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beatriceeagle · 4 years

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I'm more of a fantasy than sci-fi person, but consider my interest piqued. Why should I watch farscape?

Okay, the thing is, every Farscape fan’s pitch on Why You, Yes You, Should Watch Farscape ends up sounding very similar, and that’s because Farscape is a black hole that sucks you in and does things to your brain, and after you’ve watched it you are never, ever the same, which incidentally is basically the plot of Farscape.

I would summarize the basic plot for you, but that’s work, and luckily, the show’s credits sequence includes a handy summary that I will provide instead of doing that work: “My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. A radiation wave hit, and I got shot through a wormhole. Now I’m lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship, a living ship, full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I’m being hunted by an insane military commander. Doing everything I can. I’m just looking for a way home.“

So let me break down that monologue into its component reasons you should watch Farscape.

1) Some of the strange alien life forms are Muppets.

Farscape a co-production with the Jim Henson Company, and while there are many aliens played by humans in make-up, there are also a considerable number (including two of the regular crew) who are Muppets. By which I do not mean Kermit. I mean really gorgeous, elaborate works of art.

Also, even a lot of the humans-in-makeup aliens just look cool, and incredibly weird. Here’s an alien who appears in a single episode of season 1:

Not that there aren’t, you know, occasional Star Trek-style “these guys are just humans with weird hair,” or whatever, but in general, the aliens on Farscape look really alien. And that’s more than an aesthetic choice; it’s Farscape’s driving narrative principle. The aliens look alien, they act alien, they have alien values.

You know how a lot of sci-fi shows will have a stand-in for “fuck,” like Battlestar Galactica has “frak”? Well, Farscape has “frell.” And also “dren.” And yotz, hezmana, mivonks, loomas, tralk, snurch, eema, drannit, dench, biznak, arn, drad, fahrbot, narl. Some of those are swear words, but some of them are just words, never explicitly translated, that the alien characters will pepper into their speech, because, well, why should translator microbes be able to completely translate all the nuances of an alien culture? You’ll pick it up from context. One time, in passing, a character mentions that he’s familiar with the concept of suicide, but there’s no word for it in his language. I cannot emphasize to you enough how fleeting this moment is; the episode is not about suicide, we’re not having a great exchange of cultural ideas—at the time, the characters are running down a corridor in a crisis, as they are about 70 percent of the time—it’s just that the subject got brought up, and this character needed to talk around the fact that he literally didn’t have a word, in that moment. Things like that happen all the time, on Farscape.

Because more than anything else, Farscape is a show about culture shock. John Crichton is this straight, white Southern guy, at the top of his game—he’s an astronaut! he’s incredibly high status!—and then he ends up on the other side of the galaxy, where none of his cultural markers of privilege hold any meaning, where he doesn’t know the rules, where he literally can’t even open the doors. And he has to unlearn the idea that humanity is central, that he is the norm.

2) John Crichton, an astronaut, is pretty great.

A show that’s about a straight white guy with high status having to learn that he’s not the center of the universe could easily be centered around a really insufferable person, but one of the subtle things that makes Farscape so wonderful is that Crichton is, for the most part, pretty excellent. He has a lot of presumptions to unlearn because almost anyone in his cultural position would, but he’s also just a stand-up guy: compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, decent, forgiving, brave, hopeful.

And the galaxy tries to kick a whole lot of that out of him. It doesn’t succeed, mostly, but if Farscape is about anything other than culture shock, it’s about the lasting effects of trauma. How you can go through a wormhole one person, and experience things that turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

That’s kind of grim-sounding, but ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that Farscape is almost fanatically devoted to character work. Crichton is not the only character who sounds like he should be one thing and ends up being another. All of the characters—all of them, all of them, even the annoying ones—are complicated wonders. And you don’t have to wonder whether the events of the episode you’re watching are going to matter. They will. Everything that happens to the characters leaves a mark. Everything leaves them forever changed. Whether it’s mentioned explicitly or not—and often enough, it’s not explicit—the characters remember what has happened to them.

3) The living ship houses a lot of excellent women, among them the ship itself.

Ah, the women of Farscape, thou art the loves of my fucking life.

There’s Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper (that’s the military that the “insane military commander” hails from) now fugitive, currently learning the meaning of the word “compassion” (literally). She will break your fingers and also your heart. John/Aeryn is the main canon romantic ship.

There’s Pa’u Zhoto Zhaan, a priestess of the ninth level, current pacifist, former anarchist. Sorry, leading anarchist. She orgasms in bright light! (Oh my god, Farscape.)

There’s Chiana, my fucking bestie, a teenage(ish? ages in Farscape are weird) fugitive on the run from a repressive authoritarian state. Chiana is like a seductress con artist grifter thief who mostly just wants to survive so that she can have fun, damn it. Characters on Farscape do not really discuss sexualities (sex, yes, sexualities, no) and it would be fair to say that several of them do not fall along human sexuality lines generally, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that Chiana is canonically not straight.

Then there’s Moya, the ship herself, and it’s hard to get a straight read on Moya’s personality, since she mostly can’t speak. But she definitely has opinions, and things and people she cares about. And she moves the plot, though that gets into spoiler territory.

Past first season, further excellent women show up: Jool (controversial, but I like her), Sikozu (I once saw a Tumblr meme where someone had marked down that Sikozu would lose her shit when someone pronounced “gif” wrong, and that’s absolutely correct, and it’s why I love her), and Noranti (who is incredibly weird, and incredibly hard to summarize, but man, you gotta love her willingness to just show up and do her thing). Plus, there’s a recurring female villain, Grayza, who I could write probably multiple essays about. (I don’t know how you will feel about Grayza, as not everyone loves her, but I think she’s fucking fascinating, especially because she’s not actually the only recurring female villain. We also get Ahkna!)

(Side note: I should mention, here, that the cast of Farscape is really, really white. There is one cast member of color, Lani Tupu, but he pretty much represents the entirety of even, like, incidental diversity in casting for the series.)

Anyway, Farscape is full of awesome women, and also awesome and unexpected men, and it really enjoys playing with audience expectations of gender roles, generally. Literal entire books have been written about the way that Farscape fucks around with sex, sexuality, and gender. It’s a little weird because it was the late 90s/early 2000s, and sometimes that does come through, but Farscape’s guiding principle was always to try not to present American culture of the time as the norm, so like. It is not.

(An aside on Farscape and sex: Literally every character on Farscape has sexual tension with every other character. If you are a shipper, this is a Good Show, because no matter who you ship, there will not only be subtext, you will get a Moment of some kind. Multiple characters kiss the Muppet. Farscape is dedicated to getting into the nitty-gritty of the galaxy—I like to think of it as showing the guts of the universe—so a lot of the show is kind of squishy. They live on a biomechanoid ship, instead of androids there are “bioloids,” there’s a lot of focus on strange alien biologies, and lots of weird glowing fluids and things. I think the sex thing is kind of part and parcel of the larger biology focus: Farscape is really fascinated with how we all eat and evolve and live and die and, well, fuck. Which is in turn, kind of part of its focus on making everything really alien.)

4) Other stuff you should know.

Farscape as a whole is excellent, but it was kind of the product of creative anarchy—an Australian/American coproduction (oh yeah, everyone except Crichton speaks with an Australian accent) that was also partnered with the Henson company, whose showrunners were based in America but whose actual production all took place in Australia, and who was just constantly trying new things. So individual episodes can vary wildly in quality. It really takes off in the back half of season one, but no season is without a few off episodes.

It is extraordinarily funny, and I really think I haven’t stressed that enough. It’s one of the shows I want to quote the most in my daily life, but almost all of its humor is really context-dependent, and if you just wander around going, “Hey Stark? What’s black and white, and black and white, and black and white?” people look at you really funny.

It’s very conversant with pop culture generally (although obviously sci-fi specifically, and Star Trek most specifically of all) and really enjoys deconstructing tropes, often to the effect of, “Well, Crichton really does not know what to do here, does he?” but sometimes just to be interesting.

There are also a lot of themes about science, and its uses and misuses.

The whole thing is fucking epic, and if you get invested at all, will take you on an emotional ride.

This show is weird. I know that that’s probably come across by now, but I think it’s worth reiterating as its own point: Farscape is so weird. Like, proudly, unabashedly, trying its hardest, weird. An amazing kind of weird.

If you’re into fantasy, you should know that there’s a recurring villain who’s just a wizard. Like, they don’t bother to explain it any more than that, he’s just a fucking wizard.

In summary: You should watch Farscape because it is a weird, wild, emotional, epic romance/drama/action/allegory full of Muppets and leather and one-liners and emotional gut punches and love, and if you let it, it will worm its way into you and never let go, which, now that I think of it, is another Farscape plot.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine!

#farscape #meta

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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too old to trick or treat (too young to die) // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Two Halloween costumes Tommy witnesses the creation of, twenty years apart. His cousin’s, and her daughter’s.

A/N: 4001 words. knocked this out in literally 3 hours. okay so The Road Warrior didn’t come out until December of ‘81, and Supergirl didn’t come out until ‘84, but whatever, the timeline has been massaged for a number of reasons, bare with me, suspend your disbelief abt halloween costumes. ANYWAYS this came to me very suddenly and i had to write it. i’ve had enough angst, so have cute charlie & penny halloween moments now instead please and thank you. @misscharlottelee as always owns my heart w/ her characters. also mild sexual references in the first part bcos of mishearing something/misunderstanding a situation.

[ part of the charlotte&lola au of Run to Paradise ]

----

In 1981, Tommy dresses as Mad Max for Halloween; all pulled back hair, and a truly awful attempt at an Australian accent. He’s even butchered a leather jacket he’d found second-hand, much to the rest of the household’s horror. He’s pretty proud, despite Mick telling him to shut up since Tommy refuses to stop using the accent.

Mick’s not wearing a costume, and isn’t going out with the rest of the band and the girls, he’s only here to give his opinions on their costumes, and drink with them until they leave.

Nikki’s made no secret of the fact that he’s going as that guy from A Clockwork Orange, which, okay, is actually surprisingly subdued for his usual going out attire, and Vince would not shut up about the all-white suit he bought to be John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Something about both Vince and Nikki in all white makes Tommy think everyone’s going to ask if they’re both the same character, regardless of their various accessories, and they’re both going to be mad as all hell by the end of the night; if he had to hazard a guess, Tommy’s pretty sure he’s going to find it incredibly funny, and Nikki’s going to chase him down The Strip for laughing.

Lola’s had her hair in rollers all day, and came home the other week with a legally obtained, sparkly, black, singlet, which was kind of a big deal when Lola either lives in the bands’ clothes, or steals herself pants that actually fit. Her actual costume, however, is escaping him, right up until Tommy walks into the bathroom, to see Lola, in said singlet, black underwear, and nothing else, sitting patiently while Charlotte diligently applied dark eyeshadow further up lola’s brow than he’d been expecting.

“Frank N Furter?” Tommy asked, pleased and amused, still in his attempt at an Australian accent. Both Charlotte and Lola made a face at that, but Lola confirmed after a beat, lips overdrawn, shiny, a deep berry red. The idea that Lola had ever seen Rocky Horror Picture Show in cinemas enough to dress up as it’s main character was a strangely humanizing idea for the often-seemingly feral roadie.

After a moment, however, Tommy takes in his cousin’s attire; she looks incredibly pretty, of course Charlie’s naturally pretty, but she’d gone out of her way to highlight it tonight. White dress, little tiara atop her head, makeup understated and still somehow glamorous, her hair’s still dark from where she and Lola had died it a few weeks ago in the wake of her split with Duff. Maybe they’d re-dyed it.

“You look pretty, Charlie, who are you meant to be?”

“You know you sound British, right, not Australian?” Charlotte doesn’t look up from where she’s working on Lola’s face.

“Shut up, you don’t even know anyone British,” Tommy counters, nose in the air, “and you haven’t even seen Mad Max, so shut it, you don’t know what an Australian accent sounds like.” And he’s haughty for all of a minute before he’s coming back with, “but seriously, who are you?”

A wicked grin spreads across his cousin’s lips.

“That’s for me to know -”

“- us to know.” Lola corrects quickly.

“Us to know,” Charlotte agrees, “and you to find out.”

Super ominous. Charlotte’s been cagey about her Halloween costume since they’d decided to hit The Strip on Halloween as a group. Usually, Charlotte’s overflowing with excitement about her costume, back in high school, she’d roped him, Vince, and a few of their friends into being the Scooby Gang. She’s been various animals, movie characters, and last year, she’d spent almost a month putting together a truly gorgeous Cinderella costume. For all that she was detailed about her costumes, he’d always known her to play it safe.

But this year she’s been quiet. It’s unusual. Tommy blames Lola entirely.

The girls allow Tommy to stay in the bathroom until Lola’s face is done, and then, instead of leaving, they both demand he get out, closing the door after him, giggling conspiratorially like teenagers.

“What’s their problem?” Nikki asks, attempting to apply eyeliner, though the only reflective surface he had was Mick’s sunglasses, and Mick looked about ready to throw him through a window for getting so close, and so Tommy moves on instinct, snatching the stub of an eyeliner pencil from Nikki’s grip, beckoning him out of Mick’s personal space.

“Not sure; they’re either hooking up, or plotting to kill us,” Tommy muses, trying his hardest to not poke Nikki in the eye.

“Hot?” Nikki sounds like he’s not quite sure about that sentiment himself.

They can hear Lola and Charlotte talking in low voices, indistinctly in the bathroom, and clattering, and then - Take off your fucking heels! - Charlie, loud and nervous, followed by some begrudging grumbling from Lola. Scuffling, more clattering, and grunting.

“They’re definitely hooking up,” Nikki mutters. Tommy’s turning red. He’s not a prude, Christ, not even close, but... Charlie wouldn’t... right? Not when she knew how thin the walls were... Not with Lola, surely!

“Let go of me, I don’t need you to steady me -!” Lola now, and Nikki’s stepping back, laughing at the look on Tommy’s face. He’s not quite sure how he feels about the idea of him and his cousin both having -

“You’re shaking, you’re going to drop it!”

What?

Silence, a few more indistinct, now muttered words, far quieter, far calmer, then - a loud, strange rush of liquid, like the shower being turned on, but much more immediate and shorter.

“Holy shit, dude!” Lola’s yell radiates through the whole house, followed by a loud clatter, like something empty being dropped on the tiles, and Charlotte’s response is too quiet to hear. It’s followed by what is distinctly the sound of the hair dryer, and by now, all three men in the living room are just confused.

Vince finally surfaces from his and Tommy’s room almost ten minutes later, hair appropriately slicked back, white suit impeccable, making a beeline for the fridge, equally confused.

“What the fuck is happening in there?” He asks, joining the other three, currently cutting up lines of coke on a plate, in the living room.

“I still think they’re hooking up,” Nikki says, frowning down, as if the intensity of his gaze will keep his hand from shaking where he’s trying to cut the coke.

“Wishful thinking,” Mick grumbles, sitting back and taking a long sip of his vodka.

“Pretty sure lesbian sex doesn’t involve hairdryers,” Vince has to agree, and Tommy’s frown deepens.

“They’re not -”

“Fuckin’ semantics, man, sex without guys, you know what I meant,” he headed Tommy’s protests off before he could properly speak them, and Tommy’s own frown deepened. Mick looks like he wants to protest, but also knows all three men far to well to have any illusions about the abhorrent range of pornography they had consumed.

The hair dryer turns off.

“You wouldn’t have half a fuckin’ clue about what real lesbian sex was like,” is what Mick chooses, instead, to say, and Vince flips him off, right as the bathroom door bursts open, and Lola, comically wide-eyed, stumbles out, what looks like blood splattered on her shins and thighs, high heels in one hand.

“Holy shit,” she’s gasping, laughing, disbelieving, “you guys are not fucking ready for this,” she’s looking altogether like a delighted Frank N Furter about to reveal and revel in her latest creation. The guys are so caught up in seeing Lola in her costume, that seeing Charlotte coming out after her is like being hit by a train.

She’s covered in blood. Head to toe, apart from her face, which she must have been covering with her hands. Bright right. Face serious and eyes wide and Tommy knows that expression, that look, that blood -

“Carrie!” He exclaims, “Fucking Hell, Charlie!” He announces at the top of his lungs, and Charlotte’s expression cracks to a bright smile, to delight at being recognized.

“It’s paint!” Charlotte announces, giving a spin, and suddenly the hairdryer, the chatter, the confusion made sense.

“Charlotte, you look fucking killer,” Nikki’s got a look in his eyes that reads as both intimidated and turned on, a look usually reserved for Lola, but Charlotte doesn’t seem to notice.

“Peach and Eileen are going to fucking scream,” Lola was absolutely delighted at this prospect, doing a line of coke when Nikki offered it, before pulling on her heels.

Charlotte is beaming, looking cool as hell, and delighted with how the whole costume turned out.

Only later that night will any of the boys discover the murder-scene the girls had left behind in the bathtub in their excitement to hit The Strip. Tommy feels like he’ll never get the image of the blood splattered tub out of his mind.

Which is why he finds it so baffling that he’s blindsided by it exactly twenty one years later.

In 2002, Charlotte’s daughter, Penny, now all of twenty years old, the exact age Charlie had been that iconic Halloween, and Tommy’s kid, Jupiter, eighteen and a half, the pair raised practically as siblings, had been marathoning mostly-trashy horror movies all through the month of October in anticipation for the night itself, and Johnny Hudson’s Halloween party.

Jupiter had announced their intention to dress as Nancy from The Craft for the third year in a row, which ties it with the costume they’d chosen for the three years prior to that, which was Eric Draven, the main character from The Crow.

“Yes, it’s because I have a thing for Fairuza Balk in that movie,” Jupiter had announced defiantly when they’d made their intentions known at a dinner that Lola fortunately had time enough to attend, in between tours.

“That’s how I picked all my Halloween costumes at your age,” Lola had admitted with a shrug, though that just made Tommy frown as he goes to take a sip of his drink -

“Tim Curry as Frank N Furter -?”

“Lola did you go as Frank N Furter one Halloween?” Penny, delighted at the concept, leans forward over her pasta, eyes alight with mirth at the idea, looking so much like her mother that it almost stings. Lola herself has gone red, trying to suppress a smile.

“Tom, that’s not a discussion I want to have right now, but yes,” she says, slight warning in her voice, and Tommy chokes on his drink, both because he doesn’t quite know what she means by that, and because it’s rare for her to call him Tom, but then she’s looking up at Penny, smiling enough that it creases by her eyes, “and yes,” she deliberates, before adding, “I’m pretty sure that was the year your Auntie Eileen surprised everyone and dressed up as Uncle Mick, top hat and all,” Lola said, voice warm and fond at the memory, “he had no clue how to take it, shocked him enough that he actually came out on the town with us; I think it’ll always surprise him when people think he’d be a cool Halloween costume.” And she looks to Jupiter at that, while Jupiter themselves made direct and unwavering eye contact with their own pasta, while Penny nudged them, voice turning teasing, picking up on Lola’s cue, gently ribbing her cousin about the time they’d dressed up as Mick for Halloween, if only to spite the rest of their family.

The conversation moves on, and Tommy thinks fondly of the memory of how bright Charlotte’s smile had been after she’d come out of their bathroom, looking as thought she was covered in blood.

So this year, Tommy’s hit with a strange sense of deja vu in the lead up to Halloween, with Penny being cagey, and obviously in cahoots with his own child.

“Looking badass, as always,” Tommy grins, showing off his cheap, vampire fangs, as he leans in the doorway of his kid’s bedroom. Penny’s applying lip-gloss atop their black lipstick, but gives pauses as they both turn to him, scrutinizing his party-store vampire costume. With his own kids going away for the night, Tommy had been more than happy to host a Halloween party of his own for friends still in the business.

“I feel like you used to put more effort in,” Jupiter says slowly, looking from the too-small, satin cape, back to his face, and Tommy shrugs.

“I guess I could always put on one of my old eighties stage costumes,” he muses, playing like he’s seriously considering it, acting as though he couldn’t see Jupiter and Penny’s expressions both turn horrified, “I’ve still got them somewhere in the back of my closet -”

“Oh Jesus, dad,” Jupiter hisses, “you know we all know too much about how Lola felt about that weird fetish shit you guys would wear on stage, please don’t -”

“It’s not fetish shit, Jup,” but Tommy’s grinning at how embarrassed they both were, “it’s hair metal, it was hip!”

“It’s a red and black leather harness at best, and tights; I’ve seen more conservative outfits at a BDSM dungeon -”

“Dude!” Penny’s eyebrows shot up, and Tommy’s mouth dropped open. Penny, horrified, looked to her uncle; “it was one time-” she says, trying to make things better, but doing the exact opposite right as Jupiter tries to tell him it was a joke. Penny and Jupiter look to each other, both horrified at what the other had said, how it must look.

“Pen!”

“It was Johnny’s idea!” Penny blurted out, and looked to Tommy, as if realising she was digging herself deeper, “we went there as a joke!”

“That part is true,” Jupiter conceded, but Tommy kept his mouth shut, raising his hands in surrender, as if to say ‘that’s your business, as adults, but I’d rather not know’, and he’s quick to leave them to their mutual, horrified bickering.

He hadn’t even thought to ask what Penny was going as. All he knows is that she and Jupiter had been arguing because ‘it’s a trashy movie, Pen’ - ‘I love it, so shut up; you get witch powers from being an angry loner, I get them from being prom queen’ - ‘did we even watch the same movie? That’s not -” - “then just picture the original, you liked the original!’ - ‘oh, I’m past the movie itself, it’s the - they’re both angry loners, Pen,’ - ‘yeah, okay yeah, but it’s a cool aesthetic, Jup, come on -’. That was a few weeks ago, Tommy still isn’t quite sure what it could be, beyond witchy powers. Usually Penny’s costumes were straightforward, or she’d at the very least announce them in advanced...

Tommy finds himself blaming his own, erratic and mischievous child entirely; just as Lola had been known to be a bad influence on Charlie, so too could their children mirror this dynamic almost uncannily.

It only gets stranger when, an hour after doing Jupiter’s makeup, they both seem to be in full costume, and should be ready to go, they’re nowhere to be found, but they haven’t said goodbye.

Penny comes rushing past Tommy in a whirlwind, carrying something bulky in her arms, making a beeline for the downstairs guest bathroom.

“Pen, whaddya got there?” Tommy calls out, and Penny stops dead. She’s in a pretty, white dress, with her hair all done up, and a tiara sitting on top. It’s... familiar.

“Glue?” Penny’s obvious lie has Tommy frowning.

“Glue?” He asks, with a huff of disbelieving laughter. When she swivels towards him, he can see that she’s holding a large, white, pourable bottle, the label of which, Penny is conveniently covering.

“We’re sniffing it?”

“Penny, what the fuck?” Jupiter calls from the bathroom, and Penny takes off at a run, avoiding Tommy’s further questions, and Tommy himself, who, with a sudden nervousness at whatever the real situation was, follows quickly. All he can see is large, clear plastic sheets covering every single surface and every wall, like the lair of a murderer in a movie, and then Jupiter’s face with all it’s dark makeup and sprayed up hair, as they’re apologizing, and slamming the door in his face. He’s pretty sure he read the word blood on somewhere on the bottle that Penny had put down.

“Jupiter Carlotta Lee, I’ve told you before that we don’t fuck with real witchcraft!” Tommy jiggled the handle, but the door was firmly locked, “not after what happened with Nikki and Lita!”

“It’s not witchcraft!” Jupiter calls back, and Tommy can hear Penny groan about how he’s still going to kill them.

“Don’t murder your fuckin’ cousin in there, you hear me?” He jiggles the door handle again, harder this time, not quite sure of what was happening in there, but concerned nonetheless.

