I dreaded him asking me to rub the lotion on his back even worse. He didn’t ask me though, fucking bitch.

“Jose! Ven acá!” Vic yelled from the water and I opened my eyes. He even splashed some in my direction.

“Later,” I replied and turned on my stomach, closed my eyes again, ignoring the chaos around me. Brock left, jumped into the water, joked around with my sisters and friends and finally came back out, towelled himself dry and sat down on his chair. I didn’t see any of it, but I could hear it. Even when my eyes were closed all of my attention was on him, where he was and what he was doing.

“You’re turning red,” he said after I had felt him watching me for a while.

“I don’t get sunburned. It’ll be tan tomorrow,” I muttered without opening my eyes.

I felt the luke-warm lotion first, before his cold hands touched my hot skin. Him touching me, running his hand over my lower back and rubbing the lotion in, nearly gave me a heart-attack. It felt like my brain short-circuited, I was rock hard in seconds and jumped in my chair when his thumb dipped into the dimple on my lower back, just above the seam of my swim-trunks.

“You ok?” he asked when I suddenly bolted up. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, but more a reaction of my body to the sensual overload. I was mere seconds away from jumping him, sticking my tongue down his throat and humping his leg. This was all too much in public. What the fuck did he think he was doing? The look on his face was weird, eyes wide and serious, cheeks tinted with a light blush. I couldn’t place it. I didn’t want him to stop, wanted his hands back on my skin, all over my body. But at the same time I didn’t, not here, surrounded by kids and their parents who were wary of the gay drag queens in their neighbourhood anyway.

“Bitch, your hands are ice cold and you ruining my tan with your fucking sunblock,” I barked, got up and jumped into the pool to cool down. Hiding my hard on was also a lot easier under water than sitting next to him. Out of the corner of my eyes I looked at him and thought I saw panic or hurt on his face, just for a second, before it became the emotionless friendly mask again.

“Vic, tell him he needs sunscreen or he’ll look like a lobster tomorrow. Skin cancer is not sexy,” he told me sister, who quickly agreed with him. I splashed some water in her face to shut her up. He lay down on his chair, apparently not worried about burning his back and started reading his book, ignoring me and my wet body in the pool completely.

***

That was also the night I saw him in drag for the first time. Back then I thought his drag persona Brooke Lynn wasn't a lot different from his real life persona. Except, a lot sluttier in a more obvious way. I wasn’t sure how far he had gone with the guy from the other night or what he had done while he had been clubbing alone before. I simply suspected, he was out and about fucking around. The way he spread his legs, rolled around the stage, used the pole and flirted with the trade in the audience when he was on stage, cemented that idea in my head. Brooke Lynn was a slut, as was her creator, I was sure of it.

Sunday he missed dinner without an explanation. No one knew where he was, just that he was 'out’ somewhere.

“Found himself a boyfriend already,” Alexis wondered and laughed.

“I betcha he’s saying his fucking rude 'Thank you’ during fucking him.” I laughed, even though I felt like crying.

“You think he’s rude?” Jeffrey joined the conversation.

“Bitch, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that it never means shit when he says it. It fucking empty. He could say 'Fuck you’ and it’d be the same shit.”

“I think he’s just shy.” Alexis was usually really good at reading people, but I though he was way off this time. “And I think you’ll like him once you get to know him better.”

“What if I’ll hate him once I get to know him better?” I huffed and puffed a bit more about the idea of liking him and him being shy and him being a good guy. I didn’t know back then just how spot on Alexis was that night.

***

I was working the early shift the next week and because we were also booked solid with gigs and rehearsals for Alexis’ and Jen’s next pageant, I had to get up extra early to go to the gym and walk Riley. As much as I was a creature of the night and liked sleeping in, there was something about seeing the sun rise over the ocean while driving by on the way to the gym. Traffic was quieter, a lot less people around and even the gym seemed less hectic and gave me time to wake up.

I was wide awake with a start when my eyes met familiar blue-green ones through the window of the tumbling room. It was too late, I couldn’t just pretend that I hadn’t seen him and had to say hi at least.

“Bitch, what are you doing up already? Shouldn’t you be asleep instead of on your tippy toes? What are you doing here?” I teased him even though he wasn’t dancing or wearing ballet shoes. I couldn’t help it.

“I need to stretch and train every day or I’ll lose the flexibility or the muscle memory of some stunts.” He took a sip of water and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel. I realised he was wearing the ugly T-shirt with the hole again. It made me grin.

“So, twinkle toes, show me what you got.” He looked uncomfortable for a second, then jumped into a backwards handspring.

“Shit, mami, how did you do that?” I jumped forward, eyes wide. I was barely able to do a decent cartwheel and he could perform these kind of stunts?

“Want me to teach you?” he offered and looked more comfortable and relaxed than I had seen him this far. That was also the only reason why I agreed. He explained what he wanted me to do and then guided me through the movements. We laughed and joked while he taught me, focussed on the tension in my body, the right way to jump and the correct way to land. It took me a while, but then I was able to do it on my own. It wasn’t as graceful as his, but I didn’t break my neck and landed on my feet.

“Thanks, boo. You rock as a teacher, but I have to go.” I realised I had to hurry if I didn’t want to be late for work. The lack of time also helped with the question of how to say bye and putting it on the back of my mind that while teaching he had touched me again. Nothing sexy, nothing sensual, just his hands to stabilise me in the air so I wouldn’t fall. They had been gone again before my feet touched the ground.

***

Hours later I was still thinking about his smile and the way his shoulders slumped for once while he helped me with the tumbling. The tension that made him stand ramrod straight had been gone during these moments.

“Hey.” At first I thought the voice was part of my daydream. Then he spoke again and I realised that the blonde object of my jumbled thoughts and emotions was standing in front of me in the MAC store.

“What are you doing here?"

"I think I heard that one before today.” We both laughed. It was true. And it broke the ice and blockage in my brain.

“How can I help you Sir?” I asked politely and glanced over a my boss, who was watching me. She was a friend of mine, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I need new foundation because I got a bit of a tan. And probably new lipstick."

"You could have just texted me and I would have brought all the stuff home with me,” I told him once he paid for four different lipsticks, a new highlighter, new foundation and a couple of different lashes. I gave him my discount, of course, even though he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“Don’t have your phone number. And I needed some other stuff anyway.” He didn’t carry any other bags, so whatever he had bought so far must be small enough to fit onto the pocket of his shorts. I handed him the bag with his purchase, then picked up his phone, told him to unlock it and added my number. For emergencies, I told him.

