#people) it's usually because they rose to fame while doing this exact thing and that's their target audience

[maddy-ferguson]

bro i'm once again caught in an endless debate about a twitch streamer's past misogyny and racism on twitter dot com why do things like this happen to me

#the guy arguing with me called me a name in the FIRST tweet i don't even know why i tried to be civil because he's obviously not answering #in good faith he's just arguing to argue/just wants to tell me things and wants me to be like oh you're right. i like him now #the way i didn't even say i disliked the twitch guy i just said when i went to check who he was (on twitter) i saw that i had him blocked #and was like oh! because i only block people for a reason and it's stuff like: racism misogyny homophobia transphobia harassment #(i didnt say that in my tweet i stopped at oh!) and then said like when people say of a public figure (mostly talking about streamers and #youtubers) that they're great but have an awful community (who's like...homophobic racist transphobic misogynistic and tends to harass #people) it's usually because they rose to fame while doing this exact thing and that's their target audience #and i don't have amnesia every guy that's big on twitter who gained a following in the 2010s who went on to become a twitch streamer did #this like. i was there. i witnessed it. and if they had genuinely changed maybe they wouldn't have such lousy fans #and like i say: brf slt

[thetwobosses]

For the Boss ask meme: #1, #10, #18 for Boss/es of your choice! I'm one of your newer followers so I'm looking through your stuff about your Bosses now and I'm very intrigued 😊

Hello and thank you! :D I'll answer for Meryl, Colin and Eli since they are my main Bosses and the most developed.

1. Is your Boss's name a secret? Do some people know but not others? Do they use a pseudonym? A nickname?

Meryl's full name used to be Meryl Tammesalu, but once the gang stuff got serious in SR2, she legally dropped her surname to try to keep the rest of her family from being as publicly associated with her and thus safer (that and people kept mispronouncing it). The name is Estonian (it means 'oak grove'), as her grandparents were among the thousands of Estonian expats fleeing WW2 to North America.

Colin was born in London as Sean Healey, but moved to Stilwater in his late teens to escape his destitute life and start fresh, experience the "American Dream" and all that. In his mind, a new beginning demanded a new name, because he felt his was too "soft" and "uncool". He picked out 'Colin Alton' because he thought it sounded more sophisticated without being overly pretentious. As the Saints rose in fame, Colin would downplay his past, including his old name. While he didn't manage to scrub all evidence of it, it wasn't too well known either. When Colin ended up stranded in Meryl's universe after SR3, he initially didn't tell anyone he used to go by a different name, so Meryl's searches for a version of Colin native to her universe didn't bear fruit. Colin had figured that if he hadn't changed his name (and thus moved to the US), he probably would have remained languishing in London and he decided he would rather not find out whether that was the case. He ended up ultimately being proven correct, as he and Meryl were confronted by an incredulous and pissed off Sean Healey during a trip to London, but that's a whole story on its own.

Eli's last name is Chase (there should probably be a middle name as well but tbh I've never really wrapped my head around middle names being a thing in many countries so none of my characters have them xD). He's an enby and goes by all pronouns, though generally defaults to he/him, and kind of as a part of that also encourages variation in the pronunciation of his first name. It can be the usual 'ee-lye', but also rhyming with 'Ellie'. Pierce and Shaundi tend to go with the latter and even shorten it to 'El/Elle' as a nickname.

10. How has your Boss changed throughout the games/years?

Meryl has probably changed the least of the main three. She'd initially joined the Saints because it had seemed like a cool and interesting thing at the time (plus she was going through a rebellious phase), and while she did go through a darker, more brutal period after her coma as many Bosses would, her underlying personality remained fun-loving and excitable over her career in the Saints.

Colin would let his vengefulness and quick temper get the better of him at times, especially in Steelport when his knee-jerk reaction was to not let Killbane get away. The loss of Shaundi, and the discovery that while Meryl had led her Saints through almost the exact same situations, her Shaundi still lived, had Colin eventually choose to make a concerted effort to curb some of his worst impulses. It's not perfect, but these days he can usually swallow his pride and take a slight without blowing up over it (though he will grump about it later in private).

Eli has grown a lot in the Saints. He joined up only after Jack woke from her coma and begun reforming the gang, but started out as rather meek and anxious, and with very little combat experience. He stood out as a tactician and strategist though, and once Pierce took him under his wing, Eli really started coming into his own in the gang. Jack gambled and elevated him to lieutenant to replace Carlos despite Eli's similar lack of experience with leadership. After Jack got killed in a Masako ambush and the Saints were torn on how to respond, Eli ended up grabbing the reins much to everyone's surprise (including his own). As much as Eli wasn't a fond of Jack's ruthlessness and penchant for violence, and vowed to not end up following in her footsteps, the later war against the Syndicate forced him to make some uncomfortable compromises. Yet he would never go as far as she did, and would still try and look for non-violent solutions first.

18. Do they have a best/closest friend?

Meryl grew up close with her family, especially one of her brothers. In the Saints, though she was naturally close friends with Johnny, Shaundi and Pierce, she wouldn't find a true soulmate until the arrival of Colin. Despite their many differences in upbringing and personality, their shared traits and experiences in the Saints helped bring them together as friends and then lovers. She also eventually grew a real fondness for Sean Healey, after Colin brought him to live with them in the US.

In his old universe, Colin had been especially close with two people: Johnny Gat, and fellow Brit Colin Faulkner. Colin and Johnny fell in together early on in the Saints, though Colin never revealed to Gat his unrequited infatuation. Johnny's "death" hit Colin hard, but rather than properly process his grief, he buried it deep down and tried to ignore it. Colin Faulkner (a non-Boss AU version of @princessdemeter's Boss) was an (ex-)hooker in Stilwater whom my Colin ended up befriending after his coma. Faulkner soon became Colin's confidante and friend with benefits, in part because he never officially joined the Saints. Colin's hopeless feelings for Gat made him willfully blind to the fact that Faulkner had fallen for the Boss, or that his own affections for Faulkner might have been more than just platonic. Unfortunately the two of them would never have the chance to work things out except in AUs, as a few months after SR:TT, Colin would end up permanently whisked away to Meryl's universe by a wayward piece of Zin tech. There, after somewhat rocky beginnings, he and Meryl quickly grew close. Colin eventually also decided to make peace with his humble origins and reached out to Sean Healey despite their poor first impressions. They found enough common ground to become good friends over the years and Colin even brought Sean over to live with him and Meryl in Steelport.

Pierce became Eli's closest friend in the Saints almost from the get-go. The two of them had similar inclinations towards choosing strategy over brute force methods, making them natural allies in the gang between Jack and Gat's bloodlust and Shaundi taking credit for Pierce's ideas. They also share similar senses of humor and several geeky interests, leading them to enjoy each other's company even outside of "work". They started dating between SR2 and 3 and managed to remain together even thought the strain of the presidency and the Zin invasion. Eli wasn't actually as close with the other Saints lieutenants as most Bosses. While Johnny was alive, the two of them often found themselves diametrically opposed and respected each other more for their skills than character. Eli was initially annoyed with Shaundi's constant one-upping of Pierce as well as her penchant for drugs, but they found a better understanding with each other over time. Of the Steelport lieutenants, Eli and Oleg got along well, while he distrusted Kinzie, remained ambivalent and slightly wary toward Angel and Viola, and absolutely abhorred Zimos. Once in space, Eli and Matt ended up becoming friends, especially since there hadn't been too much bad blood between them back in Steelport, and Eli would often prefer having Matt hack the Simulation over Kinzie.

#this ended up longer than expected #I would have rambled on but it's uh very late and my brain has turned to mush xD #thank you for the questions! I hope they provided interesting answers :) #masschase #meme reply #headcanons #Boss:Meryl #Boss:Colin #Boss:Eli

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

My Experience with Jane Austen Part 2: Reading the Books

In part one I laid out which books I read, which ones were my favorites and least favorites, and the adaptations I've seen. Now I'd like to talk about my reading experience.

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert, just a casual reader sharing some observations, feel free to correct me if I get some details wrong. Out of the books I’ve read I’m most familiar with Pride and Prejudice.

Let's face it. Reading Austen can be challenging and I understand why some people dislike Austen.

It's easy to perceive her novels as "boring" because on a surface level, not much happens. The characters are well-off people (in the upper half of society) who spend their time at home or traveling between social calls and it's easy to dismiss their conflicts as "first world issues." Settings are often indoors, reflecting how "confined and unvarying" the lives of the rich (especially women) were. The plots often move forward through dialogue or conversations rather than big dramatic events. The focus on marriage can also make the stories feel like antiquated relics of the past and can be hard to relate to.

The writing style is also different. There isn't much dialogue at times because Austen slips in lots of very subtle commentary or prefers to describe a character's external appearance or characteristics. Often big events like proposals are described briefly after they happen rather than during, which can make the story feel rather "dry." The books are narrated in third person and sometimes there is unreliable narration (Pride and Prejudice) where we get characters' multiple points of view, but all narrated in the third person as to give each one credibility and prove that it's hard to trust others. Austen's writing style means that readers have to fill in the blanks with their imagination. For example, she doesn't give exact physical descriptions of her characters, often relying on general characteristics like "tall," "handsome," or "amiable." In my previous reviews of Pride and Prejudice adaptations, I explored that intentional ambiguity as a big reason why the character of Mr. Darcy is alluring--because the reader forms a personal connection with the character by sketching his portrait alongside Elizabeth. The characters (their physical appearance and some of their motivations) are purposely mysterious and while it gives the reader lots of opportunities for engaging with the text, without historical/literary context for "filling in the blanks" it's easy to see the characters as stiff mannequins in strange clothing rather than human beings.

Austen as a romance writer: Her romances don't always match up with our perception of what a romance should be. Some people start Austen expecting intense emotions and outbursts of passion but become disappointed when presented with formal courting and stately dances instead. Emotions are often veiled behind dialogue and for a first-time reader it can be challenging to see a romance developing. Most of the time readers have to rely on the clues given by Austen (descriptions of characters "blushing," looking "pale," or losing their composure) to detect the stirrings of love, but on a first reading it's difficult to do so when one's trying to figure out the plot and the characters. Finally, the dialogue can't always be taken literally; lots of people, including me, were disturbed when Mr. Knightley said he loved Emma since she was 13, but it was actually a joke made in response to something she said.

Her books are products of their time, and I sure am not an expert in Regency era economics or social norms. Sometimes the implications of certain actions can be lost on a reader if they don't know about the social norms of the time (I had no idea that Darcy following Elizabeth around, alone, on her favorite walk at Rosings was a sign of his love for her). Differences in social class are also very subtle and while one can generalize the characters as all "well-off" people, they are separated by many levels of hierarchy and their ideas about social position and status affect how they interact with others outside of their station. Darcy looks down upon those whom he perceives to be below him, and while Emma wants to make an advantageous match for Harriet, Harriet's lower social position means that Emma's schemes are not likely to work.

Because of the unique quirks within the novels, the reader is required to go beyond the surface level of plot and appearance and read between the lines to understand character motivations and actions. Without historical context (Regency era society having little social mobility, women having few legal rights and needing to make good marriages to secure material comfort) or literary context (the Enlightenment, 18th century Gothic novels referred to in Northanger Abbey, the birth of the novel, early Romantic writers just to name a bit) reading between the lines is nearly impossible.

So why do we read Austen? Below are my personal reasons.

The novels feature female heroines that have dignity and self-respect. It's significant that the stories focus on women who are trying to live according to their own values and speaking their own minds rather than acquiescing to societal dictates. Elizabeth Bennet is revolutionary in part because she wants a marriage based on mutual admiration and respect between two partners who know each other well, rather than an economic arrangement for a home. One could go on forever about how Austen is a feminist, but, the characters don't act like modern day feminists--they are still people of their time. However, it's easy to assume "feminist" heroines have to have "aggressive" characteristics (rebelling, fighting, defiance) in order to be labeled as "feminist." Importantly, Austen's women are allowed to be vulnerable (they cry or struggle with their emotions) without that being a shameful thing. We also see different types of personalities celebrated: Jane Bennet, who is kind to everyone, is seen in a positive light rather than shamed for seeing good in everyone. Anne Elliot, who is regarded as "old," becomes more beautiful as she gets older and has a second chance of love. Emma Woodhouse is spoiled yet confident and assertive and "not likely to be well-loved" (paraphrase of Austen's commentary on Emma). Fanny Price is a shy person but still achieves her happy ending. Her heroines are real people who have flaws and get opportunities to learn and grow so that they can make their aspirations reality.

A unique take on the universal conflict of humans versus society: Austen's characters are bound by social norms of etiquette as well as a value system that idolizes wealth and connections above all else. Persuasion is a great story in part because it focuses on how Anne Elliot learns to follow her heart and avoid being "persuaded" by others (and by society) to follow a path that will not make her happy. She's had to live with the regret of following the well-intentioned but harmful advice of others (Austen notes that Lady Russell values social connections too highly) over her own feelings and judgment, nearly losing her chance to be with Wentworth. The romances are significant in that they reinforce the dignity and self-respect of the female heroines. To a certain extent, Austen's stories are realistic in that marriage is necessary for material well-being in a patriarchal society that provides few ways for women to provide for themselves. But most importantly, she also sees marriage as a means of affirming self-respect and dignity of the women. It's one of the few parts of their lives over which they have any control because they get to choose whom they marry (for the most part, unless the marriage is arranged). Their wish to marry for love is revolutionary because they dare to aspire for something more than wealth. They want their future partners to be their equals, someone who they can love and respect (or be totally honest with them) and who will provide the same in return. This line from Emma (the 2020 movie adaptation) sums it up: "I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Fame I do not want. Fortune I do not want. Consequence I do not want."