“Hey!” Penny shouts back, “why do you think I’m the one getting murdered in here?”

“I was addressing both of you,” Tommy sighed, leaning his forehead against the door, defeated, “what are you doing? What’s so bad that you have to keep me locked out?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re done -”

“Jupiter!”

“It’s messy,” Jupiter explained, and followed it up with a quiet, “okay, get in the bath, take off your shoes,” clearly not aimed at Tommy, before yelling back to him, “I’d rather do it, clean it up, and then beg for forgiveness in that order before you decide whether or not you want to murder us.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to stand up there?” Comes Penny’s soft question to her cousin, followed by a phrase burned into the back of Tommy’s mind, somehow still there after everything it’s been through.

“Let go of me, I don’t need you to steady me -”

And everything clicks into place, the blood, the outfit, the mess -

“Are you pouring fake blood on your cousin right now?!” Tommy’s tone is disbelieving, and he’s met with silence, and then the slow sound of liquid being poured.

“No?” Penny calls back, before spluttering a little, “it’s in my mouth.” She hisses.

“Then close your mouth!” Jupiter hisses back.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Pennylope; Jup?” Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers exactly how much scrubbing he and the rest of the occupants of the Motley House had to do over the next week, and even then the bathroom was never quite the same.

But he’s met with silence, and then he starts to hear what can only be the excess fake blood dripping into the tub. And then the sound of a much emptier bottle being put on the bench.

“No, I am not currently pouring fake blood on my cousin,” Jupiter announces; Tommy thinks he can feel a headache forming with each moment that passes. There are moments exactly like this one, in which he is reminded that Jupiter is without a doubt his and Lola’s kid, which is both a blessing and a curse.

“Penny, stay in the tub,” he calls, “make sure you wash your feet off once you’re dry; a hairdryer helps it dry faster.”

Despite their confusion at how he would know such a thing, the pair in the bathroom know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tommy, for his part, breathes a sigh of relief; this, at least, he knew how to handle. At least they put more thought into it than Charlotte and Lola had back in the day.

Heading upstairs while they let the fake blood dry, he finds the photo Lola had dug up from her archives in her and Nikki’s garage.

Eileen, Charlotte, Lola, and Peach, all in a row outside the Starwood, all grinning from ear to ear. Eileen as Mick, Lola as Frank N Furter, Peach as Supergirl, and Charlotte, beaming, covered in blood red paint, as Carrie.

By the time he resurfaces from the wave of memories that had overwhelmed him, Tommy gets downstairs to see the guest bathroom door open.

“How messy is it?” He calls, concerned. Jupiter sticks their head out. The hairdryer is still going.

“Not as bad as I thought, should all just wash down the drain; the plastic on the walls was probably overkill,” they admit, and Tommy gives a thin-lipped grin, remembering the splatter that came up to knee height on the walls by the bathtub in the Motley House. Though, to be fair, Lola was simply pouring an entire bucket of thinned house-paint over Charlotte’s head - it was neither Lola nor Charlotte’s brightest idea, in hindsight - Jupiter, with a bottle of screen-grade fake blood from the looks of it, would have a much more controlled pour.

And Penny would definitely have a much easier time getting it off.

When Tommy sees Penny, it’s like looking into a window from the past, the way she’s beaming, pleased and bright and covered in blood, she looks so proud to be horrifying.

“What now?” Penny asks, fond but exasperated, and Tommy snaps out of his thoughts, “what exactly about this,” she gestures to her whole self, blood soaked and standing in the tub, being hairdryed by Jupiter, “reminds you of mom?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, playing dumb, and Penny’s expression softens, but she still rolls her eyes, arms out while Jupiter dries her.

“You get a look in your eye when I do something that reminds you too much of mom, and yeah it’s sweet, but this specifically is a really weird thing to get emotional -”

“This is your mom on Halloween, nineteen-eighty-one,” Tommy holds out the photo so she wouldn’t have to touch it, incase the blood on her hands was still wet, interrupting his niece.

“Oh,” Penny’s voice is so quiet, “for real?” She asks, eyes wide and misty when she looks at Tommy, and he gives a fondly amused look, and nod in response. “I didn’t even know,” Penny gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh, her own gaze turning adoring as she takes in the photo once more.

Jupiter twists to look at the photo, still drying Penny, then looks in the mirror, then back at the photo, and scowls, but keeps quiet about how they’ve just realized, at least in terms of makeup and overall pallet, how similar their costume is to their mother’s. But they’re well aware that this isn’t their moment.

“Did Lola own pants?” Jupiter does mutter, more to themselves than expecting a response, and not getting one anyhow.

“Lola poured a bucket of red paint over her head in the apartment we shared, took five of us a full week to clean it all up after,” Tommy explained to Penny, smiling.

“No wonder you were worried about us doing the same thing,” Penny snorted, and leans in, looking at her mother’s smiling face; almost the same face she sees in the mirror, if not for the blue of her eyes.

“Yeah, but I should have known you two would be smarter about it, much as I love your mom, Jup, when we were young, she wasn’t exactly known for her common sense,” and as Tommy says it, even the quietly resentful Jupiter cracks a smile.

“She looked so cool,” Penny muses, “they all do; that’s Aunt Eileen and Peach, right? The other two?” And Tommy confirms as much, also making sure to note that all four women were always better at Halloween than the rest of the band; in a move that Tommy’s seen Charlotte do a thousand times, Penny rolls her eyes, smirks, and says ‘yeah, obviously’ all smug and amused.

Tommy just smiles, asks if he can take a photo once Penny’s all dry, reminds them to call Lola and Nikki if they need a lift home, and waves goodbye to them when their taxi arrives.

The minute the taxi is off the property, Tommy’s cracking open a beer, and dialing Lola’s number in the minutes before his own guests are due to arrive.

“Lols, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what just happened.”

#Tommy Lee #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue #motley crue imagine #charlotte&lola #lola & charlotte #the angry lizard speaks

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 4 years

Text

You Look Perfect - Supercorp

Read at AO3

She was staring, she knew she was staring, she knew she should stop, look to the other side, stop being a creep, anything. But her eyes were glued to the vision in front of her. Kara was using the most perfect thing Lena had ever saw. Her hair was down, almost like Supergirl’s style, she was using some light make up around her eyes and light pink lipstick that made her beautiful blue eyes point out. Kara was using a simple white blouse with sleeves that ended on the crook of her elbows, a black belt holding her long flowery skirt that fell flawlessly to her ankles, where Lena could see a black boot.

Lena started wondering if it was possible to forget how to breathe, or think, or live.

“Here.” Maggie had suddenly approached her holding a napkin, that she promptly handed to Lena with a smirk.

Still distracted by the image in front of her, Lena took it without a second thought. “Thank you.” She held it in front of her for a couple of seconds, until Maggie’s laugh shook her away from her thoughts. “Wha-“ She looked down at the napkin and frowned. “Why?” Lena asked the detective.

Maggie shrugged, looking too innocent to be real. “For the drool.” She pointed to Lena’s face and, out of instinct, the CEO raised her hand to touch the sides of her mouth. Maggie laughed happily while Lena rolled her eyes. “It’s so fun to have you around.”

Lena wrapped the napkin in a angry ball and shoved it back into Maggie’s hand, ignoring the woman’s laugh. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” The smaller brunette nodded delighted with herself. “So, what’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Kara didn’t tell you?” Lena was greatful for having a distraction from the woman looking so gorgeous from across the room, so she turned to look at Maggie with one raised eyebrow.

The woman shrugged again. “Like she can say anything without stumbling in her own words when it comes to you.” She looked at where both Alex and Kara were talking across the room and smiled. “Do you think I can make the same joke with Kara?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Go ahead.” She knew better than try to stop the woman of having some fun. “I have a brunch to attend and I asked her to go with me.”

It was Maggie’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “A brunch? And you’re both dressed like that? Is it at the Bunckingham Palace? Are you meeting the Queen?”

Lena looked down at her own clothes, the dark blue three pieces suit and black shoes, and frowned. “No. It’s a brunch with the members of the council of L Corp, you know, the thing you have to do once a year to keep people at your good side.”

Maggie nodded. “It has to suck to be rich.” She teased. The CEO laughed softly and opened her mouth to say something, but Maggie raised her hand. “Wait, wait, wait, that’s my chance!” She was out before Lena could understand what was happening.

She wasn’t alone for too long, Alex quickly occupied the place her fiancée had just left. “You’re looking good, Lena.”

Lena tilted her head to the side as a silent ‘thank you’. “Not as much as Kara.”

“It took her five days to choose it.” Alex confessed with an eye roll. “Please, tell her she’s looking good, she almost didn’t left her room when you got here.”

Like Lena would ever be able to say anything else. Actually, scratch that, she could say something else. Kara wasn’t just looking good, she was perfect. Absolutely and undoubtedly perfect. Huh, maybe she should have taken Maggie’s napkin after all.

“What on Earth is my woman doing?” Alex asked exasperatedly while putting both hands on her hips.

Lena turned to look where Maggie had joined Kara and was now handing her the slightly crumpled napkin to the blonde. The CEO saw as Kara looked at it a little confused, before Maggie said something, clearly the same thing she had just said Lena if the way she was pointing at Kara’s mouth was any indication, and then the blonde woman was blushing. Hard. And looking even more beautiful than before while doing so.

Kara apparently was a little more affected than her as she visibly tried to gather some coherent answer, but then she looked up and their eyes met across the room, and the world stoped spinning around them.

There was only the two of them, staring at each other’s eyes.

“Alex, quick, grab a bucket before the apartment floods!” And with that the moment was over.

Lena was just a little bit thankful for Maggie, because she had no idea how long she would have just stand there and stared at Kara. Hours, probably.

Alex apparently didn’t shared the same opinion. “Jesus, Maggie, you’re such a bad person.”

Maggie raised one eyebrow and smirked at her fiancée. “Are you saying I’m a bad girl? What are you going to do about it?”

“Ooook.” Kara’s nervous laugh cross the room towards her and Lena could swear her knees started trembling. “Not what I needed to hear.”

“What? We have to watch you too eye-fuck for months and you can’t deal with a little flirt?” Maggie teased as she walked back to Alex to give her a kiss. The agent pulled away before Maggie could get too into it, thankfully. “Eye-fucking here, and eye-fucking there, and eye-fucking in public, and eye-fucking...”

Lena fished for her wallet inside the front pocket of her pants and took a hundred dollar bill out. “Here, I’m going to pay you to be quiet now.” She joked.

Faster than anyone could see, Maggie grabbed the bill. “Sweet.” She turned back to Alex. “Honey, go change, I’m taking you somewhere nice today.”

There was a few seconds of silence before they all bursted in laughs. Maggie handed her the money back and Alex pulled her into a hug, shaking her head to the ridiculousness that was the other woman. Also laughing, Kara finally approached Lena, who was stuffing the money back into her pocket. Kara shook her head once she stoped in front of the CEO, placing both hands on her shoulders.

“You guys are silly.” She said between giggles, then she slid her hands down Lena’s shoulders to her chest, smoothing her striped navy blue suit. “You’re looking very good, Ms. Luthor.” Kara bit her bottom lip as she toyed with the collar using the tip of her fingers.

“You think so?” Lena smiled. “I decided not to use a tie. Thought it was maybe too much.”

Kara nodded in agreement. “Super good.” She joked.

The brunette’s smile grew even bigger as she pulled Kara closer by her hips. “Look who’s the one to talk, Ms. Danvers.” Was it possible to split your face in half with how hard you were smiling? That was never something she had to worry before. “You look perfect.” Lena declared in a whisper, before she leaned foward to place a sweet kiss on the other woman’s forehead.

There was nothing else she wanted to do than lean and kiss the soft lips she loved so much, but it would ruin their lipsticks, especially since she was using a dark shade of red. So she would be glad with what she had, after all, kissing Kara in any form was a blessing.

When she pulled away, Kara was blushing one more time. “I could change, put some heels or...”

Lena placed her index finger under Kara’s chin top stop the woman to look down like she knew she wanted to. She kept a gentle soothing smile on her face as she shook her head. “You look perfect.” She repeated in a way softer voice.

Kara bit her lip again, but to stop herself from smiling this time. “So do you.” They both ignored Maggie fake coughing behind them. “Am I approved for our first outing as a couple?” She let go of Lena’s collar to take a hold on her skirt. The blonde raised the edges a little so she could swirl her knees from one side to another in a silly dance.

Lena chuckled as her hands raised to cup Kara’s face. “You could be using your ugly dinosaur sweater and I wouldn’t care.” She whispered between two kisses on Kara’s nose.

The blonde crinkled her nose adorably. “Stop saying shit about my sweater!”

“It’s a bad sweater, Kara.” Alex eagerly said from her place.

“It’s so ugly!” Maggie agreeded fast.

Kara looked around Lena to stick out her tongue for both of them. “You’re just jealous.”

Lena laughed as she turned to look at everyone else. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes!” Kara nodded. “Wait! How long till we eat?” When everyone laughed, she frowned. “I need to know if I have to eat before we leave!”

XoX

Kara was nervous. Deep down she knew there was no reason for it, but she couldn’t stop feeling a bit worried about what was going to happen. Lena had told her it was a simple brunch with the members of her board, where some boring white dudes would be talking with her non stop, trying to get in her good grace and sell their own projects. Their wifes would all gather in some corner to gossip and not eat because they were too worried with gaining weight. Nothing for her to worry about, but she was anyway.

Because that was the first time they were going out as a couple, correction, as an official couple, because they had hang out before under the pretext of their friendship, but Lena had released a press report saying they were, in fact, dating two weeks before and they had basically decided to stay in and out of the streets to avoid the paparazzi. So the brunch was actually the first time they were going to be seeing together in public as a couple.

She was allowed to be nervous because of that, right?

Lena stoped right before she opened the glass door that leaded inside the restaurant they had booked for the brunch. She kept her hand in the handle, but turned around to look at her. “Are you ok?”

Of course Lena would be able to pick up on her agitated and uncomfortable manners. “Yeah, of course.” Kara tried to smile to soothe her girlfriend, but Lena could see right through her.

“Kara, we promissed we would only tell the truth.” Lena’s voice wasn’t accusatory or mad, instead she gave her the most kind smile and took two steps away from the door. It was enough to make Kara’s body relax. “Are you really ok?”

“I’m a little nervous.” Kara admited shyly. “It’s just... You work with these people, what if I do something wrong and...”

“Kara.” Lena interrupted her gently, grabbing both of her hands. “You have nothing to worry about. They’re some old boring men talking about numbers and trying to buy my support with lies. I would rather spent this day cuddling in your apartment, but I have to be here.” She grinned at her with a wink. “You, in the other hand, doesn’t have to. I can ask my driver to take you back, I’m sure you could watch some movies with Alex if you want to. I can meet you both later.”

Lena was the most perfect person in the world. Kara smiled at her and took a step foward, promptly walking into the CEO’s open arms. “It would be a shame to take off this make-up, it took me a very long time to do it.”

The brunette giggled as she pressed a kiss on top of her head. “And you’re looking really pretty too.” Lena teased.

Kara chuckled and took a step back. “Ok, yeah, let’s go, I’m ready.”

“If you want to leave at some point, just let me know and I’ll call Jerry.” Lena said. “Besides, I only have to stay for like, two hours.”

“I promisse I won’t leave you to deal with those men alone.” Kara joked and steped around Lena to open the door herself. She was feeling way better, still a little nervous, but totally ready to face the people inside. She took a step to the side and tilted foward dramatically, motioning for Lena to get inside first. “Madame.”

Lena bent her knees and raised her imaginary skirt, smiling at her girlfriend. “My, thank you.”

The CEO stoped inside to wait for Kara, reaching out for her hand, which was gladly taken. They interwined their fingers and Kara instantly felt a calmness rush through her body. Lena was first approached by a short bald man who looked like he was in his late fifthies. He had a drink in his hand and there was a very tall supermodel looking woman walking beside him.

“Lena! Always in time.” The man said with a smile that Kara was sure was too sweet to be real.

“Not one minute after.” Lena agreeded with the voice that Kara had identified as ‘The CEO’ very early in their friendship. “Glad you could make it, Harold.”

“Like I would miss it.” He laughed and his big belly bounced with it. “Anyway, I believe you haven’t met my wife yet. This is Michaela, or, how I like to call her, Mrs. Damion.”

Was Kara the only person who thought it was weird to call your own wife like that? Couldn’t he call her... Chaela? It was way better. Lena apparently didn’t thought it was so weird because she didn’t even flashed an eyelash before she leaned foward to squeeze the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Damion.” She gave the supermodel a small smile. “This is my girlfriend, Kara.”

“Oh, what a pleasure!” Harold took a large step foward to give her what had to be the most awkward hug she ever received, but Kara took it without frowning, which she was proud of herself for. “Your face seems familiar!”

Kara froze in panic for a second – she really should stop reacting like that, because her reaction alone was enough to let people know there was something weird going on. Lena, in the other hand, only pulled her closer, putting her arm around Kara’s waist. “Well, that’s because she’s a reporter.” The brunette gave her a calming smile, trying to let her know everything was under control and Kara couldn’t not believe her with all her heart. “The best reporter at CatCo.”

Her girlfriend’s words made a light blush rise on her cheeks and she had to battle her desire to hide her face on the crook of Lena’s neck. “Oh, stop it.”

“It’s only the true.” Lena praised before tugging at her hand discreetly. “If you excuse us, Harold, I’m going to say ‘hi’ to everybody before they serve the food.”

Too distracted by the word ‘food’ Kara totally missed whatever answer the man gave her, she simply followed Lena around while she talked with everyone there.

Lena waited until they were out of hearing to speak again. “All people in my council are very polite, as you can see.” The sarcasm was dripping of her voice as she rolled her eyes.

“They don’t...” Kara paused for a second to consider her next words. “They don’t seem to like you very much.”

Lena actually laughed at that. “No, they don’t. I’m used to that, it’s quite funny see those grow ass men trying to pretend they enjoy my presence.” She made a stop to grab both of them a drink and leaned to whisper in the blonde’s ear. “Don’t tell them that, but half of them won’t be here next year.”

Feeling a little giddly to be let inside that internal –kind of cruel – joke, Kara chuckled. “Starting with Harold?”

“Actually, no. Harold is a good man, he’s just a jerk sometimes. Besides, I need him to look over the money, he can deal with that like nobody else.”

The final round of presentations ended mostly like she expected, but this time the men’s wives called her to join them in a large table at the corner while ‘they talked business’. Lena squeezed her hand to let her know it was ok to stay if she wanted or to go with them, but Kara decided to follow them and get away from the nerd talk that was about to happen. There was three group of men around the room and it remained divided like that all the time as she watched as Lena waltzed her way between them while hearing complaints or other boring things they wished to tell her.

Shortly after the food started to be served and Kara was glad to see the waiter put down two plates with appetizers and potsickers! She quickly stuffed her plate with food, but all the other women around her only picked one or two small snacks. Kara tried not to be too self conscious about it, but it was hard to ignore when everyone else in the table wasn’t eating and you were the only one who had a mountain of food on your plate. But she was really hungry and everything was really good, so Kara kept eating until both plates were empty. She saw the waiter putting some random plates around the room with potsickers and she kind of wished they were closer to her because everybody would notice if she got up to grab even more food. The supermodel from before was staring at her since her second sandwich.

Kara was already conformed she was going to starve for the rest of the brunch when she felt and heard Lena approaching her. She was able to tell apart Lena’s heartbeat in any room, so it wasn’t hard to tell when the woman was getting closer to her. That and the fact that her body instantly relaxed when Lena was around.

“Hope you’re having fun.” Lena said while she leaned to place a kiss on her cheek. Their lipstick was long gone thanks to the food and drinks, so Kara was happy to press her cheek against her lips with a huge smile. The CEO rested one hand behind her chair and placed one of the potsickers bowls in front of her. She didn’t adressed it and everyone else in the table seemed to be too distracted by her to notice it, so Kara only smiled at her in gratitude. “And I hope no ne here is telling her all of my embarrassing stories.” She joked. “I’m trying to keep this one, you know.”

Everyone laughed and they actually sounded genuine this time, not like their husbands. “Oh, please, Lena, like you had ever done anything of the kind.” One of them said.

“You never know.” The CEO shook her head, before looking back at Kara. “You good?” She whispered.

Kara bit her bottom lip and looked around the table. Most of them were kind of rude and the other half had barely looked at her properly. “Yeah.”

“Ok.” Lena leaned to press a kiss on her forehead this time. “Call me if you need anything. And if you wish to join me, I’m going to talk with Harold now. He’s trying to make me buy an island.”

“An island.?!” Kara was too shocked to say anything else for a while. “You said he was good with dealing with the money.”

Lena laughed. “The company’s money, yes, but he does have sixty cars.”

“Sixty?!” Kara’s eyes went wide with that and it make the brunette laugh again.

“And you complain about my shoes collection.” Lena winked at her and took a step back. “I only have fifthy two!”

Kara shook her head as she watched her girlfriend walking back to Harold, a fond smile on her lips. Lena was too cute, too perfect, the best thing that ever happened to her, for sure. And she brought her potsickers! The superhero was sure that restaurant didn’t serve potsickers, so she must have found a way to provide them to her because she knows how much she loves it. Lena knows her so well.

“So, Kara, how long are you two dating?” One of the woman asked her suddenly.

Kara had to swallow down her potsicker too quickly to answer and it went down completely wrong. “Oh, around six months.” Like she didn’t know the exact day, hour and minute they started dating.

“And you’re a reporter?”

“Yes, I am. I work at CatCo.”

“So you know Cat?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Stephanie. Cat doesn’t go around talking with every reporter that works for her.”

And that might be true, sure, Cat didn’t had the habit of knowing all of her employees, but the way the woman said it made her mad. “I do know her, yes.”

“Really?!”

She managed to handle five minutes of that talk before she make some lame ass excuse to get up and walk away. She found Lena with some group and she quietly put herself behind the other woman. Apparently, however, she wasn’t the only one who had developted a sixth sense, because Lena turned halfway around to curl her arm around Kara’s waist.

“You ok?” She asked, totally ignoring whatever the man in front of her was talking.

Kara nodded. “All fine, yeah.” Lena didn’t had super hearing so she couldn’t whisper things under her breath for only her to hear it, so she tried to communicate the unspoken ‘just needed a break’ with her eyes.

The CEO seemingly took the hint, because she beamed at her and offered her some potsickers she had stocked on her napkin to bring to her later. Kara’s eyes clearly sparkled with the vision of her favourite food and Lena chuckled when her girlfriend almost ripped the food out of her hand. Lena put a lovingly kiss on the side of her head before returning to her conversation like she hadn’t stoped to give food to her girlfriend.

XoX

In the end, Kara was happy she got to be a part of that brunch because she had never ate so much potsickers before in her life, and she would like to remind everyone that she was an avid potsickers eater.

When they entered the car, both glad to be able to put some distance between them and the boring men, Lena sighed tiredly. “Sorry you had to go through this.”

“Well, you did feed me all the time, so...” Kara joked, snuggling against the brunette’s side. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“I’m glad you think like that.” Lena threw her arm around her shoulders and sighed again. “Thanks for coming with me, you made everything better, for sure.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” Kara protested.

“Of course you did, you were there.” The CEO kissed her forehead and smiled this time. “And I’m greatful for that.”

They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other’s presence, until Kara realized they weren’t going back to her apartment, or to Lena’s penthouse, like she thought they would. “Hey, Lee, where are we going?”

“Well...” Lena singed. “Since we did something totally massive in my behalf today, we’re doing something you love tonight.”

“Lena! I’m sure you’re tired, we don’t have to...”