“Hey, you know what you really need?” I asked him when he was half-way out the store. He turned around and raised one eyebrow. “New shirts. This one has a hole in it under your left arm.” He checked, blushed, rolled his eyes and then raised the bag I had given him.

“Thank you,” he said in his usual tone. That’s when I realised that Alexis was right.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #smut #impolite thank yous #blackhighheels #m/m au

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deans-baby-momma · 5 years

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The Padackles Link-Chapter 50

A/N: How the heck am I here? Chapter 50?! What? When I first got the idea for this story, I thought I could maybe drag it out to about 20 chapters....boy was I wrong, huh? Hope you all like ongoing series because we still have a ways to gooooo. Anyways, I hope this update answers some questions you guys had with the last chapter. Also like to think my betas, @larajadeschmidt13 and @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss for reading this over for me.

Previously on The Padackles Link:

The next morning my whole life as I knew it came crashing down around me when, while I was feeding Jackson, Jensen came through with his bags packed, kissed the top of his son’s head, looked at me, then turned and walked out of the house.

I was in awe of what had transpired. I just sat there and stared at the empty space where Jensen stood. The door closing shook me out of my stupor and I quickly held Jackson close to my chest as I stood and hurried to the door.

Upon opening it, I saw Jensen throw his bags into the back of his truck and reach for the door. "What the hell? Where the fuck are you going?" I asked, my voice loud enough for him to hear but not jarring enough to be overheard by overly nosy neighbors or to scare our son.

Jensen's shoulders slumped as my words hit his ears and he dropped his hand from the door handle. "Drea, just go back inside. Take care of Jackson for me. I'll be back in a few days, I promise."

I felt defeated, crushed. Jensen was leaving; leaving our house, leaving his son, leaving me. My chest felt tight and my eyes were burning with tears. How could he do this?! How could he just throw everything we had away? Just because his ex had moved on. Wasn't that what he had done with me?

He told me he fell in love with me and we began an affair. Then when he found out about her infidelity, he had came to me! He told me he loved me and wanted to have a future with me! Was that all a lie now? Had it ever been true?

I turned and walked back inside, slamming the door and joined Jackson in crying as I heard the truck start up and pull away.

Jensen's POV

I drive back to our house after the party, livid and infuriated. How can Dee do something like that

at our child's birthday party? Bring a man around knowing I was going to be there and see it. I wasn't upset that she had moved on, no. In fact, I was happy for her if she is as happy as I am. My problem with it was who she had decided to date. After hearing how he treated Drea when they were dating and not understanding that she wasn't ready to open up to him like he wanted

and expected, he had just dropped her. Just broke up with her, with no real explanation. What a true friend Dani had been to Drea! I was starting to see my ex in a whole new light. Is that why she was dating the doctor? Was she petty enough to think that by dating Josh she would

upset Drea? Did it upset Drea? I didn't think she felt as deeply for Josh as Josh had felt for her but was I wrong?

As soon as we got home, I grabbed the car seat while I left Drea to get the diaper bag. I sit Jackson down as soon as I could and retreated to my office. I had a lot to think about and didn't want or need any distractions. I poured a glass of whiskey and downed it quickly and poured another, swallowing it just as hastily. With the third glass I slow down because I needed to think and wanted a sharp mind to do so.

It was getting dark when I walked into the living room where my son was sitting in his bouncy chair, playing and babbling. Sitting down on the sofa, I leaned my head back. I could see Drea in the kitchen pulling something out of the fridge. "Hey, you hungry?" she asked, apprehension thick in her voice. I grunted out a no as I threw an arm over my eyes. Too much liquor and too many thoughts running through my head had given me the ultimate headache.

I hear her place whatever it was in the oven and turn it on. I sit up and grab the glass I had brought out with me and take a drink. Drea stood in the doorway with her arms across her body. “Listen, I’m not trying judge but could you not drink around our son?”

It took everything I had not to jump up and accuse her of being just that, judgy and criticizing. I take a breath and look over at Jackson.“You think he understands? In his little one month old mind, he knows that I’m drinking? Come on Drea, be serious!” I don't mean to yell, I seriously don't but did she just accuse me of possibly putting my son, my own flesh and blood, in harm's way? I scoff as she brings up her dead husband and how a drunk parent had been his downfall. Well whoop-de-doo, I'm not Chad's father! I can hold my liquor.

“It’s one drink for Christ’s sake! One goddamn drink is not going to send him off the deep end, Drea!” There I go, yelling and acting all defensive. Get it together man, fuck!

As she continues on about how many drinks I might have had, I roll my eyes and retreat back to my office. I down what is left in the glass but don't refill it. I knew my limit and that glass was actually past it. I sit in the darkened room and reflect on how the hell my life went so off track. Two years ago, I was married to who, at that time, I thought was the perfect woman. We had just became a family with the birth of our daughter and I couldn't have been more happier. Okay, yeah, I could have if I hadn't had to fly over 2,000 miles away for work. But I loved the show and I loved my co-workers and none of us were ready to let that end just yet. Jared and Misha were like brothers to me and we all got along surprisingly well, which in our line of work was a good thing; a rare thing. Most co-stars were at each other's throats at one time or another but Jared, Misha, and I weren't like that. The filming industry was a fickle business. I had thought Dee understood that, seeing as she was also in the same line of work but she had proved me wrong.

So just how good a judge of character was I? My wife cheated on me and wasn't sure if the child she was carrying was mine. She used our friend as a means to find that information out and just went on, acting like everything was fine. Now to find out she might just be a vindictive and petty bitch was just the icing on the cake.

A knock on the door brought me out of my thoughts but I really don’t want to fight so I keep quiet. I can see her shadow under the door so I know Drea is waiting for me to tell her to come in.

“Come in,” I call out when I realize she isn’t going anywhere. I watch as she walks in and shuts the door behind her.

“Babe, can we talk?” she asks and I can tell she is anxious and shaken. “I know seeing that she has moved on had to be hard on you but….”

“You don’t know shit!” I tell her mockingly. “You had the perfect marriage. Your spouse didn’t cheat on you. I thought I did too but she cheated on me and then rubs it in my face every possible chance! Don’t come in here all empathizing. You don’t know!”