The difference between outward appearances and inner character is a fascinating theme that appears in several Austen novels, most notably Pride and Prejudice, where Wickham and Darcy are foils of each other ("one has got all the goodness, the other all the appearance of it"). A lot of the villains in Austen's novels are those who deceive others about their motivations or lie for their own advantage. A common trait these villains all have is that they have a charming outward appearance that masks their true natures; they don't look ugly nor are they unpleasant (ex. Wickham having great social skills, Willoughby following the trope of the knight rescuing Marianne as the damsel in distress but leaving behind many broken hearts, Mr. Elliott being charming and knowing exactly what to say and how to act but actually a swindler). In contrast, the "good" characters are honest, even at the cost of social displeasure, use manners/etiquette to show respect rather than deceive people, and act selflessly to prove their worth (actions speak louder than words). It can be summed up this way: "don't judge a book by its cover."

Psychology: Austen very effectively described hindsight bias when sarcastically commenting on how the village of Meryton turned on Wickham after the elopement with Lydia, when previously they regarded him as an "angel of light." She also understands how easy it is to manipulate peoples' minds through confirmation bias (Wickham telling Elizabeth all the dirt about Darcy, which she eagerly takes because she hates Darcy so much). She also knows that emotions can override people's judgment: "angry people are not always wise." It's fun seeing how her people are social animals who make flawed judgments based on first impressions/emotions.

The secondary characters: Mr. Collins the clergyman is the most famous and he's so funny because of his arrogance in spite of his low social position (he keeps worshiping Lady Catherine instead of respecting God). Another great one is Sir Walter Elliott, a nobleman who is vain and constantly checks himself in the mirror (the most obvious social criticism). Also Austen understood how women insult each other: through passive aggression (ex. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst talking negatively about Elizabeth behind her back). Austen's female bullies use their talent and "good breeding" to intimidate or shame others.

The romance (no explanation needed): "You pierce my soul. I am half-agony, half-hope. I have loved none but you." I love how the couples learn about each other through many spirited conversations and become slowly fascinated with each other until they realize they are in love and then have a conflict between formality and their growing passion...or they fall back in love with each other...or they are friends who slowly realize that they are more than friends...okay I'll stop talking nonsense I've been trying so hard to be semi-scholarly

Tags: @talkaustentome @austengivesmeserotonin @austengeek @princesssarisa @appleinducedsleep @colonelfitzwilliams

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #sense and sensibility #northanger abbey #emma #mansfield park #persuasion #lady susan #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #mr bingley #colonel brandon #edward ferrars #elinor dashwood #marianne dashwood #fanny price #edmund bertram #emma woodhouse #mr knightley #catherine morland #henry tilney #anne elliot #captain wentworth #classic literature #in this essay i will #worth reading

[baticorngirl]

Title: Scribbles of Love

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Unnamed Child, Bruce Wayne & Unnamed Child,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Minor Original Character(s),

Summary: Miraculously, Bruce and Talia have been married for quite a long time now. In fact, their first year anniversary is coming around the corner, and it's suddenly dawned on Bruce that he doesn't have anything to give her. He soon decides he wants to give her a love poem, but there's only one problem: Bruce sucks at writing poetry. As the anniversary comes closer and closer, will Bruce manage to write a half-decent love poem in time?

A/N: This fic is for @brutalia-week Day 1: “I made it for you”. It takes place in an alternate universe where Batman: Son of the Demon worked out. I think that’s all you need to know before you begin, so... enjoy!

(The fanfic is under the line below, but if you’d prefer to, you can also read it on Ao3(x) and FF.net (x)!)

__________________________________________________

Talia was training, as usual. Her feet were planted to the ground like a tree's deep roots, with her knees bent ever so slightly to get a good stance. The smile on her face was soft, but she made sure her strikes were anything but. Like Ra's has taught her so many years back, her moves were smooth and fast, a bit graceful… but powerful. The sword in her hand would've demolished anything in its path, as it zoomed around the room…. if she had been aiming for anything but an imaginary opponent, that is. Her hair flew into the air as she abruptly bent down (while still attempting to keep her feet as well-planted as possible) to swipe her "opponent's" feet. She pulled up and jumped, imagining that they were doing the same move back to her. Continuing to imagine each move, her arm twisted and turned to hit their sword back every time, getting faster and faster and faster and faster and…..

Knock, knock. Talia pulled herself up, mentally clearing herself from the perilous fight, at the sound of knuckles softly pounding on the door. "Come in," She called, slowly trotting over to the door. Just outside the door, Batman stood. His cowl was casually flung back to uncover his real face, and as he began to pull on his gloves and belt, it became clear he was about to get out of the vigilante gear. He sighed, neglecting to look at her as the pulling became more of just fidgeting and less of actually pulling them off.

"I… have to go." He began, his eyes still looking off into the distance. "It's just… a… small errand. I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two, but….. I can't keep watching the baby while I'm gone so I figured I should let you know." He immediately turned and began walking away as soon as he had conveyed the necessary information. Talia's eyebrow rose, noticing the odd behavior, but quickly shrugged it off. Her husband always acted secretive, so she doubted there was anything to worry about.

"Okay, Beloved. Farewell!" She quickly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a moment before he left. Batman turned back towards her, his classic vacant expression turning into a smile for a moment. It only took less than a moment to go back to normal, though, as he quickly continued walking and went into a walk-in closet to get ready for his "errand". Once he was out of sight, Talia made her own way over to the baby's nursery in the opposite direction.

She swiftly picked the baby up, watching as the baby's eyes lit up in a giggle. The baby continued to smile and laugh even more as she kissed his small, round little nose. Talia rocked her child in her arms, ambling around the nursery. Soon, the high-pitched laughter had faded into the peaceful squeaks of a sleeping infant. The baby was slowly set back down into his crib. Talia patted his little head as gently as she could, before setting up the baby monitor and going to a nearby room to train a bit more.

Meanwhile, Bruce had just arrived at what he had told Talia was just an errand. He went into the front door, and was greeted by a friendly-looking person, sitting on a lounge chair just a few feet in. They smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit down at one of the many desks spaced around the room.

"Welcome. You're a bit early, so we'll just be getting started in a few minutes." They explained. He simply nodded in return. Luckily for him, they seemed to be unaware of his fame back in Gotham. Talia had still been doing some work under Ra's, and so they hadn't been in Gotham for quite a while due to where her father wanted her. Bruce had been enjoying the lack of fame and the dreaded paparazzi through their whole trip, and this was no exception.

Silence followed for a few moments. They both looked down their laps, unsure what to do or say. Awkwardness plagued them both, but eventually, the person in front of Bruce decided to start talking again to get rid of it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Riley, what's your name?" They asked, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Bruce put his hand out as well, and they shook for a few seconds before he answered the question.

"My name is B-" He quickly got interrupted by a flood of people coming in. The clock had finally ticked that it was 10:00, meaning it was the exact time to start. Everyone sat down quietly. Riley jumped up from their chair, rushing up to the front.

"Welcome to this poetry class, everyone. I assume all of you are here to improve your knowledge of poetry to a level beyond what you were taught in school, or possibly even to build up to a career as a poet. My name is Riley, and I'm your instructor." They explained, and a wave of nodding ran through their audience. Bruce nodded, but stared for a moment in awe of the fact that he hardly remembered even just what he had been taught in school about poetry. He looked down at the desk in front of him, the idea finally occurring to him that maybe focusing all his later teenage years on training to become Batman instead of paying attention to High School was a mistake.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Poetry hadn't ever been necessary until this situation. But here he was, lying to Talia that he was just "going out on an errand", because there was absolutely no way he could write her a love poem without extra help. It was an embarrassment, really, but poetry just wasn't one of his strong points. It required so much emotion, so much expression of it, and expressing his emotions just wasn't something Bruce naturally did.

"Of course, this is more of a beginner class, so even though some of you may become poets some day, we'll be starting with the basics for today's class." Riley continued the class introduction. Bruce sighed in relief. Perhaps he would actually be able to follow what the instructor was talking about, and be able to give Talia a half-decent poem when it was over. "First of all, most good poems have a lot of figurative languages. These are things that stretch the literal meanings of the words you use, and create an image or effect using them. Some examples are how saying 'Your eyes looked like stars' is a simile, a type of figurative language. There's also metaphors, which are essentially the same thing, but without using the word 'like'."

Bruce thought about this for a moment, and got out a piece of paper to attempt to start his poem with some figurative language. "What's Talia like?" He mumbled, remembering everything about her that he loved so much. She was such a good fighter, and yet kind of graceful, which he was sure he could relate to something, so he took note of that. Her eyes were kind of jewel-like, shiny and beautiful, and her dark brown hair was like chocolate, so he wrote that down, as well.

But most of all, what he loved about her was how much she tried for love. Even though everyone would say that her fighting abilities are her greatest power, her secret weapon, Bruce knew none of those meant anything. Not without the love she used those abilities for, at least. He wasn't quite sure how to say this poetically, though, so he decided to get back to it later.

Eventually, the class ended, and Bruce came back home. Then, next week, he went back to the class and continued to work on his poem. Every week this continued, until their anniversary came around. By then, his poem was nowhere near perfect, but he had tried. There was no way he could back out now, after spending so much time working on it.

Bruce stuffed the poem inside his pocket, and went to their room to get Talia. She sat on a stool, brushing her hair nonchalantly. She had already gotten changed into a beautiful dress, going down to her ankles with embroideries. Bruce stared for a moment, thunderstruck. An embarrassingly goofy smile was on his face, but he quickly shook it off and returned to his default, impassive expression.

"Are you ready, Talia?" Bruce asked, reaching his hand out to help her up. Talia got up herself, but took his hand anyway, nodding. Both bringing along a present, the couple held hands as they made their way to the car. They were planning on going to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary, and exchanging gifts after dinner.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we finally got together, Beloved." Talia said once they were in the car, smiling, "It's been so happy. We were so sad, and we kept having to reject each other, but then this happened, and now… I don't think anything will ever get in between us again." She clutched her necklace, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago, that he had given it to her. For once, she could think about that kind of time with pure joy and hope, instead of longing.

"Yes… I don't usually consider myself cheerful, but you're right. I honestly don't think we could be happier." Bruce looked down at his lap, lost in thought. "That baby is going to have everything. Our love, a family, a home, and of course, happiness. We've really done it." He mumbled.

Talia nodded, right as they pulled up to the restaurant. She scooched out of the car, pulling Bruce along with her. They went inside together, got seated, and ordered their food. As they waited, they decided it might be fun to give each other hints about the presents.

"I'm going to give you two gifts, technically." Bruce explained, feeling his pocket for the poem, plus the earrings he was going to give her along with it. "One's just…. A fairly basic anniversary gift. But the other thing, well, it's a bit more from the heart… I suppose. I don't know, I tried to make it special." He sighed.

Talia smiled, "That sounds wonderful, Beloved. I can't wait to see it." Bruce gulped at the thought that he may have gotten his hopes up for his half-baked writing, but she didn't seem to notice his nerves. "I just got you something basic, too, but it's the sort of thing that's customized to be quite special."

"That sounds wonderful, too." He replied, reaching across to put his hand on top of hers romantically. She wrapped her hand around his in reciprocation. They both leaned in to kiss, smiling.

"Here is your food," They both got knocked out of their romantic moment by the sound of their waiter's voice. They both pulled out of the kiss, and leaned back on to their own chairs. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" The waiter asked with a chuckle, before setting down both their dishes in front of the one who ordered it.

The waiter left, and both Talia and Bruce ate dinner. They talked and smiled as they ate, both attempting to get the other one to slip up and tell them what their present was, with little to no success. Soon, both Bruce and Talia were finished eating, and they quickly got out their presents.

Talia picked up a bag that Bruce had noticed she'd been carrying along throughout the trip, and reached inside. Out she pulled a little box, wrapped in bright, colorful, wrapping. She pushed it in front of Bruce, grinning.

"Go ahead, open it." She insisted. Bruce slowly began to peel the wrapping off, and opened the box that was inside the wrapping. Inside was a beautiful pendant, covered in small gems of all kinds of shapes and colors. The jewels sparkled, almost like magic, and a smile grew on Bruce's face.

"It's… beautiful." He commented, flipping it over in his hands cautiously. He stared, mesmerized at all the jewels. His fingers clutched it tightly. Talia's grin only grew. He was even more happy with it than she thought he'd be, and he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Open the pendant, it's even specialer inside." She nudged, slightly impatient. Listening to her words, Bruce gently flipped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of their sweet little baby. Talia reached over, touching a little bump on the back. He flipped it over, realizing it was a knob. Talia turned it, and the image changed to a picture of herself. "There's quite a few different pictures in it, and the knob changes it. I tried to get all of your closest loved ones, plus a picture of yourself in case you're ever in the mood to be vain." She laughed.

