#but lord is it a hassle to draw and figure out

[heavyheavycream]

"cold"

#heavyheavycream #comics #vanilla comics #all three #oat #strawb #honey #i love imagining them all piled up on a couch #but lord is it a hassle to draw and figure out #someone said on my last human pile comic that it would last 2 minutes and then everyone would start twitching and moving #i agree #in this regard this is my most unacheivable fantasy lol

[dream-meister-translations]

DATEN QUEST EVENT PART 5

━

When we entered the ruins, we were met with a cloud of dust. The amount of dust told us that no one had entered the ruins for a long time. WELCK : What the heck!? EMMA : The door! CROW : That's a nice trick! The door locked behind us. Guess we aren't getting back out that way. MIKOTO : Mikage, I want a light now!

EMMA : Wait. I'll get the lantern out― MIKAGE : No, keep that for yourself. There are candlesticks lined up all around, so as long as there's a spark, I can light them. EMMA : How can you see so well in the dark? Using fire, Mikage ignited the candlesticks and the surroundings became dimly lit. WELCK : Oh, you have brightened the place up! CROW : If air is flowing, then there must be an opening somewhere. No worries about running out of oxygen for now. So far, so good, huh? EMMA : Crow, what's wrong? CROW : There were a lot of candlesticks on display. It could be a trap― EMMA : Eh? WELCK : What is that sound? It hurts my ears! CROW : I knew it! EVAN : It's coming!

From the depths of the ruins, a growling noise sounded out. EVAN & WELCK & MIKOTO : What the hell is that!! It was a huge humanoid machine about four meters tall. And clearly hostile toward us. CROW : The guardian of the ruins, I guess. Not leaving any time to be surprised, the machine raises its fist in the air. EMMA : Crow!! CROW : Woah! What a flashy welcome! You're big and fast, aren't you?

EVAN : Get out of the way, stay back! What the hell is this fucking thing!? CROW : I guess even a blade can't get through it. This thing looks tough. CINIS : Probably a golem powered by magical science. EMMA : What? CINIS : Magical science is the art of circulating magic, in the absence of a sorcerer. That's why it is so strong. It's like a defensive buff in a game. CROW : I should have brought my new shotgun that Lagoon recommended! EVAN : This is no time to be excited! EMMA : (It's not safe here.) EMMA : Evan, Mikoto! Please, can you help us? CROW : Let's do this, Evan!

EVAN : Ugh…I don't want to, but it's better than being crushed, I guess… MIKOTO : I am a noble fellow, aren't I? My subjects alone are sufficient to defeat this insolent― EMMA : Mikoto-sama is the true lord! He will protect us all! MIKOTO : Hmm? EMMA : We, your subjects, are so proud of your majestic figure that we are inclined to respect you and bow down to you! Right, Demon King? CINIS : Hmm? Ah! Oh! I think you're right! EMMA : (He read the room!) MIKOTO : Kuhahaha, even the Demon King bows down to me! You shall all receive my protection!! MIKAGE : Yeah, thanks. WELCK : Emma. You can rest assured that I will protect you. EMMA : Thanks, Welck! CROW : Damn! Is it working at all!? MIKAGE : It's a little beat up, but it doesn't seem to be intimidated at all.

MIKOTO : Damn you, you little brat! Bow down before me at once!

EMMA : (This is just going to exhaust everyone. What should we do?) EVAN : … Hmm? CROW : What's up, Evan? EVAN : There's some sort of glowing stone embedded in the back of this golem or whatever it is. CINIS : A glowing stone, huh? EMMA : Do you have an idea!? CINIS : It's hard to tell without footage, but that glowing stone’s probably a magic stone. It must be the source of the golem’s power! EVAN : So if we destroy it, it will stop the golem! Let's go, Crow! Don't drag me down!

CROW : Haha, you're in full throttle. I'm gonna beat you to the punch, so go wild! MIKAGE : No choice. It's a hassle, but I'll at least take care of the diversion. While Mikage is drawing the golem to him, Crow quickly moves in behind him and engages the golem. CROW : It's time to end this!

WELCK : Oh, the stone has been broken! EMMA : Yay!! The golem raised its arms to attack once more, but its movement gradually slowed and eventually came to a complete stop. WELCK : Well done everyone! CROW : Ha, ha, ha. I think I flew off the handle on this one. EVAN : You could barely keep up with me. Pathetic. CROW : But thanks to you, it worked perfectly. Thanks, Evan! EVAN : …Ugh. WELCK : You look so happy, Evan! EVAN : No one is happy! MIKAGE : Well, I can't wait to see what the future holds. I think we should leave this nasty place as soon as possible. CINIS : Like the golem, the doors seem to combine magic and science. CINIS : Magic and science are the pride of Daten's civilization, after all, and this place is thought to be the remnants of Daten’s most ancient dynasty. The technology is very advanced for something that is a few hundred years old! EMMA : Indeed… EMMA : (Who built these ruins and for what?)

#Yumekuro #YMKR #Yumekuro Translations #YMKR translations #Otome #Dream Meister Translations #Otome Translations #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy Translations #daten5 #Welck #Emma #Mikoto #Mikage #Crow #Evan #Cinis

[find-the-path]

Oc-tober Day 2 - Beginnings - Ryndel

"Well! That should be the last of it,"

Surveying the clean, bare room before him with hands on hips, Ryndel at last allows a tentative smile to bloom on his face. The better part of two months have passed since the refugees of Edhelion had finished the trek south to Celondim, and the empty room represents the very last of people's belongings restored to their new homes.

The Dourhands hadn’t actually destroyed much of Edhelion at all, or at least the structure of it. The most damage sustained had been to the---

So they'd managed to get a lot out in the evacuation.

Celondim isn’t a large settlement by any stretch of the imagination, for all that it had endured since the rise of Lindon. Usually, it houses river-fishers and farmers, and those who prefer trees to the open land closer to the sea. Most Elves of the Ered Luin had lived farther west, in Mithlond proper, or north, in Edhelion.

Now, of course, that all had changed. The Elves of Edhelion still living numbered nearly two hundred, and the wounded in the scores. the hassle of building shelters, summoning healers from Mithlond, and squeezing three hundred Elves into a space ment for half that number had taken months and was still ongoing. Even Lord Círdan has ventured upriver to help figure out the logistics.

Ryndel isn’t exactly certain when the refugees had elected him their spokeperson alongside Dorongúr, but nonetheless he has been heavily involved in the process. He is a young Elf still, too young to have lived under Gil-galad's reign, much less Fingon's as had Dorongúr. Really, his only position of any note was---

Unconciously, his hand drifts to his belt, where an unadorned longsword sits in its leather sheath, drawn only once since he had been gifted it. Dorongúr has told him it had been meant as a sort of graduation present for that Yule, now passed, when he should have lived twenty years as a student. As things had gone, autumn was still in flower when it had been pressed into fumbling hands by his master, accompanied by a swift smile and a soft push in the right direction.

On a whim, he draws it now. There are small runes engraved into the gleaming steel--- cirth rather than tengwar, the easier to engrave for an inexperienced craftsman. Though the sword itself had been forged by the best of Rivendell, Talagan had inscribed the words himself. A well-wish, a blessing, a farewell, a declaration of pride, or all. Or perhaps merely what his master thought of as poetic.

It is a fine blade, much like the one his master bore, which now sits snapped, perhaps, beneath twenty tons of solid stone. He sheaths it once more, and turns for the door.

#lotro #the first one that is (technecally) canon! #i guess this length is going to be a trend #at least it's at a reasonable hour #ryndel #talagan silvertongue #perhaps i'll edit the sword-message in later #when i think of it #oc #oc-tober 2022 #beginnings #salt and light

[theredsuzuran]

Yandere Muzan x Reader

I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, also for my crappy writing I hope It does not bore you lol. Slight mention of gore

It was the time of summer

A multitude of people hovering over one another in the vast space of the lively Asakusa city occupying the streets like tiny ants. Unfortunately it was same monotonous sight for kibutsuji Muzan progenitor of the morbid demon race, who seems to be roaming around uninterestingly looking for a suitable prey to hunt. The fleeting lives of mortals, their compassion, happiness, sorrow, pain held no value to him. They are pests who belong in the dirt or beneath his feet, inferior compare to a perfect being like himself. Nothing more than a tool that he won't hesitate to discard after his desires are fulfilled. All of a sudden his gaze felt upon a petite figure near a tailor shop, a large number of people gathering around her.

What's the matter, mister? Muzan inquired to a man next to him.

"if you are new definitely try her kimonos, now make way" the man said quickly as he rushed to the shop pushing all the people away. He was interested to know what the deal was about so he decided to stay for a while hoping it's worth the wait.

After a long delay muzan finally got the chance to view the women. As their eyes locked the dazzling city lights broader than the day itself felt dull in comparison for a moment, the once monochromatic world seems to change vibrantly with her luminous presence, As if goddess Amaterasu, the diety of sun herself have ascended from the heaven into the mortal realm. The demon lord stood there mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty, how can someone so close to perfection exist alongside those barbarians.

"How can I help you mister?" She questioned politely with her soft vocal. His endless thoughts were interrupted breaking the silence.

"Show me your kimonos"

And so his obsession started..

Days passed since his last encounter with the woman. He have come across numerous marvelous humans in everlasting lengthy life but never have his ruby eyes caught a glimpse of someone as alluring as her. The girl possesses an unique aura that differentiated her from the rest of the crowd, able to draw attention from the cold hearted creator of cannibalistic demons. At first muzan was just curious to know about that woman, possibly persuade her to become one of his underling because of the potentials she may carry. He frequently begun to visit her shop to but or sew different fabrics. Gaining basic information, like her name, likes and dislikes, etc. Her grandfather owned the tailor shop which sold finest quality garments from the beginning and were highly respected for their excellent tailoring. Continued by (y/n) at her family's will, who runs the shop with equal undying devotion.

She treated him with such kindness even though he was a ruthless demon not that she knew about it or let alone the existence of demons. The deepest corner of his dark heart illuminated with pure light whenever she was around and he came to the conclusion that she was the ray of sunshine he desires to perceive. Eversince he was cured from his fatal illness the only goal in his life was to conquer the sun which prevents him to achieve absolute perfection, in order to live an eternal and indestructible life or so he thought until that very day his eyes laid upon you. It would be stupid to think that demons are capable of experiencing love, concepts of feelings are completely foreign in their conciousness, it was more like obsession. His megalomania makes him believe he needs you no he wants you.

Alas, if only it was a fairytale. The king does not always gets what he desires and same goes for the demon lord when he finds out that his beloved darling already has a lover. As he witnessed the sight of you hugging your partner with passion. The way her eyes flutter infront of him when he caresses her cheeks making her turn away bashfully and how she hold his hand with her delicate ones while exchanging vows of love and loyalty towards each other made his blood boiled with fury. If anyone who can hold her fragile frame is none other but the demon lord himself yet there she was sharing intimacy with some filthy creature. His narcissistic self was put down with a lowlife, he cannot accept that his (y/n) was claimed someone else's. It was something he would never allow to happen.

"Kibutsuji san would you like to buy something today as well?" The women who now acknowledge his presence asked him cheerfully.

"Should I visit you later" a force smile graced on his pale features.

"Oh no, it's fine, let me introduce you to my fiancee" she said excitedly.

"Nice to meet you kibutsuji san" your fiancee said

"Pleasure to meet you as well" The demon scoffed under his breath but Kibutsuji was quite adamant he knew it was not hard to turn the tables anytime sooner as with a blink of an eye he can get rid of him by simply ordering his underlings without even hesitating to dirty his hands exclusive for his precious darling. But that was not what muzan was planning to do at all as his mind was engulfed with much sinister thoughts.

To insanity?

"You have been restless for a long time, what's wrong my child?" A man asked with a look of concern written all over his face looking straight at the figure of an anxious woman roaming around impatiently within the house.

"Its been a week father since he last wrote a letter to him" she mumbled softly disappointment painted across her features. The father could not help but laugh a little by her daughter's remark.

"Father please it is serious"

"I am sorry sweetheart but it might be that your fiancee is busy with wedding preparation" which made sense because the wedding would be taking place after three day and it was obvious that he was caught up with the arrangement. However there was a strange feeling inside her stomach which made her believe otherwise.

As the days passed the wedding day came close, with (y/n) still not receiving any message from her lover. Worried her to the core at this point all she wanted was to make sure of his safety as something constantly felt off. The guests came in one by one for the wedding ceremony but there was no sign of the groom.

It was getting unbearable for her to remain confined. Ignoring her father's request to stay inside she went outside in hope to check whether or not her lover was approaching but once again she was greeted with emptiness. Her eyes swell up with tears forming on both corners allowing her body to slowly hit the surface as she convinced herself that her lover will never come. The worst was yet to happen and before she could make any movement the ground beneath her feet started shaking and a shoji door opened consuming her into the darkness.

It was just the start of her miserable life under the demon's control.

"So you are finally awake", a sudden voice came echoing into her eyes as she slowly opened her eyes after regaining her consciousness. She moved her hands upwards in order to ease the headache only to find her hands tied up with shackles, a chilling sensation of overwhelming fear filled her entire senses as she remembered what happened prior.

"Where am I? Why am I chained?" Who are you?" she demanded furiously at the mysterious figure infront her which was now advancing at her direction from the dark corner of the dimly litted room.

"You are quite an impatient one?" The man gripped her chin roughly as her eyes protruded out with bewilderment.

"Can't even remember your daily customer?" A wicked smile curved across his countenance.

"K..Kibutsuji san" she parted her lips. Tears forming in her eyes once again. This made muzan even more irritated as he tightened his grip on her chin. (Y/n) whimpered with pain crying out loud.

"Your shouting won't help dear nobody apart from me can hear you scream" he said bluntly with his cold apathetic voice.

"Why?" (Y/n) lowered her head down holding his hand with her delicate ones trying her best to get a hold of him.

"Pardon?" Muzan inquired as he stared at your quivering form with his souless eyes there was no empathy in them or whatsoever although he felt pity. He cannot deny the fact that he was indeed attracted to her that's the reason why he put her into so much hassles.

"Where is my lover?" She asked sternly with her voice shaking a bit.

"Oh" muzan responded his hand still holding her chin tightly. This made her even more anxious she was unaware of the power he might possess and definitely she didn't had any intentions to risk her life.

"Why can't you humans move on and accept circumstances given before you?" it startled her as she cannot process what he meant.

"I don't.. u..understand" she said.

"Then you have to learn to accept me as your partner" muzan replied coldly (y/n) sat there looking at him with disbelief her heart and soul belonged to someone else and for a long time they have been together it's absolutely impossible to change the reality she was accustomed with just because some maniac wants to make her his partner.

"I can never" she murmured with disgust hinted in her voice. "I love him" throwing daggers in his direction not ready to submit her futile attempts of protest should pissed the demon lord even more but to her surprise she saw him smiling menacingly and in the corner of her eyes she saw the figure of her debilitate lover.

"Start from his fingers" muzan ordered one of his subordinate as they began chopping one of his finger making him scream in pain.

"No! please don't hurt him" trying to break free from the shackles she was tied with realizing it was fruitless she fell on the demon's knee begging with all the strength left within her in a last desperate attempt.

"You left me with no other choice, dear" he explained playing his sick games of manipulation on her. This was exactly what he needed to break her mind and she cannot help but rely on him pleading for his forgiveness feeding on his massive ego providing him ultimate satisfaction to witness the quivering frame of his darling clinging onto his knee in pure submission.

"Please I will do anything you say" she requested shaking like crazy.

"Anything?" Muzan questioned raising his eyebrow

"Yes" she replied without any hesitation.

"Be mine"

She already knew that he wanted this and she readily obliged in order to save her beloved, sacrificing her own life. Her only purpose was now to satisfy the demon lord, he was successful until the very end and it won't take long to make her completely his.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #demon lord #demon slayer #demon #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x reader #anime

[border-spam]

Leech Lord has been around 1 year next week

Which feels absolutely batshit, that I've been posting content for it for a year. The last 12 months feels like a couple of weeks somehow, I'm not sure what time really is anymore. I started drawing at the start of last May? It's been a year. What.

I wanted to do something celebratory - like a big illustration or a major story point write up, but I'm currently doing 3-4 hours coursework after finishing work every day and that's why I've been slower than normal on content posts. I've a bigggg ol' backlog and will be back to normal by next month. Still, it's a shame to not do something, so I figure I'll do an ~askathon~ I'll post the replies for on the 18th!

I've lots of asks that have been queued a while and I'll give LL ones priority, but feel free to send in anything Borderlands!

Lore, Corp stuff, world-building, Sirens, Vault Hunters, side characters, anything you're interested in and want to ask about. I'll do my best to get through as many as I can on Sunday.