“No complaints, Kar!” Lena interrupted her quickly. “Everything is already set up. I called our friends and they’re going to meet us, it’s happening. Unless you’re too tired, in this case we can go home, but not because of me. Besides, it would be a shame to use the gorgeous clothes you’re wearing only for some old men to see.” Lena smiled, one of those smiles that made Kara forget her own name, and all protests she might have come up with were gone.

“Where are we going?” She was more excited now, specially after finding out their friends would also be a part of it.

Lena pursed her lips, pretending to think for a second. “Well, I can tell you, but only if you promise me you’re going to sing me a song.”

It took Kara a few seconds to understand, but, when she did, she squealed happily and hugged Lena ever tighter. “Karaoke?!”

“Not feeling like going home then, huh?” Lena teased. “Yes. I heard a lot about your legendary skills on karaoke, but I never saw you performing at one before, so I couldn’t lose this chance.”

“It’s going to rock your world.” Kara joked with a nod. “But, babe, I hate to say this, but you’re a totally overdressed for a karaoke bar. It’s a very good suit.” Kara commented with a smile. “I loved it.”

“I noticed it.” The blonde blushed when she winked at her and Lena laughed. “So, what song are you going to sing for me?”

Inspired by Lena Luthor three pieces suit and Melissa Benoist look at the Dior Show

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larryatendoftheday · 5 years

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Let’s correct some misinformation about Taylor Swift

a lot of people are blocked by this user so here’s a version of my response that you can reblog

rosesau ORIGINAL POST

not to rant but i will. when louis put out a song where he was making a point that was close to his heart, he did it thru just like you and he didnt fucking use that song to pander to anyone. he didnt have countless headlines abt it he didnt even have a music video for it he didnt release it as a single he just.. gave that song to us bc he wanted to say that to us. every fuckin time taylor saint swift has made a song abt smth ~important to her.. she’s always capitalized off of it in the most obnoxious way. she’s always just whining abt ppl not liking her. look what you made me do was abt her problems with literally Everyone who criticized her ever and she used her feud with kim and kanye to make that song get big. she even mockey kim k’s robbery in her music video. the song wasnt rlly abt her it wasnt her being genuine it was her finding smth to exploit and now with this new one if this is her “coming out” she’s exploiting pride and capitalizing off of something that is so important to so many of us. so many ppl say jly was a throwaway song bc “lol it wasnt even a single” but thats exactly the point lmao he wasnt trying to make money off of that song he wasnt trying to gain attention from that song he fought to have it out for us which is the exact opposite of what taylor does. bitchass white feminist who stayed silent during one of the most critical election seasons in a while, attemped to sue a woc who wrote on her own personal blog that taylor’s reputation era was feuling the altright fans and she should denounce white supremacy, and only encouraged ppl to vote for the “right” person when it was time for her to release more music. choke sweetie.

tswiftisgay aka MY RESPONSE from my other blog

Ok so you have misrepresented some stuff. I’m tired of Taylor bashing. Critique I get. But let’s get some facts straight.

Her first major political statement was not when she was releasing new music. It was in October last year before the November election. That’s when Trump said he liked her music 25% less. She had nothing coming out anytime soon when she did that.

Louis has a consistently terrible team that has only just started to improve. Do you really think he wouldn’t have marketed Just Like You more if he could have? It’s a good song, and it has important content that the general public should hear too. Don’t make his team’s failure into something honorable.

I used to be critical of Taylor for not speaking up sooner about politics, but I realized that being political when you are quite as big as Taylor is extremely risky, especially coming from a country fan foundation. Plus she was “cancelled” anyway. What would her voice have done for the mess of the 2016 election? And after that during the Rep era, she gave LOUD pride speeches early on in her tour. She did a lot that pretty clearly demonstrated she was NOT supportive of the alt right. Anyone who really wanted to know could have seen that. So of course she sued the woman saying she was alt right. I’m not saying I like it, but if you are not a nazi and someone called you one, wouldn’t you want them to stop? I wish she had used different methods, but again, what would have worked? I’m not sure there is something that would have convinced this woman to change her tune.

When she did speak up last October, she explained that the absolutely horrible political events of the past few years had made her want to speak up. “In the past I’ve been reluctant to publicly voice my political opinions, but due to several events in my life and in the world in the past two years, I feel very differently about that now.” Think of how you have changed over the past few years. We have all become more aware of our role and responsibility. We have all grown louder and more aware. Why can’t Taylor also have grown and learned?

In an essay in Elle earlier this year she elaborated on that. “Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric.” Waiting to find your voice when you have this big a platform seems pretty solid to me.

Taylor isn’t a white feminist. In her October post she said, “I believe that the systemic racism we still see in this country towards people of color is terrifying, sickening and prevalent.” She also made a point of protesting a lack of laws about domestic abuse which unfortunately disproportionately effects women of color and trans women of color. She has pointedly included and celebrated women of color in her tours. On Rep tour the women dancers–many of color–all were introduced and given a moment just for them as part of the song Gorgeous. She has spoken about racism and I expect to see her continue to do so during this next election cycle.

Taylor did not mock Kim K’s robbery in the music video. I see how you could interpret it that way, because there was a robbing scene and a ring prominently displayed but that was in reference to a lot of Swiftie fan theories that she was engaged and the larger feeling of being attacked and dragged aka robbed. There were references to Kim but that was not one. Taylor is a women with stalkers who has her house broken into regularly. She of all people wouldn’t joke about that.

Last but not least, Taylor is pairing her new music with advocacy DESPITE the fact that it has turned away many of her old country fans or older Republican fans. She is also on her way out of the closet, which would make it much easier for others in the music industry to come out. Ahem. Harry and Louis.

So I have to ask that you stop spreading misinformation and stop hating on a woman who is changing the music industry by forcing streaming services to pay artists fairly and now–on her coming out journey. She donates to charity. She advocates for politicians and policies that could improve or even save lives. She is using her platform for good. Stop hating.

Or I guess I should just say… don’t step on her gown. You need to calm down.

TLDR: Larries are often so uninformed and nasty about Taylor. She didn’t speak up about politics for a long time, but when she started it was not near any new content from her. She is queer anyway. She's been very misunderstood by her own community.

Please reach out to me with questions. I would love to help rectify this unfortunate sentiment in the fandom.

#haylor #taylor swift #mine #larry stylinson #discourse

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angelkurenai · 6 years

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Imagine some fans shipping you with Chris, others with Robert and other with Tom, because your character has been romantically involved with their characters in some way. Unknown to them is that you like one, and all three you.

“Uhm hi! I just wanted to ask (Y/n) this question.” the fan started saying with a big smile and you returned it.

“Go right ahead, I'm an open book, honey!” Robert answered instead of you with a small smirk and you giggled when the fan looked perplexed for a moment, as if questioning herself on whose name she had said.

You grinned “We've just swapped bodies for the day, don't mind us.”

“Too bad that's the only way he'll ever be inside of that gorgeous body.” Chris, on your other side, said with a smirk and you all burst in laughter.

“Damn Evans, that was a low blow! I think that's a point for him huh?” you asked with a chuckle, turning to face Robert who placed a hand over his heart.

“Very low, yes, but I will give him that point. It's ok... After all, he's just sympathising. Having gone through it and all.” Robert shrugged, causing you all to laugh a little more.

“I'm sorry, dear, just consider this deleted footage from Civil War and let's keep going!” you said with a bright smile and with a laugh of her own, she did.

“Uhm we've seen you appear on three movies this year concerning Marvel, Thor: Ragnarok, Avengers: Infinity War and lately Ant-Man and the Wasp. And you were absolutely amazing in all of them!”

“Thank you! I think I must have made more cameos in movies than Stan Lee himself at this point.” you teased and she laughed.

“And each and every one of them is memorable! So uhm in the latter you appeared in the second after-credits scene and let me tell you I have never gasped that hard before in my life! The entire audience at the cinema I was in cheered so loudly I could barely hear a thing after that, but it was worth it! We all believed you died in Infinity War and there were several people, especially this one guy, that screamed so loudly 'Yes!' the moment you appeared.”

“Uh side note, that was me.” Robert up for a moment, making you laugh as he winked at you.

“I can absolutely believe that!” she said with a giggle “Anyhow, uh other than how shocking it was, I wanted to ask: is it true that you wrote out that scene yourself?”

“Well, uhm in most Marvel movies, at least the ones I've been in, I always get these ideas when reading the script that I can't shake off, kinda like in between the main ones that could fit there to tie the others even better together.” you explained “And as you guys know I love to write in my free time and I don't know how the screenwriters and director once found out- somehow someone told them? I wonder who really.” you looked at Robert and Chris who were suddenly veryinterested on the carpet on the floor.

“You haven't figured that out yet?” Chris asked supposedly surprised “Wow even after all these years. Wonder who it could have been! Do you have any idea about this Robert?”

“Me? Nah! I'm still scratching my head over who could know something like this!” he said a little over-dramatically and you rolled your eyes at both of them.

“Anyway, yes, somehow they found out my skills and after then it was Stan Lee that came into the picture and he liked my ideas so much that, well, it just sort of happened. They told me if I had any scenes in mind and I actually suggested one or two for uhm I think it was Iron Man 2 back then? Yeah, must have been that and I wrote it and they liked it so much that they added it in the movie. And so it happened, after reading the script of every movie I get to be part of, I always kind of put a scene or two forward as a suggestion.” you explained with a soft smile “So yes, that does include the second after-credits scene of Ant-Man and the Wasp.”

“It's amazing, isn't it? When I saw it, I felt like it summed up the entire Captain America: Civil War movie!” Chris exclaimed with a wide smile “I think I'm speaking on behalf of all you guys when I say that it was the perfect mix of Infinity War shockers, her being alive and all, and Ant-Man with all the humor that was added into it.”

“And just because we really need to appreciate true art, other than this woman herself, why don't we see it once more and take in the fact that she is just too badass to kill off!” he motioned to the big screen behind you and immediately the scene started playing out.

“Hey Hope, where you been? I've been trying to reach you all day, I've been...” Scott started but trailed off, without really looking up from the computer as Luis kept playing the video game “Oh oh turn it left, turn it left!” he encouraged before completing his previous sentence with a “Worried.”

“Yeah, I see that.” she rolled her eyes, but it wasn't something new “Well, just because you asked, I was out with a friend, talking about some important issues.”

“Friend? You have no friends Hope, the only people you- Ow that was bad! The only ones you know is us, so who were you with...” Scott started but trailed off, his mouth falling open as he stared at the woman that stood next to Hope, you.

“As I was saying, guys, a good friend.” she said with a smile, having gotten used to their acts by now anyway “Although I'm sure you've heard of her, guys, please meet (Y/n). (Y/n) these are Scott and Luis.” she motioned to each man and you smiled at both of them.

“Pleasure to meet both of you, I've heard a lot of things from Hope.” you said with a soft smile. Although you had seen Scott in action as Ant-Man during the battle between Steve and Tony, which you had not take place in, you had not talked to him in person.

“Holy. Shit!” they both said at the same time with wide eyes, gasping at your sight and you thought for a moment that it was because everyone believed you died at the hands of Thanos but it was an altogether other reason after all, as you heard them say at the same time.

“Iron Man's girl!” Luis said in awe.

“Captain America's girl!” Scott said in just as much awe as his friend.

A small breath left your lips and you rolled your eyes, looking at Hope who just shrugged “Well, I'm practically not with either at the moment since I'm supposedly-”

But none of them listened to you as they turned to look at each other.

“No, no she's Cap's girl!” Scott started first but Luis just shook his head.

“No, no no she's Iron Man's girl! Haven't you seen the magazines man? All those photos of them together!”

“No, no no no she broke up with him long ago! In fact, before the battle between Iron Man and Cap! She's not his girl anymore, she's Cap's girl!”

“No, no no no no you don't get it right, see all those articles about those two? And the photos about their dates? They even planned to go on Jimmy Kimmel before the battle happened, to talk about their perfect relationship, I saw it on Instagram.” Luis said back with a smile full of pride.

“Uh technically that was just fake new-” you started but the words died out in your lips as Scott snapped back at Luis, ready to defend his OTP.

“No, no no no no! See, she kissed Captain America before the battle, before he got the whole team together. She gave him his suit and shield back and kissed him, probably good luck kiss, so that definitely makes her his girl!” he raised a finger, pointing out and Hope looked at you with a raised eyebrow as you shrugged, waiting silently for this back and forth to beover between those two.

“And how do you know that?” Luis asked back, a little offended and hurt; apparently he too for his OTP.

“Sam told me.” Scott said with a smirk “She kissed him two times bef-”

“Three” you corrected, earning a raised eyebrow rom Hope that made you shrug once more, and looks from the two men in the room “It was technically three.” you cleared your throat, offering a small nervous smile.

“Three!” Scott exclaimed with a wide smile “She kissed Captain America three times, that definitely makes her his girl!”

“No, no no no no no!” Luis shook his head “Let me break it down to you. Come here, I'll explain!” and so they just ignored the two of you as each of them tried to find as many reasons as possible to defend their opinion on who you were dating, at least according to them.

Many “No”s later, and with you and Hope sitting and just staring at them and shaking your head in disbelief as you heard Luis say “See this video? It insists that she's even pregnant with his baby! And it has proof!”

“No, man, that's just conspiracy theories. She's not craving pickles, is she? No! So that means fake! But see this one here? It's about her meeting with Cap! And he met her first!”

“And Iron Man met her second!” Luis retorted, as if that was supposed to make a statement and be advantage of Tony's against Steve. You stopped listening after that.

“Just one question...” you started with a sigh, speaking to Hope as neither of you looked away from them for a moment “Do you ever just get out of this room, after an hour around these two, without a headache or do you sometimes-”

“No I don't.” she replied back, just as tired of babysitting as you were at this point “I don't really.” she sighed and you nodded your head.

“Of course you don't.” you sighed, chin resting on your hand just like her “Of course you don't.” you nodded your head, eyes back on them “I'm so glad nobody brought up Loki into all this cause-” but you didn't get to complete that sentence either.

“Loki!”

#avengers #chris evans #robert downey jr #tom hiddleston #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #robert downey jr imagine #robert downey jr x reader #robert downey jr fanfiction #robert downey jr one shot #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston one shot

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averyonelovesjack · 6 years

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right (I)~ daniel seavey and jack avery

requested: yes

I know you probably have a lot to do so it's never a rush and this may be a little weird because I don't have a plot just an idea and if it doesn't work out that's alright! Or if you don't want to do it that's also alright, but maybe a love triangle story? Maybe 2 of the boys like the reader and she likes them both or 1 of the boys and a random guy likes the reader and she likes them both and you can of course choose who she ends up with Sorry that's a complicated idea, but much love!

summary: a love triangle between a girl’s best friend and his band mate.

warning(s): love triangle, cursing

word count: 2947

SIDE NOTE: while writing this, i needed some opinions on what to do, so casually i asked my sisters for some help. well, my twin sister explained an extremely hilarious alternate ending that had us laughing for like twenty minutes. moral of the story is that i had difficulty deciding the ending of this story and yeah i’m sorry. it’s also lowkey left open

My body sank in with time and eventually it was too late to stand up easily. The music of lemonade mouth played in my ear, but my eyes were too tired to look up and watch the final scenes, as it was already dark out and i could barely stay awake.

Beside me laid a sleeping Jack Avery, who had his head rested gently in my lap. My fingers stabilized in his hair, running through it as he slept like I used to do when we were younger. i admired the way the sleeping boy looked so peaceful. Almost as if nothing in his life had harmed him, like he was an innocent, full-hearted, perfect guy.

My eyes traveled from his perfectly curled hair to his nose ring that sat so nicely and attracted me so greatly. I stared at his tiny freckles that spotted his face and looked at his eyes that were so poorly wired that he needed to wear contacts everyday. Although, i personally enjoyed it more when he wore glasses because he did wear them so well.

a tiny smile arrived on my face as i looked at him through the tv lighting. and with that, i closed my eyes and let sleep take over my body.

“JACK FUCKING AVERY GUESS WHAT?” I ran through the house, absolutely excited about the fact that I’d gotten an A on the test that I was absolutely sure I was gonna fail. All thanks to the extra studying that he’d help me get in.

I busted through the door of his bedroom, opening it widely and looking around to see where he was. Instead of my eyes connecting with those of jack’s, they met a beautiful girl sitting in the middle of his bed, his body beside hers. My body bounced backwards, taken aback by the fact that there was a girl our age sitting there with his hand on her leg. Shock was written on my face as I stared.

“o-oh shit, sorry,” i quickly close the door, hurt finding its way through my body. it was pretty obviously something more than just a friendship between that girl and jack. in only the brief seconds i was in there, i had noticed that he was awfully close to her face and his hands were on her bare legs, only covered by shorts (as it was even hot in LA this time of year). She was smiling an awful lot too, and she was gorgeous from head to toe.

My feet moved faster as i left the house, trying to avoid any contact with the boys. It was awkward enough to walk in on Jack when he was with another girl, but to have to face any of the boys and explain why in earth i was sprinting out of their house, that’d be double the embarrassment.

It had been two weeks since the incident. Although Jack and I texted a little bit, our normal conversations carrying on, I couldn’t bring myself to reenter their house. I guess it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but it hurt to see that he finally was no longer my secret. Other girls could see him now. They could see his charm and his kind personality and his handsome looks. I was no longer the only one who could love him in the ways that i did, and what really hurt was that he would love them back, too. He’d give them the love and attention that I’d been dreaming about him giving me since the day i turned fifteen and i realized that it wasn’t just a tiny crush that i could get over.

So when he’d text me to come over, to hang out, to go do things, I’d make myself busy. A lot more time studying and spending time with my roommates. I certainly left my house a lot more, and it wasn’t to just go spend it at his house. I kept myself busy to avoid the dark thoughts that came with the sudden realization.

Today, Jack asked me if I wanted to come over and watch Titanic with him. As much as I loved the movie, it didn’t seem like the right path back to a normal friendship. Instead, I had to run errands at the grove. Buy some new clothes and some new books for school. It was almost summer anyways and the bikini prices would go drastically up in a few weeks. It’s a better sale now.

Nicole, my roommate, was wandering Hollister when I dropped my new sunglasses on the ground. I let out a squeal, silently praying as i bent down to pick them up. Almost like a cliche movie, someone else’s fingers reached down to grab them for me. My eyes wandered up, ready to thank a stranger when they graciously met the eyes of Daniel Seavey, Jack’s band-mate.

“shoulda known it was y/n dropping her glasses,” He let out a laugh, handing me the undamaged pair of shades that i took from him with ease, “how’ve you been?”

i looked at him with a smile, “i’ve been pretty good,” I reply and add, “busy! how about you?”

“fine,” daniel answers, “it’s been boring without you being around as much. i kinda miss your sarcasm.”

“as a normal person does,” I joke, each of us letting out a laugh.

“i was so spoiled with you there. now i see all of these other people and i’ve really started to miss you. i mean, you’re less loud, less obnoxious. much nicer. plus, i could beat you at almost any game-” He tells me.

“other than mario kart” i finish for him and he laughs.

“yeah, other than mario kart. you kicked my ass at mario kart,” daniel nods his head, looking down. it’s quiet between us for a second, “well if you get less busy, call me up. we used to know how to have a good time when jack wasn’t around.”

i nod my head, “i think i will definitely take you up on that offer.”

I sat down in the practically empty coffee shop as I watched Daniel park his car in one of the spots across the street. i got here a little earlier, having my friend drop me off here on her way home from work. Daniel would most likely drive me home after we finish.

The little bell above the door rang through my ears as i watched Daniel sit down in front of me. He sends a smile my way, starting conversation easily, “hey. how was class?”

“fine,” i answer, “boring, but compared to what i was doing afterwards, any class would be boring.”

Daniel laughs at my reference to our little date, “i’m so happy you found some time to hang out.”

“yeah of course. i’ve missed seeing you. all of you, really.”

“i feel like you used to be around all the time and it’s so weird that you and jack aren’t hanging out as much anymore. what even happened?”

i frown at the thought, “i sorta walked in on him and a random girl. a little scarring, especially to my ego.”

daniel nodded his head, “i’ve always known that you like him.”

“not anymore,” i add to his sentence.

“oh? i guess that’s good,” he smiles.

“yeah, not worth the pain. i think there are other guys out there that will make me happier,” i continue.

“you know i’ve had a crush on you since jack first brought you over. you’ve always been off limits, though.”

“not a crush,” i correct.

“what do you mean?”

“a crush is someone that you like, but will never have the chance to have therefore you are crushed,” i explain, “and you have the chance to date me.”

“that’s very bold of you,”

“you want to do something bold or am i going to have to do everything myself?” i smirk.

daniel leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he grinned, “i’m intrigued.”

i shake my head, a laugh leaving my lips as i stand up, moving around the small coffee shop table. I rest my hand on his face and lean down to interlock my lips with his. He’s pleasantly surprised, but lets his hand reach my face. Our kiss was short and sweet. I stepped away, recognizing dani’s rosy red cheeks as i sat back down.

“certainly bold,” He smiles, not quite looking at me yet.

“you liked it?”

“yes, i freaking liked it,” he exclaims, making me laugh, “god, you’re perfect.”

“shut up.”

“whatever, beautiful.”

“daniel.”

“i didn’t say anything, gorgeous.”

“i’m going to leave and pretend this never happened if you say anything else,”

“okay, okay i’ll stop,” he laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. I watched him with a straight face, but couldn’t keep it as he sat there and mumbled, “pretty,”

our little relationship had blossomed over the past two weeks and we bonded nicely together. daniel was quite happy when he saw that i made more time to see him, unlike what i’d done for jack after our little mishap. we didn’t spend much time at home, really, but at fun dates. mini-golf, movie theaters, all the chipotles that you could find in los angeles. it was a funny relationship and we spent a lot of time laughing. we were happy with each other.

today is the first time that i’ve been back to the why don’t we house. i assume that jack understands that daniel and i are dating. we’ve gone back to texting and we facetimed once, but i didn’t mention anything about my new relationship with his band mate. i mean, not that it’s any of his business. he’s already got his own girlfriend, hannah, who i assume is the girl i walked in on.

my head rested in daniel’s shoulder as we were only millimeters apart on the couch. honestly, there was no distance between us because i was practically on top of him. we’d decided on an old comedy, animal house. it was highly inappropriate, but also extremely hilarious. i laughed into his neck as the front door opened. daniel paused the movie and looked to see who it was, mainly to be sure it wasn’t a bunch of murders or fans. either could be deadly.

instead, it was jack, who threw his keys on the hook and walked in. it took him a second, but he recognized me as very close to daniel very quickly. he furrowed his eyebrows and walked over.

“what are you guys watching?” he asks, his voice unsteady, “you haven’t been here in a while, y/n”

i turn slightly red, “animal house.”

“ahh, funny movie,” he gives us half a smile, “you left something of yours here last time, do you want to come to my room and get it?”

“can’t i get it later, the movie’s on,” i make up an excuse.

“i have to leave soon. can you come get it now?”

“jack, you can’t just bring it to me. i mean, what’s the big deal?”

“y/n, come on.” he whined.

daniel’s hand clapped my thigh a little bit as he stood up, “hey it’s fine. i have to go to the bathroom anyways, we can take a break for you to get whatever you left.”

i give him half a smile and stand up as well, forcing a smile and following jack to the familiar room. it was quiet until we got there, when he practically stared me down, “so you and daniel?”

“what did i leave?” i ask.

“nothing, i just wanted to talk to you alone,” Jack tells me, crossing his arms over his chest.

“yes, daniel and i,” i answer his prior question, “what does it matter to you?”

he scoffed a little bit, “i don’t know, y/n. what does it matter to me?”