I pour another drink in his glass as I finish yelling, my throat sore and aching from the drinking and the screaming.

“Jensen Ross Ackles! What the hell is wrong with you? So what she had Josh at the party? I was there too! How do you think she feels seeing you and I together, knowing she screwed it up? Knowing she pushed you into my arms? Huh?”

“Oh, so you are on her side?” I ask and the gulp down the poured drink. I hiss at the burn on my raw throat.

“I’m on nobody’s side,” she screams back, a look of displeasure in her eyes. “I just don’t understand what the big deal is that she invited another man to the birthday party.”

“MY baby girl’s birthday party,” I exclaim and in my frustration that she can't see that I'm as upset over it being JJ's party as I am that it is WHO Dani is seeing, I throw the glass in my hand. The glass breaks and falls to the ground; what little bit of liquor left in the bottom starts running down the wall.

Drea rolls her eyes and tells me, "I'm not cleaning that up!" promptly turning and leaves the room.

I sit down at my desk with my head in my hands. How the hell did I get here? What has my life become? Is it my fault that everything is so fucked up?

After cleaning up the broken glass and wiping down the wall and the small puddle at the baseboard, I decide it's time to just go to bed and sleep away this day.

Drea was already in bed and looked to be sleeping so I tried to keep it down as I stripped out of my clothes and climb under the comforter. I don't want to disrupt her or cause another argument so I curl up on my side of the bed and go to sleep.

The next morning, I hear Drea get up when Jackson's cries sound through the monitor. I lay there on my side, with my back to her until she leaves the room. Only then do I turn onto my back and look over at the space she had just vacated. She doesn't need me ruining her life.

She already had a shitty deal in life already. I make up my mind and grab my phone from my pants pocket in the floor and call the first person I can think of, Dad.

After hanging up from a lengthy conversation with my father, I pack a couple of bags and head downstairs. I just need to get away and try to plan where to go from here. I just know after last night, Drea is done with all this. She didn't sign up to be put into the middle of my crisis. Dad suggested I come stay at home in my old room for a few days to get my head on straight and figure out just what I want.

I walk downstairs and Drea is on the couch feeding Jackson. I bend down and give my son a kiss, whispering that I love him and am going to miss him. I can already feel the tears pricking at my eyelids so I glance at Drea and then pull my shades down so she can't see them.

As I walk out the door, I realize that I am walking out on the woman I love and our kid, but this has to be done. I have to consider that I am just not meant to be happy. I cannot seem to keep anyone happy so I'm taking myself out of the equation until I can get my own head on straight and decide what it is that I exactly want.

When I hear the door open behind me and Drea's voice, my resolve almost falters. My shoulders sag and I let go of the door handle. 'Please just let me leave? I'm doing this for your own good.' I think to myself as I listen to her berate me for just up and leaving."Drea, just go back inside. Take care of Jackson for me. I'll be back in a few days, I promise."

I hear the door slam and I look over my shoulder at the home I had built with her. I get in the truck and drive away. 'This is for everyone's own good,' I tell myself as I turn in the direction of my childhood home.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss

@carryonmywaywardcaptain

@darlingpeanut

@sunskittlex

@sis-tafics

@wayward-gypsy

@sea040561

@pretty-fortune

@squirrelnotsam

@death-unbecomes-you

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@tiffany-leigh

#jensen ackles #danneel ackles #jared padalecki #genevieve padalecki #jensen x drea #the padackles link #jensen x ofc #drea murphy #romance #angst #fluff #smut #cheating #pregnancy #spn rpf #drinking #self-doubt

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 5 years

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I feel bad for not caring about Avery and Schneider on the show. I mean what do they even have in common besides being rich and hating it. Maybe it’s because they don’t show them as a couple or even her as a character much. Idk, they are just so boring to me. She does seem nice and she’s beautiful and I love that they are married in real life but as a couple on the show? I just can’t see it

Okay, this is totally you asking for an essay on Schneider and Avery, right? Whoops you’re getting one anyway because I have so many feelings about them and so many opinions I haven’t had much reason to dig into yet.

The genius of Schneider and Avery is that the actors playing them, real-life marrieds Todd & India, have the MOST ridiculous chemistry.

The problem with Schneider and Avery is…the exact same thing.

The Backstory

I knew long before S3 came out that Schneider was getting a love interest this season, and that she was going to be played by Todd’s wife, who I wasn’t familiar with at all besides his Instagram photos. I’m not even sure I knew she was an actress until they announced her guest starring role. Because they announced it early, I had a lot of time to build up anxiety over it.

I’m as deep into this fandom as I am because I ship Schneider with Penelope. I love the show exactly as it is, and if they never become canon I won’t love it any less, but that doesn’t change the fact that: 1) I watched the show; 2) I started shipping them; 3) I decided to write my first fic for a sitcom because of them; 4) through fic I made friends and developed headcanons and made more friends and managed to keep writing through some really rough life events; and 5) then from filming announcements and through the fandom, I found out Avery was coming and that the show was going to be including the weird Pen/Schneider sibling vibe in S3.

So before S3 premiered I was really, genuinely scared I might not enjoy S3 as much as I adored S2. What if I hated it? What if I hated Schneider’s new girlfriend??? I wanted to like her so much because I knew the actress was Todd’s wife, but I had no idea if I COULD because I had no idea how they were going to include her or who she would be. And I’ve never hated Penelope’s love interests just because I like her with Schneider, but I had also met several of those by the end of S2. Schneider getting a girlfriend was new.

1. Todd and India have more than their fair share of chemistry. Who do I speak to about that?

Then, in 3x03, we meet Schneider’s new love interest–and I was basically Schneider (as I often am). From the glasses that don’t succeed at all in dulling how gorgeous she is to her nerdy interests and apparent mild social anxiety (when she asked ”are you making fun of me?” so sincerely, my heart just went…oh. oh okay.) I thought she was adorable and funny and even more than that, I’m SO weak for devoted men, I can’t even tell you.

Well, I don’t have to tell you. If you’ve read anything I’ve ever written about Penelope and Schneider, you know. I love men who love women so much they would do anything for them, especially when they’re quietly selfless about it but so in love that it just radiates out of them.

That’s how Schneider has always acted with Penelope, a little bit, even when he wasn’t trying. That’s why I fell for the ship.