Bruce pulled it closer to himself to see it better, and began switching the knob between them all. "I… I love it." He leaned over to her, quickly pecking her on the cheek. "It's perfect." Her smile grew even more than it already had as he opened it. Bruce adjusted the knob to be on Talia again, and put it on.

"I'm really glad." Talia reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. "Now, would you like to get out what you're giving me?" She beamed with excitement, almost as much as she had beamed when he opened his own. Bruce pulled the earrings out of his pocket, and nudged them in front of his wife.

"I suppose I thought you might like those, but I put a lot more effort into my other gift." Bruce spoke cautiously, too focused to let himself smile anymore. Talia took the earrings, which were actually quite beautiful and expensive, and exchanged the earrings she was wearing currently with them. As she does that, he pulls his poem out of his pocket. "I wrote you something. I know you were probably concerned about how I kept going out at the same time each week without telling you where I was going, but that was just because I had to take a writing class if I wanted to make this even slightly decent."

Talia frowned, "You keep a lot of secrets, but it's nice to know that at least one of them was out of love, and not fear or mistrust. Either way, thank you for the earrings. They are more than beautiful." She let go of the frown quickly after getting it, and gestured for Bruce to go on. "Now, I'm more than excited to hear what you've made. Go ahead."

"When you are here, I can only think about you, But even when you are far, I simply do it with longing, too;

I love you all the time, Day… or night, In the ocean, ground, or even sky, And this why:

Your eyes look like jades, And your smile like beauty in a solid form; You hair looks like silky chocolate, Your entire body is something I adore;

You are stronger than you seem, But so very graceful, as well; You fight stronger than a demon, With an angel's good intent, and morale;

Yes, you move like a swan, But much, much, more than that:

You love deeper than anyone could ever know, Just something that you have taught yourself, Your intentions are more than just moral, But an emotion, in itself;

So with that much personality, It is my honor to be able to love you back."

Bruce spoke the poem as clearly as he could, trying not to stutter or chicken out. It felt odd, showing this much emotion, but in a good way. Once he was finished, he looked up from his poem, smiling. Talia was rubbing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bruce leaned over to kiss the unoccupied hand, desperately attempting to make the moment even more romantic.

Before he had leaned back on to his own chair, Talia quickly pulled him into a kiss, "I love it, Beloved. Almost as much as I love you." She took the paper from Bruce's hand, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "If you don't mind, I want to be able to remember this moment. Forever."

"Of course," Bruce said, trying to pretend he wasn't surprised that she had liked his poem so much. Perhaps she was simply humoring him to spare his feelings, but if she was, she was doing an incredibly good job at it.

They quickly paid for the meal. Bruce and Talia both beamed as they rode off into the night, hand in hand.

__________________________________________________

A/N: Okay, now that you're done, some disclaimers:

I am not necessarily saying Bruce's poem was actually bad. He views it as bad, and it's certainly not perfect, but... I'm not necessarily saying it's bad myself, if that makes sense, (although I definitely did purposely not spend too much time on it when I was writing this).

Also, I'm not sure where this fanfic takes place, lol. It's just not in Gotham, but the rest if up for interpretation.

Oh, and I'm aware this entire fanfic is quite boring. The plot isn't very interesting, I'm afraid, but... oh well.

#brutalia #brutaliaweek2021 #talia al ghul #batman #bruce wayne #fanfic #fan fiction #baticorn writes #fanfiction #demonbat #ship weeks #poetry #love poems #talia al ghul x batman #batman x talia al ghul #talia al ghul x bruce wayne #bruce wayne x talia al ghul #brutalia fanfic #son of the demon #batman: son of the demon #bad poetry #batman fanfic #dc #dc fanfic #dc ship weeks #dc events

[triplexdoublex]

My Ex’s Best Friend

Part 2/Epilogue here

Pairing: Mod Sun x Reader

Warnigs/Tags: nothing much just fluffy smut

Fun fact: Mod Sun and I really do share a birthday, down to the exact year! Also this was inspired by his song Tell Me All Your Secrets and I was picturing long curly haired Mod like in the video when I wrote this.

You and Mod Sun had been friends from practically your very first breath, long before he became famous, back when he was just Derek Smith. Your mothers shared a maternity room in the hospital the night you were both born. They became quite close and stayed in touch. Not only did you share a birthday, you shared everything with each other over the years as you grew up; from first teeth, first words, first steps to first heartbreaks, first time getting high, and also both your parents' divorce. You shared everything; there was nothing you didn't know about each other. You told each other your deepest darkest secrets, your fears, your dreams, and everything in between. Even as adults you’ve been by each other's side. He always made you laugh even through your spouts of depression and anxiety, and you were there for him during his rise to fame and when he struggled with his sobriety and also through his messy breakup with Bella. Despite all that, the two of you never saw each other as anything more than friends. Perhaps it was because your connection was so deeply rooted in friendship since birth, that the thought of being together romantically had never crossed either of your minds. In fact, he would often set you up with his friends, which is how you started dating Colson; Mod’s best friend. It wasn’t until the night Mod was there for you when you and Colson broke up that you realized how perfect you were for each other.

**********

“Hey, you weren’t sleeping were you?” You said when Mod picked up your call at 3:00 am.

“Nah, girl you know I’m a night owl. Whoooo whoooo,” he laughed. “What’s good?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing, actually. That’s kinda why I’m calling. I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a bit, me and Colson broke up.”

“Awww nooo! Yeah of course you can stay here. Lemme go get something set up for you, and you can tell me all about it when you get here, okay?” He said sweetly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you answered. “See you in a few.”

***********

“Hey, come in, come in,” Mod welcomed you at the door, shirtless in a pair of tie-dye joggers. “I set up the pull-out bed out here for you but it’s actually not very comfortable and I want you to get a good night's sleep, so you take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

“No, I’ll take the pull-out, it's fine,” you responded. “I doubt I’ll sleep anyways, too much on my mind.”

“I insist,” he said as he grabbed your bags, carrying them into his room. “I’m gonna go make you some tea, and then you can tell me what happened.”

While he brewed your tea, you changed into an oversized nightshirt you had packed and climbed into bed, fluffing the pillows so you could sit upright.

“Here ya go,” he carefully carried the cup of tea over to you. “Careful it’s still hot.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wrapping your hands around the warm cup.

“Okay girl, so tell me what is going on,” he said as he plopped himself at the end of the bed lying on his stomach. “Am I gonna have to beat Kells ass?” He joked knowing he could never win in a fight against him.

“No,” you started sadly. “It was mutual. We’re just too different for each other, ya know. Like our love languages are just not compatible.”

“I totally get that, I do. People really underestimate the power of love languages. You could meet the nicest person in the world but if you ain’t vibing on that same level, it ain’t gonna work.” 

“Exactly, like I need words of affirmation and quality time, and let's be honest that's not easy for Kells to do. He’s a busy man, I can’t fault him for that. The little free time he has he spends with his daughter and I’m not gonna take that away from him. So we just decided to go our separate ways; no hard feelings, no drama,” you said before taking a sip of your tea.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. No hurt feelings, no drama; we keep the energy around us positive,” he swirled his finger as he talked. “I know it sucks, I know it’s sad, but you guys are doing this the right way.”

“Can I be honest with you for a second,” you took another swig of tea.

“Of course! Don’t hesitate to tell me the truth, the last thing I’d ever do is judge you. You know that,” he answered.

“I know,” you smiled. “The truth is the main reason I’m upset is not even breaking up with Colson or missing him as much as it is just me worrying about just being lonely and having to eventually start over again with someone new. I mean ‘cause let's be honest I’m not getting any younger here, and I wanna get married and have a family one day but I feel like I’m running out of time,” your eyes started to well with tears. ”My youth is slipping away, I’m not as pretty as I used to be —”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there,”  he scooted up the bed, taking hold of the tips of your fingers. “First of all, you are so so so so so beautiful,” he said as he shook his curls. “Inside and out,” he added stroking his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you,” you smiled into your tea.

“You know what I am gonna miss though…” you paused to take a sip. “The sex.” you laughed.

“You nasty,” Mod laughed as well, rolling himself off the bed. “Well since you seem to be feeling a little better, I’m gonna go to bed and let you sleep,” he said as he made his way to the bedroom door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually…” you began, setting your cup on the nightstand. “Do you think you can sleep in here with me? I don't wanna be alone.”

“Sure thing, scoot over” he laughed, playfully pushing you to the other side of the bed. “At least let me get my usual side.”

**********

You both eventually dozed off, only for you to be stirred awake a few hours later when Mod rolled to his side in his sleep out of habit, forgetting he was sharing his bed. Your eyes  — still heavy with slumber — fluttered open to his sleeping face mere inches from your own. His proximity made you feel peaceful, comforted and content. There was something in that moment that felt so ‘right’ and yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. One of his hands laid palm side up next to yours and as your eyes began to flirt with sleep again you found yourself drawn to their creases. You gently traced over his lifeline and love line which caused his fingers to flicker reflexively. You tamed them with your fingertips, accidentally rousing Mod from his sleep. His tired eyes blinked sleepily in and out of wakefulness, a smile spreading across his face. Your fingers flirted together hesitantly before finally slotting into one another's. 

It was in that exact moment everything began to make sense; It was Mod, it’s always been Mod. You had searched high and low for the perfect man to tick all your boxes, while all along Mod had been hiding in plain sight.

With your hand still intertwined with Mod’s, you rolled to your side, pulling his arm around you, making him the big spoon to your little spoon. He was so close you could feel his breath on your neck, the sensation traveling straight to your core. You couldn’t help but squirm, your backside rolling against his pelvis. And he couldn’t help the pretty sounds that left his mouth as much as he tried to hold them back. It was then that you knew you needed to feel him inside you. 

You slipped his hand from yours and guided it under your nightshirt to your bare breast, pressing each of his fingers into your flesh until he took over, gripping and squeezing as he began to rut against you. Your chest heaved with want, burying your breasts even further into his grasp as his mouth showered the crook of your neck with open mouth kisses. Awkwardly you angled your head back towards him and he moved his kisses to your lips, parting them with his tongue. You welcomed it eagerly, pushing your tongue in past his lips as well, and tangling your hand in his curls. The warm embrace of his mouth felt like home, your tongue desperately wanting to take up a permanent residence there. You needed more. 

With your free hand, you guided his hand slowly down from your breast to your white cotton panties, slipping it in past the waistband. He gladly accepted the invitation, rubbing firm yet gentle circles over your clit as he continued to kiss and rut against you. You removed your hand from his hair, and placed it over the growing bulge in his colorful joggers, palming him with need. 

With one hand still working over your sensitive bud, he used the other to pull down the back of your panties, just enough to grant him access. He then pulled himself free and entered you from behind, your wetness welcoming him inside. Instantly your bodies fell into the natural rhythm of lovemaking. You spoke no words, your bodies communicating solely with the universal language of intimacy and breathy moans. You kept at it until the glow of dawn both reaching your peak as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. Exhausted, you both almost immediately fell back asleep, Mod still inside you. It was Noon by the time you both awoke.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” you teased playfully, tracing your fingers over the tattoos on his chest.

“Mornin’,” he smiled. “I — um, about last night. I apologize if I was outta place. I know you initiated it but I should've realized you were vulnerable from the breakup. I should've stopped you from making the rash decision, but something just felt so...so —”

“So right?”  you interrupted him.

“Yeah, exactly!” he said sitting up. “How’d you know I was gonna say that?”

“ ‘cause I felt it too,” you smiled, sitting up alongside him. “I love you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted in a partner. No one’s ever cared about me like you do.”

“I love you, too” he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Like I’m IN love with you,” he smiled giddily. “God damn, why’d it take us so long to figure this out,” he let out a small laugh, raking his fingers through his hair in disbelief.

“I dunno but uh — I was thinking…” You paused to swing a leg over his waist straddling him. “Round two?”

He quickly gripped your ass, “Oh HELL yeah,baby.”

Part 2/ Epilogue here

#Mod Sun #Mod Sun smut #mod sun x reader #derek smith #mod fanfic #mod sun imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #colson baker fanfic #colson baker

[mashounen2003]

Sonic opinions - 2

In large portions of every fandom, it looks like it prevails the idea that you can only take one of two positions: praising the story in every respect, including both the ideas themselves and their execution by the writers, or admitting not to like the story and not to praise any element of it at all. I think my ideas regarding the Archie-Sonic comics and the Sonic franchise in general cannot be pigeonholed into either of these two extremes.

More below the "keep reading" cut.

I loved all the world-building in Archie-Sonic, the elements the comic introduced, their many characters and the potential to tell stories about them; I also really liked much of the art and personal styles of several artists Archie-Sonic has had throughout its history, with very few exceptions (and such exceptions include Ron Lim, of course). That's why, of all the Sonic continuities, I often use the pre-reboot Archie-Sonic comic as the primary source for world-building elements and story ideas.

What really makes me feel bad about that comic, what motivates most of my criticism, is the ideas’ execution by the main writers, as well as aspects that I think are more linked to each writer as a person, the unique way in which each of them has written their stories.