(Just as a note, I won't be doing Tim/Jack/Rhys related asks - they have enough of a monopoly on content and I'd rather create some for chars and topics that don't get as much attention).

Looking forward to reading what's sent in!

On the LL front, upcoming content I've on the planner is:

- 2/3k fic on an event in the Twin's early days post Seifa snatching their asses from the brink of becoming another unmarked grave in the sandplains, and pre the COV taking off - streaming out of a shitty little studio in a dock town too run down for marauders to even bother with. Tyreen's not happy with a decision she's sure was the wrong one, and Troy's insisting it's all under control. He has a plan. Just wait.

- A push on world development content: The other corporations, the Crimson Raiders, Bandit culture and COV rituals, the other Saints, Vault Hunters and reluctant Sirens.

- Sei on Sainthood and construction. "Vertical means up. UP. Fucking hell, where did they find these people... "

- A quiet coffee in the chambers of @godkingsanointed 's Jak-Knife Ur-Perpetuus, and some questions from her about why their skirmisher grunts have been hassling Mechanicum engineers for "bullet oil".

- The Twins and infallability: Learning the people you admire are only human farrrr too late in life.

- Next major story update: Self exile is just as bitter as forced. Seifa on the Adalphus COV base, and the regrets that she can't shake.

- Queued older content reblogs a lot of new readers won't have seen. Thanks to everyone who reads this shite and motivates me to keep going - art and writing have been such a mental health help this year (not left my estate since Feb 2020), and introduced me to amazing people who are now friends I love. I appreciate every like, I appreciate every invisible reader, I appreciate all of ye.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #bl2 #borderlands 3 #bl3 #leech lord #troy calypso #tyreen calypso

[collecting-stories]

Rick - ep. 09 - Georgia

Summary: After you and Daryl spend the afternoon together Rick and Michonne come over for beers, Rick finally figuring some things out.

A/N: I wanted to add more depth to the relationships in this version of the series. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Daryl sat in the passenger seat, window rolled down as he smoked a cigarette, watching you sitting behind the wheel of his truck was more enticing than he thought it would be. He figured, this truck being akin to a child, that he’d be keeping an eye on you so that you didn’t damage her while you were driving but in fact it was just the sight of you in the driver’s seat, taking precious care of something special to him, that was making it hard to turn his gaze away.  

“Ya ain’t a bad driver.” Daryl commented, smoking blowing out the open window as he spoke.  

“I told you!” You laughed, “you know Rick Grimes?”

“Yeah, how do you?”

“Our mama’s went to school together, his mom’s my godmother. But he taught me to drive.” You supplied.  

A week before you got your permit your dad went on a week-long bender that resulted in his third stint in rehab. Your mom had asked Rick if he minded teaching you, telling him that your dad’s brother had passed away and he’s gone up to Virginia to be with his family. One year he’d caught the flu and another time an uncle in Tennessee had passed and he’d gone to bed with family’ because apparently your mother had married a family man.  

Rick had been happy to help and you’d been happy to have him teach you. If you could’ve had an older brother you were sure you would’ve wanted it to be Rick. He was a little older than you, Daryl’s age, but he had always hung back at kids' tables and parties and church picnics with you, never letting you feel left out.  

“He ain’t too bad.”

“Of a person or of a driver?” You asked, glancing over at Daryl as you slowed to a stop at a streetlight.  

“Both, likes to hassle me whenever he drops by.”  

“I didn’t know you were friends!” You said, already preparing all the questions you were going to ask him next time he came into the diner.  

“Ain’t clipping pictures to my visor or nothing,” he remarked, grinning when you frowned at him. There was a picture of Maggie and you from last year’s Harvest Festival clipped to your visor in your jeep and Daryl had teased you about it when he’d first noticed it there.  

“I’m gonna get a picture of me and clip it to your visor so you can see my smiling face every morning.” You replied.  

“Lucky me.” He managed to sound sarcastic as he said it but he thought immediately that he wouldn’t mind a picture of you in his truck, tucked away to look at whenever he was having a shitty day.  

“Where am I going once I get in to Woodbury?” You asked, crossing over the pike to take the back way into town. You liked backroads better than the main highways, something you and Daryl had in common. He wasn’t as much of a backseat driver as you thought that he would be.  

“The industrial park on the other side of Cartwright...ya know where that is?”

“As long as you tell me where to turn.” You passed the Woodbury diner, the chrome exterior catching the sun and drawing your attention. “We should get food there on the way back.”

“This ain’t a whole day thing...I got stuff ta do when I get back.” Daryl replied, taking a look passed you to the diner as the truck continued on.

“It’ll be fun, come on.” You begged, glancing over at him.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

-

Daryl lacked the ability to say no to you, something he had already known to be true but discovered over again when he told you to pull into the diner in Woodbury after a stop off at the bank to cash his check. You led him to a table in the back that had a tiny jukebox on it and he rolled his eyes as you ignored the menu in favor of finding a quarter.  

“Ya play any a that crap ya listen to I’m leaving ya here.” Daryl piped up as you dropped the quarter in.

“I was gonna play Dolly...it’s classic.”

He shook his head at you and you stuck your tongue out at him before settling on Bruce Springsteen. “You have a beef with the boss too?”

“Nah, this is fine.” He replied as the sounds of ‘I’m on Fire’ played in the booth. A little too on the nose, he thought, as he sat across from you watching you read over the menu.  

“Do you like working at the slaughterhouse?”

“I cut up dead cow all day long...not exactly the dream.” Daryl replied, “my brother got me the gig after I dropped out and I been working there since. Got bills to pay.”

“Does your brother still work there?”

“He’s in jail.”

“Oh. Sorry-”

“Ain’t your fault, he’s a fucking moron, got himself arrested. Been fucking up since we were kids.” He shrugged. He loved Merle but he certainly didn’t like him. Merle had gotten him in more trouble than he could keep track of.  

“I don’t have any siblings...I think I was enough.” You replied.

“I’m sure.” He teased, grinning at you.  

When the waitress came around to take your orders, she winked at you, assuming, you were sure, that the two of you were on a date. You smiled back at her and Daryl rolled his eyes when she walked away.  

“Are ya like that too?” He asked, “too perky for yer own good?”

“Probably. The happier you are the better the tip.” You replied, shrugging.

“I’m sure ya get tips just cause everyone knows who ya are.”  

“Well yeah.” You shrugged, “I can’t wait to get a different job.”

“Ya ain’t thrilled waiting on people all day?” Daryl asked, biting at his thumb to calm his nerves. He was sitting across from you at a diner and you were fishing in your bag to play the same Bruce Springsteen song over again.  

“No. I hate it. People are the worst!” You replied. There was nothing you could think of worse than having to deal with people all day. “What about you though? You have to deal with annoying people coming in to get their cars fixed.”

“Yeah I’m sitting across from one of ‘em.”

“Shut up!” You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot, “you love spending time with me.”

“You keep saying I do.” He said it but he knew that you were right. He liked spending time with you a little too much.  

-

Rick sat in the Adirondack chair that you usually occupied whenever you were over, cooler full of beer next to him. Daryl finishing some work on your jeep, showing Michonne the repairs he had done while Rick talked about passing his sheriff’s exam.  

“Ya ain’t President of the United States Rick,” Daryl cut off the second wind of the same story, laying his wrench down to look over at his best friend. Michonne laughed, shaking her head at the two of them. “Ya just made deputy.”

“Yeah and it’s a pretty big honor I’d say. Not everyone is out there making deputy D.” He replied, taking a swig of his beer.  

“Well as another person who made deputy, I’d like to point out that it isn’t the hardest thing in the world either.” Michonne piped up, grabbing a beer from the cooler. She handed one off to Daryl, taking a better look at the Jeep he was working on. A tassel made of different color yarns hung from the rearview mirror with an air freshener that looked especially feminine too, certainly not something Daryl would hang in his car. “Who’s Jeep?”

“Nobody’s, just doing a favor.”

“A favor for...” Michonne trailed off, popping the driver’s side door open. Daryl didn’t say anything as she slipped into the seat, taking a look around the inside. Vinyl stickers on the dashboard and as she scanned her eye caught the picture in the visor.  

“I been thinking the Jeep looked familiar to me,” Rick piped up. He’d thought one more than one occasion when he stopped ‘round his friend’s house that the Jeep he was working on was one he had seen around town though he couldn’t place it. “Just don’t know why.”

“That’s cause ya ain’t a good cop.” Daryl joked. Michonne laughed as she pulled the picture down and looked at it.

“I’m assuming it’s not Maggie Greene.” She said, handing off the picture to Rick.

“No, Daryl-”

“I’m just fixing her car.”

“What am I missing?” Michonne asked, looking between the two of them.

“She doesn’t need any trouble D, she gets enough of it.” Rick said, handing the picture back.

“I’m just fixing the damn car Rick. It’s my job.” Daryl repeated, tossing the wrench he’d been using, listening to it clang against the car before falling to the ground.  

“That was her backpack, wasn’t it?”  

“I didn’t ask her to come around.” He insisted.  

“You gotta stop seeing her.”

“I ain’t seeing anyone.” Daryl replied, “I gotta repeat myself? Ya ain’t her family, anyway. Ya can’t tell her what to do. Or me, for that matter.”

“Someone’s gotta look out for her.” Rick replied, “lord knows she’s not good at knowing what she needs.”

“What is going on?” Michonne asked again, stepping out of the Jeep and closing the door.

“Nothing’s going on.” Daryl snapped.

“I can’t believe your-”

“Swear to god Rick, I ain’t repeating myself again. Either shut the fuck up or get the hell off my property.”

“Whoa.” Michonne held her hand out when Daryl moved closer to Rick. She turned toward Rick, “I think you need to cool off.”

“We’re not done talking about this.” Rick announced, looking passed Michonne to Daryl. Before his best friend could say anything in response Rick was walking down the driveway to where his car was parked. He climbed in, slamming the door, before taking off.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Michonne asked, looking back to Daryl as he picked up the wrench he was using, “And don’t give me the ‘ain’t nothing’ excuse. I know when something is nothing and this clearly isn’t.”

“Said I’d work on her car cause she didn’t have the money to pay Dale.” Daryl shrugged.  

“And?”

“Don’t know.” He replied, honestly. He didn’t know and he didn’t like to think about it too much.  

“Come on D,”

“I said I don’t know.” He insisted, shrugging his shoulders in defeat, “I just like having her around.”

“You got a crush.” Michonne smiled, watching the way his face flushed.  

“I ain’t gonna keep ya ‘round if yer gonna make fun a me.”

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @oncemorewithfeelingg @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @kylieeepalmer @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare  @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap  @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano 

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfiction #twd au #twd fanfic #twd fic #twd imagine #collecting stories #georgia series

[darthkvznblogs]

From His Vantage Upon the Moon #1

Thor, Doctor Strange, and the Olympians

(MCU x Percy Jackson and the Olympians x Supergiant Games' Hades)

It's rather bad form for a visiting god not to check in with the local deities; Thor's already missed two visits, so he really oughta visit Mount Olympus - though in his defense, being cast out by Odin really shouldn't count. Fortunately, Doctor Strange is willing to play mediator between the typically fickle pantheons.

(From His Vantage upon the Moon is a collection of one-shot stories set in the Kryptonverse, an MCU based crossover universe including over 16 franchises so far. You can find the original work here, but I'll also be posting each short story here on Tumblr, too! If you like what I do, and would like to support me, you can find me on Ko-fi!)

“Are you entirely certain you wish to accompany me, Sorcerer?” –Thor asks, raising an eyebrow as they stand just outside the Empire State Building. Despite the fact that they’re in street clothes, Thor’s outrageously chiseled physique keeps drawing quite a few lascivious gazes, much to Stephen’s chagrin.

“Were it truly up to me, I’d be happy to let you make a fool of yourself.” –he drawls. “My duties, however, require me to mediate your reunion.”

Thor hums. “I don’t recall requiring a mediator during my last visit.” –he grouses. “The Lords of Olympus were quite amenable to our brief presence on Midgard back then.”

“That was then, and this is now. Earth has changed quite a bit in your absence.” –Strange argues. “The Olympians and their demigod children, in particular, have suffered through quite a bit of turmoil in the past few decades – particularly so in the last five years. Compounded with the thinning of the Mist, they’re bound to be wary of anyone outside their immediate circle of trust. Even if you were a friend.”

“Ah. I see.” –Thor mutters. “Strange, is it not? Their own troubles, Loki’s betrayal and the bandit rampage throughout the Nine Realms...we’ve had centuries of peace, and now this. So much has happened in so little time.”

Strange sighs. “I’m afraid this could just be the beginning. But this isn’t the time for that.” –he says. “Let’s hurry along. You have an invasion to repel.”

The god and the sorcerer walk into the building. A security guard stands beside the elevator – less a person and more a magical security measure meant to dissuade mortals (and even some demigods) from entering the gods’ abode. The guard recognizes Strange, though, and merely waves him into the elevator – though not before shooting Thor a vaguely hostile look.

“Odd custom, this.” –Thor notes, as Strange punches in their destination – floor 600. “Moving their home around so often – seems rather a hassle. What’s wrong with the original Mount Olympus?”

“The Olympians like to chase the most powerful nations around, eager for worship as they are. Right now, America’s at the top of the food chain.” –Strange retorts. “Though I hear they’re considering moving back to Greece as part of their big PR strategy. This part of the world is getting rather crowded, rather fast – and Greece could certainlyuse the tourism it’d bring, once they reveal themselves to the world.”

“I remember their strange worship-sustenance, yes.” –Thor recalls as he raises an eyebrow. “Have the mortals truly forgotten us?”

Strange shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Your kind may have become myths, but we still retell them in many forms. That being said, very few people believe in the gods – and I’m not entirely certain that they think of you as you truly are. You and your kin, in particular, have drawn some rather nastyfollowers in the past century or so.”

Thor winces. “Jane mentioned as much, during my brief stay. Something about ‘perfect Arian men’.” –he mutters, disheartened. “Hatred and fear twist the minds of gods and mortals alike. Such it has been as long as I’ve lived.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. It’s up to us to set the record straight.” –Stephen says.

Thor nods as the elevator dings, opening to the golden gates and pristine marble of Olympus. “Aye, that we are.”

The duo make their way forth, magically changing into their mystical regalia. Lesser gods and nature spirits look on in surprise and curiosity as Thor cheerfully greets them, giggling nymphs and naiads huddling into gossiping circles. The throne room sits atop a small cliff, like the Parthenon in Athens, overlooking the entire realm and the hazy mortal world, barely visible below.

When they enter, Strange can’t help but be surprised; it’s been maybe a month since he was last on Olympus, and yet he can barely recognize the figures sat on each of the thirteen thrones, each of them at least thirty feet tall – the only exception being the hooded figure of Hestia, placidly sat within the flames of the hearth in the middle of the room.

“Venerable Lords and Ladies of Olympus.” –Stephen half bows. “The Mighty Thor, Firstborn of Odin, God of Thunder, Strength, and Fertility, would request an audience of you.”

The god at the head of the Pantheon leans forward. King Zeus looks very different – his skin is a few shades darker than Strange remembers, closer to the olive tones of the Greek, and his more or less sensible black hair and beard have dramatically changed to become cloud-like in appearance, billowing in the ever-present wind of the divine mountaintop. Gone, too, is his perfectly tailored suit – he is clad in a golden toga, accented in white, and a plethora of rings adorn his hands, one of which casually holds the Master Bolt. A crown of stylized lightning sits atop his head. “Master Sorcerer.” –he greets, his voice booming like distant thunder. “And the Lord Thor. Welcome to Olympus.”

“Do forgive the lack of appropriate fanfare in your reception.” –Queen Hera says, beside him, snow-white robes adorned with a golden belt and peacock feathers, sprouting like a corona behind her head. “Dragging our family together for such an impromptu visit proved a more difficult endeavor than we anticipated.”

The thirteenth god scoffs, at Zeus’ left. Lord Hades crosses his arms, ashen-skinned, bushy-bearded, and much more muscular than Strange remembers him – perhaps the most visually different of them all. A crown of burning laurels, matching his flaming feet, compliments his blood-colored chiton, and precious stones of all kinds adorn his hands and arms. “Then perhaps you should have done with the few of you who were already present, Sister Hera. Blood and Darkness, but this is a waste of my time.” –he curses, leering at their guests with black and red eyes. “Curse the day your spawn so nobly decided to include me in these affairs, Poseidon.”