But that’s also how TODD acts, opposite India–to a ridiculous degree, in a way that isn’t acting at all. You can feel it hitting you through the television, how lucky he feels just to be with her, just to be NEAR her. It’s so sweet, I die. Schneider/Avery isn’t even my OTP and I’m gonna make them a gifset at some point, just because I cannot handle the fact that Todd looks at his wife that way, every time he focuses on her.

So because this is clearly going to be long, to sum up point 1: Todd Grinnell, who plays Schneider, and his offscreen wife India de Beaufort, who plays Avery? Absolutely fantastic couple. I’m totally rooting for them, these strangers I don’t actually know. Just because watching them act together is a beautiful thing.

Also because India is a sweet human who told me on Twitter that the little nose rub between them after they reunite in 3x13 was improvised by them, not scripted. And you better believe I could not love that more if I tried. THEY ARE CUTE. Conclusion one.

2: Schneider and Avery have too little screen time to make sense as a couple.

ODAAT as a show is so strong because it holds the Alvarez/Riera family at its core and builds everything around them. You’re supposed to fall in love with them first, and grow to love the supporting characters around them, as you slowly learn more about them.

Now, in some cases, it’s not a slow process. It didn’t take me long to love Carmen or Schneider–it only took me one scene to love Syd. But the show’s purpose isn’t those characters, at least not at first. It’s Penelope’s family. And the rewarding thing about ODAAT is that the definition of ‘family’ grows and envelopes more of the characters, as time goes on.

Because Schneider was still a (fabulous, lovable) supporting character before S3, he was on the outside a bit, along with Dr. B. I think you can look at the show like a set of circles, with Penelope and Lydia and Elena and Alex in the center circle, then with Schneider & Dr. B. and Syd one ring just outside of that, revolving around them. The support group, most of Penelope’s love interests, and Elena and Alex’s friends are a ring outside of that.

S3 widened the inner circle and pulled Schneider in. It was the first season to actually dig into his backstory, the family he comes from, his sobriety. And while it was amazing, it was still just a start. It was the beginning of showing him as a full family member. It put him in the center circle, and that meant giving him more focused scenes, more story.

But the show is still also about the whole family, and S3 has the same amount of episodes as the first two did. The show included more Schneider, but still only fit in so much. And one consequence of that is that his relationship with Avery exists almost entirely offscreen. They told us more about it than they showed, and let Todd and India’s chemistry fill in the gaps, the unanswered questions.

3. What we actually saw onscreen when it comes to Schneider and Avery.

A meet-cute, which was pretty well-done. We learn she’s a geek along with him, that they’re compatible in at least that one way. We learn they like each other pretty instantly, which isn’t always believable, but the show’s got to move at a fast pace and I respect that. We learn he likes her enough to argue with Nikki, and she likes him enough to do the same. She’s no pushover, and she inspires him to be stronger. A good start.

Schneider spends some time with Penelope in the next episode and Avery doesn’t come up at all. When we see her again, Schneider’s about to have his first real date with her, as far as I can tell, on Valentine’s Day. (No pressure or anything.) It’s clear that Penelope and Avery have met by now, though we don’t know when or how. By the end of the episode we know that Schneider and Avery spent most of their first date lying to each other.

The big reveal, that they have even more in common than they thought, was super predictable to me but still funny, and my only problem with it is that once they land that plot twist, it becomes Avery’s entire personality. She’s no longer the quirky kindergarten teacher who gets along with Schneider the hobbyist because she loves to write poems and appreciates his niche interests.

Now, she’s his rich girlfriend. They get along because when he needs to fix his expensive hot tub, she can suggest they just pay someone to do it. The next time we see her, Avery’s entire existence is a few lines that show how well she gets along with his father because HAHAHA money. And then? We don’t see her at all until her surprise return in the finale.

5. What we didn’t see onscreen between Schneider and Avery.

Offscreen, as far as I can tell, they had other dates, they seem like they were serious enough to probably have had sex, she clearly was invited to some dinners etc with the family (though we don’t know if she went), before he started drinking again and they broke up and then she avoided him completely until Lydia convinced her to give him another chance.

We know Schneider completely blames himself for their breakup, but we have literally no idea what happened to send her running scared. Did he start drinking in secret and she caught him? Did he start drinking around her openly because he thought her reaction would be different from his family’s? Did she leave him because of the drinking or because of some specific thing that happened while Schneider was drunk or for some other reason entirely???

Based on their conversation in the finale, something happened, whatever it was. And Avery definitely knew he needed to be sober, otherwise why else would she be scared to try again?

Therefore the single biggest conundrum that S3 left me with, especially the more I rewatched, was this:

Avery knew Schneider well enough to know he wasn’t supposed to be drinking, or enough to tell there was a problem when his drinking came to her attention. SOMETHING happened that was bad enough for them to break up, and for her to ghost him after.

Avery also knew that Schneider’s family of choice was Penelope and her mom and her kids. She’d met them often enough to be able to talk to them politely, to know where they live.

Why didn’t she say ANYTHING to ANYONE in that apartment as soon as things with Schneider imploded????

How is it that she could be aware enough of Schneider’s life to know his family/best friends, aware enough to be worried about his sobriety, and worried enough to decide they had no future, but not tell his family what was going on when she was clearly aware of it long before they were??

Even if she was unhappy and uncomfortable and didn’t want to get into relationship details with Penelope, she could have just mentioned the drinking part and cut off all further communication! She could have left a note at their door!! She works at Elena and Alex’s school teaching the little kids, presumably she might sometimes run into them on school grounds…and she never said anything.

It drives me crazy because maybe there’s a reasonable explanation for that, for all of it, but I would have no idea what it is, because all of that happened offscreen and wasn’t explored.

6. Why it matters.

With the family at the show’s core, and Schneider only recently included in that center, Avery falls in the outer ring. But because S3 tried to give Schneider more without giving the rest of the family less, there just wasn’t room to flesh out Avery enough.

If you compare her to Max in S2, we saw him interact with the whole family on multiple occasions. Because of that, we got to know him as more than just ‘Penelope’s casual sex buddy who she was friends with years ago.’ He and Pen weren’t my OTP either, but I genuinely liked them together because we understood why they worked. We saw them survive conflicts, face problems, have real conversations.