“what does that mean? you’re mad at me now?”

“it’s been a little obvious, i mean come on, you’re not fucking stupid, y/n,” Jack spits at me, “i have liked you since we were like fifteen.”

confusion split my brain as i stared him down. i was angry; beyond angry, furious. where did he get the right to mess with my heart like that? to either a, watch me fall for him for several years and do nothing but get another girlfriend and later on claim he likes me, or b, recognize that i’d been in love with him and take this opportunity to lie and embarrass me? he can’t just pretend that he likes me when he has a girlfriend, it’s not fair, “no you haven’t, jack.”

“yes, i have. i don’t know where you want the proof, but if there’s anything to show, i’ll show you,”

“jack, you have a girlfriend. the girlfriend i walked in on. you don’t like me. you’re just jealous that i’m finally happy with daniel.”

“i don’t have a girlfriend, y/n. hannah was a one time thing and nothing happened. she was sweet and i was sick of being alone. i thought you didn’t like me anymore and i had nothing to lose.”

“you waited three years to tell me this. you waited three years and watched me like you for the longest time and decided to do nothing. finally, when i find a little light in my life, when i get someone like daniel to like me, you decide it’s time to admit this? i am happy now, jack. i don’t know if you see that, but he makes me happy,” I scoff at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

Although I figured that I portrayed myself as knowing that I wanted to be with Daniel, I wasn’t quite sure. Being in this relationship with him, it’s been nothing other than fun, but it wasn’t anything serious yet. Then again, we’re still young and we have nothing but time. And he’s extremely sweet and knows me well. He’d only want the best for me. But then there’s Jack. If I choose Daniel, is there any chance of us rekindling our relationship? Is there any chance that we’d become friends again? And if I choose Jack, what does happen to my relationship? when we fight or when we break up? do we know each other too well to date? or is it going to be like we were best friends, but more now? I wouldn’t know unless I tried.

“I can’t believe you,” i break up my thoughts by speaking to him.

“y/n, please give me a chance. you’re not going to regret it. you’re my best friend, i know everything about you. i know your favorite song, both current and of all time. and i know your favorite movie and food and restaurant. i know what you like to do and i know what to do when you’re stressed or have anxiety. i know how you like to study. I’ll be there for you more, i promise. just give me a chance,” It was strange seeing Jack be so needy. He wasn’t usually like this, he didn’t act like he needed anything, even when he was extremely passionate.

“jack, you hurt me when i thought you didn’t like me,” i tell him, “and as much as i want to know what it would be like to be in a relationship with you, i am just getting to know daniel and i really like him. i’m not ready to just drop everything to be with you and i am certainly not ready to hurt him in any way. i’m sorry, because i don’t want this to ruin our friendship. you know that our friendship means the world to me, but for now, this is what i need to do.”

“y/n, please don’t do this,” he tells me, “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you aren’t. i’m still here, i’ll always be ready to go see a movie or go to whichever fast food restaurant you want or if you ever want to help me study, but as friends, jack.”

“y/n,”

“i should go, he’s probably back from the bathroom. we can talk later,” i give him half a smile and walk out of the bedroom, the smile leaving my face. tears nearly slid out of my eyes as i struggled to control myself.

it felt as if the small and narrow hallway walls were caving in on me and i took rigid breaths, unsure of how to regain my control over the situation. it felt impossible that i’d made a decision in that amount of time, especially when i didn’t think i’d ever be able to make it. and if that’s true, then how do i know i made the right decision? how do i know that i didn’t just make the wrong decision and that i will break two guys? how do i know that daniel and i won’t end tomorrow but jack will be too heartbroken to even look at me?

as i reached the end of the hallway, i forced a smile onto my face, looking at daniel who smiled politely, “hey baby, you get what you need?”

i sit down next to him, faking yet another smile and sending him a white lie until i could explain later, “yeah, it turns out it wasn’t mine. probably christina’s or something that she left when she visited.”

“oh, that makes sense,” Daniel tells me, happy as per usual. He leans in, kissing my cheek softly and sending chill down my spine as he presses play on the movie. let’s hope i was right.

part II, part III

#daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #corbyn besson #zach herron #daniel seavey imagine #jack avery imagine #love triangle #why don't we #why dont we #wdw #why don't we imagine #why dont we imagine #wdw imagine #love #triangles #jack and daniel

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cawfulkiller-blog · 6 years

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@ontodeath ordered one short of Mori and Lyon studying and this is what i came up with ~ 1,910 words. hope you like it <3

The laboratory Prince Lyon had set aside for research into dark magic was something amazing. It was re-purposed from one of the smaller guest chambers. As the emperor's health was failing, he had no need for visitors, and the castle contained many rooms besides to house any that may come to pay respects or offer aid.

In peacetime, neither were very necessary. The prince got away with stealing these chambers for his own needs, and he got away with keeping the terrible secret of the horrors performed within only because his researchers liked him well, and he was of a kind and quiet temperament. Such a gentle prince could never do something so vile.

All the books they could find regarding the subject were relocated to these rooms, set upon bookshelves that looked, in Moritura's opinion, far too empty. It was almost too dark to read them, even, in the room, because in their care they had drawn thick curtains over the windows. All guest chambers in the castle overlooked the smaller of the two courtyards, and the flowers were still attended to daily by maids and gardeners. Lyon didn't want them to peek inside and see what was going on.

The real wonderment in the room was elsewhere, naturally, held inside runes and sigils carved in various places. For instance, the door frame to the hallway had carefully scratched runes, carved by the Prince himself. He said it would prevent those who didn't like dark magic from growing curious about this room. In Moritura's excitement she had never noticed if it worked, but if that was Lyon's intent in carving them (she could feel that, at least) then it definitely worked as he said.

Her favorite thing about the laboratory was hidden under a thick tarp. Even though it was out of sight, the circle beneath it gave off waves of an uneasy feeling. Each researcher in the room confessed feeling like they were being watched, even if left alone in the room, and to uncover the circle was to grant any who looked at it a visceral feeling of sickness. It was how they performed most of their experiments. Even though it made Moritura uncomfortable, she knew it to be a great step forward in their field, and each time she was forced to stare at its terribleness, she grew excited for the results they might see next.

Lyon wouldn't let her participate directly in what he called their revolutionary experiments, but Mori never felt as though he was babying her. He still explained each concept and experiment, whether or not she'd be allowed to participate, and asked if she had any suggestions or ideas regarding the theory.

It was the highest of compliments, coming from him. No matter how many times he might have suggested otherwise, it was common knowledge in their little circle that Lyon was the most gifted practitioner of dark magic. He would often deflect compliments or suggest another mage be put on a pedestal, but at the end of the day he spun curses as easily as he drew breath, and it was he alone who seemed the least perturbed by some of the horrors they commit in the name of science.

Mori even swore that she could feel the darkness on him when he was nearby, and she was in the process of testing this hypothesis every interaction with him. Another score against him – he sat down in front of her at the table, and she could feel it, so she raised her head to meet his gaze.

She had been staring, furtive and pointless, at a blank page in a blank book.

“Is that the empty tome I gave you?” the prince asked. He smiled sweetly, shifting to place down a stack of parchments and careful not to spill his cup of tea over it.

“Yeah...” Mori replied. He probably expected her to have filled it by now, but she hadn't so much as touched it in that regard yet.

“Don't know where to start?” He took the words from her mouth with a small giggle, hidden demurely behind one hand.

“That's exactly it!” she said, maybe too enthusiastically. She tried to settle in her chair. “I mean... This is a lot of blank canvas, and I've never written a tome before.”

As far as she knew, neither had any other researcher here, except for Lyon, probably, who was in all likelihood a master at it without even trying.

“It seems like a lot to start with, I know,” he replied. “But you can definitely do it. You just need to figure out what you want it to become, first.”

Mori definitely didn't have that.

“Have you been brainstorming?”

She looked back down to the blank pages opened before her, as she had several times before. She wanted to end with a spell that was uniquely hers, but she also wanted one she could be proud of, one that Lyon would be proud of, too. Those constraints didn't exactly narrow down her options, though.

“I've been trying,” she answered. “But there's so many ideas...”

“I know the feeling,” Lyon responded. He kept a serene smile on his face as he shuffled through the papers he'd put on the table. “I've been writing one of my own, but the methodology is so different to write novelty spells opposed to combat...”

Every word out of Lyon's mouth was inspired, it seemed. Each one gave another glimpse at how brilliant he really was.

“What do you mean novelty?”

Lyon prefaced his answer with a small giggle. “I have no interest in a tome meant simply for hurting some one – as most tomes are made. I see no reason why you can't make a tome meant for healing. We have a methodology for Nosferatu right? So... I've been working on something like that.”

“Can I see it?” Mori didn't mean to ask, assuming the answer would be a flat 'no', but it tumbled out before she could stop it.

Lyon blushed, the gentle smile he usually held faded, and he averted his gaze. “I-I suppose that wouldn't be an issue... Actually...”

He didn't finish his thought before standing and directing her to stay seated, that he would be right back. It felt entirely too long before he returned – Moritura's whole body was wired with excitement at the thought she'd get to see one of his most personal ventures.

When he returned, he placed the book beside her, and quietly moved a second chair to sit next to her, so that they would both be able to look at it at the same time.

The front of the tome was gorgeous, or so Mori thought, but it seemed fitting that such an amazing scientist and the prince himself would have such a pretty tome. She reached to touch it, but he opened it to the first pages before she had the chance.

“I'm a bit stuck myself, you see,” he explained, carefully turning to the next page. “And since very few of the other researchers even agree with me that we can rewrite tomes and create new sigils at our own necessity, I don't expect much help from the others.”

“Oh...” It was hard to believe that some one as brilliant as Lyon might be stuck, too, but at the same time oddly comforting. Certainly this meant he was far from disappointed that she hadn't even begun to write her own tome...

“Anyway,” he continued hastily. “Go ahead and read it. I'm afraid it will probably be above your skill level, but all spells have the same roots, so it isn't inconceivable you'd understand some of it anyway.”

Moritura tried. She didn't need more of an invitation. Unfortunately, Lyon was correct in his assumption. Some of the words and even letters they were written in were completely foreign to her eyes, and though she tried to stumble through mouthing the sentences quietly to herself, it was much more difficult than she thought.

It didn't dismay her, though. Instead, she found herself grinning at the prince's brilliance, and that she was able to bear witness to it. Even...

Halfway through another difficult paragraph she stopped, stared, and pouted. “That's...”

She pointed, very deliberately, at a single word. Lyon's handwriting was crisp and clear, easily legible, and yet he had either smudged a rune here, or... “I think this is mispelt.”

“What?”

Lyon hurriedly pushed into her, rather awkwardly, in order to peer over her shoulder at the word she was pointing at. Mori turned to look at his face. He pouted, too.

“You're... right,” he said. There was disappointment in his voice. “I... I mispelt that.”

His fingers pushed hers out of the way gently, tracing his work again. He murmured something that Moritura couldn't make out before shifting, pulling away from her, and completely turning away entirely.

“Uhm... When you're finished with this, please give it back. I've got some things I should edit in it and...”

He faced her again. “Well, I'm a little embarrassed, but.... I should thank you for your insight, I didn't realize...”

Mori shut the book gently and pushed it onto the table. Almost instantly did Lyon take it back from her.

“Can a spelling mistake really change so much?” she asked.

Lyon's face was pink now. He clutched his tome to his chest and offered an obviously forced smile to her. “Yes, well... That, and I should make sure I haven't mispelt anything else... It... Could really change the meaning or intent behind my actions... In ways that I would have no knowledge of...”

“You still wrote a tome, Prince Lyon. That's so cool!”

“I'm writing a tome,” he corrected, dismissively. “It's still, clearly, a work in progress.”

They stood at the same time. She was wired with excitement and energy and he merely pressed his tome to his chest. She smiled because she thought it was funny.

“I know it's going to be amazing, Your Highness! I just hope I can make something you think is cool too!!”

He chuckled weakly. “Yes, Mori, I'm sure I will... Did, uhm... I just... You...”

Mori's head canted to one side. “It's just a spelling mistake. It's really hard to remember all the runes, plenty of people mess up just reading them.” Mori didn't, though, and Lyon most certainly didn't. “I need to calm down before I start writing, I'm sure I'll have plenty!”

“Right,” Lyon replied, clipping the word off sharply with his teeth. “I, uhm... You'll do wonderful, Mori. I know it.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

She sprung forward then, suddenly, pulling Lyon into a tight, friendly hug. The prince froze. She could feel him stiffen in her arms, but he almost instantly relaxed. She pulled away before he could wrest his arm from in between them and offer a hug back.

“Sorry!”

“I-it's fine. Uhm... I do think I'll step out to the courtyard... I'll be there if you... need me.”

“You're leaving?” Mori looked over to the papers and ink Lyon had been ready to deal with before. “What about..?”

Lyon smiled unconvincingly. “It'll be here for me when I return. Erm... Have a nice day, okay?”

“You too, Your Highness! I'll get right to work!”

#⛼ | one shot ( one kill )#ontodeath #sorry this took so fucking long lmao #i'll reblog it on lyon next time i'm on him #i hope you like it

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heyktula · 6 years

Text

reconnaissance

So, it was my birthday the other week. And as a birthday present to me, I thought it would be nice to revisit the AU for Foxtrot, because it’s been a while since I’ve hung out with those particular disasters. So--please enjoy reconnaissance, a Foxtrot one-shot that gives another perspective on the epilogue of Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo.

It contains (mild) spoilers for Foxtrot, but very little context for said spoilers, so it’s not gonna hurt you to read this if you haven’t read that.

Enjoy!

reconnaissance

(6k, pg-13, contains some drinking, some burlesque, and a pejorative use of the word ‘slut’, courtesy of our resident asshole ginger, who didn’t even lower himself to show up in person)

“Holy fuck, he’s way bigger than he looks in his archive footage.”

Phasma only briefly looks up from her phone. “No, he’s not. And he’s not that big.”

“To you, maybe.” Mitaka takes another drink of his beer, looks across the bar at the behemoth currently leaning against it. He’s buzzed, and he can hear it in the way the words fall off his tongue, loose and casual. “Look at the stage presence on that fucker. Everyone’s staring at him.”

“Everyone into men is staring at him,” Phasma corrects.

Mitaka looks over at her. She’s still staring at her phone, idly flicking through screens, and absolutely ignoring him. “You’re occasionally into men,” he says, a bit petulantly.

She raises her eyebrow at him without looking up. “I’m only into other people when I tire of giving myself orgasms.” She gestures vaguely toward the bar, red lacquered nails glinting briefly in the light. “I know what he looks like when he’s been fucked into a concrete floor, and I assure you, it’s not as attractive as you think.”

“My opinion may differ,” Mitaka mutters into his drink. He swigs the rest of it down, jerkily pushes his chair back. The room is spinning, a bit—but it’s just a bit, so it’s fine. The show hasn’t started yet; he has enough time to sober up if he feels like it. He balances himself with a hand on the back of his chair, closes his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

When he opens his eyes, Phasma is watching him.

“I thought you were the responsible one tonight, Doph.”

“I am,” Mitaka says, pushing his empty drink to the edge of the table. “I left all our credit cards back at Citadel and paid for the rooms in advance.” He gestures vaguely in the last direction he saw his boyfriend heading. “Thanisson only has cash—he’ll burn himself out soon enough.”

“Unless he’s on a winning streak,” Phasma says. She drains her gin and tonic, and pushes her empty glass next to Mitaka’s. “You could get me another, while you’re up there.”

“I might,” Mitaka says. He pulls his cash out of his pocket and checks to make sure he still has his phone. Realizes, after a moment, that Phasma is looking rather pointedly at the wad of cash in his hand. He folds. “I will. Get you another, that is.”

“Thank you,” she says, extending her long legs out into the aisle and resuming tapping on her phone.

Mitaka debates not saying anything, but the beer’s loosened his tongue. “You’re going to give Hux a heart attack.”

She lifts one shoulder minutely, raises her phone and snaps a picture of Kylo Ren at the bar. “That’s the hope,” she says.

“This is a vacation,” Mitaka says, more to himself than to anyone. He scoops up the empties, and heads over to the bar. He’s off-duty. So is she. And he doesn’t need to interfere with whatever she’s doing just to protect Hux’s feelings.

It’s not like Hux has any.

Kylo Ren is still there when Mitaka approaches, sipping at a glass of something clear with a lime perched on the side of it. Mitaka considers saying something, but he’s too drunk to come up with anything even remotely intelligent, so he doesn’t bother opening his mouth. (It’s not like hey, so you’re a legend back at the Citadel, huh? or we heard Hux fucked you into the floor, how was that for you? are good openers for a conversation.) Anyway, Kylo Ren is much bigger than any of them had suspected—easily twice Mitaka’s weight, and towering over him even when he’s leaning up against the bar, so it’s probably in Mitaka’s best interests not to piss the guy off.

Up close, though—Kylo Ren is fucking gorgeous un-masked, even more so than the archive footage at the Knights had indicated. His eyeliner is sharp, winging out past his fake lashes, and he’s wearing deep purple eyeshadow with a gold cut crease and dark lipstick. His hair is effortlessly tousled and falling in waves around his face, longer now than it had been even in the earliest archive footage from his initial recruitment. He’s wearing tight jeans, worn at the crotch and with holes in the knees, and a black tank top cut low in front, exposing a broad muscular chest that’s glittering faintly in the light. There’s an unzipped hoodie slouching down his arms, not doing anything other than exposing his biceps.

Mitaka squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and then opens them again, glad Kylo seems more engrossed in squeezing his lime into his drink than noticing that Mitaka’s been staring.

“What are you after?” asks the bartender. She’s small, ridiculously so, with thick glasses that dominate her features.

“Uh, another pint of that spiced craft beer, and then a gin and tonic for my friend.”

She stares at him for a moment through those ridiculously thick glasses. Mitaka holds firm—if he can hold firm while Armitage Hux screams at him, he’s not going to crumple under an old lady, even if he is halfway to plastered and she’s being very intense about it.

“I’ll find you a bartender,” she says finally, and she turns, gestures to someone at the other end of the bar.

Mitaka breathes a little easier once she’s turned away.

“Are you here for the show?”

Mitaka does jolt this time. The owner of the voice is remarkably close, the voice itself is remarkably deep, and—oh, fucking hell, of course it’s Kylo fucking Ren.

“Yes,” Mitaka says evenly, all the while trying to school his face so that he doesn’t look as though he nearly jumped out of his boots. “Yes, I am.”

“Ah,” Kylo says. He brings his fingers—nails cut short, filed neatly, a dark purple glitter gel that matches his eyeshadow—up to his straw, twirls it around in the glass for a moment. “It’s a good show,” he says. “You’ll enjoy it. First time at something like this?”

The nervous chuckle escapes before Mitaka can clamp down on it, because what the fuck is he going to say? Actually, I work with Armitage Hux—I believe you’ve met? “No,” he says instead. “I’ve seen burlesque before.”

In the light, Kylo’s lips aren’t the black Mitaka thought they were. They’re actually an ombre—near-black on the edges, fading to purple closer to the middle. The purple becomes obvious when Kylo raises the glass, purses his lips around the straw, and takes a drink. He lets go of the straw, and his lips move for a moment.

“What?” Mitaka says gracelessly, and then immediately frowns. Fucking hell, he’s not drunk enough to be this uncoordinated.

“I was asking where you were sitting,” Kylo says, amused.

“Over there,” Mitaka says, vaguely gesturing into the corner. It’s reasonably dark back there, and a good bit away from the stage.

“Pity,” Kylo says. He takes another drink, and then sets his empty glass back on the counter. “Best view in the house is gonna be those couple tables right front and center, so if I were you, I’d go cozy up to the blonde in the red dress.”

“I’ll consider it,” Mitaka says. His voice comes out steady, and he’s very proud of himself for that.

“I’ll cover this round, Maz,” Kylo says. “Put it on my birthday tab?”

“Your funeral,” the old lady responds. She sets a new round of drinks in front of Mitaka.

Kylo grins, and then snags the beer before Mitaka can pick it up. Takes a sip, and then sets the glass down at the bar. “Good choice,” he says, before turning and sauntering away. “Enjoy the show.”

His lipstick has left behind a dark purple print on the rim of Mitaka’s glass.

Mitaka sighs, picks up both drinks, and heads back to his table—which is front, center, and impossible to miss because Phasma is constitutionally incapable of going out somewhere without wearing something memorable.

Tonight, it’s a red dress.

“This is a public venue,” Phasma is saying when Mitaka walks up. She’s still looking at her phone, even though the dude standing right next to her is staring at her, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll take whatever pictures I like.”

“I’m saying,” the guy says patiently. “That I’d like you, as a personal favour, to stop taking pictures of Ben.”

The guy looks remarkably familiar for some reason—curly hair, about Mitaka’s height, looks like he’s at least passingly acquainted with the gym—but Mitaka can’t quite place him. He’s definitely seen photos of him before, though, and recently. Within the last few months. The guy looks—

“Who the hell is Ben?” Phasma asks.

“Hey,” Mitaka says. “Brought your drink, Phas.” He sets the glasses down on the table.

The guy turns, and the reason he looks familiar suddenly clicks in Mitaka’s mind. “The lockscreen,” he says, feeling proud for finally figuring it out. “That’s where.”

The guy’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mitaka says. “It’s just—I’ve seen a picture of you before, that’s all. You’re with the Resistance, aren’t you?”

The guy sighs, extends his hand. “Yeah. Poe Dameron.”

Mitaka shakes out of instinct rather than any actual desire to do it.

“He’s the boss of who takes pictures in public spaces,” Phasma says dryly. “You might want to hand over your phone for inspection.”

Dameron rolls his eyes. “Look, I really don’t need any more shit from you guys. I don’t know what the fuck Snoke is—”

“This has nothing to do with Snoke,” Mitaka and Phasma say in unison.

Dameron frowns. “You are still with the Knights, though? I mean, I don’t recognize you,” he says, gesturing at Mitaka. “But I do recognize you.” He attempts to level another glare at Phasma, but she remains nonplussed.

“We’re not here officially,” Mitaka says, summoning all the diplomacy he can muster. He’s hesitant to sit down, but then, he doesn’t really want Phasma standing up either, so with any luck, she’ll just stay on her phone, and Mitaka can just smooth this over before it gets ugly. “Snoke’s out of town—”

“I know,” Dameron says cryptically.

“—and there’s—there are—just a couple of us here tonight. Blowing off steam.” He cringes the minute the phrase exits his mouth, because fuck, does it ever sound stupid.

“Where’s the rest of you?” Dameron says suspiciously. “Did you bring that ginger—”

“Hell no,” Phasma says.

“It’s just the two of us,” Mitaka says, trying to sound calm. “And my boyfriend, gambling in the back room. Just the three of us.” He sighs, gives up, and sits down. “Hux doesn’t leave Citadel. He’s probably trying to kill himself rehearsing right now.”

“Maybe you’ll be lucky and he’ll succeed,” Dameron says.

“We could always hope,” Phasma says, still not looking up from her phone.

Dameron frowns a little at that. “It’s not like the show was—”

Mitaka surprises himself by interrupting, albeit more plaintively than what he’d intended. “Could we not? Talk about the show?”

“Oh, come now,” Phasma says, and her smile is all teeth. “It was such a lovely followup to Starkiller.”

“Could we not,” Mitaka repeats again. “Please, Phasma. We’re trying to have a day off.”

“And we’re all so very good at it,” Phasma says.

“Look,” Dameron says. “I just need to clarify this, alright? I don’t actually care about whatever internal drama is going on.” He runs his hand back through his hair. “You’re certain that you’re not trying to recruit him back into the Knights?”