Poseidon, at least, Stephen recognizes. Physically, Percy’s father looks the same as before, for some reason – even though his clothes have also regressed to what must’ve been his ancient looks. He smirks at his older brother. “We won’t keep you from your lovely family for long, Brother.” –he says, trying to placate the wrathful Lord of the Underworld. “But this is important.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with Lord Poseidon, rekindling our bonds with King Odin and his kin upon Asgard is paramount among our short-term priorities, Lord Hades.” –Athena grudgingly admits. Hades scoffs, sulking back into his throne. The virgin Goddess of Wisdom and War turns to Thor. “And I sense Lord Thor is eager to make amends for his unannounced visit and battle, earlier this year.”

Thor grins. “Indeed, Lady Athena. Though the mortals bid us worship once, Asgard recognizes Olympus’ sovereignty upon Midgard. King Odin sends his regards – and his firstborn, to aid in the protection of your world in whatever way you deem necessary.” –he says.

Zeus and Hades share a knowing look that has Strange wincing internally – they must know something about Thor that the Asgardian himself doesn’t. “There is no transgression to apologize for. And you’re allowed free transit in our domains, fellow Thunderer.” –Zeus declares, amiably enough. “Though grateful for the All-Father’s offer, we do not hold you to our service. You’ve decided to shoulder enoughresponsibilities to humanity already.”

“Your brother, I assume he is no longer a threat?” –Athena asks, narrowing her stormy grey eyes.

Thor’s smile falters. “No, he isn’t. I come fresh off his sentencing – he will live out his many, many days in our dungeons. This, I feel, does require an apology.”

“Family is a difficult matter at the best of times, Thor.” –Lady Demeter says, glaring coldly at the King of Olympus. “You have our condolences for Loki’s turn to madness.”

“Thank you, Lady Demeter.” –Thor bows. Stephen worries, despite himself, at the hint of pain in his voice.

“Madness or not, I envied your ability to challenge it alongside the mortal champions, unbound by our ancient laws as you are. Will you go join them now, in the bloodshed about to unfurl?” –Ares wonders, blood-red irises keen to see the Asgardian in action.

Thor nods curtly, his jaw set. “Indeed, Lord Ares. I do not mean to cut our meeting short, but I must aid my brothers and sisters in battle.”

“Oh, how boring.” –Aphrodite laments. Hers is the most eye-turning makeover of all – if only because she’s fully nude, pink-skinned as the day she rose from Ouranos’...remains. Only her flowing, rosy Godiva hair allows her any modesty – and even then, it’s tremendously inconsistent. Intentionally, Strange must assume. “It’s all doing battle with you warrior types. Here I thought you’d come back to see that pretty little mortal you fancied.”

Thor clears his throat. “That, uh...that is a bonus, yes.” –he admits. “But protecting the world takes priority.”

Zeus nods, approvingly – a little bit hypocritically, Strange feels, considering how hands-off the Olympians can be. “So it does, Odinson. Go with our blessing – and do join us for a spot of Nectar and Ambrosia soon. We have a few thousand years of history to catch up on, after all.”

#from his vantage upon the moon #kryptonverse #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #hades game #percy jackson #pjo series #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #thor #doctor strange #ko fi link #ko fi

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 44, Replies Part 1

1) “Sit down, because after that fucked-up mixer we’re back for more on Chapter 44: One Outrageous Traveler.

This is gonna be a truly… outrageous jem of a chapter… I can feel it…”- Well, you were certainly right about that- who’ve have thunk we’d have actually seen the pain train personified in this very chapter? Certainly, the most outrageous, unpredictable outcome that we never saw coming and not that bit at the end there...

2) “Oh- Oh my god,that is Pop calling, isn’t it? Oh lord Pop got Midnight on the speed-dial, she got her own pro hero older sibling, but at least this one isn’t an ass like Aizawa, she’s just a bit creepy.”- She probably is giving Pop tips on how to use her sex appeal to boost her idol career though, so there’s that aspect to consider when Pop turns to her from advice from an official pro hero.

3) “Oh Midnight, I believe she’s in need for help, Koichi is probably being murdered right now, and he can’t call his older brother to save his ass.”- You know, the number of phone calls that Pop makes to people on her contact list for genuine meet-ups are probably far in the minority to the calls she makes to find somebody who can save Koichi’s ass on a daily basis. They’re at least expanding their scope to include more heroes than CC, but it’s still running to an adult or similar for aid when they’re in too deep and still haven’t figured out how to take down a villain themselves, though at least Koichi can Run and Gun now, so there’s improvement, somewhat.

4) “what  the ffuck is tha

what

what is thatthing chasing him again?”- 

He moved on from taking out Villains to Vigilantes- the heroes better watch out, of Thomas will be chugging for them next.

5) “OH MY GOD

SHE FUCKING CALLED AIZAWA

HE CAN’T ESCAPE”- He never bothered giving out his contact info to Koichi precisely because his bullshit detector twigged that this would be the outcome and he’s still getting roped in by the powers that be working against him. Aizawa might as well give up and accept this as his lot in life now, it’ll make his eventual teacher career a lot easier.

6) “also, can we finally see what was that was chasing Koichi? I think my eyes deceived me, because it looked like Thomas the fucking train engine running after him.”-No, your eyes did not deceive you. Yes, I think Furuhashi or somebody must have taken acid at some point to start coming up with inventive one-off villain designs for Koichi to face on a weekly basis. One thing about the main series was the League at least provided a neat, reusable character design whenever Horikoshi’s not drawing up entire crowds of disposable Mooks like the MLA, but the Trigger Villains are half-way between them and the league in terms of opponents for Koichi to face, and since Scarface isn’t interested in a confrontation with Koichi yet, they’ve got to make visually striking opponents that can still be disposed of and tossed away without hassle on a regular basis. At some point, they’re going to start getting a little inventive with the inspirations.

7) “ITS THOMAS THE FUCKING TRAIN ENGINE

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

LOOK AT THAT FUCKING TIHNGGIVING CHASE”- You know he’s totally cycling his arms in a regular motion to mimic a train’s wheels whilst he runs, right?

8) “PLEASE SAVE HIM GUYS, THE PAIN TRAIN IS HEADING HIS WAY

AIZAWA DO SOMETHING BEFORE THIS WHOLE SITUATION GOES OFF THE RAILS

no wait, Koichi already used that one. Dammit Koichi”- The Locomotive’s gone Loco, the Caboose is on the loose, we’ve jumped the tracks into crazy street, prepare to have your tickets punched… and that’s about as far as I got before Aizawa took Thomas the drug train down to stop my punning ambitions cold.

9) “What the fuck is this chapter, why did the pain train just showed up, what kind of bad trip did I got myself into”- Oh, we’ve not even gotten to the real mind-blower at the end there, but it’s a nice opening ac to prepare you for it…

10) “And that’s done with. Lovely. What in the fuck’s name did trigger do to this motherfucker, darkness has enveloped him and there’s no way back out of it”- well, at least he’ll have fantastic qualifications as a railway mascot going forward.

11) “OH MY GOD

THEY DID IT

I WAS JOKING THAT THIS PLACE IS AIZAWA’S OFFICE AND THEY JUST DID THE SAME JOKE

AMAZING”-  It’s not even really a joke anymore, Aizawa just doesn’t hang his agency sign outside because he wants to keep this ‘branch’ office and coffee spot on the down low from villains and potential hoodlums whilst he enjoys the peace and quiet… too bad for him Koichi knows he hangs out there now, so he’s got a guaranteed spot to locate a hero on demand. Except when they run out of coffee, of course.

12) “Oh hai Phelps, didn’t expected you here… Say, its you the ~important meeting~ that Aizawa was talking about, or did you just came all this way to look for your brother in law?”- Aizawa of course, because it seems Phelps can detect literally anything but the fact that Koichi is the famous Crawler, even though he’s seen him several times so far and has seemingly forgotten about him every time, since he keeps asking other people who Koichi is.

13) “PHELPS

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, YOU SAW HIM BEFORE, YOU HEARD HIM BEING CALLED “THE CRAWLER”, YOU EVEN MENTIONED THAT THERE’S A VIGILANTE NAMED “THE CRULLER”, HOW ARE YOU NOT MAKING THE CONNECTION HERE?!

I’M OUTRAGED WITH HOW TERRIBLE OF A DETECTIVE YOU ARE”- The power of terrible naming saves Koichi again.

14) “Oh my god Aizawa

AND YOU PHELPS, HOW CAN YOU NOT CONNECT THE DOTS?! THIS BOY IS YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW GODDAMMIT”- Speaking of terrible naming, it’s a good thing Koichi did go with calling his palm-blast something so ridiculous, because when you hear the words ‘Shooty-Go Blam’ the last thing you think of is, ‘serious attack’ so Koichi can discuss assaulting a villain right in front of an official police officer and he’s completely clueless. Koichi might as well be talking in code here, except Code names would probably sounds cooler than the reality.

15) “Oh, I see… wait, is this a way of testing its effects on different people then? Less powerful and less addictive, meaning that it can spread more easily around the streets, and as such, allowing a wider range of data to be collected without the cops getting involved.”- I guess the doses that Hina shot up everybody at the bar with were especially potent ones then, otherwise the police would have gotten more reports of people’s quirks going wild in bars and other drinking establishments before now. Guess she really wanted to show Rin Koichi’s ‘Bad Side’. Though that does suggest that there might be more one-off pawns of the VF like her around, those without any real connection to the organisation, but still willing to run their tests for them for the correct price and incentive.

16) “Oh I got that one right it seems. Alright, so we got what their plan is, finding more victims for the Nomu program. The drug is merely a screening process that is going unnoticed, but the heroes are finally catching up to it…”- That, and it perhaps also helps ID which drugs work best for their purposes in making villains whose bodies are better suited for more… extensive remodelling, as it seems the drugs are a necessary part of whatever they’re doing to physically alter their bodies, so seeing who can react best to which particular blend of chemical cocktails allows them to identify what parts of the formula work and what need altered more, whilst also working with sturdier test subjects who can take the strain without collapsing on the operating table.

17) “I just love how you two are so involved with this whole situation, even though you’re not pro heroes nor cops.”- If the police and official heroes are going to hold their clandestine theorising sessions on the motives of the VF in their backrooms, the very least they could do is let them listen in and given their two cents on the matter. Hell, when they draw up one of those big string theory boards eventually, you know damn well it’s their corkboard they’ll be borrowing.

18) “Alright, so he McBee just handed the stuff to his younger sister and fucked off from there. Knowing what we know, the choice of who got those samples might even have been completely intentional, as Kai would want to “show the evilness off man” to Rin anyway she could.”- Huh, that’s a good point, and it does fit with the VF distributors we’ve seen so far having a good understanding of the psychology of the people around them, both their targets and those who could be useful or an impediment to their plans. Scarface giving the drug out to Hina and telling her it amplifies the ‘negative’ qualities in men and brings them to the surface would be a good way of getting her to unwittingly aid them in their illegal experimentation without really realising what she was doing.

19) “In all seriousness, he’s always a step ahead, you can’t catch him by running after leads like this. You guys will need a serious break to get ahead and get him, or this game of cat and mouse will go on for a long time.”- Well, if it’s lucky breaks you’re after, Aizawa could do a lot worse than continuing to help Koichi, considering how he keeps coincidentally running into Scarface and his schemes without knowing it, and especially now we know that there’s a definite connection between these wayward pupils…

20) “Aizawa, are you sure about that? I mean, you’re a underground-style of hero, but the international backlash that would rise if you got caught operating illegally outside of the jurisdiction of your country… God, that would be a nightmare.”- Certainly would. Good thing there’s another Ex-hero around who wouldn’t cause such a public outcry with his own private investigation into the same organisation then…

21) “Ha ha, you’re so funny Aizawa… “just kidding” my ass, you were willing to do it, you just backtracked once they reacted negatively to the idea.”-  Aizawa was totally gonna rope those two into helping smuggle him into china if they’d been a bit more receptive to the idea, probably in a packaging crate with a month’s supply of coffee to sustain him. @thelreads

#bnha vigilantes #bnha #thelreads #chapter replies #vigilantes 44 #my hero academia

[neokids]

Fortune's Fool: Act XII

Masterlist (read previous and future ones here!)

Act XII

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

When night fell in Seoul, it remained as bright as it was during the day. Yes it was a bit more quiet, but still the glowing neon signs from the shops and other bars made up for sunlight. The only things that could be heard in the city would be the distant sound of music and the buzzing of wires. In the eyes of a foreigner, one would say Seoul is peaceful. They do not know the danger slowly eating the city alive. They do not know that beneath the mask of calm and peace, remained a city run by violence. This time violence, but madness would soon start its reign.

In the clamor, a dancer who had just finished her night shift exited a club. She hugged her faux fur jacket close to her figure, feeling the cold wind wind of Seoul brush through her. She shook her head to free her hair from her ribbons that have been tied there all day, the sudden release calming her down. Her ribbons were a bright royal purple in color, signifying her alliance with the Viper Gang. She wore the ribbons on her wrist to keep her safe as she walked through the deep alleys where Viper gangsters remained, a sign that she is on their side and would not cause any hassle.

The dancer shivered as she continued to walk, quite certain no one was following her. She looked behind her to see no one there, she was at ease. Nevertheless, she felt someone watching every move she took. With that feeling creating an unsettling emotion bubble in her stomach, she started to quicken her pace.

A few moments passed, and the dancer completely halted in her steps. Leaving the dull buzzing of the electrical wires fill her sense of hearing. She thought she had heard panting near her, but she saw no one. The more she listened, the more she heard the droplets of water hitting the ground. Droplets of water that weren’t there before.

The more she focused, the more her sense of hearing widened. She felt the presence of someone with her.

But the thing is, it wasn’t someone. It was something.

It revealed itself from the shadows, its thorns shining in the dark. It looked like someone had placed ten daggers all along its back. It raised its head to make eye contact with the poor dancer, a pair of opaque silver eyes stared back.

The dancer flees, panic overcoming her entire body. She ran as fast as she could in her heels, ultimately causing her to trip and stumble to a fisherman who wore the wrong colors.

The Neo caught sight of her and her purple ribbon tied to her wrist, he was ready to fight.

“You!” He bellows, “Are you lost?”

He mistook the dancer’s shocked silence as confusion, the dancer thought he would help her. As soon as he approached her, he whipped his gun out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching out on our boundaries,” the dancer explained as she reached for her gun strapped on her thigh, “Bloody Vipers,” he spat through grit teeth, “You think you can stroll here anytime you want, don’t you?”

He aims the pistol at her, the dancer shaking while holding her own gun. “Y-you don’t understand, something is back there and it’s coming–”

A sudden splash broke their tension. The dancer felt droplets of water hit her exposed leg and when she looked down, the water was tar black.

She sprints to her right, ducking at the alleyway. The fisherman mistook her fast pace as a sign of war and so gunshots were fired. When she had got away to shield herself from the Han river, her whole body was already shaking.

Then something erupted from the Han River

Soon enough, screams resonated all throughout the night.

The dancer had sat in her hiding place, muttering all the prayers she knew. Eyes closed tight as her knees were brought to her chest, whole body shaking. The only thing that had caused her to stop, was when she heard nothing at all. The screams were now dead silent, the only thing that could be heard was the constant buzzing of the electrical wires. The dancer willed herself to get up and go back to the scene, only for something horrible to unravel in front of her.

The fisherman, along with several other people, had dropped dead on the floor. Throats scratched until blood was seeping to the floors.

Along with that, she found several insects skittling and bumping towards each other before jumping to the Han river.

. . .

Yeji smoothed the fabric of her dress down, her chauffeur taking her to the address Karina provided her. She was on her way to Secretary-General Jinyoung Park’s office, hopefully able to find something before she would return home. She always wore a beaded flapper dress, similar to the ones Western girls wore when she was in America. In order to blend-in, she had to look like everyone else. She had to wear her roaring 20s hanbok and finger curl her hair.

Jinyoung Park was a very secretive person. He was the chief editor of a newspaper called The Korea Press, and their address was supposed to be public information. Yeji had expected a somewhat formal corporate office, people in suits and formal attire. She did not expect a bunch of workers running around the tight office with typewriters clutched in their hands as they frantically screamed and demanded about the latest update being pressed.

As she walked in the building, she held her chin high. Yeji couldn’t help wrinkle her nose as she eyed the mess that is this office. She didn’t bother stopping by the front desk, they were Rovers weren’t they? Surely they would let her wander around until she stumbles upon Jinyoung Park’s office right?

Yeji smiled to herself.

As she weaved through the chaotic establishment, she snagged a random notebook and pen in attempts of making herself look busy. She made her way to the basement, the sudden brightness suddenly starting to fade. The whole basement level was darker than the floors above it, they didn’t bother putting in more artificial illumination. The whole level was made out of solid cement, from the floors all the way to the ceiling. It wouldn’t surprise Yeji if she found out that this establishment was used as a prison before turning it into this.