With Avery, we saw her and Schneider meet and then we saw them present fake bios to each other before the truth came out, and then we saw her be the perfect rich-son girlfriend before disappearing. Their conflicts were left to our imagination. Their deeper moments were left to our imagination. When they get back together, we see Avery after she’s already decided to try again, and Schneider apologizing for whatever exactly happened that we may never know.

As viewers, we can interpret that as generously as we want, but it still leaves us with a relationship that we’re told matters…because we’re told it does. Though I love Schneider and I hate seeing him in pain, ‘he’s sad without her’ is not a detailed case for why he belongs with Avery. And ‘because Lydia vouched for him’ is absolutely not a good enough explanation for why Avery belongs with him.

Even looking at it as though what we learned about her in the beginning holds true, we’re left to assume that Avery loves him enough to support him through his recovery and rebuild trust, because…they’re both pretty nerds with similar feelings about their family money? And he loves her so much he was in hell without her…because to him she’s a ‘perfect angel woman’ (which is so painfully idealistic of him, it makes sense for him but is also begging for him to be crushed again when she falls off that pedestal).

There are as many red flags in the screen time we do see as there are reasons to root for them. She claims to be miserable with inherited money just like he is, but she’s way more comfortable relying on it, talking about it in ways that we just don’t see Schneider do. And the whole point when Schneider’s father visits is that Schneider is not who Lawrence wants him to be–but as far as we know, Avery isn’t putting on an act to get along with him, the way Schneider does. She just IS enough like him. She’s very at ease on his level.

And don’t even get me started on Avery stopping Schneider’s joy over being an Alvarez to make him focus back on her. It’s a joke, but it’s also not a good sign for their future, if any part of her isn’t 100% comfortable with how important to him the whole family is.

7. My grand unifying theory.

I’m convinced that her lack of dimensions, and their relationship lacking depth as much as it does, is because writing Avery in involved bringing India on. I’m not saying I wish they hadn’t!! Again, I adore her. But it’s a problem, and here’s why.

Every serious love interest we’ve seen Penelope have, from Victor to Mateo, is in her orbit mainly, but also interacts with the rest of her life. Max got to know everybody, counseling Alex, being pestered by Schneider, flirted with by Lydia, etc. Victor was central to her life for a long time, so we learn a lot about him through his many family scenes. Mateo has scenes with Penelope mainly, but he’s around the family enough that we learn about him based on that proximity–how he feels about Alex, how his background compares to her family’s.

Avery is Schneider’s first serious love interest, and we see her interact with…Schneider. No conversations between her and Lydia, only one exchange with Penelope when Avery tries to mistakenly console her over being single, then they never directly speak again. Avery doesn’t ever talk to the kids, though they’re super important to his life.

As a show, ODAAT never made me consider the Bechdel test until I was trying to include Avery in an edit about the female character interactions and I realized that that one moment with Pen is the only one. As a character, her entire point, and focus, and existence even, is about Schneider. It wouldn’t be so weird if she were just another Stick Girl, but we’ve seen her included in family events. We know she knows the people in his life. We just don’t see her ever talk to any of them, and I don’t think that was a choice they made to keep her character secluded so much as it was a natural result of adding a character to the outer ring whose only purpose in the story is to date Schneider.

So they created a girlfriend for Schneider, and they worked her into the story enough to give them a relationship, and to make their breakup and reunion important plot points for Schneider’s S3 arc.

And because the show was more focused on the family, Avery’s character was only included where she absolutely had to be, to hit those plot points.

And because the actors have chemistry enough to sell it, ODAAT called that good enough for their characters and that relationship and kept moving.

It’s clear from social media that the cast and crew of the show adore Todd and India, and adore their onscreen relationship just as much. Because of that, I’m not sure if maybe they’re a little blinded to what the whole thing is like for the rest of us, who don’t know them personally, who don’t see Schneider/Avery first as an adorable ship starring these two cute dorks that so clearly are meant to be because the actors are.

But whatever the reason, I think a lot of the people involved in the show ship it harder than the viewers do. I ship Schneider/Avery because she makes him happy and the actors are fun to watch, but I hope they’re not endgame for all the above reasons.

Schneider deserves love and a future with someone, and even if he doesn’t end up with my personal choice for his ideal match, I still want that someone to make sense. I want to be able to root for them for reasons that exist in canon. If the show gets more seasons and we see Schneider and Avery work on/through some issues, if we see him start to treat her like a flawed person he loves rather than like someone he doesn’t deserve at all…if we get to see how the other important people in his life relate to her…then I’ll be more on board.

But after S3, all I can say with certainty is that Todd and India make Schneider and Avery watchable…but they can’t carry the whole relationship based on their chemistry alone.

#odaat #one day at a time #schneider #schneider x avery #schnavery #avery #todd grinnell #india de beaufort #meta #mine

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flowers-creativity · 5 years

Text

Whumptober day 6

Fandom: The Musketeers Characters: d’Artagnan, Porthos, Aramis, Athos Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Prompt: Dragged away

Summary: The Musketeers are just sent to escort a noble to Paris but something is not right when they reach his residence.

Notes: Whoops, I somehow stumbled into a multi-chapter thing ... That wasn’t planned. I’m sorry for the cliffhanger!

"Athos ..."

"Yes, I see it," Athos snapped tersely as he swung down from his horse. He looked over his shoulder back at his brothers and added, softening his tone: "Leave the horses here and be ready for anything. This looks like trouble."

They nodded, and like always when the situation called for it, there was no playful banter, no questioning his orders as they followed him down to the ground and made quick work of securing the horses and readying their weapons. Athos turned his attention back to the land house of the minor noble they were supposed to escort to a visit at court. At first glance, everything was quiet – but the door was ajar which was unusual enough, and a second look had quickly revealed that the lock had been smashed. Robbers or someone who had more violent intentions? He had no idea who could mean the Comte de la Croix harm since the man was generally well-liked and stayed out of trouble, as far as he knew, but that did not mean it was impossible. He narrowed his eyes at the house but it stayed quiet, no signs of movement.

Aramis came up to his side and followed his gaze to the main door. "How do you want to handle this?" he asked. They were at the gate to the small estate, protected from the view from the house by a low wall that provided just enough cover if they ducked a bit – except for Porthos who dropped into a crouch next to them.

"I go first," Athos replied because there was no way to get to the door without being seen if someone was watching, and he would not send one of his brothers into the possible line of fire. Aramis drew a breath to protest, and he cut him off: "That's non-negotiable. You cover me. When I get to the door without incident, you follow. d'Artagnan, you go around the back and see if there's a servant's entrance. Porthos, you guard the door. Aramis, you and I go in."