Phasma snorts, actually sets her phone down and looks Dameron in the eye. “You think we want Kylo fucking Ren back? Can you imagine the shitshow that would be?”

“I need to sit down,” Mitaka murmurs. Even just the thought of it is making him woozy.

“He’s fucking good,” Dameron says defensively.

“You don’t need to tell us,” Mitaka says, pulling out his chair and sitting down heavily. “We’ve seen literally all of his archive footage—front, back, and sideways. Phasma uses it for training for our dancers, and we showed up tonight, at least in part, because we’d heard the Resistance was performing, and that implied that he would be performing too.” He tips his head toward the backroom. “And because my boyfriend likes to gamble.”

“Well, Maz’s is good for that,” Dameron allows. He hesitates a moment, and then seems to come to a decision. “Look,” he says. “I’m sorry about getting all aggro with you. I’ll make sure your next couple rounds are covered, alright? I just—I just wanted to make sure that Snoke wasn’t pulling some kind of bullshit again.”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Mitaka says. He takes a drink of his beer. The rim of the glass is weirdly sticky, and he regrets not checking it to make sure it was clean in advance of actually drinking. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, looks down at his apparently filthy glass. The glass is clean—it’s Kylo’s lipstick that’s the problem. “To be honest, we’re hoping we can just wait Snoke out until he dies.”

“Or help him along,” Phasma mutters darkly.

“The contracts are that bad, huh?” Dameron asks.

Phasma looks down at her drink, and then back up at Dameron meaningfully. “I’ll need to be drunker than this to talk shop with you, pretty boy.”

“Noted,” Dameron says. “Next round, coming right up.”

“Thanks,” Mitaka says.

“Gotta ask, though,” Dameron continues, cocking an eyebrow at Mitaka. “The lockscreen picture. How the hell’ve you seen that?”

Mitaka grimaces.

“I’ll ask in a round or two,” Dameron says.

Mitaka nods, knowing that he’s not gonna say a goddamn fucking thing.

“Shit,” Mitaka says halfway through the show. “That’s one of ours.”

Phasma sets her empty glass down on the table, looks back up at the stage. “Fuck me, it’s Bastian. I thought he’d quit after Black Sun.”

“Apparently not,” Mitaka says. “Technique hasn’t slipped or anything.”

“Even with all the blacklight bullshit.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Mitaka says. He waits until Bastian’s number ends and the lights come back up, claps even though it’s drowned out by the Resistance group hollering, and then shoves his chair back. “Back shortly.”

By the time Mitaka returns, feeling no more sober than he felt when he had initially stood up, Dameron’s bought another round of drinks. Mitaka takes a deep drink from his immediately—he swears he can still taste Kylo’s lipstick on his mouth, and he’d be a fuck of a lot happier if that would stop happening. “Fuck, I’m wasted,” he says.

“Should have paced yourself,” Phasma replies, setting her phone back on her lap. “Moderation is—”

“Oh, like you would know a damn thing about moderation.”

“I’ll have you know I’m spacing my texts to Armitage out by exactly twenty three minutes.” She smirks. “I can just imagine how fucking furious he is right now.”

Mitaka frowns, brings out his phone anyways. Opens up his text messages, finds Hux’s name, and hesitates.

No, fuck it.

He goes back a screen, texts his boyfriend instead.

Mitaka: Assuming your phone is off.

Mitaka: Thinking of you.

Mitaka: Am reasonably drunk.

Mitaka flips his phone off again, looks back up at the stage. There’s an androgynous performer up there in pants and suspenders, blonde hair up in a short glittery mohawk, and lipstick a screaming bright blue. They’re currently sitting on a small stool—wait, no. Mitaka squints at the stage, because it seems ridiculous that they’re sitting on nothing, and also doing a stocking pull—but no, that’s correct, there’s definitely no chair there, and they’re just supporting their own weight with sheer muscle.

“Okay,” Phasma says. “That’s fantastic control.”

“Shit,” Mitaka breathes. “All this talent—and they’re performing here?”

“I don’t know what you could possibly dislike about this place,” Phasma says lightly. “It’s adorably trashy, and my shoes only get stuck to the occasional bit of floor.”

“I mean, the beer is great,” Mitaka says.

“Speaking of which,” Phasma says. She looks over to the tables where the Resistance dancers are, and holds her empty glass up in the air.

“You’re killing me, Phasma,” Mitaka groans.

“Buck up,” she says. “Still more show left, and you can’t tap out before Kylo fucking Ren performs.”

For a moment, Mitaka’s hopeful that there’s going to be something calmer. Maybe, like, a feather fan piece. A classic striptease. Something that involves long evening gowns and multiple glove reveals, saxophone and violin or maybe some classical piano. Something where he can just drink some water, relax, watch someone get naked—but no. There’s a juggling duo that’s so fast-paced that Mitaka can hardly follow the pins as they tumble, glowing and flashing about four different colours, through the air. It’s followed by a poi piece where the spinning is so fast the performer needs to duck so she doesn’t nail herself in the head with her own poi.

Mitaka pounds a glass of water while his heart is still racing from the poi piece, and somehow, finally, gets to the end of the beers that have continuously been showing up at his table. The next round that shows up is just two gin and tonics, and Mitaka opens his mouth to complain—and then closes his mouth again, because what would be the point? He’s verging on being uncomfortably drunk, and he really doesn’t want to be, because any minute now, Kylo Ren is going to take the stage—

The next piece is a contortion piece. The dancer is small, feminine, and not, under any circumstances, Kylo Ren.

Mitaka sighs, and goes to the bar for another water, trying to ignore the twinge from the headache that’s starting to creep in even though he’s still drunk.

“Well, well, well,” Phasma says.

Mitaka raises his head off his arms. “Hmm?”

She gestures toward the stage, takes an appreciative sip from her gin and tonic.

Mitaka looks.

Blinks.

Kylo Ren is.

Well.

He’s.

“I’m too drunk for this,” Mitaka murmurs.

“Hux is going to eat his own liver,” Phasma says, grinning. “He’s fucking gorgeous, look at him!”

And, holy shit, Phasma’s right—he fucking is. Tall and broad, sparkling in the light with his hair hanging long around his shoulders, spinning a staff in each hand like it isn’t even a thing. He’s hardly wearing anything—black pleather arm guards that cover his arms from elbows to wrists, coming to a point over the back of his hand, black shorts that look like they’ve been painted on his body, showing off his muscular thighs and round ass, fishnets, and—

“Ugh, dance sneakers?”

“I know,” Phasma says smugly. “I’m getting a picture when he comes over this way, Hux would murder him.”

“I might murder him,” Mitaka says.

Kylo’s over on stage left right now, idly spinning one staff in each hand, looking out at the crowd.

“That’s something different with his mouth,” Phasma says suddenly. “He doesn’t smile like that when he’s performing usually.”

Mitaka would roll his eyes—except that would mean he’d have to take his attention away from Kylo for a moment, and he finds that he doesn’t particularly want to do that.

The staves stop spinning, suddenly, and there’s a pause right before Kylo slams the butt end of each staff, one after the other, down on the stage. Another moment of silence, perfectly aligning to a gap in his music—at least Hux would appreciate the timing—and then the staves light up, brilliant LED rainbows that nearly blind Mitaka for a moment before his eyes adjust.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, because Kylo Ren has started spinning the staves again, and holy fuck, the lights are drawing circles and swirls into the air, the afterimages lingering in brilliant rainbow paths behind him. It’s like the poi piece from earlier—only more, so much more, because Kylo is huge, his stage presence as well as his physicality, and there’s something about the way that he paces the stage as though he owns it, spinning one of the staves above his head and the other at his side as he paces all the way to the back of the stage, and then looks out at the audience—looks out at them—

“Oh bloody hell,” Mitaka says, and he doesn’t even have time to push his chair back before Kylo is running full tilt at them, actually jumping off the stage like a fucking gazelle, landing on the table in front of them, and then just as quickly stepping onto their table—so close to Mitaka that Mitaka could reach up and touch his calf—and then onto the table behind them before stopping, looking up, and—

—holy fucking shit, tossing one of his illuminated staves up into the air, tipping his head back, and feeding the other one right down his fucking throat.

“That’s right,” Phasma says. “Right down your throat, big boy.”

Mitaka watches in shock as Kylo reaches up, catches the other staff as it falls, holding it up above his head. He’s seen the sword-swallowing before on the archive footage, he knew Kylo could do it, but there’s a massive difference between watching something on professionally edited video, and watching it in a weirdly lit bar as the performer in question swallows a staff while standing on a table in fucking dance sneakers.

He’s up on his feet applauding before he’s even consciously decided to do it, watches as Kylo pulls the staff out of his throat, and then bows, table wobbling underneath him. Mitaka can feel his heart pounding, knows he’s short of breath.

“That was fucking phenomenal,” he says as soon as the applause has died down, and Kylo has loped backstage.

Phasma grins at him wickedly. “I think I see what Hux sees in him.”

Mitaka makes a face. “For fuck’s sake, stop taunting him. He’ll be a nightmare—you know that, right?”

She shrugs. “I thought you guys were like this again.” She extends her fingers, middle crossed over first. “I mean, you forgave him.”

“I’ve got a heart,” Mitaka points out. “You, on the other hand.”

Phasma grins. “It’s not your heart, it’s the thing where you think you can manipulate him into—”

“Aaaaaand that’s enough of that,” Mitaka says. He shoves his chair. “I’m gonna go talk to their stage manager. You coming?”

“No, I’m going to finish—that fucker,” Phasma says, looking down at the table and then down at the floor. “Bastard kicked over my drink.”

“Maybe he’ll buy you another,” Mitaka suggests.

“Your stage manager,” Mitaka repeats, once he’s actually found someone he recognizes. “I’d like to talk to your—”

“Heard you the first time,” the girl chirps. “But we don’t have one, not for a show this size.”

“There were eight performances,” Mitaka says. “No, wait. Nine. Sorry, I’m drunk.”

She laughs a little, and then shrugs. “Still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have one. I mean, Poe likes to pretend like he’s doing it, but honestly, he didn’t need to do shit, he’s just—he’s just here,” she says, as though the end of her sentence wasn’t at all what she’d meant at the beginning. She frowns at him. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Dopheld Mitaka,” he says, extending his hand. “Not here officially,” he adds hurriedly. “Just—personally.”

Her eyes narrow, but she shakes his hand anyway. “Jessika Pava. You a reporter or something?”

“No,” he says, “I stage manage—” And it’s a great time to lie, but he’s drunk, and his mouth just goes ahead and commits to the bullshit coming out of his brain. “The Knights,” he says heavily. “I stage manage the Knights of Ren.”

She stares at him for a moment, and then laughs in his face. “Oh my god,” she says.

“I wasn’t there,” he says tightly. “For the—I wasn’t there.”

She raises her beer at him, takes a swig from her glass. “I mean, that does explain a lot. Oh, and that’s why the blonde lady looks so familiar!” She turns to her right, yells at a group of people. “Karé! You were right!”

“I know!” comes the answering yell. The blue-lipped, mohawked androgynous performer from before swaggers up from where they’d been sitting, drapes an arm around Pava’s shoulders. “He with them too?”

“Stage manager,” Pava says.

Karé’s eyes glint. “Karé Kun,” they say, extending their hand.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Pava says proudly.

“Partner,” Karé corrects, flicking Pava on the nose.

Pava winces, and then grins. Looks over Mitaka’s shoulder. “Hey, Poe, we were just—”

“I fucking lost him,” Dameron gripes, striding over and running his hand back through his hair, still looking around the bar. “He’s probably—no, wait, I see him. Fuck, he’s talking to one of the goddamn Knights again—”

“We weren’t,” Mitaka says. Licks his lips nervously when Dameron turns to him. “Part of the Knights,” he clarifies. “We were separate, before—we’re not—” He sighs, looks over to the bar. Kylo is standing there, leaning in close to Phasma. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. “I’ll just go. I’ll send—I can send—Kylo—” Mitaka stops talking, waves his hand vaguely. “Back this way,” he finishes.

Dameron’s eyes are narrowed. “Are you sure you guys are okay over there?” he asks. “Like, I mean. I don’t care. But.”

“We’re fine,” Mitaka lies. “Everything’s fine.” He smiles like he means it, watches Dameron’s face soften. “Congratulations. It was a good show.”

“Sure,” Dameron says. “I mean—yeah. Of course it was.”

“I’m just saying,” Kylo slurs to Phasma. “You are so stunning.” He’s dressed now, his hoodie actually on and halfway zipped up. His chest is still exposed via the deep scoop neck of his tank top, and his stage makeup has mostly been washed off, fake eyelashes removed—everything gone except for thick black eyeliner around his eyes, a fresh application of lipstick, and the ever-present glitter. He has the same jeans on as he had before, except after watching him put a staff down his throat with hardly any visible effort, Mitaka wonders at the cause of the wear and tear on the knees of Kylo’s black jeans.

As Mitaka watches, Kylo reaches out, touching Phasma’s face, and for some fucking reason, she actually lets him, appears to be genuinely smiling.

Mitaka slows his pace as he approaches the bar, phenomenally fucking confused and trying to figure out if he’s more drunk than he thinks he is. He carefully and quickly touches the tip of each finger to his thumb, fumbles a bit on the fourth finger, but is otherwise quick and accurate enough to know that he’s not trashed, so—what the fuck is happening?

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Phasma says.

Mitaka blinks.

“But you’re a fucking mess right now,” she continues, and Mitaka relaxes fractionally, continues up to the bar. At this rate, he might as well order another drink, it’s not like sobering up is helping him understand tonight any better.

Kylo grins at her, tips his head to the side. “Have I told you,” he asks. “That it’s my birthday today? So if I’m ever entitled to be a mess—I think it’s today.”

“I don’t know,” Phasma says slyly. “You seem like the type of boy that might be a mess a lot of the time.”

“Maybe I am,” he says. “And maybe I’m not. You could find out, if you wanted.”

She reaches up, pats his cheek lightly. “You’re entirely too drunk for me to even consider that.”

Kylo hesitates a moment, and then grins loosely at her. “Good point. I’m pretty wasted.”

“Last thing I need is a case of a whiskey dick,” Phasma continues, and fucking hell, Mitaka really wishes he’d gone to the bathroom instead of standing by the bar beside the two of them. Like—this can’t be a thing. This can absolutely not be a thing, but he knows damn well if they keep pursuing it, he’s just going to go to the back room and collect Thanisson, and—move, or quit, or try working somewhere where his two closest coworkers aren’t sociopaths.

(He’s not going to do any of those things. He’s going to work until he dies, because that’s who he is as a person.)

“I can get it up for anything,” Kylo confides, probably louder than what he actually meant to.

Mitaka is going to die. He is going to dissolve into a puddle, and he is going to die.

“But I am pretty fucking drunk,” Kylo continues. “And it’s probably better if—yeah.” His face darkens for a moment, and then clears, easy smile reappearing like the sun from behind clouds. “Lemme buy you a drink, though, gorgeous? And I’ll get one for him too.”

Phasma turns. “Oh, Mitaka. You’re back.”

“Wish I’d stayed gone,” he answers ruefully.

Phasma grins viciously at him. “But I’m having such fun right now.”

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Two of us,” Kylo answers, handing a pint over to Mitaka, and then a gin and tonic to Phasma. “And I bet I can make it three.” He extends his own pint somewhat unsteadily in a toast. “To good drinks, and better company.”

“To an unparallelled ability to deepthroat,” Phasma says, grinning.

Mitaka winces, raises his glass wordlessly, shakes his head minutely when Phasma raises her eyebrows.

Their glasses clink together heavily, and they all drink.

“I think Dameron was looking for you,” Mitaka says after he’s swallowed.

Kylo grins at him. “Thanks, man. I’ll go track him down.” He takes a couple unsteady steps away, and then turns back. “Hey, if y’all are ever in D’Qar—look us up.”

“We’ll see,” Mitaka demurs. He waits until Kylo has—rather drunkenly—wandered off before turning to Phasma. “Seriously?”

She’s still watching Kylo walk away. “He’s really something, isn’t he.”

“Please tell me you weren’t filming that.”

“Of course not,” she says, and she tips her phone toward Mitaka. “Just taking a couple pictures.”

Fuck, the man even looks good in candids.

Mitaka takes another drink of his beer. “Did you bother telling him you’ve been texting pictures of him to Hux all night?”

“Also video,” Phasma says absently, tapping away on her phone. “I managed to get the staff swallowing. And no, I didn’t.”

Mitaka pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not even sober and I can feel my hangover happening.”

“Well, isn’t that unfortunate for you.” She glances down at her phone again. “Oh, he’s so pissed. Goddamn, I love how reliably he falls to pieces.” She considers a moment. “Should I bother telling him that Kylo is currently grinding with some girl on top of a table?”

“There’s no need to make things up,” Mitaka mutters into his beer.

“That’s the glory of Kylo Ren,” Phasma says. She gestures to the other side of the bar, where Kylo is—

—oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Those two fucking deserve each other,” Mitaka says. “What the fuck. Don’t tell Hux I said that.”

“Why not?” Phasma asks. “He’s so easy to rile up.”

“That’s nice for you,” Mitaka says. “You just have to put his ribs back into place. I’m the one that actually needs to get him to work with people.”

“He’ll get it sorted out,” Phasma says. “I mean, how much worse could it possibly get?”

There’s a tug at Mitaka’s sleeve.

He turns, just in time for Thanisson to tackle him in a sloppy embrace, sniff heavily into his shoulder.

Apparently gambling hadn’t gone well.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Mitaka says. He nuzzles at the side of Thanisson’s head. “It’s alright, you’ll have better luck next time.”

“I lost everything,” Thanisson says mournfully.

Mitaka does a quick mental calculation, swallows back his sigh. “Alright, we’ll just—”

“Everything except this ten grand!” Thanisson says, stepping back and fanning out a ridiculous wad of cash.

Mitaka can think of about fifteen things to say—things like holy fuck and don’t wave that around in here, we’ll get robbed and how many people did you cheat and, primarily, what the hell—but he doesn’t say any of them, just looks at his boyfriend blankly.

Thanisson grins at him, all dimples and freckles. “I did good, ‘taka! Drinks on me! Let’s get some food! And some shots!” He shoves most of the cash into Mitaka’s hands, and stands there, bouncing on the balls of his feet a moment.

“You did well,” Mitaka manages finally, and Thanisson grins, wide enough to nearly split his face open.

“I’m gonna grab us shots!” Thanisson says, and then he’s off to the other end of the bar.

“Oh my god,” Mitaka says quietly, trying to fold the cash and jam it in one of his pockets. It doesn’t go gracefully, and he fumbles trying to split it into two stacks, regrets that he’s not wearing a jacket with additional pockets. “He’s never won that much before, I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Absolutely never,” Phasma says. “How the hell much did you send him in there with?”

“Two grand,” Mitaka says. “I sent him in there with two grand and he made it into ten.”

Phasma grins. “Well, there you go. You’ve got an alternate career—another alternate career—if you—oh, haha. Hux is back at his phone.”

“Do I even want to know?” Mitaka asks.

She chuckles, tips her phone toward him, and it’s just—holy hell, it’s a wall of text, with a series of phrases jumping out at Mitaka.

—fucking knew he was a goddamn slut—

—telling you for years—

—never listen—

—no way I’m getting in touch—

—why would I—

—ruined my career—

—are you fucking high—

Mitaka hands Phasma her phone back. “How long’s that rant been going?”

“Since I sent him the video,” she says. “I’ve got—eighteen minutes left before I send another text. I think this candid, huh?” She tips her phone back toward Mitaka.

It’s a candid of Kylo walking away from them. His ass looks fantastic.

“You know what,” Mitaka says. “I’m just gonna leave you to that. I’ll just … not get involved.”

“Suit yourself,” Phasma says, grinning. “I’m sure the next text is just gonna be more of the same, but it’s only midnight and he doesn’t sleep until four, so there’s all kinds of time for things to devolve.”

Mitaka rolls his eyes, takes the shot Thanisson offers him and sets it down on the bar, where hopefully he’ll just completely forget to drink it.

Thanisson tosses back his own shot and grins at him again, all dimples. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Oh, hey. Was Kylo Ren any good?”

“Yeah,” Mitaka says. “He was quite good, actually.”

“Magnificant,” Phasma says wickedly, holding her phone up and taking another photo.

Goddamn, does Mitaka’s head hurt—and it’s gonna hurt worse if he goes back to Citadel tomorrow like they’d intended. “Hey, so. Thanisson. How’d you—how would you—feel if we … stayed here a couple extra days?”

“Work thing?” Thanisson asks. He licks some of the salt off the rim of his glass.

“No,” Mitaka says, telling the truth.

The eyebrow Thanisson raises at him indicates that he should have lied.

Phasma looks down at her phone, and chuckles.

Thanisson looks over at Phasma, back to Mitaka, and then to Phasma again—or, more specifically, to Phasma’s phone. “Oh,” he says. “I get it. Phasma’s riling Hux up and you wanna give him a couple days to cool down, so you’re faking that it has nothing to do with work so that I’ll go along with it.”

Mitaka rolls his eyes. “You could just let me pretend I’m giving you a vacation.”

“You don’t take vacations,” Thanisson says. He licks more salt off the rim of his glass, and then leans up against the bar and snuggles up against Mitaka’s side. “Thank you, though.” He leans into Mitaka’s ear. “Daddy.”

Mitaka can feel himself blushing furiously, and does not make eye contact with Phasma, instead looking out across the bar where Kylo Ren has the poi performer up on his shoulders, and glassware be damned because there’s no way she’s not dropping at least one of her pints in the next thirty seconds—

“Wait,” Thanisson says, following Mitaka’s gaze. “That’s the guy Hux fucked?”

“That’s him,” Phasma confirms. “Your boyfriend is into it, incidentally.”

Thanisson makes a face, and a disgusted noise.

Mitaka sighs. “Could we please never discuss Kylo Ren again?”

Phasma looks down at her phone. “Oh, for sure,” she says. “But that would mean I’d have to keep this latest batch of Hux texts to myself …”

Mitaka picks up the shot he’d been trying to abandon, and tosses it back. It burns all the way down his chest into his stomach. “Go ahead,” he says, regretting it already. “Show me.”

#kylux #kylux fic #ktula writes #fic: foxtrot uniform charlie kilo #fic: reconnaissance #i missed these fuckers so much #they are such assholes #and i love them all #like #phasma #you are being such an asshole right now #ben #you are a mess #hux #who even knows what the fuck you're doing #mitaka #you were a surprisingly fun viewpoint character

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casuistor · 6 years

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Did you listen to the NY demo songs of the musical that were put online recently? Some of the songs that weren't officially released are now available. Was wondering if you have any thoughts about them... Adrienne Warren's Misa in I'm Ready sounds v different compared to Fūka Yuzuki!

I am so happy the NY Demo got leaked tbh, I’ve been listening to it nonstop for the last couple of days and lemme just say – even though I don’t fully agree with all the characterization choices, the demo is gorgeous ;~; THANK YOU for the excuse to ramble about this, haha.

I’ll outline my thoughts on the songs that weren’t released previously under the read more, but just keep in mind that these are just some quick opinions on the songs rather than my thoughts on the demo vs the final versions of the songs b/c then this would be writing for weeks and nobody wants that textwall, haha.

…I say this is going to be abbreviated and then it turned out long-ish anyway.

Where is the Justice?

Yes I know this was released previously, but the version that was officially released cut a minute out from the song, so I’m commenting, fight me.

While I think the song is overall too focused around the issues with the criminal justice in America for a story that is supposedly set in Japan, I think the verse that was removed was more reflective of the sorts of things Light in canon might think.