Firstly, Michael Gallagher: the writer for the first few dozen issues of the comic had a terrible sense of humour, and this hurt the comic hugely since those first issues were fundamentally based on that low-quality comedy style. The characterization of the entire cast also suffered greatly from this; in Sally's case, something quite ironic happened too: Gallagher portrayed her as bossy, annoying, temperamental, usually bickering with Sonic, and now that's also how Sally is seen by many fans of the videogames’ continuity (at best). Other than this, not much more could be said about him.

Karl Bollers wrote quite decent stories with some nice comedy, with “Return to Angel Island” being his best work, one of the best stories in the entire comic and perhaps even one of the best in the franchise; but Bollers’s work was "torpedoed" by Ken Penders and then-editor Justin Gabrie, which ruined the stories’ final versions sometimes or led to elements introduced by Bollers being "retconned" and overwritten by whatever Penders smoked and decided to do when taking over. The characterization of Fiona Fox is one of the main examples, with Bollers's Fiona being a quite under-utilized character but with a great potential that would later be wasted by both Penders and Ian Flynn. Another similar case was Sally breaking up with Sonic: Bollers tried to give context to such a drastic decision by Sally and show how she was the one who was suffering the most at that time and also that both she and Sonic were partially right, but Penders and Gabrie didn't let Bollers develop this subplot properly and all we had was a quite infamous scene that unfairly made Sally one of the most hated characters. It’s also known of several plans Bollers had for future stories, and one of them was Antoine being corrupted by the Source of All and turning into a villain; this had the potential to be a good story by subverting the concept of the Source of All and making it an actual threat, but on the other hand, it’d have meant resorting once again to the resource of "this character isn’t doing anything, let's make them evil", something quite disappointing, which later would have disastrous results when Flynn did the same with Fiona a few years later. However, these plans of Bollers were just ideas, and the quality of a story created from them still depends a lot on execution. In the end, I can't say anything about how good or bad Bollers was as a writer, simply because I have no way of knowing what his stories would have been like if he had been given more freedom and had stayed as the writer longer.

There were two writers who influenced Archie-Sonic comics far more than any other writer in its history: Penders and Flynn. The first of them was a retarded pervert with an overly inflated and fragile ego. He became obsessed with the primitive, toxic ideal of "family" North-Americans have. He wrote nonsensical, contradictory stories, having already decided the end down to the last detail long before even thinking about how the story would come to that end (I also made this specific mistake a few times when I was just starting to write fanfiction, I must admit). He increased Fiona's age in order to be able to pair her with the Don Juan that Sonic had become, which also ruined Fiona's characterization forever. The issues 150s -right before being replaced by Flynn- were the worst part of Penders’s run, as Bollers was no longer there to put a stop to his madness in any way, and it was at this time when there was the most egregious case of Penders pouring into the comic his worst perversions and retarded ideas: he hinted at a sex scene in one of the most infamous cases in the history of the entire Sonic franchise, although it wasn’t infamous for the implied sex per se but rather because what happened was technically a rape by deception; to add insult to injury, the writer implicitly blamed the victim some years later when asked about it on Twitter.

I could go on talking about “Ken Perverts”, but I think that's not necessary and would be a waste of time since, as everyone here already knows, he's been the laughingstock of the entire Sonic franchise for years; @ponett even has a whole secondary blog, @thankskenpenders, mainly dedicated to this. On the other hand, there’s still another writer who has also contributed a lot and also made huge mistakes but is not criticized in the least by almost anyone, simply because he was better than Penders.

Ian Flynn usually reduced the characters to slightly oversimplified portrayals, similar to the personalities of the characters in the most recent videogames. Under his pen, Sonic was more sympathetic but his words sometimes sounded too empty and shallow, his apologies for past mistakes didn’t lead to genuine changes on his part, and sometimes he even seemed plain insensitive to all the tragedies happening around him, especially at the Mecha Sally Arc (I nickname Ian Flynn’s Sonic "Plastic Smile" for this). Admittedly, this had already happened several times with previous writers (Penders portraying Sonic as a Don Juan, as I already mentioned), and this is why I think the original Sonic from Sonic SatAM was always better for feeling more "genuine", less "empty", and more heroic and likeable as a result. Perhaps the only ones to escape the oversimplified portrayal have been Shadow and E-123 Omega, whose characterizations in Archie-Sonic were the best in the whole franchise.

Besides, Flynn had strong favouritism for Amy Rose, which only made things worse because this Amy was much more similar to the one in the videogames from Sonic Heroes onwards. Anyway, this also happened with previous writers, like when Amy wished to be younger at the cost of a chance to save Sally's mother and no one ever berated her for it.

Let’s look at the villains. Unlike the typical Eggman from the videogames, with his follies, eccentricities and other absurd aspects, the Robotnik “inherited” by the comic from Sonic SatAM was explicitly a genocidal bastard and crueller while at the same time being sane enough to realize everything he was doing (@robotnik-mun already spoke in detail about this once); however, Flynn tried to combine the two characters into the pre-reboot Archie-Sonic Eggman, and the result created some severe problems with the stories’ tone. Something derived from this was how Sonic let Eggman live and even felt sorry for his fall into madness, in addition to treating him as if they were the Sonic and Eggman from the videogames, Sonic X or Sonic Boom; it’s worth remembering this Eggman technically is a sort of reincarnation of the SatAM Robotnik (his exact nature is quite complicated and includes parallel universes, but yes, he’s supposed to be exactly the same as the SatAM Robotnik, with memories and everything) and this Sonic is supposed to have fought a bloody decade-long guerilla war against him just like his SatAM counterpart.

Scourge was turned into a massive Mary-Sue who achieved easy victories, as subtle as a huge neon sign saying "the bad guys win"; he was also an abusive manipulator towards Fiona Fox, and Flynn was unable to show that properly for fear of making his pet look no longer cool, which makes you wonder how alike Flynn and Penders might actually be in some ways. To clearly understand the horrible damage this has caused: it not only created a generation of young Sonic fans -mostly boys from the USA- who romanticize abuse either consciously or unconsciously, but also there are even women -including scholars, committed feminists and transgender people who are also activists for social justice- who either sympathize with Scourge or think Fiona made a right, wise, rational or informed decision by joining him in the story (I’ll not give names of those women, I’m not really eager to get into heated fallacious discussions about “the true meaning of Feminism”); to top it off, among the writers who started working with Ian Flynn either on IDW-Sonic or the last years of Archie-Sonic, there’s at least one person who got the job of writing official Sonic comics after gaining quite a bit of fame with a fan-comic where they used the pairing of Scourge & Fiona to inspire its readers to feel sorry... for Scourge. And speaking of Fiona specifically: the subplot of her career as a villain was ill-conceived, was built by using as a cornerstone the A-story of Issue #150 (that quite infamous and widely known story written by Penders where Scourge may or may not have raped Bunnie by deception), and was also seemingly "abandoned" as Fiona ended up merely being Scourge's new abuse victim girlfriend and her status as a traitor didn’t even have a significant emotional effect on the Freedom Fighters.

Flynn also followed something like a pattern of taking tropes from famous works and then using them when writing the comic but not actually understanding why those tropes had worked in the first place. Perhaps the prime example of this was Scourge giving Sonic the Joker's "One Bad Day" speech: it almost felt a bit like giving the same speech to the Batman of Batman vs. Superman, as Sonic had already had a whole "bad decade" and was still a hero despite it; also, Sonic's answer to that speech (telling Scourge it only takes a tiny bit of selflessness and decency for him to be a good person) wasn’t that great, not at all compared to the mildly masterful answer Batman had originally given to the Joker in The Killing Joke, and it even made Sonic look more like a bad judge of character.

Lastly, the entire Mecha Sally Arc was poorly planned, had some contradictions with itself and with previous stories, was stretched through dozens of comic issues no matter if that felt forced, and the main events and plot twists throughout the story arc were heavily based on shock-value without giving any substance to this or making it a bit more sense when putting it under scrutiny; meanwhile, Flynn always seemed to have quite a hard time when writing long story arcs, so these long stories looked like he was trying and outright failing to imitate Toriyama (someone quite known for putting together stories ad-lib according to what seemed most convenient at the time).

Despite this, it looks like those Sonic fans who are still interested in material outside of the videogames will keep buying and reading whatever Ian Flynn or one of his colleagues writes, simply because they’re better than Penders... even though it's been 15 years since Penders wrote something official about Sonic. Seriously, we should have gotten over it by now, instead of continuing to compare all material in the franchise with Penders's work, which sets the bar too low for any official content creator. Now that I think about it, Penders's work is to the North-American Sonic canon what Sonic 2006 is to the videogames: people can criticize the latest games all they want, and rightfully so, but if someone even casually mentions Sonic 2006, any Sonic game from 2010 onwards instantly becomes a masterpiece just for being marginally better than Sonic 2006; the same happens between Penders's work on pre-reboot Archie-Sonic and any other North-American Sonic comic written by Flynn after Penders left.

Right now it looks like it's also forbidden to criticize Flynn as a writer at all just because he's much nicer in his personal life and engages with fans more directly through his podcasts, or because Flynn is truly progressive while Penders claimed to be progressive and a feminist and was affiliated with the USA Democrats but his work showed how misogynistic, perverted, retarded, reactionary and downright sick he was. Also, now saying something about Flynn other than total blind admiration for him and his work, even asking for the Freedom Fighters to return in the IDW comics, has become synonymous with agreeing with those assholes who cry "Rally4Sally" or "Udon4Sonic" on Twitter: "nostalgic" fans of SatAM and Penders's work on Archie, in their 40s or 50s, deeply conservative and absurdly paranoid, who claim that those new inclusive cartoons such as Steven Universe or She-Ra "are ruining their childhood", are mad at Flynn just because he hinted Sally and Nicole may be a lesbian couple (and in a rather platonic way, not even romantic in the traditional sense), and try to justify their own warped ideas and fantasies about SatAM by ignoring any “liberal” political messages SatAM may have had at the subtext level.

#sonic fanfiction by mashounen #sonic opinions by mashounen #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #sonic comics #sonic satam #michael gallagher #karl bollers #ken penders #ian flynn

[strayen-fx]

Saved

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: Angst, maybe a pinch of fluff if you squint real hard

Warnings: major character death

Wordcount: 3.2k

A/N: I'm back ㅠㅠ huge hug to everyone reading this ♡♡♡

•••

°

°°°

°

I saw him again.

He was just sitting there, as usual. Earphones plugged in, his eyes staring intently at his notebook. That was his favorite notebook, I noticed. He would always plop down his favorite spot in the library -- the table farthest from the door, close to the chemistry section -- and he would always bring a pile of books with him. He almost never opened them, though. He would always be hunched over his gray notebook, as if his life depended on it.

At some point I began to wonder if it was his diary, but later on I realized it was not. There were times when he'd just stare at it blankly, like he was having a mental block, but plenty of times he would be writing continuously with a huge smile painted on his face, as if he was proud of an idea he had gotten. He would scribble excitedly, scratching a few lines here and there. He would sometimes hum to himself, totally absorbed with the words that gushed from his pen, and he would smile contentedly.

I have begun to get mesmerized by his smile.

No -- maybe that was not the right word. I have begun to love his smile.

I always sat on the next table over, just staring at him until it was time for him to leave. Sometimes he would be with his friends. Sometimes he would allow the one called Changbin to read his notes, and most of the time, Changbin would react wildly and attract the attention of the librarian.

"I'm just studying, ma'am!" he would reason out each time he would be asked by the librarian to leave.

The librarian would just stare him down, and he would pout and dejectedly collect his things. Their other friend, Chan, would not be able to stop himself from laughing at Changbin's demise, and thus, he also ends up getting thrown out of the library.

"See you at the studio, Jisung!" the two of them would call out to their friend.

So his name is Jisung...

During most days, it was just me and Jisung. Or rather, it was just me staring at Jisung while he obliviously did his thing. But that didn't matter. I wasn't hoping for him to look up and see me, because I know that will never happen. It is funny how distance can mean nothing -- you can be close or far, and it may not even matter.

°

°°°

°

"Hey."

It was one of those stormy days when I met my first friend. Jisung wasn't in the library, so I decided to wander down the archives to look for anything interesting. I thought I just imagined the voice -- it sounded nothing more than mist, no louder than a vague whisper. But the voice came again, and this time I looked back.

He was wearing a dress shirt, his hair primly trimmed and styled. He looked like one of those characters straight out of the Titanic movie. I was tempted to regard him with honorifics, even though his face clearly suggested that he was just around my age.

"Hi?" I answered.

He wrinkled his nose, eyeing me from head to toe. "Why are you staying here?"

And I knew he wasn't just talking about me staying in the archives to read -- he was talking about the whole me.

I averted his piercing gaze. Suddenly the floor felt like a really interesting mural to look at. "I... have nowhere to go."

He kept watching me for a few seconds. Then, he sighed deeply in resignation. "Since when?"

"Almost two weeks now."

He sighed again -- I was starting to worry that if he'd keep on sighing, he would just run out of air and wink out of existence right there in front of me.

Does that work like that? I'm not really sure how things work with a body like this. If you can even call this a body.

"How?" he asked softly, as if his voice could get any softer. He was a gossamer thread -- we both were.

I shrugged. "I saved a man from a vehicle accident. I don't even know who he was. Didn't even see his face."