She continued striding forward, her heels clacking loudly in the process. She examined and took a look at all the nooks and crannies of the prison-like office. Everyone and everything was so chaotic that they did not mind her presence at all, it was like she wasn’t there in the first place. All the workers were busy writing, making phone calls, or scribbling down notes. As Yeji scanned the desks she passed by, one desk caught her attention. There seemed to be one desk that was unoccupied, she was even more intrigued when she saw a note pasted on the clipboard: MEMO FOR JINYOUNG PARK

She quickly ducked under the desk, searching for all files she deemed useful. She found nothing but old newspapers and drafts for new ones. Why was this desk empty? Yeji thought. Surely this desk did not belong to Jinyoung Park who had his own space, she found her hands wandering to a certain opened drawer. She found drawings.

When she saw the first one, she broke out in a cold sweat. It was a drawing of wide, snake-like eyes. The other drawing was of claws and claw marks, impossible made by an animal on earth. She felt the tiny hairs on her neck spike up.

“Goemul,” Yeji breathed, a monster.

Before she could think over her actions, she quickly snatched one of the drawings, the one where it showed its enitery, and folded it as she tucked it in her pocket. It joined the masquerade invitation she had forgotten about, causing her to feel annoyed again. She stood up after glancing around the room, making sure no one was watching her. She wiped the sweat from her palms as she marched out the basement floor.

Yeji paused suddenly, hearing and seeing the door behind her shuddering.

Suddenly, all Yeji could think about was the drawing folded in her pocket. She reached for the doorknob hesitantly, fear almost clouding her vision. “Hello?” She said quite hoarsely, “Is someone–”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

She leaped away from the door, the door stopped shuddering. She quickly turned around.

“Oh, me?”

The man wore a strange hat, his suit being more Western than the rest of the people here. Judging by the way he carried himself, and his arrogant stare, he was of high ranks. Possibly along the ranks of Jinyoung Park, he was definitely not a mere assistant.

“I came to talk to your chief-editor,” Yeji continued, “I got a bit lost.”

“The exit is that way,” The man said, pointing to his left. It was something about the way he said it, he was treating Yeji like a lost child who got separated from her parents in a theme park. Yeji did not like anything about it.

Her blank face immediately morphed into a cold, wide smile.

“Official Viper business,” She said, chin held high. “My father, Lord Hwang, sent me here.”

There was a moment of silence, the man digesting her words. You could see the man’s expression suddenly turn into discomfort. Still, he smiled and gestured for her to follow him.

The man did not bother hiding his impatience, he ascended the staircase three steps at a time. Yeji, however, took her sweet time as she looked around the establishment. The contrast between the prison-like basement and the prestigious first floor levels was abrupt. The Rovers only cared what the common people saw, which were the first floor levels. They wanted to come across as established, known, accomplished.

Yeji eyed all the designer clothing that the workers on this floor adorned, they were much different than the workers who looked underpaid in the basement. When Yeji brought her attention back to the man, the man was already waving her impatiently towards him. With a huff, she followed suit.

The both took a turn around the corner as the man led her towards a spacious waiting room. The waiting room had two parallel rows of waiting chairs, placed directly on the opposite sides of the walls. Yeji finally understood his impatience, seeing as there was already another person there.

Jeno cocked his head forward.

“What are you doing here?!” They both demanded in unison.

As soon the man felt the tense air of the place, he removed himself from the situation quietly. As soon as the man was nowhere to be seen, Jeno jumped from his seat and grabbed Yeji’s arm. She was so offended that he even dared to touch her that she stood grounded to her place, rage bubbling in her stomach. Jeno had already moved them to the corner of the waiting room, making the cold wall hit Yeji’s back. Only then was Yeji able to react.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” She hissed, trying to shake her arm away from his grip. Jeno must have heard the same things, causing him to gather information for himself as well.

Yeji bit back a curse. If the Neos found answers first, the whole of the Viper gang was doomed. If the Neos knew more than they did, people would start putting their trust more in them. People would start fleeing to their side, leaving the Neos to prosper while the Vipers to suffer.

“Listen,” Jeno snapped, “you have to leave.”

Yeji couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “I have to leave?”

“Yes,” Jeno muttered as he reached up to examine Yeji’s dangling pearl earring. He made eye contact with her fiery eyes, flicking the dangling pearl in the process. The pearl had hit her jaw, causing her to fight back the breath threatening to her throat, she wanted to scream at his face so hard right now, but she knew better.

“I was here first,” Jeno said as he placed his palm on the side of her head, “Go play dress-up somewhere else.”

Dress-up? Was this all Yeji was to him? When she wasn’t in her usual clothing? Just a dress-up? But she did not care.

“This is Viper territory.”

“These people are Rovers, you hold no bearing nor power over them whatsoever.”

Yeji grit her teeth hard, he was right. The only thing she found comforting was that Jeno didn’t look too confident either. If she had no bearing over them, that meant he didn’t either. The man Yeji met earlier immediately shut up as soon as he discovered Yeji’s identity, the neutrality was a good thing in this situation.

“Our relationship with the Rovers is, and will always be, none of your business.” Yeji refuted, “No if you would excuse me, please get out of my face.”

Jeno only narrowed his eyes at her, taking it as a threat.

“I am not going anywhere.”

God, the audacity of this man. Yeji straightened to her full height, holding her head up high. She was in heels, their height difference wasn't much. “I won’t say this again,” Yeji breathed, toxicity lacing her voice. “Get out of my face. Now.”

Jeno held her stare a second longer. Slowly, he backed away from her. As he stepped back, he scrubbed his hands to his eyes. Yeji glared at him while making the act, but she realized it was an act of exhaustion. The shadow underneath Jeno’s eyes a bit more prominent, eyes a little red.

“Have you not been getting sleep lately?” Yeji finds herself suddenly asking, her question startled both her and the man in front of her. With Jeno striding a few steps away, she found herself wanting to kill him less.

“I’ll have you know,” Jeno turned back to her, his hands finding its way to his pockets. “That I am very much well, thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking about your well-being.”

“Oh just give it a rest, Yeji.”

Yeji folded her arms, not quite believing his words. She had heard of the news last night of the dancer and the fishermen, a number of deaths on the side of the Neos suddenly spiking up. It meant that Jeno wasn’t gonna leave because Yeji had told him off, he needed an answer just as she did. Death was already on its way to his door.

“Is that his office?” Yeji asked as she nodded towards the door in front of them, she didn’t need to explain some more as she saw Jeno nod in the corner of her eyes. “Jinyoung Park is disciplined, he won’t take any line-jumpers. Don’t even try.”

Try what? She wanted to ask nastily, she couldn’t possibly engage in a gunfight with Jeno right now. She needed an answer so they really needed to be civil, at least for this time being.

Yeji hastily stomped down towards a chair and sat down. She lifted her gaze towards the ceiling, looking at the cracks and chipped paint of the poor paint job. She made sure to look at anything else. She dug her hand into her pockets, feeling the folded drawing crease in her hands. The drawing didn’t confirm what the role of the Rovers was, but it was something. From the drawing’s blurry and harsh lines, she knew it was near the docks of the Han river.

Meanwhile, Jeno returned to his seat opposite the row where Yeji sat. He kept her gaze pinpointed on her, focusing on her whole-being. Much to Yeji’s annoyance, she could feel his burning stare directed towards her. She felt like she was being inspected, each sweep of his eyes, she felt like being torn apart piece by piece. The longer he stared at her, the more Yeji could feel the sudden rush creeping up her neck, coloring her neck and ears with discomfort and rage.

She wanted to skin herself alive, anything to make his attention turn elsewhere. He was just looking for heaven’s sake, people look all the time. Yeji decided that she would just have to wait until Jinyoung Park could finally meet her and–

“What?” Yeji snapped, unable to take his stare any longer. He did not say anything, he just looked at her again. Finally, she tore her gaze away from him.

Jeno let out an amused noise, as he turned his attention towards the door. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“For the last time, it is, and alway will be, none of your business.”

“If it has something to do with the madness then–”

“Bold of you to assure that it had something to do with with the–”

Jeno roared, “Will you let me finish my goddamn sen–”

The door then slammed open, revealing a very stressed assistant as she gestured for Jeno to come inside. Before joining Jinyoung Park, he gave Yeji a huff. This isn’t over.

Yeji had to wait an antagonizing wait. She tapped her foot impatiently and aggressively, her fingers playing with each other. She cracked her knuckles every few minutes as she played with the hem of her skirt now and then. As she felt like a thousand years, the door cracked open.

It was clear, Jeno’s blue head of hair hung low as his shoulders slouched, that he wasn’t able to get the intel he needed. He was met with Yeji’s knowing stare. She mocked him, pitied him. Jeno’s ways of persuasion had no limits, he was a liar through and through. Stopping at nothing until he got what he wanted.

“Don’t look so smug,” Jeno hissed, causing Yeji to chuckle.

“That’s just my face.” She replied as she stood up, chin held high as she entered Jinyoung Park’s office.

“Well if it isn’t my lucky day.” Jinyoung Park said once Yeji sat in front of him. He quickly put aside his letter and pen as he eyed Yeji, and then the door. “First it was the prince of the Neos, now we have the proud heiress of the Vipers. What can I do for you, Miss Hwang?”

Yeji briefly took in his plain office. She saw a few framed pictures of him and guessing his wife on the shelves behind the Rover. The office didn’t look old, nor did it look new. It was just as plain as any regular office, nothing special. Yeji turned her gaze back to Jinyoung Park, letting out a relaxed smile.

“You know how rumors travel nowadays, right Mr. Park?” She asked as she squinted, looking at her fingernails. “You won’t ever guess what I heard the other day,”

Jinyoung Park leaned forward, mildly curious and entertained. “Do tell, Miss Hwang.”

“They say–” Yeji leaned forward as well, like a classmate telling another classmate a secret, “that you know what caused this madness.”

Jinyoung Park didn’t say anything, he remained silent after a beat had passed. He looked at Yeji, blinking rapidly this time. “I have no clue what you–they are talking about.”

Yeji raised her brows, an innocently shocked expression graced her features. “You don’t?” She asked lightly. “You didn’t come up with this madness to kill all the gangsters? So that no one would be left to rule the city? So that the people of Seoul would be under your control and command?”

She took in his astonishment, guessing that Jeno didn’t directly confront Jinyoung Park about the madness. He must have tiptoed on thin ice, not really bothering to press nor aggravate the man in question. That was very unlikely of him.

“Miss Hwang,” Jinyoung Park began, “that is–that is preposterous.”

Yeji wasn’t going anywhere at this rate, she straightened up in her seat as she crossed her legs. The typical meek flapper girl long gone, seated in front of him was the heiress of the most brutal gangs in all of Seoul.

“The truth will be revealed sooner or later,” Yeji said sternly, “I would save both of our time if you could just speak right now or else I will skin you using my–”

“Miss Hwang, it is safe to say that I could save both of our time right now,” Mr. Park interrupted, “I have no clue what you are talking about so please leave. I am working and I won’t allow your silly accusations to disturb my line of work.”

Yeji carefully thought about her next actions, it didn’t sound like Mr. Park was saying anything false, but he sounded uneasy. He kept glancing at the door as his foot tapped the floor repeatedly. Was it because of her presence? Or did he know something she did not? If he didn’t cause this madness, then what was his role?

Yeji relaxed as she leaned back in her seat, “What if I have questions regarding your political party?”

“You are welcome to stop by any of our meetings anytime, Miss Hwang.” He answered stiffly, “Otherwise, please leave.”

Yeji took her sweet time stretching and fixing the fabric of her expensive dress. With an exaggerated bow and smile, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Thank you for your patience and time.”

She left the office as she rolled her eyes, what now?

“Woah–” Yeji immediately staggered back as she collided with someone. The moment she looked up to see who the hell was in her way, the only thing she could see was red.

Jeno had caught her wrist before Yeji had the chance to slap him, he held her wrist as he bore into her eyes.

“Careful,” He said warningly, his tone too soft and feathery to be a threat. It was a trick, it was his way to lure Yeji’s attention to his lips in attempts of calming her down. It was working, Yeji wanted to strangle him alive for that.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene in a Rover establishment, right?” He asked as he gave a mocking smile.

Yeji tried to jerk her arm away from his grip, but he held her wrist in place. If Jeno did not let go in three seconds she was drawing her gun.

Jeno let go.

She quickly tugged her wrist back, smoothing the area of skin where Jeno had gripped. When Jeno still remained in his place, she demanded, “Why are you still standing in front of me?”

Innocently, Jeno pointed to the chairs. “I left my hat,”

“You weren’t even wearing a–” True enough, there indeed was a hat. He simply shrugged as he went to pick it up, tipping it to Yeji as he hid his blue hair. She hurriedly made her way to the exit as she was finally able to breathe the air of the outside. She tugged her coat closer to herself as her hands found warmth in her pockets, she froze.

“He better not have…” Yeji fished the paper from her pockets, she only had one paper left. To her fortune, she was greeted with a pair of monster eyes staring back at her, she let out a breath of relief.

Yeji scoffed, Jeno had gotten the masquerade ball invitation.

“Fool,” she muttered before finally walking away.

#jeno mafia au #nct mafia #nct mafia au #nct dream au #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #rival gang au #itzy mafia #itzy mafia au #yeji mafia #yeji mafia au #yejeno au #yejeno #aespa mafia #aespa mafia au

[janeyseymour]

Secret Santa

My wonderful friend Ay had an idea to do a white elephant with this bunch? I don’t really understand white elephant, so I changed it a bit, and uh... this was born. I hope you enjoy!

Every year since being reincarnated, the queens did a secret santa gift exchange. This year, they added the entire diner crew. Fluff ensues.

Christmas was coming, and as usual, Jane was in the Christmas spirit as much as anybody else.

“Every year, we do a secret santa exchange between the queens and I know for a fact the others wouldn’t mind if you and your family joined in on the fun!” the queen explained to her waitress friend.

“It honestly might be better that way,” Aragon let out a laugh. “We all end up finding out who our secret santa is before we exchange gifts anyway.”

“We’d love to do that!”

“Sounds great! So, we normally draw names, well... tonight. And then, on Christmas Eve we usually exchange gifts. Although, I’m sure we could do another night if you would rather celebrate Christmas Eve with just Lulu and Jim. You’re more than welcome to hang out with us that day too though! And oh, Becky, Dawn and Ogie will surely be around too right? Maybe even Cal? We’d be more than happy to have you all. Although, again, it really wouldn’t be offensive to us if-”

“Jane, you’re rambling.”

“Oh, dammit. Sorry,” the silver queen apologized.

“There’s really nothing to apologize for. We’d love to celebrate Christmas Eve with you, and I’m sure everyone would love to participate in the secret santa exchange!”

The group of thirteen gathered at the diner one night, ready to pick names out of a hat.

“Okay, the rule is, if you pick yourself, you have to redraw. We don’t need another situation like last year,” Jane laughed, giving a pointed look at the fourth queen. The previous year, Anna had picked herself and bought herself a new car- one she crashed and totalled approximately a week later.

“Oh god, don’t remind me Seymour,” the red queen groaned in embarrassment.

“Who’s first?” When no one made a move, the blonde looked towards the youngest one there. “Well Lu?”

The girl in pigtails stuck her hand in the bowl with all of the names and picked. Thankfully, she was excelling in her reading and knew how to read each and every person’s name there. She opened it up, not letting anybody see who she had, and grinned.

“You didn’t get yourself, right love?”

“Nope! I got the perfect person!” Jane. She had gotten her Aunt Janey.

The group continued to pick until everyone had someone. Nobody had gotten themselves, and everybody had kept it a secret.

“So the other rule is it has to fit in a plastic bag from the diner. That way, when everyone brings their presents over, it isn’t given away who had who based on the bag everyone carries in. “And yes, we learned this from previous years.”

Cathy laughed, fondly remembering the time she had figured out who had who based on the bags they all carried in and who ended up with the gift bags before they had even started opening presents.

“And one final thing, keep the name of the person you have in your hand. That’s the tag we use so we can’t identify others by their writing.” Kat let out a laugh, remembering she knew in previous years who her secret santa was based on handwriting alone.

And so, there they were on Christmas Eve, having eaten more than they had on Thanksgiving and laughing more than they ever had.

“Lu, are you excited for Santa to come?” Anne bounced the little one in her lap.

“I am! I hope Santa brings you guys everything you want too!” The girl beamed, always thinking of others. “Can we start our secret santa present thingy so I can go to bed so Santa can come?”

“I think that’s a great idea miss Lu!” Jenna beamed at her daughter. It was becoming a hassle to get her daughter to go to bed these days, so her wanting to go to bed was a welcomed change.

“So, how do you guys run this thing?” Becky looked towards Jane for guidance.