That said I don’t fully agree that Light would argue that “draining the color from within until we’re back to seeing black and white and wrong and right again” is actually a good thing, especially considering canon Light does evaluate mitigating circumstances in his evaluation of who is guilty.

Overall, I think the song does a good job of establishing Light’s character as a kid who, despite having some deeply flawed views about justice, does genuinely care about fairness and has his heart in the right place.

To this day though, I’m not convinced that manga! Light is the kind of kid who would spark this debate in his classroom. He very much seems to be the kind of person who keeps his cynicism about the world to himself. If you ask me, his “ic” response would be more along the lines of “sure, the justice system isn’t perfect, but it’s our job as the next generation to keep improving it, isn’t it?” But that doesn’t make a cool song, lmao.

Hurricane

Yes, this one was also leaked before, but you’re not stopping me from talking about Weather Metaphors The Song™ now that it’s out in HQ.

Why. WHY.

I think the problem I have with this song is that there’s really not much character development during this song. Light is just immediately sucked into a power fantasy and this is really… not reflective of Light’s character in the series.

I’m Ready

LOVE. FUCKING LOVE ADRIENNE WARREN’S VOICE.

But i really don’t agree that Adrienne is a good casting choice with Misa. I LOVE her voice and her singing, but she’s… too much of a power house and Misa is just not that at all. Misa needed to be bubbly and radiate cuteness rather than maturity.

Hearing this rendition of Misa really made me understand why the Korean production went the direction they did with Jung Sun Ah’s Misa though, and it comes as much less of a headscratcher now.

I think these lyrics are also not PG enough for Misa’s idol image which sounds ridiculous b/c it’s overall a pretty tame song, lmao

Specifically it’s lines like “let me kiss you and then let me kiss you again” that are maybe not… squeaky clean enough for the image that idols in Japan have to project.

We All Need A Hero

Perfection. Absolute perfection. I love that they threw in that dumb light pun lmao.

Honestly this almost made me cry and I wish I knew who sings this song as they were the perfect Sayu singing voice. Young, sweet, optimistic, sincere sounding? Nailed it. (Edit: I am told that the singer is Laura Osnes)

I am VERY much intrigued by the fact that this song was written as a solo in the NY Demo as opposed to the odd duet that it became in the final version. This makes much more sense to me and avoids weird/creepy parallels between Sayu and Misa that the final version forced by making it a duet.

The Game Begins

I am so distracted by the line “for even the perfect crime has the perfect flaws” because this is just not logically coherent.

ON LESS GRIPEY TERRITORY – having the whole demo did put into perspective for me why the Weather Metaphors had to be, and I think it’s because they may have been going for a nature vs machine type of theme… and while I can appreciate it poetically (?) I just don’t agree that it fit thematically with the character of L and Light.

Like why… does L keep making tech metaphors? Is this supposed to be a quirk of his the same way that the posture/diet is? I think in a way this was poorly executed and characterization was ultimately sacrificed in favor of poetic analogies.

The literal first line “empty your mind of any feelings” is very unlike L to do. L is a detective who works heavily based on his intuition and his gut instincts. He did not tackle the Kira case like a super computer interested in objectivity and eliminating bias. That’s just not what happened in canon.

I stand very much corrected on these lyrics as they are “empty your mind of any theories.” My bad, I don’t have the best ear for lyrics. But that said, doesn’t this contradict the fact that he already took an action based on a theory with the LLT plan?

Overall I think this song took too many poetic liberties with L, and tried too hard to make him sound intelligent by throwing in “smart sounding words” like ~calculus~ and ~evolution~ even though those words didn’t actually make that much sense in the context he was applying them in?

“A stronger mind and evolution determines who wins the game” – for example. Evolution and adaptation aren’t synonyms, but he uses them as such anyway and this kind of clumsiness, though very lyrically pretty, is a bit… idk, not quite what I associate with L myself.

In terms of the overall performance – lovely. My issues are 100% the lyrics on this one. Jarrod Specter performs fantastically.

There Are Lines

Fight me this song is best song and I honestly did not like this song much in the final version of it.

J’ADORE how salty Soichiro is about L’s method of offering up Lind L Tailor as a decoy. His anger seems so genuine and believable in this, and I love how it’s so obvious that he has no idea that this is applicable to Light too, since they don’t force that dumb “KAMI NI NARU!!!!” line to ram the subtext down your throat. (… I say as I claim that I wasn’t going to talk about comparisons to the final Japanese songs, ahem).

That said, was Soichiro actually that salty about L’s tactics there with LLT in the manga? No. At least not to the extreme that he lost a lot of respect for L for it. In fact, manga!Soichiro seemed impressed by the results L achieved and didn’t really seem to dwell on the moral implications of L’s actions.

tl;dr not the most ic or canonically based interpretation of Soichiro, but I am standing by this man.

Personally, I think this is an improvement on the character AND LET ME JUST SAY THIS SONG MADE ME REALLY WISH THEY’D ADAPTED THE YOTSUBA ARC IN THIS MUSICAL??? Can you imagine this song as a reprise as Soichiro shoots Light while they’re in the car?

You’re welcome

Secrets and Lies

I cannot emphasize how much I love when Soichiro calls out L for his awful morals in addition to calling out Kira’s. This is so nice -w-

I am also deeply enamored with the fact that L also outright says “I don’t care who gets hurt now, as long as I get one more shot” because fucking yes – L is so brazen about this in the manga, and most adaptations try to sweeten his attitude.

I enjoy that it is constantly reinforced that neither Light nor L are in the right because there are constant parallels between the two and the two are criticized by the narrative.

Mortals and Fools

“What I see in your eyes is a counterfeit emotion” – the truest thing ever said about the manga!Misa’s feelings about love.

Admittedly, Demo!Rem annoys me as a character though. It’s not a problem with casting – Carrie’s singing is lovely and I think they made a good choice there. This is a bit of an aside I guess, but I just don’t understand how it is believable that Rem actually romantically fell in love with Misa as the song “When Love Comes” implies after all this love is for mortals and fools lark and Misa… doesn’t really seem to do anything to win Rem’s love in a romantic sense of it. Platonic love I can squint and buy certainly, but not romantic based on the contents of “Mortals and Fools”, “Borrowed Time,” and “When Love Comes.” Maybe something in the actual script/dialogue justifies it? But with the material available so far, I’m not seeing it.

I think also Demo!Rem’s fixation on the notion of love is something that’s… overexaggerated from her more subtle curiosity over the issue in the manga. I just don’t think I’d agree that the melancholy tone demo!Rem has when she says she tries and fails to really understand love as an emotion is true to the manga. Manga!Rem seems to have a more “god Misa, I get this is important to you but could you maybe slow down” kind of vibe to her. Melancholy doesn’t really seem to be it, exactly.

For the sake of clarity – the issue I have is not that Rem’s character was changed from the manga to make her develop romantic interests in Misa. That is perfectly a-okay and it’s actually pretty cool that they went this route with demo!Rem.

My issue is that from a narrative perspective, Rem’s character development in the demo seems underdeveloped and not optimally executed given that she is a) literally not human and b) as she herself points out is a shinigami who fundamentally does not understand why humans idealize romantic love.

Shinigami themselves in the context of this musical are not shown to idealize love within their own culture. Ryuk and Rem both seem to find it funny or baffling/futile indicating that this is not a culture that parallels human culture in its zealous overvaluation of romantic love as a be all end all goal of life. Shinigami, according to the musical’s own internal logic, are not amatonormative..

My pet peeve exists specifically because it is somewhat frustrating to me, an aroace person, when even non-humans who were very firm on not relating to romantic love (and yes, “Mortals and Fools” makes Rem come down more strongly on that side compared to “Zankoku na Yume”) and have no reason to inherently want to experience or idealize romantic love the same way human society normalizes it for humans, starts extolling the virtues of romantic love as the pinnacle of interpersonal relationships.

I can fully respect that this is not a pet peeve that most other people will have, or even be inclined to view from this perspective and that to many, none of these things matter and that’s fine! Just keep in mind that I would find this just as pet peeve-y if Rem were a male shinigami and would have no problems whatsoever with any of this had Rem been a human girl or if shinigami culture as a whole been portrayed differently in the musical itself. Also please note, I am only speaking for myself. I’m sure other aroace folk will have different opinions as well. Ironically enough, Rem in the final live version, I can more readily see as developing romantic feelings for Misa precisely because “Inochi no Kachi” was written the way it was and it is a damn shame that that is not the direction that was eventually taken with the character in the live productions as they seem to view Rem as having more maternal instincts. (…which, I’d again disagree is an inference of the manga, as I do think Rem’s feelings about Misa were very platonic in a ‘friends’-ish way rather than a parental way.)

tl;dr All I’m saying is that I think demo!Rem should have gotten more charater development, and it is a shame that she did not.

On a performative note – it is really odd that Rem’s voice is higher than Misa’s. I don’t think I’d make this call.

Borrowed Time

Adrienne delivers yet another killer performance!!

I know I said I wasn’t gonna make comparisons but I have to say that between “Borrowed Time” and “Inochi no Kachi” Borrowed Time is just so much more IC for manga!Misa.

I’m glad they based this song around something Misa actually said in the manga since that line “Just kill me. I was supposed to die that day anyway” is actually something that stuck with me for a very long time since it says so much about where Misa was in her life.

In the end, I guess I find it more convincing that Misa would be singing a song more centered around herself than singing a less me me me focused song about the virtues of sacrificial love as she ultimately is a person (in the manga) who is pretty selfish and focuses mostly on her own perspective.

Which is not to say that demo!Misa is really reflective of manga!MIsa because I don’t think that’s the case at all.

The Way It Ends

Blurgh more machine/tech metaphors and analogies from L…..I still don’t like this, sorry. He does not view himself as a robot in the manga, so it just comes out of left field for me.

I think the part of this song that lets me down is Jeremy’s delivery. He’s not !!!!!!! enough for what is supposed to be a victorious moment for Light. He has so much less energy and power than he did when he was singing Weather Metaphors, and it really shouldn’t be that way in my opinion.

On that last “a minute more.” Jeremy sounds weirdly remorseful, though I guess it’s hard to interpret the exact emotion behind that without an accompanying facial expression.

But speaking of delivery holy shit, Jarrod’s delivery as L is spot on. I’m kinda stunned by the range of emotion in his voice for this one: confusion, defiance, anger and that hint of regret that his life is coming to an end as he goes into “like a closing door.” It’s so… good??????

Overall I think the NY Demo is lovely and it has made me really happy to be able to listen to it after years of wondering what on earth it was like, lmao.

I know it sounds like I have a ton of gripes, but just keep in mind that a) even I consider these gripes pretty minor and they didn’t really hurt my enjoyment of the demo as a whole, and b) I think that adaptations have every right to make changes and take creative liberties with their source material. It’s important to do that in order to keep material fresh and bring in new thoughts and perspectives to the original.

#Anonymous #asks #death note musical #anonymous

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chelsdavisart · 6 years

Text

Enderal Character Ask + Expression Practice

Drawing Mom and thinking about what a full-blooded Arazalean person might look like led to me trying to figure out what a half Arazalean person might look like... so I put some more work into Wren’s design. Had lots of fun. Enderal Character Ask – Fill it out yourself or reblog as is to use as an ask meme.

Have fun! <3

—————————————

1. The basics – name, age, etc… Wren Peakdasher, age 27, she/her. The last name she chose to replace one she hated.

2. Describe their appearance. Half Arazalean, 5’6” tall, athletic build; dark, eternally messy hair. Gray-ish blue-ish eyes. She bears her mother’s sharp features (dulled by her Nehrimese blood) and her father’s coloration. She has ample arms and hips; minimal chest.

(Blank survey here; the rest of my answers are under the cut.)

3. How do they like to dress? Wren dresses for comfort and practicality. She doesn't like to wear garments which restrict her movement. She’d be really into sweaters. She likes pretty things, but wearing them is rare.

4. Do they have any markings (scars, tattoos, birthmarks)? Wren has an old, blurry tattoo on the inside of her left wrist- the crest of her owner.

5. What are they like?: Neutral good. Wren is extremely reserved around most people. She /hates/ crowds. She will often flinch at unexpected touch. When she is angry, she becomes quiet and cold. Please don’t yell at her. Loves the outdoors- absolutely would sleep in the woods every night if the local wildlife in Enderal wasn’t going crazy. She’s stubborn. She can forget that she needs to take care of herself- she’s inclined to get the job done without rest. When someone has stuck around her long enough, or takes the shortcut of showing intentional interest in her thoughts, Comfortable Wren™ is unlocked. She laughs! She jokes! She offers pretty things! She protects, trusts, and forgives!

6. How would they describe themselves? Who’s asking?

7. Education level? She has a street education. She can read and do basic maths. She likes ideas. It’s very important to her that each person be able to hold their own ideas- and that those should not be controlled by another person. One of her strengths is a high level of emotional intelligence. She is good at reading and understanding people. Motivation is very important to her.

8. What are they proud of in themselves? What are they embarrassed about? Wren’s very good at running and she’s pretty proud of that. She’s good at survival, as well. She’s embarrassed of how she pushes herself too far. Mostly because it means admitting to other people that she has limits, but also because it means she has to recover, which takes longer than just resting in the first place.

9. Do they know any languages other than Inal? She learned some sign language as part of one of her odd jobs for the Creator’s Temple, some more for communicating silently with Sirius. She knows mostly very polite and very rude signs.

10. What, if any, aspects of their mother’s culture influenced them growing up? Her lullabies were the ones her mother learned on the Steppes of Arazeal. She still hums them when she’s nervous or comforting others. A very simplified version of her mother’s philosophy sank in. “People should be able to decide for themselves what they believe.”

11. Name a song (or a few) that remind you of them. ...I have an enormous playlist for her. Of note… Big Houses by Squalloscope Open by Regina Spektor Run Boy Run by Woodkid Twenty Seven by MS MR Blindness by Metric Rabbit Heart by Florence + The Machine

12. Speaking of songs, can they sing? What is their voice like? How about instruments? She hums to herself and she doesn’t sing around other people unless they’re very safe. Not sure how it sounds.

13. What was their life like before coming to Enderal? Wren’s family burned when she was quite young. She survived on her own for a couple of months, but was scooped up by slavers. She was given her master’s surname, Guthran. She does not remember her father’s name and doesn’t care to. She was an absolute terror of a child after being enslaved. She still has a foul mouth and a defiant streak. Wren hunted rats in warehouses as a child and, when old enough to go out, graduated to hunting game for her master’s table. The sense of freedom this job gave her was vital. She was able to keep herself happy that way.

14. How did they decide to leave Nehrim? During the revolt, Wren was obliged to protect her master. She thought she was going to die, but she didn't. She decided then that if she got a chance to get out, she’d take it. That chance came two years later.

15. Describe their relationship with Sirius. They became friends when they hunted rats together in the warehouses. They helped each other stay alive in the hard times, celebrate the good times, and cope with the weird times.

16. Who do they blame for what happened to their family? The Lightborn, indirectly. Directly, the men she saw that day.

17. Apart from stowing away, have they ever broken the law? She’s an escaped slave, for one. Other than that… yeah, probably. But only the dumb laws.

18. How honest are they? Under what circumstances would they lie? She is honest when that is needed and dishonest when that is needed. There are a lot of things more important than the correct answer to “which way did they go?”

19. Worst memory(s)? Best memory(s)? Worst memory, aside from her family burning: her entire adolescence. Good lord. Best memory: recently drew this one. Making daisy chains with her mother one afternoon, listening to stories of Arazeal and talking about how they’d go back together.

20. Fight, or flight? FLIGHT

21. Describe their combat style. Sneaky pew pew

22. Have they ever killed before? What is their reaction to combat? Wren has killed before and she hates it. That’s why she prefers ranged- it’s less of a sickeningly tactile engagement with her prey.

23. How do they react to having magical abilities? Do they use them? “Well shit, that’s weird. Oh gods why does it hurt?” She does not like using magic. She avoids the school of restoration entirely- gives her a headache.

24. What do they think of Enderal? It’s gorgeous. She wants to explore /all of it./ She heard a rumor that there might be an actual real dragon somewhere and she is SO EXCITED. She was delighted to learn that there technically is no slavery here. Well. There’s nothing that is /called/ “slavery” here. Let’s be honest with ourselves- there are slaves. Wren is severely disappointed to find that crucifixion is practiced here. Crosses freak her out and she does not like that she keeps running into them.

25. Did they do the Biggest Egg Hunt Ever quest? HECK YES SHE DID. IT WAS AMAZING.

26. How do they feel about joining the Order? What do they think of Arantheal? That was very “no.” She did not like joining The Order. She does not want to represent the damn Lightborn. She thought she didn’t have a choice, but then Jespar got to stay without doing the quest? Rude? Tealor Arantheal is a big, old guy who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone and he’s got a lot of pride in his bones. He was nice enough at first, but he just kept getting worse. He does not have the same values as Wren- not even in the same neighborhood- and she does not like him at all.

27. What is their opinion of the gods (or lack thereof)? “The gods” watched as horror after horror took place in her home. “The gods” watched as the men from the so-called temple burned her family while she hid. They did nothing to stop it- not even for sister. These “gods” allowed her to be enslaved and they laughed at her every hardship. If they were gods, if they were even real- good riddance to them. The world could use a few less “gods” like that. This is an opinion she keeps to herself.

28. Wine, or pipe? Pipe. She started while friends with Sirius; uses it as a kind of escape.

29. Do they spare or arrest Hallys, the farmer-turned-bandit in the quest, Deus Ex Machina? Why? She freed Hallys and returned the money to the food bank. He made a stupid choice. That doesn’t mean his family deserves to starve.

30. What are their feelings and opinions about the Undercity? Wren belongs in the Undercity. If she didn’t have this Prophet shit going on, she’d have been immediately shuffled down there with the rest of the people Ark doesn’t care about. Wren is very angry about the Undercity. If she ever actually gets in a fight with Arantheal, it will be over the Undercity and its people.

31. How do they react to the beggars of Ark? Wren stops to give them a coin if she has some. She might not have much, but that little bit could mean a great deal to them. She doesn’t need a lot, anyway.

32. Where and how do they spend their time when in Ark? Wren wanders a lot when in the city. She likes to find the quiet places.

33. What would they do with three wishes? Not be the prophet. Save the world somehow while not being the prophet. Turn Arantheal’s stupid beard green.

34. How do they feel about death? Do they fear it? She has a working relationship with death. There have been some very uncertain times in her life. She doesn’t fear death as much as she fears pain.

35. What (else) do they fear? Pain for herself and for those she cares about. Loneliness. Her dreams.

36. Do they have any secrets? Several! For example, she hides her tattoo under her gloves. She does not utter that horrid name. She does not admit to anyone that she is anything other than free.

37. How is their behavior around people they like? People they dislike? Warm, and cold. She becomes more physically affectionate toward people she's comfortable with. Hugs and such. She is extremely withdrawn from those she dislikes and she doesn't care to hide it.

38. What is their relationship with the companions? Who, if anyone, did your prophet romance? Calia quickly takes on a “younger sister” role in Wren’s life. Wren loves Calia dearly and would change the stars if she could to make her happy. They have different beliefs, but similar values. Wren respects the heck out of Calia and will fight anyone who tries to get in the girl’s way. Wren’s relationship with Jespar is better described as a “bromance.” Good times, challenging each other to be better, late night conversations about life- that kind of thing. They have different values at times, but are able to talk about those differences. They come to respect each other. Wren is very fond of him, but is unlikely to understand this as attraction without someone else’s help (Wren is on the asexuality spectrum). So- if he brings it up, maybe they will get together. If not, she’ll still be happy. Hopefully, he will be happy, too.

39. Was there any non-companion character that they were close to? That they particularly disliked? Lishari- Wren formed a quick friendship with her. They had a lot in common and Wren felt she could trust her. Firespark- Wren didn’t know she needed a sassy uncle, but she really did, and she treasured every insult. He gave a shit about her when others would have sent her straight to the Undercity and she’s grateful. Archmagister Merrayil- He is very patient with Wren’s frequent questions and, though he is a very busy person, he always takes time to chat. Magistra Yaela- honestly, what a joy of a person. There’s just something special about people who talk about their field with passion. Kurmai- Wren really liked Kurmai. They bonded over eggs. It was good. Why, dude, why?

40. How do they feel about myrads? YES. VERY YES. Wren’s favorite myrad is the angel who nests in South Ark. She goes to talk to this myrad when she is sad or can’t sleep.

41. What dreams or ambitions did they have before coming to Enderal? What about afterwards? Survival, honestly, is pretty near the top for all of this. But also- she just wants to make things a little less shitty for other people if she can. She couldn’t help before. Maybe she can now.

42. Do they like cities? Or do they prefer the country? Is there a region of Enderal that they like or dislike more than the others? NO to cities. Wren absolutely loves the Goldenforst. It’s so beautiful. She’s built a hunting cabin there. It’s so great. She would live there all the time if she could.

43. What do they do to lower their considerable stress? Enjoy a pipe, escape to the outdoors, watch the stars, look at flowers… that kind of thing.

44. Describe their perfect day off. See the previous question. Honestly, she wishes she had more time to explore.

45. List three of their favorite things. Three things they hate? She loves flowers. Her other favorite things fluctuate, but flowers will always make her happy. The things she hates are concepts more than things, but… Arantheal's stupid beard makes the list.

46. What’s in their pockets? A few pennies, a wrapped lump of wax, something to tie her hair back, the crumbs of many flower petals.

47. Pets? Mounts? Treasured possessions? Wren loves that myrad so much. So much. She treasures every gift that's been given to her and has stashed all of them away safely.

48. How are their cooking skills? She's very good with stews. Mostly foods you'd cook while camping.

49. Do you consider any particular quest or side quest to be definitive for your prophet? Which one(s) and why? The artist quest, with the witch and the witch hunter, was troubling for Wren. She would have heard about the witch hunter's murders in Arazeal from her mother a cautionary tale. “Don't trust people too quickly.” She hesitates too much, eventually looking away as the witch hunter dies. She makes sure the witch stops her practice, then walks back to Ark. Not a good day.

50. How forgiving are they? For example, if they were yelled at in a brothel after searching high and low for this little sh*t, how would they react? With that particular little shit, in that particular situation, she's very forgiving. She knew he was in pain. She thought he was gone for good when he left. They were fine as soon as he showed up. She was just grateful for his safety. With those who are not her safe people, she's not as easy to forgive.

51. What do they think of the Veiled Woman? Some fear, some anger- all overwhelmed by gratitude and respect. She has a lot more caution for the Veiled Woman than for the High Ones. The fear is because Wren can't understand what her motivations might be. How could she spend so much time explaining the nature of time and space without wanting something in return?

52. If they had been a victim of one of the black stones, how would it have affected them? What would they have used its power to accomplish? This would have resulted in a lot of dead nobles, if we're being honest with ourselves. She would have tried to solve the problem of the Undercity somehow.

53. What was their reaction to the Black Guardian’s revelations? Do they accept or reject his offer? Wren had been having doubts about her nature since the Living Temple. She believed the Black Guardian. It just made sense. She knew what needed to be done, though… She decided against the idea to let humanity be harvested. But then she tried to help the Guardian and *that* was a mistake.

54. How does their story end? Humanity does not need to change. To choose to remake humans without pride, without sin… Wren feels this would remove something essential from humanity. Humans are awful and good and flawed and beautiful and that's perfect. Wren needs to trust that people can solve this problem. Now that they know the game, she is sure they can win. Humans don't need to change- the high ones need to die. Wren knocks the stones out of place by using her bow like a baseball bat.