I looked up at the man before me, finally taking the chance to inspect his features. Despite the intensity in his presence, his eyes looked tired and defeated. His skin was chalk-white, and sometimes when he moved, it was like he wasn't even there anymore -- like a wisp of air, fluttering in and out of existence. And that was what we were -- wisps of air. Impressions. Emotions. Memories. Remnants of who we were. Things of the past. Seeing him there, I finally allowed myself to think of the exact word: ghosts.

"You are an idiot," the ghost told me.

I laughed softly. "Maybe."

He was translucent, like chalky water. I looked down at my arms and I looked like that, too. And I also felt that way -- uncontained water, at the verge of spilling over the edge.

"How did you die?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes, like he was tired of having the conversation over and over again. "Please. Do not expect an act of heroism from me -- I am no hero." When I continued looking at him expectantly, he sighed again. "I was the founder of this library, see? Built it young. Then I died of some incurable disease, which for the record is now curable with the advancement of medicine." He gestured at the stacks of books around us. "I loved knowledge and wisdom, but they didn't save me when I needed them most."

I looked around us -- stacks of research papers, advancement of human for the past millenia. I wondered how many people have pooled their knowledge and wisdom for these multitude of papers. I wondered how many of them are now dead, unable to witness the birth of a new era that was made possible by their hardwork. I wondered about the people who gave their everything to the things they loved -- success, fame, knowledge, money -- only to be betrayed by human frailty. I wondered about those people who died valiantly. Then I wondered about those people who did not leave a mark, but died peacefully and contentedly. I wondered about them who actually lived beyond existing. I wondered about the stories their ghosts would tell.

"You need to pass over," the young man muttered quietly. "You can't just stay here forever."

"But you're still here," I argued.

"My life was not lived remarkably. I died at an early age, and hence I do not have a story to tell." A hint of a wistful smile crossed his lips. "I have no stories to tell, so I thought I should rather watch the stories of the living. I am greedy that way."

And I understood -- it was his way of reaching for the life he wasn't given the chance to live.

I was about to leave the archives when the library's founder called me back. I looked at him, and he regarded me with deep sadness in his eyes.

"Did you regret it?" he asked. "Saving the man. Do you wish you did things differently?"

I smiled at him -- a genuine smile. "I didn't. And I will never regret it."

°

°°°

°

I was starting to fade.

It had been a few days since I talked with the library founder. He was Felix, he told me, and when I told him the name sounded just like someone who would create libraries, he just rolled his eyes and stalked away.

Jisung still came to the library, but each time I saw him, he always seemed to be on edge. Like he was nervous of something. I would have asked him, if I could. I was starting to get worried.

I probably should be worried of myself as well. There was a time when I felt an unexplainable tug, and when I looked at my hands they were blinking in and out of focus.

"You need to pass over," I heard Felix's voice in my head. "You can't just stay here forever.

Just a few more time, I prayed. Please.

Jisung wasn't writing on his notebook anymore. He didn't even bother to bring books with him. He was fiddling with his phone, turning it on and off. He stayed there, rooted in his chair, for what felt like hours. Then he did something I did not expect.

He looked up at me.

I half-expected him to shot his eyebrows up and ask me why I was staring at him, but of course he did not do that. He was just staring right at the seat where I was, and I knew he can't see me, but for those few seconds I really wanted to believe that he can. I wanted to believe that there was something between people that could cross life and fool death. I wanted to believe that there is something that connects people more than the physical touch -- something that could transcend time and space and life.

I wanted to believe, I wanted to hold on to something.

Then Jisung stood up, leaving the library with determination set in his eyes.

Felix told me that ghosts were tied to the places they once loved when they were alive. The remnants of their memories and emotions were connected to these places somehow, and it becomes the source of their life force. Once the ghosts decided to leave, it could mean that they have finally accepted their fates. That, or they could stray forever until they lose themselves entirely.

Apparently, this vague existence of mine was rooted close to the library. I remember spending most of my days here before. Thinking back, I probably shouldn't have made lots of doodles on the library books. It was probably those drawings that tied me to this place.

I stood up and followed Jisung.

°

°°°

°

I didn't know where we were going.

Jisung stopped by a flower shop. After a few minutes of indecision, he finally picked a bunch of red roses. I was starting to think it was a wrong idea to trail behind him and that I was going to crash into someone's date, but I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know this part of town -- I didn't know how to go back to the library.

We walked and walked and walked. Jisung's expression was set, and it probably should have made me worried. But I wasn't. If anything, I could feel my heart fluttering. He was beside me, and he was beautiful. He was -- is -- the only person I would wish to be standing with.

The next thing I knew, Jisung and I were already in the graveyard. I didn't even know how we got there. Jisung stood before a gravestone and placed the roses down, and for the first time that day, I saw his smile.

I was tantalized again.

"I didn't know what flowers you loved," he began, smiling shyly. "But I figured if I was going to confess right now I should probably bring you red roses, so here they are."

It took me a whole minute before I realized what was happening.

My name was carved on the stone. Jisung was visiting me.

°

°°°

°

He sat on the grass, still smiling at the stone that was marked with my epitaph. My mind was swirling. I didn't know what to think, or to feel. I was standing in front of my grave, and suddenly everything felt real -- I died. I am a ghost. Sooner or later, I will fade -- this time for good. If ghosts could shiver, I already did.

I plopped down next to Jisung. I wanted to reach for his hand. I wanted to hold him and ask him what was going on. I wanted answers.

As if he had heard me, Jisung smiled and spoke up.

"Hi," he whispered with a shaky breath. "You probably don't know me. But I... uh... I had been watching you for some time."

He paused, tilted his head, then laughed softly.

"That sounded weird, didn't it?" He laughed again. "I am Han Jisung. I live in a dorm close to the community college. I'm currently taking up a music degree. Cool, right? I always write lyrics and stuff. I have this favorite notebook with me, and it's already filled with lots of song ideas."

His gray notebook. Of course. So he was writing lyrics all the time? I couldn't help but be impressed at his dedication.

"The airconditioning in my room sucks, so I always stay in Chan's studio. But most of the time, he and Changbin would be too loud. I can't concentrate on writing lyrics, so I would be seeking refuge in the library. That was where I saw you."

Me. He saw me.

"I noticed you, because you were always wearing your gray hoodie even in summer. And you would always sit alone, in one of the farthest tables.

"I was curious, of course. I wanted to know you. So I always sat on the next table over. I would always bring stacks of books with me, so you wouldn't notice that I was there just to stalk you."

He laughed again, and he was beautiful.

"I would start my day staring at you and wondering what you're up to. Looking back, I wonder how you never noticed me staring...? Anyway. After a few minutes of staring at you, a song idea would suddenly pop in my head. I'd right the lyrics down, and the next thing I knew, it was already afternoon. And you had already gone home.

"That went on for a few weeks. You with your books, me staring at you. Some days, I tried to read the books you were leaving at the return section. And that was when I noticed that you weren't exactly absorbed with reading books -- you were busy rewriting them."

A subconscious smile graced my lips. I remembered all those times when I would pick up a classic novel and write my own version of a few scenes. On good days, when I felt sad and alone and poetic, I would write a few lines right across the margin. On best days, I was able to write full paragraphs, squished right there around the edges of the page.

"I read your versions of the stories," Jisung continued. "And I wanted to tell you how good you were with words. Sometimes I would imagine scenes from your point of view, and I would love the scenes more because I was able to see it with more color. And it was you who gave them color. I could safely say that you were my inspiration, and I can't thank you enough for that. You have saved me, in more ways than one."

I was starting to get an inkling as to where Jisung's monologue was headed. There was a mixture of emotions swirling in my insides. I was overwhelmed, and for the first time since I died, I consciously struggled for air.

"Two weeks ago, I really wanted to approach you and tell you how I loved your words. I knew I would have sounded like a creep, but I didn't care. I just wanted to talk to you, hopefully befriend you."

Two weeks ago.

"I tried to steel my nerves, but it was getting late in the afternoon. I knew you were about to go home. I probably should have approached you by then, but my heart was thumping so fast. I scurried out of the door, determined to do it tomorrow instead. Tomorrow for sure, I told myself."

He paused, like he didn't know how to continue talking. I didn't want him to continue talking. It was painful. So, so painful.

"I crossed the road without thinking. I always did that, when I'm focused on something else and my mind was swimming elsewhere. I always came out unscathed, maybe a curse or two from hotheaded drivers. But that day was different."

His eyes were cloudy. His voice was getting hoarse. I could feel his pain, and right then I just wanted him to stop talking. I wanted him to stop hurting. I wanted him to stop, because I wanted him not to hurt himself.

"There was a loud, very loud honk," Jisung said. "Next thing I knew, I was on the pavement. Someone pushed me. I looked back, and I saw the car. Someone was sprawled on the ground."

He was crying now. So was I.

"I could recognize your hoodie anywhere," he sobbed. "I could have..."

Silence stretched on for what felt like forever. As the sun slowly started its descent, I allowed myself to remember that day. I didn't see his face back then -- I just saw a man, about to get hit by a fast-approaching vehicle. I pushed him out of the way, not even thinking of anything else. My last thought was: my brother will be really mad at me for dying like this.

I didn't think of saving a life. I didn't think. I just moved.

Jisung took out his phone. He began playing a song, and it was beautiful. The most beautiful sound I have heard -- probably the best melody anyone could ever hear.

"I've been writing this song for two weeks now," Jisung said. "I am not sure if you could hear this, but I hope you could. This is the only gift I could give you, and I know this would not compare to the second life you have given me."

Jisung smiled despite his tears. "I am not sure this life had been worth saving. But I would make sure not to waste this chance you have given me. I will live this life for the two of us. I will make sure you would always be smiling down from heaven. I will make sure you would be proud of the life you have saved."

I held him. I held him close, and I did not want to ever let go. He was the song my heart wanted to hear, and if I would fade right here while I held him in my arms, my story would never need to be rewritten.

°

○○○

°

Han Jisung woke up at the library. There were only a few hours until midnight. He went back after visiting her grave, and he hadn't realized how tired he had been over those two weeks of staying up all night to write his song for her.

He began collecting his things, then noticed that a book that wasn't his had been added to his pile. It was opened face-down on the table, as if bookmarked on a certain page.

Jisung took the book, proceeding to inspect the opened pages. He caught his breath.

On the margin of the page, written with pencil, was a short paragraph. He recognized the handwriting. He wasn't sure if it was already there before, or if it was just a coincidence, but he held the book close to him and touched the letters gingerly.

"If anything, it was me whom he has saved. He was peace and strength and beauty. He was an ocean, and I was drowning in him -- but the thing is, I did not want to swim back up. I just wanted to whisper, over and over again: I love you I love you I love you."

°°°

°°°

°°°

A/N: Uhh... this is my first au in like two months? Sorry for not updating ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Feedbacks/requests will be deeply appreciated! ♡

#stray kids au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fic #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #stray kids sad hours #han jisung au #han jisung fanfic #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n #skz au #skz han #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz angst

[misssophiachase]

Holding Out For A Hero

For Klaroline AU Week - Day 2 Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Synopsis: He's New York City's Masked Crime Fighter "The Original" and Caroline is his "Alfred." 

"We need to talk," Caroline insisted, not bothering to wait just bowling past him inside his Upper East Side, penthouse apartment.

"By all means come in, love," he muttered. "It's not like it's 4:16 am and I was asleep."

"But yet you still manage that annoying sarcasm," she growled, flopping onto his plush, white couch. "What, no coffee?"

"Last time I checked…"

"I work for you," she mimicked, rolling her eyes for added effect."And would it hurt to put a t-shirt on? You're practically naked, Mikaelson."

Klaus Mikaelson wasn't usually self-conscious but given the way she was perusing his bare chest with disdain, it wasn't filling him with much confidence.

He figured he kept in shape what with his daily visits to the gym, mixed martial arts training, not to mention his crime-fighting schedule Thursday through Tuesday (unless otherwise paged).

He didn't choose to be a superhero, it sort of chose him. One night he saved his first innocent from a mugging in the Bronx and he was hooked.

Of course, he wasn't a natural, as Caroline liked to tell him all too often, but he trained hard and figured that there was no alternative career path for someone who looked as good as he did in tights and leather.

"Well, last time I checked…"

"You live here and I woke you up," she interrupted. "I didn't come here to be scolded, even if you are my boss."

"So, if you don't mind me asking…"

"Well…"

"Okay," he held up a finger to silence her. "How about if I make you coffee, you let me finish one sentence without interrupting?"

"Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "But remember…"

"No sugar," he finished. "Because you're sweet enough, right?"

"Rude! Has anyone told you that you're extra grouchy in the morning?"

He momentarily halted his coffee making to give her a knowing look from the kitchen. "Yes, I'm aware I woke you up but it's not like I don't have a good reason."

"This should be interesting," he murmured, busying himself with the coffee maker. "Did I leave the toilet seat up at the office?"

"Huh? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No," he lied. "I know, I was a bit too liberal with my red pen on that meeting brief yesterday, right? I told you before, you buy red pens the power goes to my head."

"You think I'm here to talk about your toilet habits and coloured pens?"

"I didn't use the right post-its did I? Your colour coding system is rather convoluted."

"Post-its?" She asked incredulously. "If you'd rather I leave."

"But you've already woken me," he stated. "Please continue, I'm all ears, Caroline."

"I'd tell you where you could shove that sarcasm but I really need caffeine and while we're talking about what you've done wrong, how about stop bloodying your clothes? There's only so many excuses I can give the dry cleaner."