“Well, we usually all sit on the floor in a circle,” Jane began and gestured for everyone to move before continuing. “And since we all put our bags under the tree, why don’t we just all pass the bags out? Lulu can start since she’s the youngest, and then whoever her secret santa is can go next and so on. Who wants to play Santa this year?”

“Me!” Lulu’s hand shot up, and she was out of the second queen’s lap in an instant.

The little one had passed out everyone’s presents, and

“Go ahead little Lu,” Anne beamed, hoping that her younger friend would like her gift.

The girl opened her present with no hesitation, her mouth agape once she saw what was in the bag: a new apron with all of the queens’ assigned colors in stripes with the addition of a purple stripe. “Woah! This is amazing! Thank you secret santa! I love it!”

“Who do you think gave you the gift?” Jim questioned.

“I don’t know, but whoever did, thank you!” Lulu exclaimed, already having put the apron on proudly.

“Hun, the point of the game is to guess who gave you the gift,” Becky told her gently.

“Oh!” the girl laughed, a bit confused but happy to go along with the game. “I think... Lina!”

“Wasn’t me mija,” the first queen shrugged. “Guess again?”

“Aunt Janey?”

“Good guess love, but it wasn’t me either. One more guess,” the silver queen laughed.

“Annie?”

“Bingo!” The green queen exclaimed. Lulu immediately launched herself at the woman with space buns.

“Oh my gosh Annie, thank you so much! I love it!”

“I’m glad you like it! I worked pretty hard on it!” Nobody but Jane knew the truth in that statement. The second queen had caved and asked- no. begged- Jane to teach her how to sew in order to make this present.

“I love it! It has all of your colors from the show! But, what’s this purple here for?”

“Well, I figured, you might like to have your own color!”

(Lulu would claim her favorite color was purple for the rest of her life.)

“Okay Annie, it's your turn to open your present!”

“Wheels for my heelies? Bro! This could be anyone!”

“Look a little closer,” Becky stifled a laugh.

“What? Wait, turtles? This could only be from Dawn!”

“You caught me,” the waitress with glasses blushed.

(The silly queen would always make sure to put these wheels in when Dawn was around.)

“A new turtle pin!” Dawn grinned and happily attached it to her shirt. “Thank you to uh,” the waitress glanced at it and remembered all of the queens’ respected colors. “Catherine!”

“I think it’s safe to say everyone here has earned the right to call me Catalina, or even Lina,” the first wife said genuinely.

“Thank you Lina.” Dawn smiled at the nickname.

(That pin became her second favorite- right under the turtle pin that Ogie gave her as a wedding present.)

“These are beautiful.” The golden queen admired the beautiful earrings that she had received.

“Any guesses?”

“Jane?”

“It wasn’t me, and I really don’t know who it’s from,” the blonde said earnestly.

“Cathy?”

“Not from me.”

“Jenna?” The head waitress shook her head no.

“What the-”

“It’s from me,” the usually gruff cook said shyly as he raised his hand quietly.

“Thank you Cal.” Catherine went about taking her Christmas earrings out and putting her new ones in. “They’re beautiful.”

“I hope you like them.”

(Catherine wore them to a press junket. Cal noticed and smiled to himself. He was glad she liked them enough to wear on a red carpet. When the gold queen was asked about the beautiful earrings, she was happy to tell the world a close friend named Cal gave them to her.)

“A new apron? And a new spatula?” Cal looked confused. In reality, this could be from anyone. “Jenna?” the brunette made a ‘no’ gesture. “Jim?”

“Nope.”

“Look a little closer at the spatula,” Cathy spoke up. “ Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers” was engraved into it.

“Shakespeare?” Cal looked a bit bewildered.

“It means that if a cook can’t bear to eat his own food, he isn’t a very good cook, and we all know you’re one of the best around,” Cathy explained, a tint of red shading her face. “And I’ve noticed that your apron is stapled to keep it together. Figured you might like a new one.”

“I- Thanks Cath.” The man smiled one of the most genuine smiles any of his coworkers had ever seen. Jenna would be sure to tell Cathy how much that present had meant to him, because the lord knew that Cal wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings.

(It didn’t go unnoticed that the spatula was used exactly once before it hung in a shadowbox that the cook would touch for good luck every time he walked into the diner for the rest of his time working.)

“Bookmarks? This could quite literally be from anyone,” the writer laughed. “Who do I have left to choose from?” She surveyed the room before noticing that a certain mother wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Jenna?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I needed new bookmarks?” She truly thought that only her fellow queens would pick up on the fact that she was using strange objects as bookmarks.

“I’ve seen the way you’ll use anything as a bookmark, but I’ve never seen you use a proper bookmark,” Jenna explained. “For crying out loud, I saw you use a soda can tab the other day.”

“I-” the sixth queen was truly stunned. And then, she got a closer look at the bookmarks. They were beautiful- all different shades of blue, but each had delicate details and accents with her fellow queens colors. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

(She would go on to use these bookmarks for the rest of her days, alternating between the different bookmarks.)

“A new pie dish!” the baker exclaimed with glee. “Oh how wonderful! Thank you!”

“Who’s it from?” Jim questioned.

“It’s from-,” Jenna eyed up the pie dish for a long while before catching that on the side in small and crisp writing it read, “ all i wanna do is bake... all i do is sing... all i do is bake and sing” “-Thank you Kat.”

“You’re welcome,” the pink haired queen tried to say it casually. “Hope you like it.”

“I love it. And I love the reference to the musical.”

(Whenever she brought over pie to the queens from that day forward, she made sure to bake it in the pie dish that the fifth queen had gifted her.)

“A book on American history...?” Katherine grinned, knowing exactly who gave it to her. “Thank you Ogie.”

“I thought since you liked British history so much, you might like to read up on American history now that you live in the states,” Ogie offered. “If you don’t like it though, I can surely think of something else to get you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I love it. Thank you.”

(Kat would stay up late into the night reading about the fascinating history of the country she now resided in. Cathy would find her asleep the next morning with the book in her lap before leaving the room. She returned with the bookmark matched with her friend’s color and bookmark the page for her, but not before attaching a sticky note that read, “ I expect this to be returned to me when you wake up.” When Ogie was playing Paul Revere the next time, the fifth queen was in the front row watching her friend reenact her new favorite part of history.)

“Wow! This is beautiful! Almost an exact replica of the one the Paul Revere wears in my reenactments! Thank you!”

“Well, who do you think got it for you hun?” Dawn also admired the new coat her husband had just been given.

“I- I- I, Cleves?” he guessed. Surely, this was a rather expensive gift, and everyone knew that the red queen had money to spare.

“Nope, wasn’t me.”

“Becky?”

“You wish. I’m not going to encourage your-”

“That’s enough Becky. My daughter is in the room,” Jenna scolded her boisterous friend.

“She won’t encourage his what, Mama?” the little girl in the room stared up at her mother with wide eyes.

“Nothing to worry about hun. Just some adult stuff.” The baker hoped that would be enough. It seemed to work- the girl was back to asking Ogie who he thought gave him the coat.

“Jim?”

“I thought you might like to have it the next time you go on for Revere. That other guy’s coat is huge on you.”

“Thank you Jim!” The elf-man lunged to hug his friend.

“This tie is stunning Jane,” the lanky doctor said confidently.

“How’d you know it was me?” The silver queen was shocked. She didn’t think it was that obvious who she had. She certainly didn’t slip up and tell Jenna either.

“It’s silver.”

“Oh.” In all honesty, the blonde didn’t even realize she had bought a tie in the color that she had been assigned all those years ago. She was just drawn to it.

“Thank you.”

(Jim wore the tie to the second opening night for SiX on broadway many years later. Jane cried when she recognized the tie.)

“Aren’t you going to open your gift?” Cleves asked the third queen expectantly.

“Oh, I guess I just got so... wrapped up in watching everyone else open their gifts!” The punniest queen grinned.

“Just for that, you lose your turn. You go last,” Cleves retorted as she went to open her present.

“Well, I only know one woman who would buy me a designer athletic bag. Thank you Becky!” the red queen acknowledged the rowdy waitress.

“Yeah, yeah. Not a problem. I figured you might like to carry your things in it instead of that small little bag you have.”

“Thank you.”

(Anna of Cleves would use that bag until it ripped, and then she retired it so that she could keep it forever. Becky would be happy to buy her another bag when she needed it.)

“Cleves!” Becky gasped.

“What?”

“These shoes!”

“I’ve seen the shoes you guys wear while you’re waitressing. I read up on these shoes a lot. They’re supposedly really comfortable and they’re stunning. All leather.”

(Becky was more than happy to throw away the ratty pair of shoes she had been wearing since Jenna started working at Joe’s Diner all those years ago and replace them with the shoes Cleves had bought her. And when a new pair showed up at her house a few years later with a note that read: bitchin’ kicks! , well, Becky let out a full-on belly laugh.)

And that left Jane to open her present.

“Well, go on, open it hun,” Jenna encouraged her friend.

Jane was expecting some sort of artwork from the little girl who was no doubt her secret santa. What she wasn’t expecting was a handmade mug with the little girl’s thumbprints in the shape of a heart- under it reading “ Best Aunt”. At the sight of it, the blonde’s eyes welled with tears.

“Thank you Lulu,” she choked out.

“What is it?” Anne asked, curious as to what could elicit such a reaction from her costar.

“It’s a best aunt mug,” Jane whispered.

“Hey, I thought that was me! You little rascal!” both Anna and Becky exclaimed at the same time.

“D-do you like it Aunt Janey?” Lulu stood from her spot in her mother’s lap and resituated herself in the third queen’s, hugging her.

“I absolutely love it, and I love you. It’s perfect. Thank you so much honey.”

(Jane would never use another mug again, nor did she let anyone else in the house use it. It was her mug, and no one dared to touch it.)

After the gift exchange was over, the group settled in to watch a movie, more than happy to spend all of the time in the world together. The youngest member of the group hadn’t strayed from her surrogate aunt’s side, more than happy to snuggle into the warmth that the older woman radiated. It wasn’t long before she was snoring quietly in the arms of her favorite queen.

“You’re all more than welcome to stay the night if you want,” Catherine offered knowing how tired the bunch had become.

“As much as we’d love to,” Jim began before Jenna interrupted.

“It might be easier to have her just sleep here instead of trying to get her into the car and then into bed without her waking up.”

“That’s a fair point. But, all of the gifts are at our house babe.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal if you guys stay, and it’s not a big deal if you don’t stay. We all know you’re all gonna end up here again in the morning anyway, so it’s totally up to you.” Anne waved a dismissive hand.

“We wouldn't want to impose,” Dawn muffled a yawn.

“We’ve got more than enough room between the living room and the basement, but it’s up to you,” Cathy mumbled, half asleep against Catherine.

“If you guys don’t mind,” Jenna smiled. The six queens all quickly reminded her that it was their idea. “Okay, so Santa’s presents are still at my house, so we’re gonna have to-”

“I’ll go with Jim and get it all together for you, don’t worry Jenna,” Ogie offered.

“I’ll go with them. They need a man to get this job done.” Cal stood and grabbed his coat, the other two men following suit.

“Alright girls, head to bed, Jenna and I can stay up for the boys.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Becky grumbled, picking herself up and heading towards the basement, pulling a half-asleep Dawn with her.

“Goodnight Janey,” the queens all stood and kissed the mother figure of the house on the cheek before retreating to their rooms.

“I better take Lu down-”

“You guys can stay in my room. I’m sure Annie won’t mind a bedmate for the night.”

“I can’t take your room from you.”

“You can. I insist. Lu isn’t going to sleep on one of the couches!”

“But it’s your room.”

“Okay, I do have that pullout in my room. I can sleep on there, and the three of you can have my bed.”

“I’m not taking your bed from you!”

“Well Lu surely isn’t sleeping on that pullout! Not the night before Santa’s coming!”

“Lu can stay with you then. Jim and I will take the couch.”

“But, you’re going to wake up sore.”

“So would you if you slept on it.”

“But you’re my guests.”

“We’re hardly guests at this point.”

“You don’t live here.”

“We might as well.”

“Just take my offer.”

“You’re sleeping in your own bed Seymour. Lu can stay with you, and Jim and I can take the pullout. That’s final,” the brunette turned on her mom voice.

“Damn Hunterson. No need to pull out the mom voice on me!”

“There is a need!”

“Okay, okay!” Jane laughed putting her hands up in mock surrender. “I suppose you win this round. Let’s get her to bed before the Santas arrive.”

The men arrived a while later, promising the two women who had stayed up that they could take care of setting out all the presents.

“Dawn and Becky are downstairs. There’s more than enough room for all of you to stay down there comfortably,” Jane informed them.

“Jane’s been kind enough to share her room with us for the night,” Jenna told her husband. “Lu’s gonna stay with her and we’re gonna stay on the pull-out. Hope that’s alright.”

Jim nodded before instructing the other men on where to put Lulu’s presents.

Although the two women had been told they were more than welcome to go to bed once Jim, Ogie, and Cal arrived back, they stayed and watched them diligently. Satisfied with the display that had the queens’ presents to each other (because of course they all got each other presents on top of their secret santa exchange) as well as the additional presents from the diner gang, everyone set out to bed.

Christmas Day had arrived, and at exactly 5:03 am, Jane Seymour was woken by a small child poking her cheek incessantly.

“Aunt Janey!” she whispered. “It’s Christmas. Do you think Santa came? Do you think Santa knowed I stayed here instead of at my own house?”

“Lu, it’s 5 in the morning. I don’t know if Santa came yet. Why don’t we give him a couple more hours to make sure he knows you’re here and not home?”

“This is like my home!” the little one whisper-shouted, melting the blonde’s heart.

“That’s so sweet of you to say hun. Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little bit though? It’s very early, and you know how your girls like their sleep.”

“Hmm,” Lulu thought this over for a second. “I guess you’re right. Good night Aunt Janey. Merry Christmas, and love you.”

“I love you too little Lu,” the blonde sighed as her surrogate niece snuggled into her side for a few more hours.

Opening presents was about as chaotic as anyone could guess in the house with thirteen people in it. After presents were done, Cal set out to make breakfast for everyone, muttering that if he couldn’t do that, what kind of cook would he be? It didn’t go unnoticed by the writer that he used his new spatula and apron as opposed to one of the spatulas in the queens’ house, the first and only time he ever used the kitchen tool.

“Hey Jenna?” Jane called from her place on the couch. The baker looked over at her friend inquisitively. “I have one more present for you.”

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, maybe it’s not for you, per se. It’s for the little one inside of you.” The third queen stood and walked towards the Christmas tree before almost magically producing one last present from under it.

Jenna opened the present with care and glanced at it before bursting into tears.

A simple onesie that said “ Heart of Gold, Green, Silver, Red, Pink, and Blue” .

“We thought it might be nice to give you for the new baby. We already love him or her so much.”

(When Olivia Pomatter arrived in the world, it was the first onesie the Hunterson-Pomatter duo put their new daughter in. Jane cried.)

#six the musical #six musical #waitress the musical #waitress musical #jane seymour #jenna hunterson #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #waitress the musical fanfiction #waitress the musical fanfic

[autumnblogs]

Day 44: Preoccupied about the same things as Trolls, revisited

Welcome back y’all! Before we get into this, I want to talk about the Condesce/Meenah as a parallel character to Mom Lalonde/Roxy. You can read a bit about @mmmmalo​‘s takes on Openbound, and why they think that Meenah is symbolically Roxy’s Doppelganger here.

I want to call attention to some specific similarities between them, and while I think it’s a bit of a stretch, Homestuck draws parallels between characters all the time.

Both the Condesce and Mom Lalonde are matriarch figures estranged from their potential offspring by dire circumstances and servitude to a patriarchal authority and his time-spanning plan - for the Condesce, that’s English obviously, but for Mom Lalonde, that’s Grandpa Harley - servitude to his design renders her a wreck of an alcoholic forced to endure the end of days with no means to stop them from happening, living with a daughter who wants nothing to do her.

Both Meenah and Roxy are rebels against a repressive order, inclined to shirk their assigned Role in service to someone else’s master plan, but ultimately, through some roundabout means or another, give service to it anyway (for Meenah, scratching the game, and ultimately ending up English’s glorified slave for eons in the end; for Roxy, at first refusing to play Sburb in hopes of spiting the Batterwitch, but ultimately ending up playing into her schemes anyway).

They are both rebellious spirits who are repeatedly forced to participate in Paradox Space’s Alpha Timeline all but against their will by hegemonic forces, slaves to a system that they exist in perpetual rebellion against, and by the end of the comic, they both get to help strike a decisive blow against the ultimate foe. Unfortunately, unlike Roxy, Meenah is ultimately the kind of person who chooses at practically every occasion to continue cycles of abuse instead of breaking them. There is ultimately no possibility of reconciliation between these estranged sisters.