55. Do they change over the course of the story? In what ways? She becomes more confident and less afraid.

56. Anything else you’d like to share about them? When Wren is very tired, her Ostian accent gets very strong, even to the point of becoming unintelligible. Home for her is not in places. She feels at home with her safe people.

57. Bonus: For you- what are you most excited for in Forgotten Stories? I'm very excited to learn more about the Veiled Woman. Getting more insight into the Rhalatta will also be really cool…. And new companion? Agh, I'm excited for everything.

#Enderal character ask #enderal #Wren Peakdasher #character ask #sketch #expression #character design

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nahmooste · 7 years

Text

i don’t believe in magic, usually

pairing: Kenny Omega/Female OC warnings: none. two part update, part 2 is smut, this is not a/n: inspired by a lot of things, but mostly how adorable Kenny is. mostly. anyways, if you guys have any sentence prompts for NJPW ppl, i’ll write it, promise.

“Teri?”

She doesn’t look up at first, too consumed with finishing her set of squats. She’s only just hit 170lbs across the back, the most she’s ever done, and she’ll be damned if she lets some weirdo ruin her training. She isn’t completely alone here, either— one of her training partners is over on the dumbbells, which means if she needs back up… he’s right there.

But the person she turns to isn’t a fan. He looks… eerily familiar.

“Teri Arakawa?” It’s said more as a question now, and slowly she begins to recognise who stands in front of her. Curly hair mismatched in colour, some tendrils pale blonde, others dark grey, and eyes so blue they put her nerves on edge.

“I’m sorry, I know your face, but…” she hesitates and wipes some sweat from her brow. “Your name escapes me.”

“It’s okay, we barely know each other. I don’t think I even introduced myself when we met.” The man smiles and holds out his hand. “Kenny Omega.”

She balks. Oh. “You held a seminar at one of the Stardom dojos… fuck. Sorry. I’m scatter brained a bit, don’t even remember my own birthday. I was only there for an hour, I think? I remember having to leave to catch my flight back home and that’s about it.”

He laughs at her and nods his head, curls bobbing. “That’s okay. Y’know, it’s not that often that someone in the wrestling business doesn’t remember my name… not that I’m bragging, but—“

“Oh, no, I know your name. All that six star hype, mind you I haven’t actually watched the match yet.” Teri smirks at his red cheeks. “I don’t really spend that much time on the internet? I don’t have a twitter, either. PR is hassling me to get one but I can’t really imagine a time where I open my phone and want to know everyone’s opinion. Between wrestling and promoting and eating and training and sleeping, I don’t really have that much free time.”

“I must sound a bit arrogant, huh?” Kenny shakes his head again and smiles. He gestures over his shoulder at the man she’s here with. “He’s not stopped glaring at me since I’ve come over here. Boyfriend?”

Teri snorts and glances towards Katsuhiko Nakajima, who has been no doubt staring at the exchange the entire time. “Nakajima? No. He’s my cousin’s boyfriend. I mean he’s cute but… not really my type.”

Kenny’s eyes flash at the statement and his grin deepens, and now she knows why he’s talking to her, and her grin grows a little as well. He’s a very attractive man, and Teri would be lying if she didn’t admit there was a magnetism towards the Canadian that was attractive. Because he was very, very good looking.

“What is your type?”

She wants to say it’s him, push the envelope a bit, tease him, because she’s never been afraid of a little rejection— but something tells her to bite it back a touch. “I guess you can find out if you take me to dinner.”

The look on Kenny’s face says everything she needs to know. “How about I’ll give you my number and then we can organise something? I’m a busy man, Teri-chan, unfortunately I actually need to keep a schedule and diary.”

Teri chuckles, because she knows exactly what he means. She grabs her phone and hands it to him, smiling harder when she watches him fumble to get his name in. Kenny may be outwardly confident, but by the looks of it, he’s just as clumsy. Which, Teri admits, is pretty cute. Like him. And the curls. She really likes the curls.

“Call me.”

And she does. After she’s convinced Nakajima that he should not, in fact, kick Kenny’s face off his head, she showers and grabs her stuff, makes her way back to her small yet spacious apartment in Aichi Prefecture. She stares at her calendar as they talk about days they have off, and she’s content with waiting a week until they can get to know each other a bit better. After all, Teri has some homework to do— matches to watch, interviews to read… she doesn’t want to be caught off guard again.

Turns out that Teri has absolutely no idea what to wear on a casual date— she doesn’t know how to do her hair or her make up, and kind of gets lost in YouTube videos and Spotify songs. And instead of being prepared, she’s running late— completely not what she’d intended to do.

Kenny doesn’t seem to mind. He’s seen her sweaty and red faced before and tells her that even like that, she’s beautiful. He smiles at her blush and yaps in pain when she punches him.

Teri can tell that he’s not unimpressed by her appearance, though. She’s dressed in skinny jeans and a khaki jacket rests easy over a pink knit jumper, suede boots pushing her a little taller than her actual height. He’s not the tallest man, but he’s still taller than her. Just as she likes it, really. In turn, Kenny is dressed nicely in faded jeans and a black shirt, same coloured blazer pulled across his shoulders.

“So, I figured before I went on this date with you that I should do some homework,” Teri tells him, eyes glinting mischievously as she sips at some wine. “Your match with Okada… it’s good.”

“Good?” He laughs. His attention is on her completely as he leans across the table, chin resting on his hands. “Good, but not great. I see, I see. What would you do differently?”

“Win.”

Kenny’s smirk matches her own. ”Remind me to come see you next time I need some genuine advice.”

“Yes, sir.”

He eyes her a bit before taking a sip of his own water, grin pushing at the corners of his mouth. “Sir,” he mimics. “Never thought I’d hear that one, I’ll admit.”

But Teri’s feeling a bit cheeky. “I say it more tongue in cheek than anything else, y’know. If you want me to call you daddy, though…that’s another story.”

Kenny splutters over his laugh, chuckling and trying to reply to her for a while before he actually does. “I’ll, uh. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The waiter comes around shortly after that, and Teri orders herself another glass of red wine and a pasta dish, smiling when Kenny orders the most Asian thing on the menu. Typical. As they wait for their dinner to come out, Teri quizzes Kenny on everything she possibly can— from his borderline obsession with Japan to working for NJPW to what Canada is like.. absolutely anything that jumps to her mind. She doesn’t have a filter drunk or sober.

By the time their meal is finished and Teri is on her third glass of red, her cheeks are tinged pink. “Are you really going to sit there and not ask me?”

“Ask you what?” Kenny looks caught off-guard, but she can tell that there’s been something on his mind.

“That question you’ve been dying to ask me. The entire night.”

He blushes a bit. His eyes drop to the table and then he glances up at her again. “You haven’t asked. I’m curious… does it bother you?”

It takes Teri a moment for her mind to wrap around what he’s saying to her, and when it does, the penny drops— she’s got it wrong. He hasn’t been waiting to ask her something, he’s been waiting for her to ask something. He’s been preparing himself to answer a question she’s not interested in asking.

“You mean you and Kota Ibushi?” He kinda flinches at the name, but nods his head and doesn’t meet her eyes. Teri sighs, raises a shoulder indifferently. “I don’t particularly care. I mean, who wouldn’t go there? He’s a babe. You’re a babe. I get it. But I don’t really care about your past— not yet, anyway. Maybe one day I’ll ask, but not today. Not yet. Plus… I’m enjoying myself and your company too much, no need to ruin it.”

His grin is genuinely the warmest thing she’s seen all night. Kenny Omega… what a man, indeed. The perfect mix of boyish charm and mystique, gorgeous curls and eyes that have her melting under his gaze more than a few times.

Apparently, her gaze has the same effect on him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Teri smirks at him and finishes the rest of her wine. “I mean… I am flirting with you. But seduce you? Trust me, you’d know.”

“Would I, though?” Kenny raises an eyebrow, leans across the table towards her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like you’re the kind of person who flirts with everyone they speak to.”

“Oh, so I’m the same as you, then?”

There’s a moment of silence while Kenny just stares at her. “Touché.”

And, because Teri is feeling bold all sorts of temptation, she slips one of the boots off of her foot. Leans across the table, folds her hands and places her chin on top of them, staring so intently at Kenny his cheeks go pink. And as she drags her foot up the inside of his leg, the flush crawls down his neck. “Teri…” he warns, and then his eyes slide shut.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t reply straight away, instead takes a deep breath and then opens his eyes. “Should we leave?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#kenny omega fanfiction #husband #kenny omega fanfic #njpw fanfiction

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sveasauvageon · 4 years

Photo

On pleure mais on survit quand même C'est la beauté du requiem || HSWW

☾♔; February 22, 2018 ☾♔; sotd: X-Files Theme (by Mark Snow, I think) ☾♔; cotd: DANA MOTHERFCKING SCULLY ☾♔; Plotting + Relationships ☾♔; {G} https://goo.gl/PnjH23 ☾♔; Mod(s): @.miky94

Title: lyrics from Requiem by Alma

Svea Sauvageon is FINALLY open for plotting.

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Audition: https://goo.gl/9JRWrR Aesthetics and Such: https://goo.gl/qDJazT Svea's Playlist: https://goo.gl/vaSFwA Svea x Henry Playlist: https://goo.gl/Wwgx4s Wardrobe: https://goo.gl/g8rBdV Sauvageon Family Aesthetics: [placeholder] All Sets: https://goo.gl/5HG1rA

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Format credit to @.natasha-maree13, @.themadmonarchist, and @.lady-stoneheart because I somehow managed to mix together (rip off) all three of you.

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Plotting Rules and Guidelines: I. Please put some thought and effort into your suggestions, I'm going to ignore anything that says something to the effect of "I dunno, here's my set, what do you think." That's just lazy and rude. I won't straight up ignore something that just says "friends" with no explanation, but I would appreciate more effort that that. It's doesn't have to be a George R. R. Martin book, but at least a sentence or two. Please and thank you.

II. If I say nyet to something, I don't just mean nyet forever, stay away from my baby. I just may not like the idea or it may not work with my character, and I will usually offer a counterproposal, but if I'm out of ideas, I'll let you know, and we can bounce around different ideas until we're both satisfied. S III. Please remember to attach your plotting sets. XD

☆──════♦basics♦════──☆

| full name: Svea Richelle Estelle Sauvageon

| nicknames: Vea (Vay-ah), V, the Swede, Stella (by her Grandmama), my moon and stars (Grandpapa), Richelle (her mother), princess (papa)

| age: 17 (or 16 if we're starting the group in September, but she'd turn 17 in 3 months)

| gender: female

| sexuality: heterosexual

| birth date: November 23

| blood status: pure-blood (though, not the purest. Her mother's family is a straight-up blood-purist type family, but her father's is far more open, and if you trace back 5 generations, there's a muggle-born, as well as muggles and etc further back. So technically, she is a "pure" blood, since that term is generally applied to someone whose ancestors up to their grandparents have no muggle or muggle-born blood, but there are numerous muggles and muggle-borns if you go back beyond that, on her father's side. Her mother's is as inbreed as the royal families of the real world.)

| place of birth: Enköping, Sweden

| accent: alternates between Swedish and Posh English, usually depending on her level of anger/passion

| pet: a tiger patterned kitten, super smol and super cute, but has been a "kitten" for a suspiciously long time. It's been tiny and like a baby since she first got it in her fourth year, though she simply claims that it's a rare Swedish breed. She named it Vhagar.

| patronus: dragon (Swedish Short-Snout)

| wand: Acacia wood with a dragon heartstring core, 11 ¾" in length and rather inflexible

| residence: Hogwarts Castle (September through May), Prince Estate, located near Cornwall (rest of the year, and more legally speaking, than physically, rarely spends more than two weeks there), Sauvageon Estate, located in Enköping, Sweden (generally where she spends her holidays)

☆──════♦hogwarts stats♦════──☆

| house: Slytherin

| year: seven

| best class: Arithmancy and History of Magic (honestly, she's great at all of her classes, but those two are her highest scores)

| worst class: none

| favourite class: care of magical creatures

| o.w.l.s: outstanding in all subjects

| extracurriculars: Quidditch (Slytherin Chaser)

☆──════♦appearance♦════──☆

| overall: she's quite physically attractive (and she's aware of it), she tends to draw stares where ever she goes, and that's not including her extravagant style and taste in friends. Alongside being generally super beautiful, she's also physically fit (having been a chaser for years), has high cheekbones, and an overall very gorgeous, European look.

| hair colour: blonde, sometimes magically died platinum/silvery-gold (because she's a nerd)

| hair style: long, and generally tied into a different style everyday; ponytails, elaborate braids, etc. When's she's feeling lazy, she'll just leave it free, yet it always ends perfectly straight without any effort on her part.

| eye colour: light blue

| body: slim and athletic

| ethnicity: caucasian (Swedish/British with French ancestry)

| height: 1.73m/5'7"(ish)

| style: erratic, she wears numerous styles, and doesn't really have one exactly, though if you wanted to summarize her closet in a single word; expensive would be that word. She prefers clothes of silk, cashmere, or leather, and tends towards gem embellished things.

| faceclaim: Cara Delevingne

☆──════♦persona♦════──☆

| personality: Svea is an "odd" Slytherin, as she does not prescribe to the concept of blood purity in the least, nor is she an active bully. She's Swedish (half), they're an amazingly liberal and socialist country, and she's quite proud of that. However, that doesn't mean she's not an arrogant, full of herself, elitist arsehole, because she absolutely is. In fact, one could argue that she's more arrogant and elitist than the average Slytherin, since she feels she's earned her arrogance. She's an extremely dedicated, hardworking, and ambitious person, going above and beyond for everything she attempts. She's a high-achieving, type-a sort of person, she believes that if you want something, you need to work to earn it, a line of thinking which sometimes alienates her own housemates, but if you don't have any skills of note, you're not worthy enough to chill with her. She's extremely opinionated, and passionate, and generally walks around like she owns the place. However, despite being one of the biggest elitist arseholes around, she's also, contradictorily, extremely liberal. The most clear example of her liberalism being her hatred of the concept of blood purity. She was raised on Swedish ideals, a very liberal and socialist nation where blood purity or "impurity" was irrelevant, blood is blood, move the fck on. Discrimination on things like blood status or socio-economic status, she will not allow because that's stupid af and Slytherin is not a house for morons. Despite her elitism, when she's your friend, she's heavily involved, from studying to hanging out, whatever. She cares deeply when she cares and will not tolerate any harm coming to those for whom she cares, hexing such people with barely a second thought.

Svea is someone who tends to internalize her own problems, she's highly self-aware and when genuinely hurt by something or someone, she tends to just walk away and brood silently in a dark corner. She sees herself as a leader and leader's can't go around showing weakness, so she struggles to open up about that side to even her closest friends (also most of her friends are probably arseholes, Slytherins, so that's not the best idea anyway). Having said that, she's always around to give (unsolicited) advice/offer to hex someone. She's not a very loose or "go with the flow" type of person, she hates such thinking, like, no, think about what you want to do. Fun is best when it's planned well in advance. She's mildly OCD, it's not obsession, it's the correct way of doing things. She won't throw a tantrum (generally), but will move her things back into place. However she's not what we would call neat, she leaves her things all over, though she claims that's it's "controlled chaos", and she does always seem to immediately find whatever she was looking for. Svea is rather independent, and goes about her business with little care for what others think about it. She is a little vain, but like, look at her, why shouldn't she be? And has zero trouble using her beauty to manipulate people into doing what she wants. She's somewhat aggressive and rather commanding, generally speaking to elders and fellow students with the same tone of mild to moderate superiority, but contradictorily, is quite helpful and nice to first years (what, she has a soft spot for smol, cute things).

Despite all her elitism, and superiority complex, Svea is a passionate and hardworking individual who puts her all into work and friendship. She cares deeply when she cares, and generally has an attitude of "if you want respect, earn it."

| likes: stupid puns, muggle space exploration science, quidditch (Vrastra Vultures forever btches!), winter, snow, muggle technology, EUROVISION (hey, she's a European, and a Swede, they love the Eurovision), Melodifestivalen, muggle EuroPop music, football (aka soccer, but she European, she call it by its proper name. Also, ARSENAL FOREVER BÌTCHES), Aaron Ramsey, muggle history, magical history, the stars, the night sky, a song of ice and fire (of course), Dragons, Sweden, magic, her wand (precious), Tolkien's Middle-Earth, Vhagar (precious baby), muggle comedy panel shows, herself (ya seen her? She's real pretty), emeralds, satin, muggle drinks (vodka and ice coffee with caramel are delicious, she will fight you), firewhiskey, rain, kittens, dragons, magic

| dislikes: rude people (there's a difference between being full of yourself and having manners), Hogwarts magic interfering with her muggle shít, her housemates making fun of her muggle shít (like, excuse me, but can your old af radio playing all 1000+ Eurovision songs at any time of day? That's what I thought), "woman" being used as an insult (she is a woman, and better than you, so fúck off), bertie botts every flavour bean (it's the "every" flavour that repulses her), idioticy, unearned elitism (if you wanna act superior, fine, but at least have something that makes you superior, and blood is not one of those things), Cornwall, camomile tea (it's disgusting), corduroy, roses, her things being moved

| hobbies: reading, learning, football, just hanging out with her friends (forcing them to watch Eurovision)

| habits: - eye rolling (so much eye rolling) - tends to tune out her entire environment when she's in "the zone" (no longer walks and reads because she has run into and fallen off of stuff) - twirls her hair with her wand when she's thinking (like how we use fingers) - Swears a lot - hums Eurovision songs around 90% of the time

| talents: - multilingual (English, Swedish, French, Russian, German, and Danish) - magic (she has yet to encounter a form of magic she does not immediately excel at) - memory (it's not really eidetic or photographic, because it's not instant, but after 3 reads of a thing, she can rattle off the whole thing word for word) - making references (that's a talent right? Because otherwise, I am screwed) - emotional manipulation/acting (works best on people that don't know her, she can still manipulate other people, but it takes a little more effort and time) - obsessing (again, totally a talent right because otherwise I have literally no skills)

| boggart: her mother

| amortentia smells: fresh coffee (though the taste disgusts her, hence she pumps caramel into her ice coffee), newly laundered clothes, and petrichor (the scent of wet earth after a recent rain fall)

☆──════♦family and such♦════──☆

| Petter Albrecht Alvar Sauvageon Father || FC: Colin Firth Svea was very close to her father, and inherited his love of the muggle world. Her fondest memory is attending a Eurovision Song Contest Grand finale with him as a child before being forced to move to Britain. Petter was a rather Swedish fellow, charming, pretty, very liberal, socialist, feminist. When Svea was 13, and Lili 8, he disappeared whilst he, some colleagues and magical law enforcement were hunting a dragon dealer by the Sea of Azov. He attended Durmstrang and did not like it there. Svea and Lili called him "Papa".

| Diana Elizabeth Charlotte Prince Mother || FC: Rachel Weisz Svea and her mother have a ... complicated to say the least. Well, to be honest, Svea doesn't like her very much and they do not get along. Svea dislikes her maternal family, personality-wise, she is similar to them, she's an elitist arsehole just like them, but feels they do not have the merits to walk around like they own England. When Svea was first born, Diana simply preferred to believe she didn't exist, and considers her a mistake, though as the 10th anniversary of her mistake approached, her father convinced her to bring the child to Britain to attend Hogwarts as no blood of his would attend an inferior, foreign school. Diana is a traditional pureblood, and makes clear her deep resentment and disappointment of Svea for being a blood traitor. Despite their dislike of each other, however, the mother and daughter are rather alike, both being ambitious, high-achieving type-a people. Although they maintain a strict distance from each other, her mother's opinion and lack of maternal love does bother Svea, though she stubborn refuses to talk about it and tends to shove those feelings between 60 layers of anger and bitterness. Svea calls her "Mother" with about 397 layers of salt and sarcasm in her tone.

:: Sauvageon Family ::

The Sauvageon's are a very family old wizarding family, they were originally French, and later immigrated to Sweden in the late 1700's. Unlike most ancient wizarding families (particularly the British ones), they have never shied away from breeding with muggles and muggleborns, often gaining the label of "blood traitor" from the British families, but they're Swedish, and blood density is irrelevant there. There are as liberal and socialist as their country. Despite being loathed by the blood purist-type families, they are still approached very few generations for marital matches, as they are exceedingly wealthy and when the aforementioned house runs out of options.

| Ludvig Danel Freyr Sauvageon Paternal Grandfather || FC: Sir Patrick Stewart Cutie patootie grandpa, called Grandpapa by Svea and Lili, he's super dorky and a massive nerd, easily amused and genuinely a happy fellow. His anger, said to be rare, is apparently a sight to behold.

| Linnéa Nathalie Petra Sauvageon née Magnusdotter Paternal Grandmother || FC: Dame Judi Dench Boss as.s b.tch aka Grandmama, she's generally the person in charge. Super class and elegant af, commanding, witty, and super awesome. One of Svea's role models and basically # life goals.

| Brigitta Camilla Vanja Sauvageon Paternal Aunt || FC: Gillian Anderson Classy, straightforward, elegant, and badas.s, has an unclear high-ranking role in the Swedish Ministry of Magic.

| Kåre Lukas Alexander Sauvageon Paternal Uncle || FC: James D'Arcy Pretencious, but fundamentally good hearted. He's an art collector, of both muggle and magical artists.

| Iliana Vyacheslavovichna Drubetskaya Step-mother || FC: Lena Headey Svea gets along rather well with her step-mother, and admires her quite a bit. Iliana and her father married when Svea was 4, so she's known her for quite a while, and share a rather maternal bond. She was also the person who taught Svea Russian and the two used it to tease and joke about her father in front him (because he couldn't speak it). She played for the national Russian Quidditch team, but retired 10 years ago because of injury. She now writes about Quidditch matches and players in a sports column for the local Swedish Wizarding Paper, and occasionally does commentary.

| Lena "Lili" Petterovna Sauvageon Younger Half-sister || FC: Dafne Keen Just began her second year at Koldovstoretz, the Russian Wizarding school. She's precious and adoring, and like a tiny Svea, though much nicer and less elitist, and sends Svea a letter by owl nearly daily (receiving one in return at the same consistency). They write their letters in Swedish since it's unlikely for any of their fellow students to be able to read them. They're super attached and close, and adorable af!

:: Prince Family ::

An old English, pure-blood wizarding family, they are fervent purportors of the concept of blood supremacy and purity, and proud Slytherins. Having all been sorted into the House dating back to Salazar Slytherin himself (or so they claim). Due to centuries of inbreeding with other pureblood families (who are all cousins at this point), the Princes tend to have the following traits; violent tendencies, mental instability, and some are enfeebled (though the family goes to great lengths to hide and eliminate such members). Additionally, due to their close genetics, the family additionally has trouble conceiving, generally ending up with only one child born per generation.

| Marcius Titus Polaris Prince Maternal Grandfather || FC: Sir Michael Caine Svea does not like her grandfather in the least, nor does he particularly like her, they define incompatibility between generations. She's considers him a relic of a dying time, and he considers her an uppity, idiotic child not worthy to have a drop of his blood running her veins.

:: other ::

| Lara Coburg Muggle Childhood Best Friend || FC: Holliday Grainger A muggle Svea met when enrolled in muggle schools as a child, and thick as thieves, regularly write to each other (though Lara asks the Sauvageon's to send her letters to Svea, and Svea has her owl send them to the family estate instead of Lara's home), and hang out whenever they can. She's aware of the magical world, and has been sworn to secrecy by the magical and non-magical Swedish governments (which was cool 'cause she got to meet the then PM - the muggle one).