His friends exchanged looks but clearly saw there was nothing to be gained by arguing, then nodded. Aramis and d'Artagnan took position left and right of the gate, holding their pistols at the ready. Porthos clapped Athos on the back and told him: "Don't get shot." His tone made clear that it was not really a joke.

Athos nodded back, then raised his own pistol and stepped out from the cover. For a moment, he held his breath but there was no shot, no movement from the house, no sign that he had been noticed. As quickly and carefully as he could, he crossed the distance to the front door and pressed his back against the house wall. With one hand, he gave the door a slight nudge so it opened a few more centimetres and he could glance inside. When there was still no movement, he blew out a relieved breath and raised a hand, gesturing to the others to join him.

They did so in short order, and at another nod, d'Artagnan slid away towards the back of the house while Athos carefully pushed the door open another bit until it was wide enough for Aramis and him to slide through into the house's entry hall. The hall lay empty and as quiet as it had been from the outside, and they exchanged a quick glance before going off in separate directions to investigate the other rooms.

The first room, a small sitting room, was empty. So was the next; however, in it, a table had been upturned, there were shreds of fabric strewn all over the place that had presumably belonged to the cushion that had also scattered goose feathers all throughout the room ... There had been a struggle. He was reassured by the lack of blood he found but the question still remained: What had happened to the inhabitants?

Coming back out of the room, he met Aramis who came from the opposite side, shaking his head as soon as he saw him. "Nothing; kitchen and storage room but they're empty," he said in a low voice. "No back entrance, either, so d'Artagnan won't find a way in, I fear."

Athos nodded and pulled him into the room to show him what he'd found. They exchanged worried glances, then went out into the hall again. "I take the cellar, you take the second floor," Athos instructed him, having spied a small staircase net to the kitchen entrance while a larger one swept upwards at the far wall of the hall.

"Alright," Aramis said with a tip of his pistol to the brim of his hat and strode off. Athos advance slowly down the stairs and found himself in a small, dimly lit passage. There were three wooden doors in the walls but the first he tried was locked and resisted his attempts to open it. He decided to leave it to Porthos' lockpicking skills later if necessary, turning towards the next one. A low sound reached his ears, and he froze. Standing stock-still, he strained his ears until he heard another noise – a low murmur that he quickly identified as voices muffled by stone or wood. As he took another few silent steps down the passage, the sounds became clearer, and he realised they were coming from behind the second door. He approached it carefully, pistol at the ready, and tried the handle. It was locked. The voices had fallen silent, and he waited for a moment, weighing his options, before he said aloud: "I'm Athos of the King's Musketeers! Who is there?"

There was another moment of silence, then a frantic voice called out: "Oh, thank the Lord! Free us, please! They locked us in here! I'm the owner of this house, de la Croix."

Athos breathed a sigh of relief. "Stand back from the door!" he ordered, giving the lock a critical look. "Are you in a safe distance?" he demanded after a moment, then, when de la Croix answered in the affirmative, he shot the lock and kicked the door open.

Inside, a middle-aged man was holding a woman of about the same age close; judged by their expensive clothes, they had to be the Comte and the Comtesse. Behind them, a plump woman and an old man in much simpler clothes cowered against the shelves lining the back of the room while a young lad was looking at the Musketeer in the doorway with a bright, inquisitive gaze.

"Monsieur le Comte," Athos greeted the man with a bow, "Madame, I hope you have not been harmed?" There was bruising on de la Croix' left cheek but the others seemed well.

The Comte waved it away. "Nothing major," he said brusquely, sounding a lot more in control than he had been a mere five minutes before. "Have you apprehended the brigands that have assaulted me in my own home?"

"We have not yet found any of them," Athos said regretfully. "The house seemed to be emp--" A crash from upstairs interrupted him, and he immediately spun around. "Stay here!" he ordered the Comte and his household, pausing just long enough to pass his main gauche to the Comte to leave them not entirely unprotected. Then he sprinted up the stairs while listening for the sounds from above – more crashing, coming closer as he drew near the larger staircase to the upper floor.

When he reached it, he froze, and his breath caught in his throat. Coming down the stairs was Aramis but not willingly so: he was held fast in the grip of a man who held Aramis' own pistol to his head. The right side of the marksman's face was stained with blood, and he was more being dragged along by the man than moving under his own power.

The man, thickset and dark, scowled when he saw Athos and demanded: "Out of my way, soldier! Or your comrade dies."

Athos took a step back, raising his hands though he was still holding his own pistol – but he could never take a shot before the man had pulled the trigger, and he was not willing to attack while the man held his brother's life in his hands. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to leave," the man replied, "and you're gonna let me if you value this man's life. Drop your weapon and move back until you're at the wall." He edged along the wall towards the open door and shouted: "You out there, move out of the way! Do not try anything, or he pays the price!"

Athos could only guess whether the man knew that Porthos and d'Artagnan were out there or just guessing that the two of them had not been alone. But no matter what, he had no choice; the man was watching him closely and pushing the pistol hard against Aramis' temple. Aramis gave a small, involuntary whimper as the cold metal pressed against the bruise forming there. Athos opened his hand, letting the pistol fall, and moved backwards. "You won't get far," he said with a calm he did not feel, "and you're just making things more difficult for yourself. If you let him go, you may yet find mercy."

The man laughed, an ugly, baying sound. "Nah, I don' think so," he replied. "Go on your knees. Don't come after us. Remember, it's up to you if he lives or dies."

Athos cast his mind desperately about for a solution but there was none available to him – he did not have any option of disarming the man without Aramis coming to harm, nor could he stop him. Instead, he had to watch helplessly as his brother was dragged away.

#whumptober2019 #no.6 #the musketeers #athos #aramis #porthos #d'artagnan #not gonna lie #I'm not happy with this one at all #but it's whatever

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cryptoriascollectiblog · 5 years

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Monster High doll collecting Questionnaire - answered

Finally had time to take photos for this thing. Hope it’s worth the wait!

1) Introduce yourself and tell us how long you’ve been collecting Monster High dolls! Hey y’all! My name’s Tori and I’ve been collecting Monster High since I think...either the end of 2014 or early 2015. Before S5 of the webisodes aired.