So, I see a lot of the Alpha Kids in the four Alpha Trolls who appear in this flash. As the Faux Heroic Himbo, the parallel between Rufioh and Jake is obvious. I don’t think that it’s fair to characterize Jake’s relationship with Dirk as being “cheating on Jane,” though that’s probably how Jane feels about the whole situation; I’ve always gotten the impression she feels entitled to him.

More after the break.

The imagery here is an obvious parallel between Jake and Dirk’s big damn kiss, and Rufioh and Horuss’s - but between Rufioh’s bravado and general obliviousness, and Horuss’s clear triangular parallel with Dirk and Equius, we should expect that the situation is switched here - Dirk = Horuss, Rufioh = Jake.

While it could easily just be a bit of extraneous characterization, I’m inclined to regard Rufioh’s characterization of the women in his life as “Dolls” especially because of his symbolic proximity to Lord English. (He is at best one degree of separation from him, as Jake English’s Alpha Troll Doppelganger) - and the fact that Puppets and Dolls are pretty much synonymous with each other in terms of the way that English interacts with them.

More extremely obvious parallels.

Both of the Zahhaks have hangups about dating down the Hemospectrum, and as long as we’re examining Dirk through the lens of the Zahhaks, allow me to speculate; I think that part of the reason Dirk chooses not to directly identify with the label of gay is less aloofly progressive futurism, and more that he is uncomfortable with his own sexuality.

As a guy who repeatedly appeals to reactionary ideals and rhetorical devices like “Western Civilization,” “Reason,” “Logic,” maybe there is a degree to which we can read Horuss and Equius’ self-repression through the haemospectrum into Dirk suffering from internalized Homophobia.

This is a real long shot, but I’ve always gotten the impression that Dirk is a bit of a bottom. Maybe his desire in building up Jake into a powerful counterpart, like English’s desire to transform Jake into a powerful rival, is built out of a desire to be Oedipally usurped by a former pupil - to have his Eromenos turn the tables, and become the Erastes in turn, in power-dynamic terms.

In Classical Civilization, homosexual relations weren’t unheard of, and were pretty reasonably common, but it was seen as shameful to bottom, especially for someone of a lower social standing than you were (Julius Caesar was mocked as the Queen of Bithynia when it was rumored that he bottomed for Nicomedes IV, which was a serious attack on his political career).

Wild speculative tangent over.

Now this is interesting; Meenah is unwittingly drawing a parralel between Damara and Vriska. The main commonality between them is that, like Vriska (and also like Rose, and also like Jane - who is the fourth and final character in this particular set) her spite and resentment is used as the vector for English’s manipulation of their setting.

Like Vriska, Damara deliberately sabotages the ability of her session members to win, helping to create a powerful foe who forces a session to be scratched.

Like Rose, Damara descends into nihilistic substance abuse to cope with feelings of emptiness.

Like Jane, Damara’s actual feelings of emptiness come about as a result of feelings of rejection in relation to betrayal from within her close friendship circle.

Ironically, while Damara’s reaction is far worse than Jane’s, her anger is actually probably far more understandable - Jane is not entitled to Jake.

The situation between Horuss and Rufioh is also similar to what will resolve between Jake and Dirk shortly - they are just basically incompatible, or at least they will be until both parties do some work on themselves, but a combination of an oblivious party who can’t stop talking about himself, and social timidity on the part of the other prevents the situation from resolving amicably.

“As Long As I Know That I Am Free”

Sometimes, encountering our ancestors doesn’t have to be a source of tension, anxiety, expectation, and fear. Porrim models parental love for Kanaya in a way that, unusually for ancestors in Homestuck, is purely beneficial for her younger counterpart.

It’s okay to identify with roles and identities that have been corrupted or hegemonized by our culture. There’s nothing intrinsically bad about being a man, or about being a woman, as long as our embodiment of those roles is emancipatory to us.

Kanaya can still be a Mom, if that’s what she wants to be. Violence and money aren’t the only form that power can take.

Sometimes, learning the right lessons is just a matter of pausing for a second and being critical of all narratives; deciding for ourselves what we want to be. It’s the lesson that Porrim has to teach Kanaya.

This is just objectively true.

Aranea positions Rufioh as both a foil to Cronus, and to herself, further strengthening the Jake as Rufioh parallels.

What I think is really interesting about all this, is if we want to read the other three trolls as Jake, Dirk, and Jane, that makes Meenah the Roxy of this group! And while Roxy has never been vicious or deliberately cruel, there’s a certain resonance between her persistent hassling of Jane, her meddling in the Jake English Sweepstakes, and the disaster that it provokes, and Meenah’s bullying - I even early on in my first readthrough took a disliking to Roxy because of what I viewed as exactly that - bullying her counterparts, assertively trying to get them to behave the way she wanted.

https://homestuck.com/story/5401

Oh man, where to even begin with Karkat riding off into the Penis Sunset. Like, the Sun in relation to Dave is persistently an icon of Bro’s surveillance of him, and then there’s his burgeoning affection for Karkat (he mentions story time with Karkat in the third Openbound suggesting that he actually took Karkat up on his offer to read through trashy Troll Romance).

Like, there’s probably something in Dave’s troubled psyche that’s on display here but damn if I know what it is. Maybe he’s ruminating on the fact that Bro would probably not be too accepting of his relationship with Karkat, hence the juxtaposition of the symbol of Bro’s hostility with the imagery of Karkat riding a dick?

https://homestuck.com/story/5404

I don’t really need to explicate much on what Rose is trying to say, I think but just in case, here’s a little rundown of what she’s trying to explain.

The apple is a symbol of an irreducible idea. Many ideas are reducible - as molecules are reducible to atoms, and atoms are reducible to quarks and stuff, so are ideas reducible to increasingly more abstracted and basic units.

The closer to notionally irreducible a thing becomes, the more difficult it becomes to express an idea, until at last, that which is truly irreducible resolves, and reveals to us the true, intrinsic nature of reality. For every complex idea, we can refer to more fundamental ideas, until at last, we arrive at an idea, which when probed, responds back simply, “It just does that.”

This, I think, is that to which we ought to give the name of God; that force so fundamental that it truly does just do that.

In the world of Homestuck, Symbols, and with them, Rituals - stories! Are manifestations of the primeval and irreducible ideas. Everything else is a universe in orbit around the Divine - the Aspects themselves, perhaps, or something more fundamental than the Aspects even.

What makes reducing these stories to the irreducible principles that they allude to so difficult is that you’re effectively trying to explain the electromagnetic force by comparing it to rubber bands, when in fact, the electromagnetic force is what makes the rubber bands behave that way in the first place.

As a Ritual, Rose’s drinking is pretty similar to John’s Dad roleplaying - an attempt at unity with Her Mom. Another empty signifier.

https://homestuck.com/story/5405

Dave is already really embracing his new role as the actually most sincere and straightforward member of the party. Lovin’ it.

It’s kind of nice that Aradia and Vriska are getting along now. That’s gratifying for personal reasons.

Ah yeah, I forgot that was ever addressed officially.

https://homestuck.com/story/5435

The man

HASS the ring.

https://homestuck.com/story/5440

And with the depressingly empty Void session established via a single flash, we shall conclude for the evening.

Tomorrow, we’ll get to know our little villain.

For now, it’s Cam signing off, Alive, and a little Annoyed that I wasted a couple hours playing the Outriders Demo this afternoon. Seriously, what an aesthetically bleak and kind of mediocre-looking class-based cover shooter.

#liveblogging #commentary #pederasty mention #richard feynman

[maryellencarter]

Queer asks copied from @corelliaxdreaming :

1. Is your family accepting? -- Hah. No. My bio-family is not accepting at allllll, so I went and got myself an internet family instead.

2. What is your sexuality? -- Weird. The strongest part of my identity is Aromantic. I seem to be pretty much allosexual, maybe bisexual; most of the people I find myself attracted to are men within a fairly specific category (physically fit to muscular, at least as competent as me, kind, and often a bit dorky; I also have a weakness for clever hands and sexy voices), but the women I'm attracted to cover a much broader range of appearances and personalities. I fall pretty much in the category of the one Tumblr post that said something like "Being bisexual means you're attracted to three specific fictional men and all women", even though the attraction to men... feels... more attraction-y? I'm still really struggling to figure that difference out.

3. What is your gender identity? -- Sort of genderfluid, sort of genderqueer, sort of maybe agnostically agender? I used to ID really strongly as a trans man, and then after a year or so of being accepted, I found myself turning female. I bounced back and forth for a lot of years but seem to have settled down at a point where it doesn't especially matter to me most of the time. Which is a lot more comfortable than hurtling around to different points on the gender spectrum without warning.

4. Favorite color? -- Blue. Royal blue, mostly. That really deep sky blue you get sometimes during the fall. A bunch of really bright colors.

5. When did you find out your sexuality? -- Oh, it's been a process. For a long time I identified as asexual. It took me years to figure out I was actually romance-repulsed, and more years to figure out I had any attraction to women. I'm still sort of confused by that part. Like I mostly just want to look at them being pretty, but I also definitely want to look at their boobs? Maybe touch some boobs? I'm honestly not sure.

6. What do you wish you could tell your past self? -- Oh lord. Sexuality and gender wise? I'm not sure young me could have been hurried along the process of self discovery. I'd really like to tell her she was being abused and gaslighted and that she needed to take her great-aunt's offer of a free ride and major in geology *before* she broke her health, and maybe also tell her she needed a CPAP machine, but she might just think I was a temptation of the Devil. Also I'm not sure if the CPAP machine was an option before Obamacare. Or the psych meds she needed, either.

7. Have you changed labels since realizing you were queer? -- Oh yeah, all over the place. Asexual, trans, genderqueer, biromantic (for about a week), aromantic allosexual bisexual maybe pansexual... some people apparently even count PCOS as an intersex condition, since I have a lot more beard and chest hair than is normal for perisex women, to the point that I always have to explain to a new doctor that I'm not in fact on testosterone, my body just does that. I've never quite felt right claiming the intersex label, but I've tried on a lot of others. I think my header may still say "queer on every conceivable axis".

8. How was your day? -- Um. I got stuck wandering Cracked.com for most of it. Then I drove up to check out my pulmonologist's office, which doesn't *say* they're closed for the pandemic, so I guess I'll go up again on Thursday and poke them about whether my appointment still exists. Then I went and wandered around a very large very dead mall on that side of town, hatched a bunch of pokeymans, then came home and ate some split pea soup.

9. Do you have any queer friends irl? -- I don't have *any* friends irl, and it's kicking my ass. I have like one or two coworkers I could hypothetically hang out with outside of work if we weren't so all-fired busy. But if we're talking "friends I have seen irl at some point", I'm pretty sure they're all queer. They might also be limited to @tigerkat24 and one other person who doesn't use Tumblr, I'm not sure.

10. What's your favorite hobby? -- Probably knitting. It's soft and squishy and brightly colored, and it can be as brainless or as complex as I could possibly want.

11. Who's the best queer icon in your opinion? -- I honestly don't have an opinion. I've always been too far outside the community to figure out whomst the options were.

12. Which pride flags do you like the most design / color wise? -- Pansexual. I'd probably have a lot more pride merch if I IDed as pan, but it just never feels like it fits quite right.

13. Do you wish you could change any pride flags? -- YES. The aro flag is the exact same colors as the agender flag, just in a different arrangement, and it pisses me off because you can't distinguish aro merch from agender merch unless it's specifically flag shaped / has the stripe arrangement. I liked the yellow/orange/green/black aro flag, I found it much more cheerful, but apparently it was too similar to something Rastafarian. But you can't find alloaro flag merch at *all*, even though it has the green and yellow, which I like.

14. Are you openly out? -- Can't really help it, since I legally changed my name to a distinctively masculine one back in the day, and I do not remotely pass as male. So anybody who both sees or hears me and knows my legal name, knows there's *something* queerish going on. (I go by a gender neutral name these days, but haven't yet been arsed to change it legally because it's an entire hassle and a half.)

15. Are you comfortable with yourself? -- Mneh. I'm not *un*comfortable with my gender and sexuality, particularly. Sometimes I wish I could pass as male, sometimes I wish I could have cute cleavage. Sometimes I tie myself in knots with my feelings about women.

16. Do you experience dysphoria? -- I used to, very strongly. It hasn't been very aggressive lately.

17. Bottom, top, or verse? -- *shrugs* I guess I'd be a switch or "verse" because I'm down for whatever.

18. Are you femme, butch, or neither? -- I swing wildly between wishing to present Extremely Butch in a lumberjack style, which is impractical in the Southwest, or wishing to present Extremely Femme but being unable to do so, and tying myself in knots over the inability. (I can't wear femmey shoes due to my stupid feet, I can't have pierced ears as they get infected and the one pair of nice lightweight handcrafted earrings I paid $50 for is gone with the rest of my shit, I'm too lorge to find any nice dresses or be able to like try on prom dresses and stuff, I have a tendency to break jewelry as I'm extremely rough on my possessions... etc.) In practice my gender presentation is Fat Slob. :P

19. Do you bind? -- Not technically, but I do wear cheap sports bras which tend to flatten rather than lift or shape.

20. Do you shave? -- Only by necessity. I shave my face when I remember, because my beard looks extremely douchey and rather like pubes. Occasionally I shave my cleavage if I'm trying to present femmey. I pretty much never shave anything else unless the hair is getting Smelly.

21. If you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be? -- Um. Good question. The thing is, I am fairly strongly romance-repulsed, but I do want and enjoy queerplatonic relationships, so I would draw a distinction here between "dating" someone and being "in a relationship" with them.

22. Are you in a relationship? -- Yes, in fact.

23. Describe your partner. -- @camshaft22 . Um. She's very much the Hobbie to my Wes. She's very snarky and dies a lot and I love her very much.

24. Have you ever dated anyone of the same gender? -- Given that we're both genderfluid, I would say I'm in a relationship with someone of the same gender, yes.

25. Dated anyone of another gender? -- I've never dated or been in a relationship with anyone else, so I guess the answer is no.

26. Tell me a random fact about yourself! -- I always use this one, but I once lived in four different states (mostly non-contiguous) within a calendar month.

27. Do you own any pride flags / merch? -- No. I used to have a whole-ass collection that I added to every Pride, and then I lost all my damn shit and haven't had the heart to start looking again. Well, I have a rainbow necklace Kat sent me which is pretty nice. Can't wear it till my damn sunburn heals, though. :P

28. Have you ever been to a pride parade? -- Yes, when I lived in Bisbee. They have quite an excellent Pride which draws people from as far off as Denver.

29. Any advice to someone who isn't out or is exploring themselves? -- Take your time. It's okay if things change. You don't have to solve yourself all at once. It's more important to find people who will accept whoever you turn out to be.

30. Pineapple on pizza? -- I've honestly never tried it. Part of me feels like I should, in order to develop an opinion, and part of me feels like I'm just as happy being outside of that particular debate.

[ceemtaylor]

Advent Calendar 12/4

I’m back with another one! If you guys want to be added to / removed from the tag list, let me know :)

4. Card: An origin story in the Wicked Waters universe (aka how Val met Gabriel)

Valory pulled the brim of his hat low, shadowing his face further. His chair creaked beneath his weight but he had no desire to swap for a better one — not when he’d claimed a prized corner seat in the sort of seedy, lower-level tavern where one had to guard one’s back with alacrity. He squinted down at his cards. 

He could just make out the inked patterns, worn bald and stained with drink. Beside him, a dockworker threw down his own cards with disgust, forfeiting the pool in the center of the table. Valory’s hand wasn’t that much better, though he wouldn’t say so yet. Cards were a way to pass the time before his target arrived, yet he couldn’t afford to lose much more coin to the kid sat across the table. 

He’d already bled half his small-coins purse into the pot. Much more, and he’d draw curious eyes who’d wonder just how much he carried. Working in disguise had its merits — arriving at the walls of the first level in full raiment would hardly get him the information he sought — but it hampered him in equally-frustrating ways. The young Empath across the table grinned, teeth white against his Midlander skin, and spread a winning hand in front of him. He scooped up the pot amongst a chorus of groans and invectives.