☆──════♦biography♦════──☆

Svea is half-Swedish, half-British, her father was Swedish wizard and renown dragonologist; Petter Sauvageon, her mother; Diana Prince, is an accomplished and revered employee at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Her parent's never married, her being the result of a liaison, which the Swedish part of her family couldn't give less of a fck about, but the British half are extremely embarrassed by. She was born in semi-secrecy, the Prince's very much wanted to pretend she did not exist, and tried to hide Diana's pregnancy in England, claiming she was taking a long earned, and extensive year long holiday abroad. The Sauvageon's, however, did not give a sht, and happily excitedly told their friends about their first grandchild (but they kept the identity of the mother a secret because they're not arseholes, and found her constant reminders to be a nuisance). She was born in the Sauvageon Estate in Enköping (estate is a really nice way of saying small castle, really), and remained in Sweden until she was 10, as the Prince's willingly and happily gave up custody of her.

From the age of 2-5, Svea was enrolled in Förskola and when aged 6, she attended Förskoleklass, school for muggle children in Sweden (both are optional for Swedish kids, "Förskola" is preschool, available to children from ages 1-5, and "Förskoleklass" is preschool class, which I guess is effectively a year of kindergarten, for children aged 6). She made numerous muggle friends, including her lifelong childhood best friend, Lara Coburg, to whom she still regularly writes, and visits when back in Sweden, and to whom she revealed her magic. She attended 4 years of the muggle compulsory school in Sweden (which is for ages 7-16, and basically the north American equivalent of elementary through to high school), with the plan being that she would "transfer" to private, boarding school once she reached the age for magical schooling. However, when she was 10, her mother and maternal grandfather came to Sweden to claim custody and make her a British citizen, to meet the residential requirements to attend Hogwarts. The Sauvageon's initially refused, but as they loathe their local home school, Drumstrang (a very non-Swedish Scandinavian school, because Sweden is liberal af and Drumstrang is magic racist af), they agreed.

Svea spent a year living with her mother and maternal grandfather before being admitted into Hogwarts and did not like it in the least. They were horrified and appalled by the rambunctious, muggle-friendly, aggressively European child she was (and tbh, still is), and spent the year trying to force it out of her. They kept her isolated and cut off all her connections to her father's family, and tried to instruct her in the ways of pureblood, often screaming in frustration and anger when she argued back or simply replied with "so what" or "why". They later took to locking her in rooms, and starving her when she started leaving the estate on her own to mingle with the local muggle population. Eventually, their little war came to a head when they broke her electrical toys from her father's family, and in her fury, she magically set fire to the Prince Estate (on purpose, though they claimed it was an accident to the Improper Use of Magic Office). The fire resembled the Fiendfyre curse, and it was stronger than any fire Svea had produced before. Although no one died, the entire estate became ruins, and took 4 ministry workers plus her mother and grandfather to contain. After the incident, Svea was able to reconnect with her paternal family (crying to the ministry people there about missing her father and worried that her grandfather would say no because he's jealous of her other grandfather, yes she was faking her tears, anyway, they fell for it and informed her Swedish fam who immediately apparated to the Prince Estate). The Sauvageon's offered to pay for the restoration of the Prince Estate, but in exchange, Brigitta Sauvageon would be staying with them until Svea left for Hogwarts. Once that was settled, Svea and her maternal family became akin to strangers living in the same house, with Marcius Prince calling Svea and her aunt "unwelcome guests".

Svea excelled at Hogwarts from the get go, she ran into some trouble with blood purists in her house, but due to her indifferences to the opinions of others for whom she has no respect, and long list of accomplishments, bullying hasn't really been an issue for her, she's really far too confident for bullying to even work though, like what would they say?

Would-be bully: you're ugly. Svea: b!tch, have you seen me?

Would-be bully: your blood is impure and polluted by the filth of muggles Svea: yeah, and so is yours, it's called species propagation.

Would-be bully: you're a worthless blood traitor Svea: *points at all her awards and grades*

Anyway, she's active in school events, has too much pride for school and her house, (also Sweden) and SLYTHERIN IS SO WINNING THAT HOUSE CUP THIS YEAR MOTHERFCKERS!!!

☆──════♦other♦════──☆

‣ her name is poorly made pun, like, "pun" is actually pushing it. "Svea" comes from a personification of Sweden, a derivative of "Svear", the Swedish name for the ancient Germanic tribe; the Swedes. "Svear" also later evolved into "Sverige", the Swedish name for Sweden and means "the realm of the Svear". Her surname, "Sauvageon", is a French form of "Savage", an English word, nickname, and surname meaning wild and uncouth, which was derived from a Middle English form of Old French; "salvage" or "sauvage", which meant untamed. Effectively, her name means Savage Swede, the flip around being a ref to the annoying flip around in the French language with certain terms and/or phrases (also in other languages, but French is the one I got beef with as a Canadian person). Richelle and Estelle are just because I like frenchy names that rhyme, and they're vaguely posh sounding, so I'm assuming her mother picked those ones. I say, assume, I made these characters, she did pick them for Svea.

‣ She could've been a Ravenclaw, but her ambition heavily outweighs her thirst for knowledge

‣ Her muggle electronic devices somewhat function at Hogwarts, working around the magical interferences by having them be powered by magic (so her laptop, phone, etc now never die, and are partially magic, decreasing the interference from all the magic around the castle), however, she is still trying to receive satellite/etc signals which don't work in the school, and she's forced to keep those features off because otherwise her screen goes all wonky. Hurray for having downloaded everything though. Enjoy X-Files and Eurovision Slytherin House. XD

‣ uses a ridiculous array of glitter and nerd-design pens (ink and quills are aesthetically pleasing, but impractical. Come on, the pencil was invented in fcking 1564)

‣ obtained her appariting license earlier than would be possible (because birthday makes her 17 after the usual UK test dates) by applying for it at the Swedish Ministry of magic, which issues Apparition licenses at 16 (completely made that up, but whatever, I don't like half of the few things we know about JKR's Sweden, they're not very Swedish. How is Drumstrang a Scandi school? Scandi's are so liberal, I get it's a German, wwii stereotype, but make it limited to German and Germanic states then, the Scandi's are liberal af. Well, Sweden is, also I think Finland, and probably Denmark).

☆──════♦plotting ideas and notes♦════──☆

[I'll add more as I think of them]

I. She's extremely competitive with Ravenclaw's and loathes that they have the label of being the "smart house", since her house is just as intelligent, and she considers herself above them. Her arrogance and elitist attitude come out at their highest when she's arguing with a Ravenclaw.

II. Your carer; possibly limited to Slytherin house, but she cares so you don't have to. Although, that caring is also limited, there's only so many people she can care about. Everyone doesn't deserve it.

III. Her relationship with Slytherins may be a bit complex depending on where your OC stands on blood purity. Svea's an elitist, yes, but she's not a blood purist, and has plenty of muggle-born and muggle friends, her own mother has labeled her as a "blood traitor", so if you're of the "pure bloods are the bestest, kill everyone else", you may run into some problems.

IV.

☆──════♦plotting♦════──☆

--Slytherin--

↪ Damien Greaves | @.natasha-maree13 House: Slytherin FC: Matthew Daddario Info: One of Svea's best friends, despite his psychopathy. She's able to easily discern between when he's messing around, and when he's being genuine. Both being high-achieving, superiority-complex ridden as.sholes with a shared fondness for certain muggle things, they get along fantastically, despite one of them lacking the major spectrum of human emotions. They have their own little clique, The Slytherin Silver Trio, and it's better than yours will ever be. XP ---> side character plotting: Lyra Greaves ------{FC: Alexandra Daddario, House: Slytherin} -----tbf

↪ Eloise Avery | @.themadmonarchist House: Slytherin FC: Abbey Lee Kershaw Info: Evolved into buddy-buddy friends more recently, and are Eurovision besties! Okay, they have like a close bond and other proper friendship stuff that I'm gonna ramble about, but, clearly, EUROVISION IS THE BEST AND MOST IMPORTANT THING EVER!!! Okay, I'm chill now, mostly. They first met as children, when Svea's family were trying to teach her the "enlightened" ways of pureblood-ism, didn't go well, the Avery's had their precious heir exposed to glitter muggle music for the first time. At Hogwarts, they didn't particularly get along in the beginning, due to Eloise's connection with the dou.che crew (as I call them, basically Blood Purist Bullies), however, they are quite similar later bonding during o.w.l.s and post-Eloise leaving dou.che crew over their similar pasts, passion for muggle stuff, and needing to outstanding on everything. Sliver Trio member numero trois!

↪ Octavia Thygeson | @.melophilia-c House: Slytherin FC: Natalia Dyer Info: Despite Svea's general elitist attitude, they along quite well, Svea showing the newbie around Hogwarts and such, and later bond over their close ties to members of Gryffindor House, who are generally seen as the enemy in Slytherin. ---> side character plotting: Mason Thygeson ------{FC: Hugh Dancy, House: Gryffindor} ------Become friends through Octavia, apparently her "spunk" reminds him of sister. Also friends through Henry. Also, also, Svea aggressively ships him with her bestie, Syn. Ship shop and all.

↪ Loralei Expura | @.thespian-at-large House: Slytherin FC: Dove Cameron Info: Like a little sister to her, Svea is very protective of Loralei, who is prone to being bullied for not being a pureblood in their house. She also convinced Loralei to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, and ensures Loralei takes her pills by enchanting her belongings to constantly remind her until she takes them.

↪ Leida Nelms | @.stackmel House: Slytherin FC: Ashley Benson Info: Friends, more or less. Certainly some American digs on Svea's part, but generally get along being teammates and housemates.

↪ Chanel Black | @.daily-donuts House: Slytherin FC: Ruby McCarthy Info: Svea and Chanel despise one another. The only exception is on the quidditch pitch where they are forced to work together. Chanel saw Svea as the edgy cool girl, but Svea just saw Chanel as an obnoxious immature teen. To be fair, she attempted to be polite with the girl which misled Chanel into believing they were friends because of her bubbly personality. Unfortunately, Svea told her the truth whenever she noticed the teen hanging out with her more and more. Chanel’s hurt grew to her being insecure about herself and a passionate hate to Svea. They compete in quidditch every practice and they both attempt to one up the other. Chanel secretly wants to still be friends with Svea but she knows that will never happen. Even though they are so similar, Svea’s coolness was too much for them to have a positive relationship.* *written by @.daily-donuts

↪ Moses Park Jr. | @.koby House: Slytherin FC: Kim Woo Bin Info: They've been friends since first year, as Svea does not care about blood purity and bonded over their shared love for the muggle sport of football (but Arsenal is better than West Ham)! She's also one his tutors.

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Hufflepuff--

↪ Syn Lothbrok | @ghostpastey House: Hufflepuff FC: Zippora Seven Info: SlytherPuff BFFs aka the Scandi's/Scandinavians, they're childhood friends, both being from wealthy influential families in Scandinavia, and they're a solid salty/aggressive duo at Hogwarts, with a penchant for snarky lines and exploding potions *cough* Syn totally makes them explode no matter how closely the instructions were followed *cough*.

↪ Isabel Sanchez | @.polystar10 House: Hufflepuff FC: Ana De armas Info: Sort of friends, they initially interact through Svea's bestie (Damien) messing around and manipulating poor Isabel, Svea never really interfering unless it goes way too far, and even then, it's really only take down a few notches. Their interactions increase due to Isabel's close relationship with Svea's boyfriend (urg, what a lame word, paramour, through her paramour), and end up hanging out more.

↪ Lyrae Mino | @.skyfalll House: Hufflepuff FC: Taissa Farmiga Info: Share a friendly rivalry, but get along well, and have a mutual love of the stars (astronomy).

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Gryffindor--

↪ Henry Clark | @.lady-stoneheart House: Gryffindor FC: Ben Barnes Info: SlytherDor power couple, began dating in their 6th year, bonding over their shared love of muggle sports team; Arsenal FC. Generally speaking, they've always got along, Svea has always been against the stupidity of blood purity, which many of her Housemates buy into, and which Henry abhors, however, she has bully friends, and is somewhat complicit in their behaviour since she doesn't really step in unless it's the aforementioned friend is being stupid (aka going "mudblood"), or is going too far, so they have been on opposite sides of (metaphorical) battles numerous times. They're also extremely competitive with each other, mostly arising from their Quidditch teams (the ones they play on and support), as well as Svea's general refusal to ever lose. ---> side character plotting: Xander Carlyle ------{FC: Jacob Tremblay, House: Gryffindor} ------share a sibling like relationship, having bonded closely over the holidays, with Xander immediately running to Svea for help with homework and all other problems, inciting a small amount of sibling-like jealousy in Henry (Henry, at some point: he's my sort of brother, get your own).

↪ Isadora Franks | @.agentdanascully House: Gryffindor FC: Lily James Info: Share a friendly rivalry, initially instigated by Isadora. Generally politely competitive, though they've had nicer moments, mainly due to mutual hatred for blood elitists, though Svea unintentionally makes Isadora feel insecure around her, plus stubborness gets in the way of a deeper friendship.

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Ravenclaw--

↪ Kenton Prewett | @.miky94 House: Ravenclaw FC: Dylan Sprayberry Info: They are acquaintances that run into each other during events and on campus, but nothing more.

↪ Minah Delacroix | @.maybones House: Ravenclaw FC: Kim Doyeon Info: tbf ---> side character plotting: Tyler Lee ------{FC: Jeon Jungkook, House: Slytherin} ------tbf

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

☆──group members──☆ Gryffindor: @/know-my-value || @/short-infinities || @.lady-stoneheart || @/snazzy-k33 || @/juliefel || @/novitious || @/forver-young0001 || @/fandomgirlofficial || @/crythin || @/ekaterina33-01 Hufflepuff: @/followyourbliss || @.ghostpastey || @/iristaha || @.skyfalll || @.polystar10 || @/hxmiltrxsh || @/violetrose74 || @/moon-child-dreams || @/me-myself-and-survival || @/dashingpirate Slytherin: @.drownedinmoonlight || @/lightyears-away || @.themadmonarchist || @.natasha-maree13 || @.melophilia-c || @.koby || @.thespian-at-large || @.stackmel || @.daily-donuts || @.little-miss-sociopath Ravenclaw: @/buffykdh || @/monkeymanda22 || @/maybones || @/the-fault-in-our-paper-towns || @/general-sux || @/fandom-fashion || @/chrissykinz || @/hear-my-plea || @/oohlalyla ||

#polyvore #squarezy layout #mine #svea sauvageon #plotting #hsww

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breeeliss · 7 years

Text

[Femslash February]: Tea Party

february is over when i say it is

i was gonna say this is an au, but technically all lilanette is au, so i guess just go with the flow on this one (this is a weird prompt).

Day 16: Tea Party (Lilanette)

Words: 1918

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

[Previous: Baking] [Next: Glitter]

Chloe Bourgeois hosted “tea parties” at her hotel every year during the Spring.

“Tea parties” in quotes only because, in Lila’s humble opinion, it was a load of crap meant for Chloe and all of the other rich girls she knew to come together, compare dresses, sip overpriced imported tea, and gossip about mundane drivel that no one cared about but pretended to anyway so that they wouldn’t lose face. No one in class was ever invited to it, and no one cared for an invitation in the first place.

That being said, Lila overheard Sabrina mentioning that the brunch was catered by a five star restaurant, and she figured that was a good enough reason to crash the party.

So Lila looked through her closet for the nicest teatime dress she owned, did some clever Facebook and Instagram stalking, and walked up to Le Grand Paris thinking stuffy, elitist, and boorish thoughts the entire time through.

“Oh, I don’t have an invitation,” Lila said sweetly to the girl handling the guest list at the door. “I left the silly thing in the front seat with my driver. But Colette knows me! We met at her sixteenth birthday last year. The one she did at her grandmother’s country house? You were there, weren’t you? Oh, she had this absolutely charming lavender theme, and she handed out lavender springs with personalized messages attached to each of them. Look! I still have mine!”

Lila had never met any of these girls in her entire life, but the good thing about rich people was that they’d rather pretend that they knew you (even if they didn’t) instead of daring to admit to someone potentially important that they didn’t remember them.

Which meant that if you were an excellent liar, you could essentially squeeze your way into any social event for kicks.

Lila was accepted in easily, managed to steal some expensive party favors, grabbed a plate full of delicious food, and drew enjoyment from the ridiculousness of the whole affair. Chloe walked by just as Lila was having a conversation with a stranger about Angelique’s amazing birthday cruise that Lila did not actually go on. The look of fury on her face was priceless, and Lila knew she wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of all her guests and try to kick her out. Siege successful!

She moved towards the back of room where all the cookies and pastries were when she saw a familiar face sitting alone by the window, sipping on a cup of tea. Lila raised a brow, figured this would work as decent entertainment, and took the seat next to her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I doubt very much you were extended an invitation to this nonsense,” Lila smirked.

Marinette shook her head and placed her cup and saucer on the window sill behind her. “Hell no. This isn’t my idea of fun. Didn’t think it was yours either. Why and how are you here?”

Lila shrugged. “Got bored. Lied my way in. Just wanted some of the ritzy catering. You?”

She popped a bite-sized cupcake into her mouth. “My parents and I made all the pastries. The bakery Chloe usually uses messed up her order last minute. She came begging for a rush order, so I blackmailed her into giving me an invitation.”

Lila snorted and bumped elbows with her. “Impressive.”

“Figured I might as well see what all the hype was about. It’s like watching a bunch of martians.”

Lila chortled into her tea cup and tried to keep from bringing attention to the two of them in their small corner. Lila liked Marinette. Sweet girl, incredibly loud and confident, hilarious, and didn’t take any garbage from anyone, especially Chloe. She was also the first one to go out on a limb and try to befriend Lila after the debacle that was her first day of school after everyone found out about her fabulous stretch of lying. She probably had Marinette to thank for the fact that she wasn’t a social pariah at the moment.

She was still trying to work out if that little crush Marinette had on Adrien was still serious or even existent so she could swoop in and ask her out on a date, but so far results were inconclusive. Oh well. Something to work on.

“I’m just so exhausted by them all,” Lila said. “They walk around sounding so fake, talking about dinners that never happened with boring people they’ve never met, and trying to act all prim and proper while doing it. How do they not go crazy?”

“This coming from the person who seamlessly snuck in here by pretending to be just like them,” Marinette smirked.

“It’s not difficult to pretend to have the personality of a shoebox,” Lila replied. “Besides, if you’re gonna lie about yourself, at least make it interesting. This is ridiculously dull.”

“Oh I’m with you,” Marinette laughed. “I’m here for curiosity’s sake only. Although, can I be honest?”

“By all means.”

Marinette crossed her leg over her knee, turned her body towards Lila, and muttered, “I almost want to do something totally inappropriate and stupid just so I can ruffle their feathers and get kicked out.”

Lila raised a brow and absently handed off her cup to the hotel staff moving through the party. “You’ve captured my interest. Any ideas?”

“I don’t know, what’s something a bunch of sheltered, rich, boring girls who go to bougie tea parties would find scandalous?”

Lila tapped her fingers against her lips and gave Marinette a wicked smirk. “What would happen if I started flirting with one of them?”

Marinette had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. “You’re gonna get smacked. Or yelled at. Or reported.”

“For appreciating the female form? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s improper,” Marinette teased.

Lila grinned and slung an arm around the back of Marinette’s chair. “What’s so improper about one girl hitting on another girl? It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Marinette’s eyes darted towards Lila’s arm, and for a moment Lila was afraid she might have gone too far with her teasing, but then Marinette crossed her leg over her knee and draped it across Lila’s lap. “I don’t think it’s an issue with it being two girls. This just doesn’t strike me as the place to come and work on your pick up lines or start being all touchy feel-y.”

Lila bit her lip and walked her fingers up Marinette’s leg, pushing the fabric of her dress up to her knee. “What? Touchy feel-y like this?”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Marinette reached to brush Lila’s hair away from her shoulder, slowly slid her hand across her shoulder, and rested it gently on the back of her neck. “Touchy feel-y like this.”

Her hand on her skin made Lila shiver, and she briefly looked off to the side to see the wary glances they were getting from the girls standing near them. “Hey, look. An audience. We’re getting warmer.”

Marinette tipped up her chin and winked. “We certainly are.”

Lila chuckled. “Boo. Cheesy.”

“What? That was pretty good.”

“That was awful.”

“Alright,” Marinette huffed. “Well then you do better.”

“Oh no, there’s no way I could possible do better.” She picked up Marinette’s hand, brought it up to her lips, and left a kiss in the middle of her palm. “I could scour this entire party and not find anything quite as pleasant as your company.”

Marinette inhaled and bit the corner of her lip without looking like she meant to, and that made Lila’s brows shoot up. She started to wonder if they were still joking around. “That was cheesy.”

“Alright, fine, that one was bad,” Lila admitted. “Pick-up lines aren’t my strong suit.”

“Well, pick-up lines don’t impress me. A pretty face and witty banter does.”

Lila’s other hand was busy tracing lazy circles on Marinette’s leg, and she could feel Marinette pressing it harder on her lap. Delusions about Marinette’s straightness started to fly out the window. “I can be witty.”

“For me? Oh how sweet.”

“I mean, this is a matter of flirty seduction, so technically all of this is for you. Is it working?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to the whispers that were now starting to crop up around them and leaned in closer until her lips were just brushing up against the shell of Lila’s ear, close enough to whisper. “It’s working.”

The logical part of Lila’s head was saying that Marinette meant their plan to disrupt the mood of the party was working. And that was true. People were turning their backs, muttering behind their hands, and going so far as to go into the other rooms so as to avoid having to see the two of them draped over each other. But surely, if you weren’t interested in someone, you wouldn’t work this hard to flirt with them, would you? Lila certainly wouldn’t, at least not as a joke, and Marinette didn’t seem like the type of person to play those sorts of games. Besides, Lila could recognize interest in someone’s eyes if she looked hard enough, and there was no mistaking that Marinette was interested.

Damn. She should’ve asked her out ages ago.

Lila turned her head until and whispered against the skin on Marinette’s jaw. “So, uh, crazy question. Do you want to….?”

“Go?” Marinette whispered back.

“Yeah,” Lila breathed out. “I know a nice café nearby? I’d be happy to pay.”

Marinette hummed in appreciation. “That sounds nice.”

Lila cleared her throat and figured if she had gotten this far, she might as well pull out all the stops. “My, uh….my father. Isn’t home. Gone for the weekend on business. Just. Casual piece of information.”

Marinette leaned away from her so that she could stare at her directly. “Is this you trying to be subtle?”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Do you blame me? Still a little bit shocked that you’re actually taking me seriously.”

“You find that shocking?”

“Straight until proven otherwise is usually my mantra.”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, this party is horribly dull, you have been incredibly entertaining, and I’ve thought you were gorgeous for well over a year. So I’d be happy to ‘prove you otherwise.’”

Lila whistled. “Wow. That would’ve been nice to know ages ago.”

“No time like the present.” Marinette’s eyes darted to the left and Lila watched her entire face fall. “And I mean the immediate present. I think that’s Chloe coming around the corner.”

Lila groaned at the sight of the blonde angrily stalking towards them and quickly pulled the two of them up from their seats. “Alrighty then, hasty exit stage left.”

They hurried around a huge display of pastries set in the middle of the room and made their way towards the door while Marinette plucked a few tins of tea leaves from the tables as she went, figuring that Chloe wouldn’t miss them. They kept their heads down as they passed the hotel staff and pushed their way through the revolving doors, collapsing into hysterics once they were out on the sidewalk. Lila placed a hand on Marinette’s lower back and started taking them in the direction of the café she had in mind. “Well, that’s one way to land a date.”

Marinette looped her arm with Lila’s and snorted. “If this is what flirting with you is going to be like from now on, this is set to be pretty interesting.”

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