2) How many MH dolls do you have?

Can I just say “a lot” and leave it at that? I kid I kid. I have like 27 Monster High dolls. That may not seem like a lot but I swear I just had 13 like four dolls ago...fingers crossed I didn’t forget to count anyone. That’s a sign of too many dolls :’D I also have two vinyl MH figures (Frankie and Draculaura) and a Rock Candy Draculaura figure.

3) Is Monster High your favorite doll line? Why or why not? Yes. Yes it is. Forever and ever. Took me a little while to realize it but as I accumulated dolls I realized most of my passion for collecting (as well as creative inspiration) revolved almost entirely around Monster High. That line is perfect for me in every way: tied to/inspired by classic Monsters, bold and edgy gothic fashion, a unique art style...I can’t tell you how much I’ve evolved as a creative individual since embracing my love of Monster High.

4) Who’s your favorite MH ghoul?

I wish Cupid had stuck around in MH a little longer. I would’ve loved an elaborate dress (and makeup) for her!

5) Favorite Manster? My favorite Manster is actually Andy Beast from Skull Shores. Since he never reappeared in more than background shots and Mattel never produced a doll of him I’ll go with this guy:

6) Do you own any dolls of your favorite ghoul and/or manster? How many? I own one Deuce doll, his Boo York doll. He came with Cleo and I love Boo York Cleo so I had to get both. I actually hate how the writing team handled Deuce and their relationship in the movie: as far as I’m concerned it isn’t canon. (He fell so far from Ghouls Rule! Definitely the best part of that movie including his friendship with Frankie.)

I own many Frankie and Draculaura dolls. Stay tuned for pics~

7) Do you own any playsets? If so which one(s)? If not, is there a reason?

I found this at a thrift store. It didn’t have any accessories though. Still, I’m glad I own it <3 Considering I photograph Draculaura more than any of my other dolls. I do wish I had another playset--either the catacombs or the Deadlux high school: they’d make such great backdrops for photography! Sadly I have no space.

8) Of the original main ghouls (including Ghoulia, Spectra and Abbey) which is your favorite? Got any dolls of them?

TA~DA! I’d actually also love to add Ghouls Rule Frankie to my collection but she’s not an immediate must-have.

9) Favorite character with only one doll release?

I know there were technically two but they’re essentially the same doll so it doesn’t count.

10) Character with too many dolls (in your opinion?) Uh...Toralei honestly. I don’t like her, I’ve never liked her but she pops up a lot more than I expected. Is this so there’s a matching bully in some of these sets or is she that popular and I’m the odd one out?

11) Any character you would’ve liked to see in a doll line that didn’t make it? (i.e. Lagoona in Sweet Screams or Draculaura in Power Ghouls, etc) Apart from another C.A. Cupid doll in like Dawn of the Dance or Dot Dead Gorgeous (can you imagine??) I would’ve loved to see Draculaura in Freak du Chic. I’m aware she had a Scarnival doll but that’s not the same thing. I want a doll with a similar design to her circus mini. I also think adding Lagoona to the “Scarily Ever After” line would’ve been neat (a la Little Mermaid, of course.) I know we saw her as a Mermaid in Great Scarier Reef” but I would’ve loved to see one with a fairytale twist.

Also more Sweet Screams dolls. Best line ever <3

12) Any ideas you would’ve liked to see in a doll line? An eighties glam-rock n roll band stylized after Jem and the Holograms but with a gothic edge. I’m not talking Fierce Rockers, I mean all of the core ghouls (with Ghoulia as like the manager) along with a better-designed Clawdeen. I didn’t mind what we got but she wasn’t “outrageous” enough for me.

Also a “vintage-themed” line as an homage to the ghouls’ famous parents (including Operetta.)

13) Is there a “grail” MH doll for you? If so do you own it? I feel like my grail dolls keep changing. For a long time it was Collector Draculaura, then OG draculaura, then Dawn of the Dance Draculaura...then Ghouls Rule Frankie and the whole Sweet Screams crew. I guess I can’t make up my mind ^^; Truthfully I have most of these now so I’m pretty content with my collection. I still want a couple older dolls (CLAWDEEN and maybe OG Lagoona) as I’ve said and I must have all the Sweet Screams dolls. Beyond that I’m good.

14) Thoughts on the cancelled Ever After High crossover? Okay so I will be forever annoyed Mattel didn’t wait to reboot everything until after the crossover. That said what I saw in the storyboards and posts floating around didn’t really impress me. There’s so much potential here and I feel like Mattel took the easiest route possible with it. If you’re going to crossover these two lines a) go ALL out with the designs and b) INVOLVE C.A. CUPID. Plus we’ll never know now if Astra Nova is the blue fairy/her daughter.

15) Thoughts on the 2016 reboot faces?

Why Mattel. Why was this necessary.

With Vampirina and now Super Monsters you really should’ve stuck with your older audience. Or saved the “Monster Family” line exclusively for said younger audience and just scaled down the original line to remind your older crowd, collectors included, why we love this line.

Heck, at this point I’d be happy with detailed collector-only lines released on like Amazon. A limited line is better than no Monster High at all, especially if it’s highly detailed and exceptionally spooky.

16) Thoughts on the 2016 “Monster Family” line?

So I like the idea behind this line but loathe the articulation. I held off buying Alivia and Kelpie for a long time because I hoped for better quality with later releases. Whoops. All of this said there was potential here to attract a younger crowd exclusively with a brighter and less-articulated family line. Siblings or not they could’ve avoided directly crossing over by merely mentioning the OG ghouls, instead focusing on friendships and relationships with their parents. That’s what I’d have done at least.

17) How bout the SDCC exclusives? What was your favorite? Do you own any? No and I wish I did ;-; While I wasn’t as impressed with them as the Ever After High exclusives I would’ve loved a Hexiciah doll. He’s actually my favorite “manster.” (Heck! You could’ve incorporated him into the crossover, being as he’s half fairy!) I should check ebay...

18) How about Amazon exclusives? I have two! The amazing and unique Draculaura who as far as I’m concerned is the best MH doll ever released and Zomby Gaga. The others never impressed me or lived up to the same quality promised in the first exclusive. I just couldn’t pass up a Lady Gaga monster!

19) Favorite Frankie Stein doll?