Valory let out a few choice words of his own, but only because he’d have to find some other way to keep himself engaged while waiting for his target to arrive. Empty hands and empty laps were invitations in a tavern like this one, and though the Empath had fleeced him in countless hands of Ante, it was a far sight better than what some of the other patrons were after. “Another round?” the Empath offered, rolling the cuffs of an infantry-issued shirt. “We can have a game of Threes, maybe — and a smaller wager.” The Empath’s dark eyes flicked his way and Valory swore he gave the slightest wink. Valory’s eyes fell to the hammered circlet of the Empath’s talisman. A signature prickled at  his scalp. If it belonged to the kid across the table, he was hardly a passing-common minor talent. Though he’d advertised himself as a lad to better his odds at Ante, the cut of his collar told no lies. The ‘lad’ was older than he seemed. He’d stripped down to a petty officer’s undershirt to pass unrecognized, but Valory could sniff out an army man blindfolded. Add that to his knack for Ante, and Valory suspected this was no minor Empath. A bang at the front of the tavern yanked his attention across the floor. Five men poured through the door, masks tied around their faces, weapons brandished. The floor erupted into chaos, patrons startling to their feet to fight or flee. Here was the target he’d tracked for days, yet this wasn’t how he’d hoped to find them: at the receiving end of an attack with the screams of the tavern’s patrons echoing around him. Valory sprang into motion, grabbing the Empath by the collar and yanking him beneath the table to buy them a moment’s time. Huddled on the grimy floor with the Empath half in his lap, he could track the progress of the masked men by the scuffles that broke out across the tavern floor — the pleading sobs of serving women, the gurgle of a man with his throat slit, the smash of breaking bottles. Beside him, the Empath pushed up to a squat, eyes sharp and dark. “What’s your name, kid?” Valory asked. The Empath shot him a look. “Gabriel bar Anders, my Lord. I’m a corporal with the Fifth Company.” Valory resisted the urge to let out a whistle. That was some talent the kid had, to squirrel deep enough beneath a surface guard to figure out his title. “You’ll want to stay out of this, then, or Commander Bastian will have your hide.” “When did I say that, my L—” he broke off halfway through the honorific at Valory’s warning glare. “Those are the men you’re looking for, aren’t they? They’re part of the Shadowmen gang. If you ask me, they’ve been hassling this neighborhood for too long.” Valory looked him over. Gabriel was wiry, strength honed from years of military training. His weaponry was simple but he wore it well, a blade at his hip and a knife or three on his person. He had a sweet, boyish air about his face that Valory didn’t buy for a moment, and the longer they sat together, the more willing Valory was to attribute the strength of signature he’d felt while losing at cards to him. This was a dangerous man, hiding beneath the cloak of innocence his talent provided. “Well?” he asked, rolling into a ready crouch, hand on his hilt, “are you going to cover me?” Gabriel flashed him another all-white smile. “The one in front of you is left-handed and starting to tire,” he offered, tensed as if ready to pounce. Valory didn’t need more encouragement than that. He sprang from their hiding spot beneath the table, slamming through the Shadowman’s half-hearted guard and leaving him on the tavern floor in a gasping heap. Upon seeing their comrade fall, two more raced through the tavern towards him. One had a wicked, serrated blade, already stained with blood. The other carried a pair of knives and moved as though he knew how to use them. When Valory kicked past an empty chair to meet them, Gabriel came around to flank his side, hitting the knife-wielder with the force of a hurricane. The kid could handle himself in a fight, that was certain. As Valory elbowed patrons aside to get to the bar where the ringleaders put up their last stand, he chanced a glance over his shoulder at Gabriel. The kid tailed him, eyes narrowed, his Empathy as fearsome a weapon as his army-issued blade. Bastian’s Fifth Company was a fine regiment, but this kind of talent was wasted in the army. Gabriel jumped atop the bar, tankards shattering around him. He anticipated his opponent’s next move with preternatural ability, blocking a blow and slipping beneath another to skewer one of the ringleaders up against a cask of beer. Valory’s lips pulled back in a feral grin as he charged forward to meet the Shadowmen’s final stand. It could be useful to have an Empath around.

#writeblr #writeblr community #fantasy writeblr #lgbt fantasy #fantasy #fantasy writing #Oceana Series #Wicked Waters #wattpad #wattpad writer #advent #advent calendar #Oceana advent calendar 2019

[kazushuu]

🍍🍊🥝 for both of those sweet boys

o lord this ended up long. read more time!

🍍  :    how comfortable is my muse in their body? how do they feel about their height,  weight,  strength,  and body type?  how important is being attractive to them?

    “ …occupying myself with such things is nothing but baggage. ”

    he says, but it’s only half true. appearances (and identity itself) is completely neutral for him. not uncomfortable, but not really confident and proud either. however if he had to pick, he is often bothered with things below his neck more.

   he’s not bothered about his height, necessarily. but his strength is a bothersome thing. chemistry equipment like machinery is usually heavy, and so carrying those things around is a hassle. he sorta expressed his desire to be stronger in a usual creepy manner when talking about mantis shrimp.he is almost always cold and rigid because he’s underweight, and paired with medication, he’s generally a very dizzy.

   …he fully knows that he’s responsible for his own health, but completely reinventing his lifestyle– even though he’d definitely be even more productive and beneficial if he were healthy– is just an… impossible task, that he can’t tackle right away.

   but on another hand, even if he doesn’t voice it, he is very touched and impacted about compliments (usually just acknowledgements) about his voice, and hair, and eyes, and believe it or not, hands, so he’s subtly proud of them. he takes better care of his hair than anything else about his anatomy. and the pretty bow that he always has in his hair is very much a conscious decision.

   kazuaki picked up on this fact and compliments shuu on his butt and thighs in hopes that he’ll enhance them too but to no avail, shuu always hides them under discreet coats. damn u shuu

   he isn’t really self conscious about his scarring. he is worried that kazuaki will be too disgusted to handle it, but soon enough they’re gonna talk about it and their worries will be gone.

   summed up, he’s distressed about how vulnerable he unfortunately is, but doesn’t really care about beauty.

   “ …………………..n-no, not comfortable. i hate everything, everything about myself! i truly mean it!! i don’t like my height, i don’t like my weight, i don’t like my strength, i don’t like my body type, i don’t like my hair, i don’t like my face, i don’t like my voice, i don’t like my teeth, i don’t like my hands, i don’t like my knees, i don’t like how my hips look, i don’t like how my stomach rolls when i sit down, i don’t like my nose, i don’t like anything, and if if they were visible, i’d hate my organs too.

   everything feels wrong… i’m too tall, i don’t want to bring attention to myself, i want to disappear, i’m too fat- but i don’t even really dislike it alone, it’s just a constant reminder of how shitty and sloppy i am with what i put in myself…

   i don’t like the lines on my wrists because they are a constant reminder… of hitori.

   i like things that are cute and pretty, and i’m neither… even though shuu compliments me, i don’t know how to stop hating myself.

   f-freckles! i also have those, i-… i don’t know, they make me look childish, maybe?

   …why am i looking for reasons to hate myself??!! why can’t i stop??!!

   …i feel like if i met someone nice and kind and friendly, someone whom i’d like, who had the same physical traits as me, i wouldn’t find them ugly, s-so why? ”

   yeah. but as he said, he simply feels like a nuisance and clutter of space, because he thinks he has too many flaws without any good things to make up for them. shuu isn’t super vocal, but he actually finds kazuaki’s appearance very endearing. if not too much sometimes. cause you know. kawa-word.

   as teeth-gritting as it is, he’s happy to know that shuu is pleased with his appearance, and equally as pleased with the idea to experiment and bruise him, so oddly enough, that’s a small boost to his cripplingly low confidence.

🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes?

   “ …i don’t seek anything, no. i have always been married to my work, but, well, it seems that i became sentimental about this… particular quail. i don’t know how it came to this, ” yes he does, all too well, “ but alongside my main husband, kazuaki is very dear to me… and i shall not comment on the last question. ”

   obviously shuu needs a lot of time, and some amount of pressure, to awaken some empathy and feelings in him. and when he likes someone, he will develop an entire lobe in his brain dedicated to them. although it has only happened… twice in his life.

   his love life is kazuaki, and nothing else.

   his feelings towards ryuuji, although on a similar frequency, are much different than kazuaki’s. believe it or not, shuu has a romantic crush on kazuaki, and had one for a long while before they became a couple, but his feelings towards ryuuji are actually platonic. at least, that’s the state that they ended on. if… time went on, they would’ve developed into romanticism as well.

   ryuuji can’t really be called a crush, as much as that souma projected his entire being onto him, his present, his future, his little embryo hopes and dreams… he called him his boss, because that’s what he was, but really, souma saw ryuuji as a father figure.

   after being robbed of his childhood, ryuuji showed him a glimpse of innocent fun, but was also a role-model in his achievements.

   it was unrequited love in a way, but souma didn’t realize the depth of his feelings until much later.

   as he said, he saw ryuuji as someone to be admired from below, but kazuaki is someone he can sympathize with, and clings to the fact that they’re in love with all his might.

       -sniff-

   “ …hitori…hitori is an ex. i don’t know if i love or hate him anymore.

   b-but um, um, otherwise… i haven’t really met all that many people in my life, so i don’t know… i always fantasized and dreamed about true love and all that stuff you see in cartoons.

   i didn’t really chase after shuu because i wanted him to be my boyfriend, at first. at first, i came to him because i had no one else. not a single person in real life left. shuu was my only acquaintance, and was the only person who didn’t immediately slither away when i tried to be friendly, so i fixated on him with all my might…

   …to be my friend. i wanted to be his friend.

   a-and i guess at some point, we did, but we never even really acknowledged it, because we only realized it when we decided to take the next step already! so that’s wild! it happened naturally, i guess. um, more naturally than with hitori. and i mean that as, maybe because we didn’t know we were friends, i didn’t latch onto him as obviously as to hitori, when we were 18… we were mostly at a certain distance.

   so, i guess, i’ve always been a slow burn, “natural” type, ahah… mnm, when i think about it really hard, maybe i had some aesthetic-based highschool crushes. there was a guy, and a girl, or… there might’ve been two girls, but we never even talked, so… ”

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits, interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?

   “ I don’t know much about what is considered ‘unusual’ or not. but from reactions and experience, i guess everything about me is called unusual, creepy, suspicious, untrustworthy…mean…disgusting...

   but if we put what most birds know on a surface level about me, i guess there are some hidden traits too…

   …my interest in marine biology seems to be one. i love it equally as much as i love pathology and research, but i don’t have a reason (or way) to show it as a nurse in a highschool.

   …i like cooking? it’s a bit of a shame. i never saw a reason to put effort into it, if it was just gonna be me eating it in the end, but kazuaki seems to like my dinner making skills, so i’ve been doing that more often.

   …there…there probably is more, but i can’t remember anything… m-my mind is full of crabs and seafood now, hm. ”

   the list of shuu’s habits is endless and the list is always expanding! i have a list of HCs on it in a twitter thread here!

   but let’s see, the quirkiest of habits, that are a bit of a secret…

   shuu looks really cute when you catch him eating. he is quiet and polite of course but he tends to stuff his cheeks and then just slowly chew looking like a hamster.

   shuu stims. he’s never really mobile and never gets hyperactive so those stims are subtle.he fidgets with his (reminiscent) necktie, or any other fabric in hand.he chuckles (and makes.. bird noises) pretty much unawarely and impulsively. those count as stims too.

   “ u-uhuu... i dunno... i’ve always been the introverted outcast and no one is interested in me, so that can either mean that i’m painfully average or really weird without meaning to...

   ...i-i’ve been told that because i work at this prestigious academy, that must mean that my skill...”talent”...for classic and contemporary literature is unusual and exceptional...so i guess that’s unique?

   and...um... ” now that he thought about the topic harder, a piling mountain of perverted thoughts came to his mind, “ Y-YEAH THAT’S IT!! THERE IS...NOTHING ELSE! ”

   but that’s not true. kazuaki has plenty of hidden traits. one of his interests, although not so secret on this blog, is his love for hatocatch pretty coore, and generally, he loves most childish and energetic anime and games... and interests.

   aside from writing, he also really likes drawing, but isn’t very good at it, which prompts him to hate the end results.

   he loves astrology, and had a phase where he obsessed over it while studying both art and science related to it... you can probably guess that shuu loves this intellectual side of him.

   as for talents, or, uh, lack of thereof, kazuaki can’t whistle, and can’t wink. (shuu can whistle, but he can’t wink either).

   and as for a habit and skill, in bird form, kazuaki gets frightened so easily and so frequently, that his quail instinct is desensitized to it and actually doesn’t jump and ram his head into the ceiling when startled, and instead his instinct is to hide below. of course, he’d still jump if something were really (really) sudden. but he’s more likely to hug someone than flee.. upwards.

   also, he’s actually really talented at rhythm games... and i won’t tell what else he’s really good at with his fingers.

#kawaiiwamine #answered #( inbox memes | curious! ) #( ic | answered asks ) #( shuu | do not waste my time ) #( kazuaki | please be kind to me! ) #( kazushuu | the partridge and the quail ) #thank uuuuu qvq hehe i love writing about kazuu

[blancheludis]

@ironhusbandsweek @rhfenovemberbash Day 7: Forbidden Love, Steam Punk

Fandom: Marvel, Iron Man Characters: Tony Stark/James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Pepper Potts Tags: Secret Relationship, Fake Marriage, Steam Punk, Love, Angst and Fluff Words: 3.312

Summary: "We should marry," Tony says one quiet evening. Even before Rhodey replies anything, his expression clearly says he is not going to agree. "I don't think this is such a good idea." Of course. It all comes down to what the rest of the world says. That they love each other is apparently not enough to be worth the hassle. 

---

The halls of the mansion are mostly empty when Tony makes his way through them. It is dark outside, so he guesses it is night or early morning. Time flies by when he is in his workshop, although his father insists he comes up for air once every day. The Lord’s heir is supposed to be seen.

Right now, Tony does not strike an imposing figure. He is in his work clothes, covered in soot, with a few fresh burns sticking out in an angry red from his hands and arms. Steam is a tricky thing to master, and some days it eludes him. Tony is not discouraged by failures, though, no matter how personal his father seems to take them.

He walks the halls with purposeful hurry, even if habit makes him look over his shoulders every now and then. They live in a world where eyes are everywhere, even in their own home. Tony knows how to act right, how to hide his thoughts. Sneaking around in the middle of the night negates all of that, however. It makes him automatically suspicious.

When he arrives at his destination, Tony hesitates to knock on the door. He has no idea how late it is. Someone was bustling in the kitchen when he passed by it, but that does not have to mean anything.

Finally, he shrugs. He is eccentric and keeps odd hours. People have to be used to that by now. Tony’s knuckles barely graze the wood before he saunters into the room.

The lights are still on to his relief, and Rhodey sits at his desk, bowed over some paperwork. He is not wearing his armour but is not in nightclothes either. It cannot be that late, then. He looks up when Tony enters, smiling as if he waited for him.

Long strides take Tony over to him, and before Rhodey can offer a greeting, Tony leans down to kiss Rhodey. He inhales and feels instantly at home when the mixture of horse and leather and steel hits his nose.

“Good evening, mylord,” Rhodey greets, and while there is humour in his voice, he emphasizes the honorific with some sharpness, surely a reprimand.

“Good evening, Colonel,” Tony shoots back, allowing a small grin on his face, although he is always a little displeased when their difference in standing is mentioned. Tony is not even the Lord yet and all it does is give him more trouble.

Mindful of the soot on his clothes, Tony takes a seat on the bed. The poor staff is hard-pressed to keep his own sheets clean. If they found the same mess in Rhodey’s bed, their game would be up within days.

It is always a real struggle not to pull Rhodey down on the bed and forget all about the outside world for a few hours but contrary to what people think of him, Tony knows all about restraint. He just chooses to keep that private. That makes it easier to fool people.

Rhodey opens his mouth, no doubt to ask about Tony’s day, to make plans for them to sneak away later this week, but Tony is tired of the ever same circles they are moving in.

“We should marry,” Tony says, already a hint of confrontation in his tone.

This is not the first time Tony has broached the subject, although he is usually less brazen about it. They have been through the dozens of reasons why it is a bad idea, why Tony cannot just say something as incriminating like this in his father’s house, where anyone could be listening in on them and get the wrong idea. Or the right idea. If Howard found out, neither of them would be allowed to live the rest of their lives on their own terms.

Rhodey sighs as he turns his chair around completely to better face Tony. Rejection has never needed so few words. “I’m not saying no,” he says as if it is not written all over his face, “but I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

Of course, it is not. Otherwise, they would have already done it instead of spending the last years in misery, so close to each other and yet not allowed to touch in the open.

“Because of my father,” Tony says, bitterness coating his tongue. There is nothing Howard Stark has ever made better, apart from destruction. Stark men tend to constantly create new ways to make others miserable.

“Yes,” Rhodey admits softly, sounding apologetic. “And because of who we are. You’re –”

Nodding impatiently, Tony says, “Going to be the next Lord.” That has never done him much good. Quieter but no less grumbling, he adds, “They should stop pushing their noses into our business.”