"Okay, love," he interrupted, realising it was more serious than menial work matters. Klaus abandoned the job at hand and sat down facing her on the couch, his hands finding their way to her shoulders and squeezing them affectionately.

She smelled like roses in the garden after a rain shower, a scent that consumed him on a daily basis. However, he had to block it out because Caroline Forbes was his Personal Assistant and nothing more could happen between them, even if he wanted it so badly he couldn't breathe most days.

"Just breathe," he instructed, saying it to himself just as much as to her. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm not one of your damsels in distress you know?"

"Yes, because you told me that when we first met and it's been your mantra ever since."

18 months earlier

Klaus figured he had this whole superhero thing down. Not only was he kicking the ass of New York's underbelly his notoriety was slowly spreading around town. Not that Klaus did it for the fame but it helped that they knew he was watching over the city.

His childhood had been a roller coaster, to say the least. His mother could no longer look after him and had sent him from England to live with his estranged father in Hell's Kitchen.

Turns out his father was an alcoholic and drug addict who thought beating him was fun. After running away from home at fifteen, Klaus lived on the streets until he tried to steal the wallet of a very rich and powerful New York resident named Ansel Hamilton.

Instead of calling the police, he'd taken Klaus in and put him through school and found out Ansel's childhood had been similar and he wanted to pay it forward.

Klaus had graduated with first-class honours and worked in the family business by day, knowing that he would eventually inherit the family empire.

His life could have been so much worse but he'd been given a chance. He'd been saved. That's why he felt right helping others who couldn't help themselves.

Enter, Caroline Forbes.

It was 2 am on a Monday morning, Klaus was surveying the corner near 3rd Avenue and Lexington when he saw her.

Blonde waves, creamy skin, lithe figure but what stood out under the street light were her blue eyes blazing wildly as someone tried to steal her purse. He approached but before he could intervene he heard her cry.

"That's designer, you oaf," she growled. "Get your own purse and don't even think about my Manolos." His glance moved to her shoes instinctively, and she used the opportunity to kick him with said Manolos right where it hurt.

The assailant fell on the ground, groaning and nursing his privates. It was only then she noticed him standing frozen in the shadows.

"You're The Original aren't you?" She asked, matter-of-factly. He couldn't speak, she seemed to have that talent to render him speechless, something he'd get to know well. "Is this how you save people?"

"No, but you seemed to have it under control."

"Exactly! I'm not some damsel in distress, you know," she murmured, straightening out her clothes that were slightly dishevelled from the surprise attack. "But if you're ever looking for a sidekick, let me know. I'm currently unemployed and could really use the cash."

"Send me your resume and I'll see what I can do, love," he replied.

She thought he was being facetious but turns out he really needed a personal assistant to organise his affairs, superhero and not, and Caroline Forbes was the perfect candidate. Not only that, but she was also the only person who knew his true identity and Klaus liked the fact he had someone to share things with.

"Like I always say I'm not trying to save you because you don't need it," he smiled. "What happened?"

"Tyler took me out to this cute trattoria in Little Italy last night.." just hearing the name Tyler made his skin crawl. 

Caroline's latest beau was an out-of-work actor who, quite frankly, wasn't good enough for her. They'd only been dating for a few months but Klaus figured that was a few months too long. Not that he was jealous at all. "And then once dessert arrived he had the nerve to dump me."

"He did what?" Klaus growled, his anger boiling dangerously close to the surface. "I'll kill him."

"Klaus."

"No, Caroline," he argued. "That punk is going to pay for treating you so appallingly."

"Well, I did dump both our desserts over him," she murmured, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"That's my girl," he grinned, not thinking and pulling her into his arms. He knew Caroline Forbes didn't need protecting but that didn't mean he couldn't use it as an excuse to be close to her.

"I really wanted dessert too," she mumbled against his skin. Klaus stifled a laugh. "You don't happen to have any chunky monkey, do you?"

"That stuff will clog up your arteries," he informed her, finally letting her go, even if he didn't want to. She gave him a look which plainly said she didn't care about the health impacts. "How about we go get some ice cream?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now," he insisted. "I'm already awake."

"I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"No," she replied simply. "I think that's the best idea you've had in a long time, well other than hiring me."

"I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?" He asked, repeating her earlier comment. She didn't respond, just shook her head.

"Now, are you going to finally put on a shirt?" She asked.

"No, I was considering strolling down Fifth shirtless at 5 am," he teased, thinking he should probably go and find some clothes from his bedroom. It was only after he'd turned that she called out to him.

"What did you do to yourself?" Before he could reply, she had moved across the room and was rubbing her hand across his side slowly, it was only when she touched a certain point that he winced in pain.

"It's fine," he lied. Klaus was used to injuries and this one would be just like all the rest. He didn't need Caroline to look after him, well not in that way. They were colleagues nothing more, even if he wanted things to be different.

"Liar," she chided. "It's bleeding, Klaus. Seriously, you need to take better care of yourself. I'm going to get the first aid kit, a bowl and a washcloth and I want you to lie on the couch."

"Caroline, really..."

"Klaus, I'm not kidding around," she growled and Klaus knew better than to argue with her when she was this indignant. He did as he was told, trying to forget just how good it felt when she touched him and that was saying a lot given his injury.

"Lie still," she murmured, dipping the cloth in warm water and placing it on his skin.

He jumped a little as the liquid made contact. She was kneeling on the carpet her hands caressing his skin and those lips within kissing distance. Klaus felt dizzy and he wasn't sure whether it was her or the pain. All he knew was they were dangerously close and he was struggling to breathe, again not sure of the exact cause.

"You need to stop hurting yourself," she murmured, her frustrated expression not lost on Klaus.

"It's what I do, love," he whispered.

"Well, it's stupid," she muttered, he glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised curiously. "That's right I said it. You are an idiot and one day you are going to get hurt a lot worse or possibly end up dead." 

What Klaus wasn't expecting were the few stray tears that rolled down her creamy cheeks. Klaus didn't think, just sat up and used his hand to gently wipe the water from her face.

"Stupid and an idiot, hey?"

"It's not funny," she mumbled.

"Do you know how I always tell you that you don't need to be saved?" He asked earnestly, his blue eyes gazing intently into hers. She didn't flinch choosing only to nod by way of a reply. "It's true, but what I've never told you is that you saved me, Caroline." She was silent, obviously processing what he said and what it really meant.

"What exactly are you saying?"

"I love you, Caroline Forbes, so much sometimes that I can't breathe and I know what I do is crazy and that.."

She leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against his. Klaus didn't think, just pulled her towards him greedily and deepened the kiss, his tongue dipping into her warmth. She tasted like a mixture of strawberries and mint and Klaus couldn't get enough. She moaned against his lips as he picked her up, her legs winding around his waist as he took her to the bedroom.

She broke away briefly, a huge grin etched on her face. "I think that's the first time you've never told me off for interrupting you, boss?"

"I'll let it slide this time," he gave her a wolfish grin, then laid her carefully on the bed ready to have his way with her.

#kcauweek2020 #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #holding out for a hero #klaroline #misssophiachase #day 2 #sci-fi/fantasy #this was fun

[marjorie189]

Chapter 4

Y/N's POV

I was excited for today. I was going to hang out with my older brothers and I'm going to force them to go to Shawn's pop up shop on Melrose.

I saw on Instagram earlier, he posted about it so obviously I'm going.

Unfortunately he won't be there.

I decided to vlog for my YouTube channel.

Hey guys! So today I'm going to hang out with Dylan and Garrett.

If you all are new here, welcome. Dylan and Garrett are my twin older brothers and we're gonna go out for some brunch and I'm going to make them go to Shawn's pop up shop!

So right now I just got ready. Here's my ootd.

I faced the camera to the mirror to show them my outfit.

Outfit:

Hair:

X

Makeup:

What do you all think about choosing the lip color? If you'll like this idea comment down below and we can do it for other categories! Like hair, eyeshadow, etc.

It was 10:45 am and I decided to start heading out. Even if brunch starts at 11:30 am, the traffic sucks.

I got on my Range Rover and the gates of the house opened up.

I drove to the cafe in Beverly Hills, where Dylan and Garrett should be.

I got stuck in traffic, on the freeway so I decided to vlog.

Vlog in Italics

So right now it's 11:00 am and I got stuck in traffic! The usual L.A. traffic!

I showed the traffic to the camera.

Hey but it's alright! You all know what this means!

I played Lost In Japan, and sang along.

I got to caught up on singing, that people starting honking at me.

Oh shit I saw no cars in front of me! I was to caught up on singing that I forgot I was driving.

I sped up and caught up with the other cars.

I kept on vlogging.

Once I got to the cafe, I looked for a parking spot.

I then saw that the paparazzi from Hollywood Fix spotted me.

He filmed me parking my Range Rover.

I got off the Range Rover and he right away started filming me.

"Hey Y/N! How has everything been with you and The Dream Team?" He asked.

I laughed, "Everything has been good!" I said walking towards the cafe.

"That's good! So I know that you hang out with both Cloutgang and Team10. Does that cause any problems since both groups have beef?" He asked.

"No! I hang out with both groups. Dream Team and I are on great terms with both groups. When I hang out with one or the other we always leave their beef to the side! They understand that just because they have their own problems doesn't mean that I can be friends both groups! We're really good with leaving their drama to the side because we're good friends!" I answered truthfully, walking.

"Well it's good that they understand." He said.

I nodded.

"Well that means that you know all the inside scoops!" He asked.

"Oh for sure!" I said bluntly.

I would never tell anyone what has happened to Alissa and Jake, that the fans don't know of! That's their story to tell, if they tell me it's because they trust me!

"But that's their story to tell! Plus it's old news!" I said bluntly.

"You're right! Your right!" He said still following me.

I felt offended that they would ask me to tell them about Alissa and Jake! I am friends with both of them, that doesn't mean I'm going to go spilling all their secrets, just for fame!

I walked faster to the cafe, I still had a few minutes to get to the cafe.

I kept on walking and he kept on asking questions.

"Does Jake feel like you stole the Martinez Twins and Tessa Brooks from him since they were in Team 10 before?? You dated Tony Oller right!? How is your ex Tony!? Are you and him still friends!?"

I rolled my eyes that's a new low bringing Tony into this, "Look man, I know this is your job to ask me all these juicy questions, but come on" I said rolling my eyes.

"Sorry Y/N! It's just that the internet wants to know!" He said.  

I laughed sarcastically, " Alright! Here I'll answer your question for your satisfaction and for the whole internet! Dream Team is about positivity, once Tessa, Ivan, and Emilio joined The Dream Team. I set up a get together with Jake, Tessa, Emilio, Ivan and I. All the drama that happened between them off camera and on camera got solved! Jake agreed that it was best that they joined The Dream Team since they have already left Team 10. All the drama and feelings were talked about and they all got on good terms! Now we are all friends! And I don't and never will talk to Tony again we didn't have the best breakup as all my followers know if they saw the video about it! I said and finally got to the cafe and running over to Dylan who immediately pulls me into a hug.  

Garrett comes from the bathroom and sees me hugging Dylan while almost in tears so he comes over and joins the hug.

"What's wrong?" Garrett asked ruffling my hair.

"Paps." I said rolling my eyes with slight irritation.

"Oh just ignore them! What happened?" Dylan asked.

"They started asking me question like, "Do you know the inside scoop between Jake and Alissa?" Like I would actually tell them what happened?! He even asked about Tony!" I said.

"Did they really ask you that?" Dylan asked slightly getting mad. Tony is a sore subject for us all.

"Yes! Like do they believe that I would backstab them! Like they're my friends for god sakes! And even the thought of Tony!" I huffed crossing my arms.

"And then they started telling me that I supposedly stole Tessa and The twins from Jake." I said angrily.

"God! They are so rude!" Garrett said.

"Yeah well I kinda snapped..." I said laughing.

"Oh god of course you did!" Garrett said laughing.

"I'm sure you didn't mean it intentionally! He just got in your skin! Also that's my little sis! Way to go!" Dylan said giving me a side hug and ruffling my hair again.

"Of course! I just got irritated and it just happened! But let's not talk about this. I'm sorry I just came in like this!" I said standing up and hugging them both.

"Don't apologize." Dylan said ruffling my hair.

"Ugh I just did my hair like fifteen minutes ago must you keep messing it up?"

They both laugh then each kiss a cheek.

"Duh! Your our baby sis of course we do!"

I giggle then, smiled and hugged Garrett.

We ordered food and continued talking.

"So do you have any boyfriends? Any crushes?" Garrett said teasingly.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

"What about Jake?" Dylan said laughing.

"Oh god! No! He has a girlfriend!" I said spitting my food.

"So if he didn't have a girlfriend you would go out with him??" Dylan asked.

"Nooo! I see him as a best friend!" I said.

"What about a guy from Cloutgang or what about the Faze guys??" Garrett said.

"Guys please! They are my friends!!" I said annoyed.

"Ok what about a guy from Team 10 that isn't Jake??" Garrett said satisfied.

I rolled my eyes, "No!"

"Ok do you at least like somebody?" Dylan asked.

"You guys know I only like Shawn." I said jokingly.

"Well how about a guy you actually know?" Garrett chimed.

"In that case no!" I said and continued eating.