Aaah this is tough. All the Frankies I own are my favorite ^^; Sweet Screams, Freaky Fusion, her classroom doll I turned into a fearleading one, and while I don’t own her original doll (mine is the 2014 release) I love that one two. I also like Wave 2 Frankie and as I said Ghouls Rule. (Honestly though I thiiiiink Sweet Screams is number one...which is funny because I did not want her when I first started collecting. For whatever reason I thought I’d be happy with one doll of each character. Again I say: whoops)

20) Favorite Draculaura doll?

21) Favorite Clawdeen Wolf doll? Freak du Chic, her OG doll and I think Boo York. I’m so mad her outfit isn’t more stylish. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it to buy her and like one of her fashion packs...but that’s actually more expensive on Amazon than her original doll!

22) Favorite Cleo de Nile doll?

Originally Dawn of the Dance wasn’t a favorite but now that I own the doll I realize just how much she stands out (why wasn’t purple lipstick used more often???)

23) Favorite Lagoona Blue doll? Skull Shores, her OG doll and I think Dawn of the Dance. I’m not a big fan of the mohawk but I appreciate the detail in her outfit...plus I love blue makeup.

24) Favorite Ghoulia Yelps doll?

I also like Sweet Screams (although she’s my least favorite of the line) and Dawn of the Dance. Honestly maybe I should’ve set my sights on that whole line XD Except I’m not the biggest fan of the Clawdeen and Frankie.

25) Favorite Spectra Vondergeist doll? I’m not as familiar with Spectra’s dolls but I think either Dot Dead Goregeous or Ghouls Night Out.

26) Favorite Abbey Bombinable doll? Sweet Screams <3

27) Favorite Venus McFlytrapp doll? Zombie Shake

28) Favorite Rochelle Goyle doll? Zombie Shake

29) Favorite Operetta doll? Either or OG doll or Scaritage (the latter kind of reminds me of Lucille Ball for whatever reason)

30) Favorite Toralei Stripe doll? I’m really not a fan of her dolls (Orange is such a hard color to compliment correctly) but I do kind of like the stark design in her Fierce Rockers doll.

31) Favorite Jinafire Long doll? I’m not a big fan of her dolls either (I feel the same way about Green that I do Orange) so I’ll say her “New Scaremester” doll.

32) Favorite Skelita Calaveras doll? Scarnival! I’m still half-tempted to purchase this doll one day...provided I can find her!

33) Favorite Howleen Wolf doll? Her original doll. I wish she hadn’t switched to straight/pink hair! The orange stood out in a good way. Someday I hope I find her in a thrift store...

34) Favorite Twyla Bogeyman doll? Freak du Chic

35) What do you do with your dolls? (Display them, take photos of them, etc) I display them, sometimes change their poses and I take photos! I’m still an amateur at that but I’m learning as I go and I think I’ve improved!

36) Is Monster High the only doll line you collect? Why or why not? Sort of? It’s the only line I primarily collect now. I keep my eye on a couple others in case something catches my eye but like I said I’m low on space. Some of my other collections include: Ever After High (complete with maybe the exception of TriCastleon Lizzie Hearts one day) Super Heroes (this also includes high quality collectibles. One day I’d like Mystique but she’s only available on ebay and out of my price range right now. Plus I’ve found the production condition of each varies...) Disney Princesses/Frozen (sometimes I tell myself I should get Mulan for varying reasons but I’ve only taken photos of my Elsa doll so what does that tell you) Vampirina + Hotel Transylvania (This includes toys as well. HT seems to have wrapped up for the time being and as I’ve stated numerous times I’m fickle with Vampirina merchandise. Nonetheless both of these are technically ongoing) Equestria Girls (Done unless Hasbro releases a new Adagio Dazzle doll. Also fashion packs or a dAYDREAM SHIMMER DOLL COME ON--ahem-- I’m still planning to get rid of most of my older dolls.) I tried getting into Disney’s “Attractionistas” but only acquired two before they stopped selling in the parks. To be honest the quality dropped anyway and they’ve only got basic articulation. I’m not sure I’m going to keep the ones I have...we’ll see.

37) Do you still collect Monster High dolls? (i.e. scour the internet and/or secondhand stores?) Technically? I got three for Christmas and still poke my head in thrift stores now and then. For the most part though I’m essentially finished, I only say I keep going because there are a few older dolls I will definitely have someday.

38) There’s a lot of new Monster doll/toy lines out now: thoughts if any? H’okay so here’s the Earth--

jk jk I’m old XD

I make it a point to investigate new Monster lines: monsters are my life, nothing gives me greater creative fuel so it is my duty!

Right now there are technically three others out there although like I said, Hotel Transylvania seems to be out of stores. Don’t know if it’s still available on Amazon. The other two are Vampirina and Super Monsters. I’ve talked about them before--they’re largely for a much younger crowd, even younger than the MH reboot audience but there are some highlights for us older collectors if you love monsters as much as I do. I’m a big fan of world building and the spooky aesthetic: I love seeing how different franchises approach this. Character designs too: it can be a little tricky in the “family friendly monster” genre: a successful one balances spooky with well...friendly. I think Vampirina is most successful in this department. Super Monsters leans more towards the cutesy side. That said, I actually prefer their world set up over Vampirina. As well as the approach to being a monster which isn’t surprising since Vampirina is essentially one giant whimsical metaphor.

Super Monsters has only just joined the merchandise department which I know I’ve said before. I look forward to seeing how it evolves. Vampirina too: most of the toys, while cute, are more “toy” than doll and I’m not a big fan of gimmicks so I haven’t bought any of the singing dolls. Fingers crossed we get something a little more...elaborate? Even if it’s just a limited release (I do love the one figure/doll I have though! Best of the merchandise released so far <3)

Going back quickly to Hotel Transylvania...I maintain Jazware’s wasn’t the best choice of manufacturer. So many little things that needed a touch more thought. Although I will give them points for clothing quality and faceup!

39) And finally, what’s your favorite thing about Monster High? Can be past or present!

I think I’ve covered why I love it throughout this questionnaire: Monster High inspires me. It came into the world fresh and with a lot of creative power behind it. It turned so many heads and shook up the doll world as we know it. It brought monsters back into the light and that’s never gone away. If anything it’s blown up even more: that may not have happened without Monster High. Was the writing great? No. But the theme songs, the designs and especially the original lessons taught stood out on their own: Be yourself. Be unique. Be a monster.

Hell yeah, Monster High <3

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