Tony being the Stark heir is not the only reason, of course. There is also that Rhodey, at the moment, is responsible for his safety, which apparently makes Tony vulnerable for coercion. Although the same could be argued the other way around. Who could say no to Howard Stark’s heir? Then there is the fact that Tony is rich, that Rhodey’s skin has the wrong colour, that they are both men. The reasons not to love each other are endless.

Rhodey tries to smile, but it falls horribly flat. “You know they’ll never stop gossiping.”

Since his entire life is spent amongst these people, Tony knows that far too well. He runs a hand through his hair, not meeting Rhodey’s eyes. “And you can’t afford any more bad talk.”

That is the worst thing. If Tony is found sleeping with Rhodey, it will be a scandal. Tony will get an earful from everybody, might either get shunned by polite society for a while or harassed for details. Things will blow over. Rhodey, on the other hand, might lose his livelihood, everything he has built for himself, just for loving the wrong person. Tony cannot do that to him.

“I’ve risen through the ranks too much already for someone without any actual standing,” Rhodey explains, although Tony knows all this, has searched for loopholes for years. “If we marry, too, they might just throw me out of the Army, claiming I only got here because of you.”

“Then that would be the ultimate proof that they’re stupid,” Tony snaps. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them.”

Everybody remembers the tantrum he threw when his best friend left for Army training. If anyone had listened to Tony back then, they would have sent Rhodey right back home. Then, of course, they would not be in this situation because Rhodey would have never forgiven him, would have never fallen in love with him.  

“And none of that will matter if we cause another scandal,” Rhodey says. He is always surprisingly acceptant of the discriminating moods of people assuming they are his superiors. It hurts him, Tony knows it does, but he does not rail against fate. He just makes the best of it.

It has always sat wrong with Tony. That is what he later blames it on, that he pulls his shoulders up and sneers, “I’m just a scandalous affair for you then?”

A beat of silence follows in which Tony is already ashamed of himself, staring at his fingernails because he does not dare to look at Rhodey.

“Tones,” Rhodey chides quietly, tiredly, “don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Tony is so afraid of losing Rhodey that he sometimes forgets himself. “This is just frustrating.”

“I know.”

Getting up, Rhodey comes over to the bed, sitting down close enough to Tony, that their thighs and shoulders touch. Tony immediately melts into Rhodey’s side. When Rhodey opens his arms, Tony wants to warn him about the soot on his clothes, but Rhodey shushes him and the thought of being held is too enticing for Tony to argue.

They are in a horrible situation, but tonight, Tony has come prepared. The excitement from earlier has mostly vanished, but it is still a plan.

“I guess I’ll have to marry Pepper then.”

Silence answers him, while Rhodey’s arms stiffen around him. A sigh caught in his throat, Tony draws back so he can look at Rhodey’s face, which is carefully blank.

“That’s –”

“Unfair to her, I know,” Tony says quickly before Rhodey can come up with suitable counter-arguments. “But my father’s constantly laying into me to secure the bloodline. My mother is sending explicit invitations to other nobles to bring their daughter to the next ball. It doesn’t matter how often I say no, they just keep hounding me.”

It is expected of him and he has always known it. Lately, it has started to feel like a cage because his feelings for Rhodey are definitely not going away. On the contrary, they are constantly growing.

“You don’t have a problem with telling people off about other matters,” Rhodey says, almost changing the topic.

“What? You mean my problematic drinking behaviour or the constant explosions down in my workshop?” Tony asks, lips pulled into a sneer. Quieter but no less insistent, he adds, “This is my life, Rhodey, and everybody is haunting me to give it meaning by taking some simpering noble as my wife.”

Tony knows that they cannot go public with their relationship. That would only make problems for everybody. But Pepper is their friend. She is safe and pragmatic. The way Tony looks at it, she is their only hope that they will not end up unhappy.

“It will die down again,” Rhodey says, but obviously does not believe it himself. The older Tony gets – the older his parents get – the more an heir is needed for the Stark line.

“Yes, once I marry,” Tony says stubbornly. He scoots a bit back on the bed so that Rhodey’s arms fall completely off him. “And if you won’t have me, Pepper will.”

Rhodey looks tired, his hands twitching by his side as if he wants to hide his face in them or shake some sense into Tony. He keeps them where they are and just looks at Tony instead.

“Have you talked to her about this?” Rhodey asks, not any closer to giving in but likely just trying another approach.

“Yes.”

Tony is aware that this will change all of their lives. It will not mean an end of the constant hiding. In fact, they will just pull Pepper into this. They can trust her, though. Of all the people in this place, she might be the only one.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Rhodey shakes his head, lips pulled into the hints of a smile, even while there is no amusement in his tone.

Tony drops his eyes, uncomfortable with the fact that Rhodey can see through him. “Well, she said something along the lines of always being there for me if I need anything to make this easier.”

That is not a carte blanche, but it is a beginning. They can negotiate something that works out for all of them.

“Tones,” Rhodey says, clearly not of the same opinion.

“What?” Tony snaps, tired of running into more problems no matter how many corners they turn. “This makes perfect sense. My parents get a suitable daughter-in-law. The people get a Lady who actually knows what she is doing and can handle politics much better than I ever could. Pepper gets enough money to make a name of herself without having to plead with Howard for it. And we get our alibi.”

It does make sense. It is the most promising plan either of them had since they realized that their time is running out.

“Pepper is not just an alibi,” Rhodey counters, his face and tone stern as if he does not know that Tony cares about Pepper as much as he does.

“But she’s pragmatic. She knows we love each other.” Apart from the late Jarvis, she is the only one who does. “When I told her about proposing to you, she actually had the same reaction as you.” Tony bites his lip, then adds much less firmly, “If she finds her great love, she can either bring them in, or we can get a divorce as soon as my father is dead.”

Rhodey reaches out for him, but Tony dodges the attempt. He gets to his feet and starts pacing. Sitting still when there is a problem in front of him that he cannot solve is pure torture. He only ever manages it when he is held by Rhodey and he does not want that right now. He does not want to be mollified. He wants solutions. Preferably one that leads to their happily ever after.  

“It’s not as easy as that,” Rhodey says as if in answer to Tony’s thoughts.

Nobody said it would be easy, Tony thinks. Out loud, he says, “Not if you keep making it difficult.”

It is not like him to be the optimistic one. He wants to be, though.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, as if invoking Tony’s name has ever worked to make him see sense.

“Don’t Tony me,” Tony says sharply and comes to a halt in front of Rhodey, several feet between them. “What’s your solution then? To cut our losses and safely go our separate ways?” It does not bring him any satisfaction to see Rhodey flinch. “I love you, Rhodey,” he intones, allowing all his desperation to rise to the surface for once. “I know that we can’t go public with it, although I’d be willing to weather that storm if that is what it takes. But we can at least make it a little easier for us.”

That hits home. Rhodey has always had a weakness for hearing Tony tell him he loves him. With visible effort, he stills shakes his head. “Marrying Pepper will not make anything easier.”

Sharp laughter rises up Tony’s throat and he does not hold it in. It rings between them, too loud, too bitter.

“Of course, it will,” Tony insists. “For one, I’m going to move out with her. We’ll take one of the smaller properties, do a prolonged honeymoon, build our own lives. You’ll be our security.” Tony cuts off Rhodey’s protest with a sharp gesture. “Of course, you’re a bit too high-ranked for that. But we are childhood friends. I’m not going to deny that too. We’ll take only staff that we can trust. We can be together.”

That is the one thing nobody can take from them. They are friends. It caused gossip for years, but by now it is mostly accepted that the two are going everywhere together. It was a hard-won victory, but it works in their favour now.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Tony brimming with restlessness and hope, Rhodey doubting but just as eager to find a way for them.

“What if someone finds out?” Rhodey finally asks.

Tony pushes down the urge to shout in victory. He has not won anything, but if Rhodey has stopped his immediate protest, he might be on his way there.

“Why would they?” Tony answer, perhaps too eager. “Pepper’s not going to talk. It’s not like I’m going to tell her what to do with her life. Dozens of nobles have their head of security living with them. Happy lives here.”

Rhodey does not say anything, just looks on. And Tony, who does not do well with silences, fills it eagerly.

“I’ll build secret passages so no one will notice us sharing a room,” he offers, only half-joking. It would make life easier and keep him occupied for a while. “Also, even if someone found out, there are more scandalous things happening than a happily married couple taking someone else into their bed for a while. It would probably be more suspicious if we didn’t.”

There are hardly any nobles who are not sleeping around. Mostly the lords are cheating on their wives, of course, but there are some more adventurous couples. Tony does not mind becoming an oddity. He already is, considering his hobbies and blatant disinterest in politics. It would not cost him anything to become even less conventional.

“Where’s all that suddenly coming from?” Rhodey then asks. It is still not a refusal, although Tony guesses it is too soon to celebrate.

Sighing, Tony steps closer and cups Rhodey’s face with his hands. “I’m tired of hiding, Rhodey,” he says and presses a kiss down on Rhodey’s forehead, gentle like a promise. “Tired of doing Howard’s bidding and playing nice with a dozen noble daughters when I’m only interested in you. I’m tired of living a lie.”

Rhodey’s arms snake around Tony’s waist, pulling him in. Tony lets his hands wander down Rhodey’s back, holding tight. It is unfair that fate puts so many obstacles in their way. Everything is so much better when they are together. Life could be perfect if only they would be allowed to be who they are.

Almost too quiet to hear, Rhodey then says, “I’ll talk to Pepper.”

Startling, Tony looks down, afraid he has misheard. “You will?” Tony asks.

Even, so, he knows exactly how that conversation will go. Tony’s had an idea again, Rhodey will start and then they will immediately work on doing damage control. He usually loves them for it, but this is not a problem they can make go away. Not like this.

“I love you, you know that?” Rhodey says in lieu of answering, but Tony takes it willingly. These are the most beautiful words in the entire world after all.

“I do. I love you too,” Tony replies quietly. Because he can never let things rest, though, he adds, “This is why I’m pushing this.”

Lips quirking up into a smile, Rhodey nods. “We’ll figure a way out.”

That is what they have been promising for years. They have to do something now. Tony cannot marry a stranger, some simpering noble girl who does not understand him and will rat them out the first opportunity she gets.  

“Great,” Tony says, even though he does not believe it. He lets his head drop until it is propped against Rhodey’s. “I had better get going now so nobody gets suspicious.” Too innocent, he adds, “I know for a fact that Pepper’s not busy tomorrow morning if you want to get right on it.”

A chuckle sends tremors through Rhodey’s body, wandering right into Tony’s. “You’re impossible.”

Tony knows that. People never tire of telling him, although none of them says it with the same fondness as Rhodey. Usually, he does not mind. These days, however, he wishes things would just be a little more possible.

Still, he smiles down at Rhodey. “How about you tell me in great detail just how impossible I am tomorrow? Two in the afternoon? We can take my new steam carriage for a spin. It’s not running as smoothly as I want it to, so nobody will be surprised if it breaks down in the middle of nowhere and we’ll miss dinner because we’re stranded out there.”

This time, Rhodey outright laughs. “You’re not just impossible but a menace too.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tony says, smiling. He tips up Rhodey’s face so they can kiss. It is a chaste thing, so they will not get carried away. With much regret, Tony pulls away. “Goodnight.”

How wonderful it would be to never have to separate again. For Tony to be able to lie down on Rhodey’s bed, not caring for leaving traces of soot behind, to spend the entire night together, to wake up together with the morning sun bathing them in gold.

“Goodnight, Tones,” Rhodey says, sounding just as unwilling to let go as Tony is. “See you tomorrow.”

Tony has dreams, and most of them involve Rhodey. Tomorrow, consequences be damned, they will get a step closer to them.

#ironhusbandsweek #rhfe #RhodeyTonyNovemberBash #ironhusbands #tony stark #rhodey #steam punk #secret relationship #love #fake marriage #argument #angst and fluff #ao3 #my writing #family

[swordmens]

FFXIV Write 2019 Prompt #4: Servant of Propriety

The trouble of Kugane, Ghira’wo found, was that no one minded their own business. In Thavnair, a body could have peace; Ghira’wo had gone whole moons without seeing anyone outside his family. But Kugane was the only place in Hingashi were someone from outside the country might meet someone from inside the country; so of course there were always too many people trying to meet too many people, and becoming involved in other people’s business almost without trying.

               Almost, Ghira’wo thought, because some people certainly did try to become involved. Gossip flowed as readily as bullion in Hingashi, where the sekiseigumi seemed not to have anything better to do with their time than hassle outsiders on the basis of hearsay. So it was that Ghira’wo had found himself in the brig through no fault of his own. So he had broken a carafe on the head of a servant of his erstwhile  employer, Lord Tomodeki. So the manservant had already informed the sekiseigumi of the information he intended to hold over Ghira’wo’s head, and they were on their way to make an arrest even as the miqo’te beat his would-be blackmailer senseless. The servant had called into question Ghira’wo’s honor, not as a citizen of Hingashi, but as an employee: and if there was one thing that mattered to mercenaries in noble employ, it was reputation.

               These thoughts were cold comfort for the aching of Ghira’wo’s wrists, manacled as he was to the wall. The burden of holding him fell on the sekiseigumi for the moment, though Ghira’wo was sure if Lord Tomodeki had his way this would’ve been handled in house. An appearance at Kugane castle without an obvious reason would draw its own kind of gossip for his Lordship. It was a fortune, after a fashion, that the municipal authorities had got to him before the Tomodeki clan’s other hired guards.

               Not that the other mercenaries would’ve tried too hard; even for the reputation-conscious mercenaries of Kugane, there was a certain honor among thieves. No one wanted to work with a tattletale.  Ghira’wo could imagine Midori, the captain of the guard, chastising him now for not “controlling his passions” as a servant of the Tomodeki clan. A conversation to be avoided, to be sure, even if Midori had a certain secret fondness for him.

               Ghira’wo was shaken from his reveries by the sound of the cell door opening. Framed in the bamboo entry way, the sekiseigumi commander accompanied a smaller, hooded figure. It was strange; Ghira’wo had expected to be left on ice until Midori or the lord himself had come to collect him. The commander bent to whisper something to his companion, who nodded softly. In the darkness of the cell, and with the obstruction of the hood, Ghira’wo could not regonize their features.

               “It is the wish of our esteemed guest that they have a moment to speak with you… unsupervised. Be forewarned, ijin: further lack of decorum will cost you dearly.” The old gentleman adjusted his sword belt; something about this situation made him distinctly uncomfortable, which also made Ghira’wo uncomfortable.

               “I am a servant of propriety, most highly honored commander.” Ghira’wo promised, with a slightly bitter smile. The captain saw fit only to spit into the cell, before reconsidering his present company, and humbly bowing his head. As the captain retreated, the figure stepped into the murky dark of the room, shifting uncomfortably in a fine kimono. Ghira’wo recognized that garment; his hairs stood on the back of his neck.

               Before he could speak, the figure stepped directly before him, examining his chained state. “It is unpleasant to see you this way.” The figure adjusted her cowl absent-mindedly, her voice betraying no hint of irony.

               “In other circumstances, you might be chained here alongside me.” Ghira’wo labored to keep accusation out of his voice.

               “… Those circumstances are so far removed from reality as to be irrelevant. But you know this, my kitten.”

               “I do not wish for you to call me that. Not here.”

               “And why should it matter one wit what you wish for me? You are here because of injury done to my honor, and because you would not simply pay Shigeru the money he asked.”

               “How am I to pay him, when Lord Tomodeki grants us barely enough in our stipend to live in this golden city?”

               “That is not my concern.”

               “Is none of this your concern, Hikari-san?”

               “Do not refer to me by name here.” Her reply was sharp, where the others had been relaxed. For a moment, Ghira’wo glimpsed her silver-green eye beneath the cowl.

               “How can this be, that you call me what you wish but I am restricted to only the write words? That you do not share in the punishment?”

               “You’ve never understood, kitten. We are not the same. Not here. Not anywhere in this city. If we had been equal, what happened may not have happened at all. It affords me an opportunity, and you… a set of chains.”

               Ghira’wo sighed, bitting his lip. “It is a bitter thing, your honor. I do not wish it anymore.”

               “It is not something one can simply give back when taken. There must be a redress.” Hikari shook her head, turning to look at the bamboo wall of the cell. “Father will see to that. He will be here soon. Goodbye, kitten. I hope that it was worth it.”

               She stepped out of the cell which Ghira’wo would be lucky to leave. The weight of it seemed to affect her not at all; and so the burden on his shoulders grew all the heavier.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

#FFxivWrite2019 #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #miqo'te #keeper of the moon #What's this an actual factual backstory thing that i have thought about #impossible #ghira'writing #listen i know i'm 30 minutes late on this but i had to be in a LIBRARY