They laughed with the satisfaction of annoying me.

After we ate brunch I made told them about the pop up shop.

"Where is it at?" Garrett said annoyingly.

"In Melrose! Just follow me!" I said and we came out of them cafe.

"I'm parked over here." I said and pointed to the Range Rover.

"All right! I'm gonna ride with you!" Garrett said.

"What? You're gonna leave me alone?" Dylan asked Garrett with a pretend sad face on.

"Poor baby." I say while I tap Dylan's cheek lightly and giggle.

"But were twinning today!" Dylan points out.

I look at their outfits and see they have the exact same thing on and giggle.

"Heyy! It's your car! You're the one that has the extra car. You can't just leave it here!" Garrett said.

I laughed and Dylan walked towards his car.

Garrett and I walked to my car.

"The pap is coming!" Garrett said.

"Ugghhhh!" I said.

Garrett laughed, "Come on! Just ignore him!" He then tries to shield me knowing that if he doesn't Dylan will go all protective brother on him. I giggle at the thought of them Rustling because of me.

We walked to my car before the pap could ask us more questions.

We started in my Range Rover until we saw Dylan's car behind us so he can follow us.

"Here can you hold my camera so I can vlog?" I asked Garrett.

He nodded and filmed me.

Alright guys so I just finished my brunch date with my beautiful brothers. Garrett say hi to the camera.

Garrett turned the camera to himself and waved. He turned the camera towards me.

So we had a good brunch, but before that I had a not so good encounter with a pap. *Roll the Clip*

So yeah that happened! But hey we're all good! Right now I'm forcing both of my brothers to go the Shawn's pop up shop!

Garrett rolls his eyes slightly then shows Dylan through the window. Showing him in his car.

See you guys in the pop up shop!

Garrett tuned off the camera.

"Are you gonna get some Merch in the pop shop?" Garrett asked.

I nodded, "Are you?" I asked.

"Seems like you're forcing me?" Garrett said rolling his eyes.

"Seems about right." I said and we both laughed.

*At Pop Up Shop*

"Hey! No one is here!" Dylan said.

"Yeah you guys came on time! I opened about a minute ago!" The worked said.

I started looking right away, before anyone comes and the line gets huge!

I start getting a bunch of merchandise that I liked.

A few fans start coming, and they notice me.

"Omg! Y/N! Of course you're here! I just didn't expect to see you here!" The fan said and hugged me.

"Awww! We're both obsessed with Shawn!" I said laughing and hugging her.

I heard her sniffing.

"Aww don't cry honey!" I whispered and hugged her tighter.

"Look how about this! Pick anything and everything you'd like! It's on me!" I said to her. Her mom gasped in shock.

"Really?!" Her mom and the fan said.

"Of course!" I said.

"Oh my god! I love you!" She said and ran off to look at the hoodies.

"That's sweet of you!" Dylan said.

"She's a fan! She deserves it." I smiled and looked through the jean jackets.

"What are you guys gonna get?" I asked.

"I'm gonna get the Black Youth hoodie." Dylan said.

"That's cute! We could match!" I said.

"I'm gonna get the gray one. The one that has his name on the rose" Garrett said.

"Wait I haven't seen it. Lemme see it?" I said and fell in love with it.

"Let me get my size!" I said.

"Oh god! You're gonna get the whole store!" Dylan said.

I rolled my eyes and continued shopping.

The fan came and fangirled over Dylan and Garrett.

We took pictures while we were in line to pay.

I took the camera out and vlogged us.

"Are you sure you're want to pay? I can pay." The fans mom asked.

"Really! It's on me, don't worry about it!" I said hugging her.

The mom waved to the camera.

I laughed and it was our turn in line.

I paid for the fan and I's clothes.

After us it's Garrett and Dylan who paid for their stuff.

We went outside and we said bye to the fan and her mom.

"You wanna head to your house?" Garrett said.

"Yeah! Do you guys want to film a video?" I asked them.

"Yeah let's do it!" Dylan said.

"Ughhh I want to ride with you guys! But I have to drive my car!" Dylan said.

"Haha sucks to be you!" I laughed at him.

He rolled his eyes and got to his car.

Garrett and I got to the Range Rover.

We drove to my house.

Once we got to the Dream Team House we parked and got inside.

We said hi to everyone and chilled with them.

"So your encounter with the Pap, huh?" Froy said laughing.

"They posted it already?" I said rolling me eyes.

"Yup! Has a couple millions views!" Tessa said.

"Y/N L/N snaps at paparazzi." Jazzy said reading the title.

I checked my phone and got many twitter and Instagram notifications, based on the video.

I opened it and they first one I saw was Jake's twitter response.

I smiled.

I then saw Alissa's and Banks.

I smiled.

They're my best friends, and they know I would never do them wrong.

I turned off my phone.

"Wait Y/N. Didn't you wrap up the season you did with Supernatural about a month ago?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah! I loved filming with the Supernatural Cast! It was so much fun!" I said remembering the time with them.

"When are they going to release the season?" Dylan asked.

"Well right now they are just editing everything and putting all the scenes together!" I explained.

Everyone nodded.

"Yeah but before they release the season on The CW, we're going to have a premiere for it!" I said excitedly.

"That sounds like fun!" Bethany said.

"Yeah, I'm excited for it! And we start filming the next season next year!!" I said happily.

In the show I'm Dean's and Sam's little sister. The season we just wrapped up was the 13th season.

The one with the Apocalypse World and with Jack Kline!

Jack and Y/N's Character got really close. She was with him in his dark times.

Jack and her started liking each other and started dating.

Sam knew all about it, but the three of them hid it from Dean for a while.

They knew Dean would go crazy if his little sister dated someone, especially the nephilim.

That's just a little bit, about what happened in the 13th season.

"Well anyways guys! We're gonna go film a video!" I said and smiled to The Dream Team.  

I stood up and Garrett and Dylan followed me.

"So what video are we going to film?" Dylan asked.

"I was think like, " Which Twin Brother knows me best?" I asked.

"Ohh!! I'm beating your ass!" Dylan said competitively towards Garrett.

"Oh please! In your dreams!" Garrett fought back.

I laughed and turned on the camera.

I introduced Garrett and Dylan and started explaining the rules and directions.

So here's how it's all going to go down! I'm going to ask you guys questions about myself, and you guys are going to have to write down the answer on the whiteboard.

You guys are going to flip the board at the same time! And based on your answer you guys are gonna get points!

Whoever wins get the title as My Favorite Brother!

I asked them about my birthday, and they both got it!

I asked about my favorite colors, they both put different answered but we're both right!

I asked them a lot of more questions and they got most of them right, but some wrong!

In the end it was a tie!

"I say we should have a tie breaker!" I said looking at my brothers. They fist bump.

"Sure." They say.

"Ok, oh! I know the perfect question!" I get all excited.

"What is my favorite Shawn Mendes video of all time?"

They both turned their boards over. Dylan said the carpool karaoke video and Garrett said the rap battle one.

"Dylan! He wins! Lol sorry Garr!" I kiss Garrett's cheek.

"But let's be honest here guys I love anything he's in." My brothers then fake gag and I giggle.

"Like the Shawn Mendes is a diva video is one of the most hilarious ones ever." I start laughing so hard I'm crying. Dylan pats my shoulder.

"Ok, ok enough about Shawn." He chuckles and I giggle harder.

"Also Garr in your face!" Dylan says and I giggle harder. Then Dylan grabs my shoe and runs to the door of my room and hides in the corner. I just laugh at him as Garrett side hugs me.

"She's mine! Garrett laughs at Dylan's face as do I Dylan comes back over gives me my shoe and sits down in a huff besides me I giggle at how childish my brothers are.

"You didn't win which means I'm the favorite!" Dylan says I then hug him.

"Awww yes you are my favorite." I giggle as I hug him more.

"Hey we should keep on filming?! We should do a Mukbang!" Garrett said.

"This video is going to be an hour long!" Dylan said.

I laughed and we ordered a bunch of food from postmates.

I tweeted out for them to ask us questions, so we can do a q&a while eating.

We filmed the mukbang and answered a bunch of questions.

We were filming for about 2 or 3 hours. We had so much fun!

Dylan and Garrett had to leave, unfortunately.

I said bye to them and they messed up my hair.

I rolled my eyes, and they left.

I went inside the house and saw that everyone was in their rooms.

I went to the restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

I heard a ding from my phone.

I saw that it was an email....

I then saw who it was from and dropped my phone from excitement and shockness!

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes Book #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #y/n #shawn mendes x y/n

[rainbowserenity]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @comeonlight~ I hope it’s as awesome as you <3333 thank you for being so great and such a light in my life ily so here is some OTP <333

Hope’s job had only one major rule:

Do not approach talk to the talent. Ever. Under any circumstances.

That was just fine with him. He’d been at this gig long enough to realize that most of the ‘talent’ that came through needed personality lessons. One model had actually refused to look at anyone’s face, which had dragged on the shoot for much longer than really needed.

Then again, it wasn’t like he’d get much chance to talk to the ‘talent’ even if he’d wanted to. Hope was a mere lighting assistant, which was just a fancy title for someone who held up lights and flicked some switches according to someone’s ‘vision.’ It was fairly boring most of the time. The only reason he was still working the job was because it actually paid far better than most places in town – and his boss was actually pretty good about working around his school schedule.

Plus, he had to admit, it was pretty interesting to see celebrities up close, even if he didn’t really follow much of pop culture at all. It wasn’t like he could tell people or talk about it outside of work, but he figured that once he’d finally gotten his degree, it’d be an interesting tidbit of information that he’d been within twenty feet of some supermodels.

Because of the general hush-hush environment concerning the celebrities – he’d had to sign a non-disclosure agreement on more than one occasion – they didn’t really get new staff all too often. Sometimes staff from other locations would come to theirs and he knew most of them.

Therefore, it was a complete surprise when he showed up to work early one morning and saw a stunning rose-haired woman pouring coffee.

She was dressed in a simple pair of leggings and an oversized shirt – usually the uniform of choice for makeup artists. A new one, maybe? Or an apprentice?

Whoever she was, Hope knew he was embarrassing himself by just staring. There was something very vaguely familiar about her, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t look away. It wasn’t even her incredible beauty either, although that didn’t hurt.

There was just something about her that drew him in. He’d never felt anything like it. People at school often told him that he had charisma, but that wasn’t quite the vibe he got from this woman.

No, he just felt that somehow, someway, they were meant to be standing here in this exact moment.

In the next instant, Hope realized how ridiculous he sounded in his own mind. He shook his head and walked towards the coffee. Who cared he usually drank tea in the mornings? Everyone needed a change now and then.

The woman dumped some sugar into her coffee, then glanced around before putting in some more. He smiled before he could stop himself and reached for the coffee pot.

She whipped her head around at the gesture, like she’d just noticed someone was right behind her. At the sight of him, her guarded expression visibly relaxed and she nodded. “Sugar?”

The word sounded so foreign that Hope momentarily froze, almost overflowing his coffee in the process. As it was, he filled it right to the top of his cup before fumbling with the pot and setting it down. “Uh, um – apparently not.”

Piercing blue eyes flicked towards his nearly-overflowing cup. She smirked. “And it’s still so early. Hard to imagine that we still have the whole day to go.”

Hope relaxed slightly. So she was a staff member. “Yeah, but that’s what the coffee’s for, I guess.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know how I’m upright half the time without it.”

“Oh, yeah.” He tried to pretend that he totally drank coffee on a regular basis, yep. He totally wasn’t the only college student in existence who actually got a decent amount of sleep every night. “Kind of amazed I made it here without it.”

She eyeballed him again before another smirked formed on her lips. It was like she could see right through him, somehow. But that was completely ridiculous. “I know what you mean.”

They both chuckled in that sort of awkward way that Hope had only experienced a handful of times – when you knew there was somewhere else you had to be, but you didn’t want to leave the company of the other person and were trying to figure out if you could find a way to see them again.

At least that was easily done. “So, uh, are you here from one of the other studios?”

For some reason, the question caused her to grow quiet. She took a step back and stared – really stared at him, her head slightly tilted to one side. A thousand emotions flickered in those eyes of hers – surprise, amazement, appreciation, intrigue.

Before either of them could say anything, a woman with wild black hair he’d never seen before came out of the makeup studio and spotted the two of them. “Oi!” She tapped her wrist where a watch would’ve been if people wore them anymore. “Coffee break’s over! Get your ass over here!”

The rose-haired woman rolled her eyes in a spectacular fashion. “Sorry. Duty calls.” She turned away and took a sip of her coffee, but then glanced back over at Hope. “I’ll...see you later, I’m sure. Maybe we could talk more.”

“Oh. Uh.” Hope blinked a couple of times, wondering if there was anything that could have possibly warranted further conversation. Was coffee really that fascinating?

Apparently so, because he nodded a second later. “Yes. Absolutely.”

She quirked a bit of a smile before heading into the makeup studio, shaking her head at something the black-haired woman was saying. Maybe his hunch was right and she was a makeup artist. They tended to stick around during shoots in case there were any touch-ups needed or a new look.

Would he really see her later?

Why did he want to so badly?

Hope thought about this the whole time he slugged down his coffee. He thought about it as the rest of the staff arrived and his job got started. It distracted him so much that he couldn’t even concentrate on the whispers of who they were all supposed to be working with today.

“She’s already here?!” one of the photographers shrieked. “Her call time was at nine!”

“Well, you’ve heard the other studios,” one of the wardrobe people said. “She’s, like, notoriously punctual.”

“Punctual is one thing – being nearly an hour early is a whole different level!” the photographer continued, sounding dramatic. But this was typical for him, so Hope didn’t pay it any mind.

Instead, his mind continued to wander – and he kept his eyes peeled.

One of the worst parts of this job was the long, long stretches of time where everyone just needed to hurry up and wait. They had to get everything ready as quickly as possible, but then it was just a matter of sitting around and waiting for everyone’s jobs to finally finish. Hair and makeup, wardrobe, set design...not to mention that some of the celebrities that came through were ridiculously demanding and wouldn’t do anything until those demands had been met. He still had nightmares about the one model-who-shall-not-be-named that had put everyone behind schedule for three hours because she hadn’t had any vegan cannolis in her room.

And she hadn’t even eaten them.

Today though, things seemed to be moving at a faster pace than usual. Hope gladly threw himself into his work, which for now, involved standing on a step-stool and rearranging one of the lights to his boss’s specifications. Everyone was buzzing around with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope glanced at the other lighting assistant. “Hey, Noel.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know who the talent’s supposed to be today?”

Noel paused and glanced at him, looking both bewildered and amused. “What, were you not paying attention earlier?”

“I guess not.”

“Man, even I know about her.” Noel shared the same interest in celebrity culture as Hope did – that was, basically none – so this was especially intriguing. “She’s all over the place lately – I think she was on the cover of, like, six different magazines in the past month. She’s the face of a bunch of different charities and stuff, too. Yeul loves her work,” he added, referencing his girlfriend.

“Oh.” Hope tried to imagine the newsstands. Something itched in the back of mind. “Who is - ”

“All right everyone, look alive!” The black-haired woman suddenly sauntered out and clapped her hands. “You’re lookin’ at the new face of Louis Vuitton right here, so you’d damn well better be makin’ her look good!”

“Shut up Fang,” a familiar voice muttered.

Very familiar.

He nearly dropped the light when out came the rose-haired woman, dressed in an extremely fancy outfit with a sheer black top with frilly designs on the back.

She wasn’t a makeup artist.

Not at all.

“Lightning Farron!” The photographer walked up and shook her head. “What an honor it is to have you here today!”

Of course, he said that to everybody, but it actually sounded sincere this time. And why wouldn’t it?

Hope couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Lightning Farron! The Lightning Farron!

Of course he knew of her – the woman who had appeared in magazines seemingly from nowhere, who was famous for being discovered in a kickboxing class. Earlier in the year, she’d worn a holster on her evening gown while modeling on the runway to bring awareness for gun control. She used her fame to start numerous charities and was, as he’d heard, notoriously punctual.

Lightning Farron, quite possibly one of the most famous models in the world.

That’s who he’d talked to.

That’s who he’d felt an instant connection with.

Oh, god. He was done for. There was no possible way anything could ever come from this.

But a few minutes later, when Lightning was directed into her first test shot, she glanced up and met his eyes, clearing recognizing him. Her lips, lined in a neutral expression, curled up ever-so-slightly at the corners.

“There!” the photographer cried. “That smize! Just like that!”

Somehow, Hope managed not to drop any of the lights or do anything stupid. Instead, he simply smiled back.

After all, he wasn’t supposed to interact with the talent.

But there were no rules if the talent came to him...

#hopelight #hoperai #hopurai #hopelight fic #comeonlight #a;lskdjfliwjeflwiejf #I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 2AM #BECAUSE I FORGOT WHAT DAY IT WAS LOL #PLZ BE GENTLE #someday i'll write a proper model AU #oh well i hope you like this moon #i just had my LV lightning posters for inspiration #shining down on me like the beauty face she is #~swoons #anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN #<333333333333

[northsidemarleyrose]

It’s The Small Things \\ Ryley

Who: Marley Rose and Ryder Lynn (@serpentlynn) What: Ryder and Marley keep up old traditions and visit an old favourite spot. The trip is far from normal. When: Wednesday, December 3rd, late night. Where: Sweetwater River Notes: Ryder is BOLDED, Marley is regular. This went places I didn’t expect. Also I died of cuteness. Word Count: 7,600 (yes exactly) 

Marley knew she wasn't even close to being able to sleep. She hadn't expected Ryder to actually offer to pick her up and take her somewhere just because she was upset. She didn’t know what had gotten to her tonight, but something had nonetheless, and it sucked.

She didn't know what she'd done to deserve the amazing friends who were surrounding here through this breakup. She decided to wait on the front steps for Ryder, knowing he wouldn't be long and not wanting any knocking to wake Charlie.

It was colder than she'd realized outside, but she sat down on the top step regardless, kind of wishing it was snowing, solely because it'd be pretty.

Ryder wasn’t expecting to be with Marley again tonight, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. She needed to get away and he was happy to get her away. When he pulled up to Charlie’s, he saw her sitting on the steps and got out of his car, opening the passenger door for her with a grin, “Your chariot, here to take you wherever you desire.”

After she got in, he slid over the hood of the car to the other side, a trick he learned a while ago to seem cooler even though he rarely uses it, and entered the driver’s side.

“So do you want to head to Sweetwater? Or did you come up with something else while I was on my way over?” He asked her, glancing over at her while he pulled onto the road.

When Ryder slid over the hood of the car Marley winced, waiting to rush out if he fell, but, impressively he made it look easy. She knew if she tried something like that she'd fall flat on her face and everyone would laugh.

She did like the river, even in the cold weather. She nodded. "Sweetwater would be nice... It'll be quiet out there." Marley needed quiet, she needed to get away from everything that was happening in town, especially with Blaine. "As long as you don't think it's too cold."

Sweetwater worked just fine for him. Some quiet time away from everyone and everything. “Nope, Sweetwater sounds perfect.” Ryder responded, starting to drive towards their spot for however long they stay there.

“Did you like my trick?” He asked, referring to sliding over the hood, “Looked up how to do it a few years ago, practiced a lot to make it look cool.” He said, keeping the radio on a low level so that there would never be silence in the car but they could still hear and speak to each other.

Without asking, Marley knew the exact spot along the river Ryder was heading. They'd run lines for Grease there plenty. And after she'd found out about Charlie and Daniel he'd found here there once and it almost just became a safe place when things were too much, for both of them. Whether they decided to address whatever issue they were having, if they made time for each other to go find peace and quiet, or, well, if Marley found time for him because she was always busier, that's where they'd end up.

She couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, barely a laugh. "I did, even if you scared the crap out of me. I was worried you'd hurt yourself," she told him. "But you did good, RyGuy. You'll be impressing all the suitors soon and then I'll have to go to the river all by myself."

Ryder loved being at the river with Marley, he still occasionally came by himself but usually Marley was there with him. It was just for the two of them, their own bubble, their own slice of Riverdale where they can just exist and be there for each other.

Ryder grinned hearing her answer and the nickname, though he didn’t really agree with the last sentence. He wasn’t looking to impress any suitors, not while his feelings for Marley were coming back to the forefront of his brain. “You’re never going to have to worry about going to the river yourself, Marls. Even if I date someone, I’ll always have time to come to Sweetwater with you.” He told her, which was the truth whether he liked her or not. He wouldn’t stop going to their spot because of a relationship.

Ryder had to be some sort of magical creature, Marley was sure. She'd never admit it, but it was probably because of the Lucky Charms. Nevertheless, here she was smiling. Looking over at him, for a second she was able to forget why she needed him.

"Okay, okay," she conceded putting her hands up playfully. "I will worry not. Or ... at least try not to." That was probably a mistruth, Marley worried about a lot, but she knew Ryder and she knew he liked lying just about as much as she did. It was never something she actively worried about with him.

She looked out the window when the radio took her off guard. Just The Way You Are. Blaine had told her time and time again he'd ghost written that song for her. Somehow gotten into Bruno Mars' head and made him write a song all about her. As much as she didn't want it to happen, tears filled her eyes. Marley didn't want to make Ryder uncomfortable so she kept a look out the window. "There's some clouds and it's cold... think it'll snow?" She asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

Trying not to worry was probably the best he was going to get from her and Ryder knew it. But he was glad she was at least giving him that. Lying wasn’t something they did with each other, and he really appreciated it. It was just one more thing he liked about Marley.

He nodded along to the radio a little, he loved this song, definitely one of his favorites. At Marley’s question, he glanced up at the sky, “Maybe. Hopefully not too much, I only have one blanket in the trunk and I do not think it could keep you warm forever,” he answered, continuing the drive. “You wanna know something weird about Bruno Mars? I never hear anybody say he’s their favorite artist. Ever. But he’s got so many awards and his songs are continuous hits. But it’s like everyone knows and loves his songs. Uptown Funk comes on and no one is saying “oh my god I hate that song”, everyone loves his stuff. All of his songs are great. But you could go and ask someone who their top ten favorite artists are and no one will say Bruno Mars. It’s like he has some magic or something that gives him ultra success and fame but no one will think of him when they think of their favorites.”

This was another thing he liked about Marley, other people would just tell him to shut up or something because they didn’t want to listen to his dumb tangents about whatever popped into his head, such as right now with his thoughts on Bruno Mars. She at least let him finish instead of cutting him off, because she was a super sweet person, and he loved that.

Marley leaned back, wiping her eyes, when Ryder started talking about Bruno Mars. It was easier to listen to him than focus on the lyrics. She thought about what he was saying and it was definitely true. And the same could be said about Maroon 5 too actually. It was weird.

She didn't understand how he was acting like this was normal. Sure, hanging out was pretty normal but it was late and this was the second time she'd needed him to come around so late in a week. It was something she really admired how ... go with the flow he was. How genuine he was. Her entire life, well, most of it, Blaine had been her constant, her best friend, the person she could count on, but ... come to think of it, Ryder was too.

Marley knew she could always count on Ryder, that was never a question, and she hoped he knew the same. It was just hard to see things that were right in front of you sometimes, she supposed. He was good, truly good. She was lucky to have an amazing friend.

"How long have you been holding that one in?" She asked with genuine curiosity and a bit of a smirk when he'd finished, glancing over at him, confident that at least for this moment, she could fend off the tears.

When Marley asked how long he’d been holding that tangent in, Ryder laughed. “Too long. I keep thinking about it every time one of his songs come on the radio,” he told her, which was very true. He was glad he could finally share it with someone else.

Honestly, the fact that it was late didn’t even phase him. He was always down to hang out with Marley whenever, even if it involved going out to the river in his pajamas, any time spent with her was time well spent in his book. Especially this week, with the breakup and and everything, he just wanted to be extra sure that she was okay.

Soon enough, they were by their spot and he got out of the car and went around to open her door, though, not by sliding over the hood again, because it was harder on less solid ground and he didn’t want to fall. “I miss our spot, feels like it’s been a bit since we’ve been here,” Ryder said, grabbing the blanket from the trunk just in case it did snow, or even just if she got cold and wanted it or something.

It wasn't long before Ryder parked the car and let her out, always a gentleman. The walk from the car to the spot they called theirs was quick. "It has been," she nodded as they walked. Unfortunately life after high school got busy. They both had pretty big roles in their families' businesses and sometimes time got away from her, she was sure it was similar with Ryder.

Once they found the tree, one of the biggest in this area, Marley sat down against the trunk. She didn't even remember how they'd found this spot, but it was theirs. She'd been to it once or twice without him, well, on top of the few times he'd found her there when he knew things were bad. It was just never the same alone, and she'd never been there with anyone else.

"Let's try to not let that happen again," she told him as he sat too. "Spend so much time not coming here."

Ryder sat down against the trunk next to her, nodding in agreement at her statement, “I agree. It’s good to just get time away from the others and have it be just us and the river,” he leaned back and looked over at her with a grin.

“Do you ever come here by yourself?” He asked, mostly just curious on if she came alone just like he occasionally did. Though it was usually just to blow off some steam and let the river wash away whatever was on his mind, it just worked better when he was with Marley. Which, he assumed has something to do with him having feelings for her and her just generally being a great person. She made things so much easier to deal with and even if there are some things he hadn’t outright told her, she was able to get it off of his mind for a while without even knowing it. It was yet another thing he liked about her. “I do, not a lot or anything but sometimes I end up just driving here and sitting by myself,” he said, almost trying to explain his curiosity for wanting to know if she did too.

Marley nodded, knowing there was no point in trying to lie to Ryder, that hardly ever worked. Outside of a short period of time in her senior year, it wasn’t something she actively made a practice of.

“A couple times... well a couple times when you didn’t end up here if I’m being honest.” Though, knowing he came down to the river alone too was kind of nice. It felt like it was a place of sanctuary for both of them, not just her.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence and Marley leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a second. It wasn’t long before someone cold and wet touched her nose.

Snow. She sat up quickly and forget about everything just for a second. There was nothing quite like the first snow of the season. “Called it,” she smiled, looking over at Ryder.

So it wasn’t just him, that was nice. This place really was their own little bubble to exist in, whether together or by themselves. Though judging from her response along with his own, it was mostly their bubble together, which he really liked.

She rested her head on his shoulder and Ryder got to just sit there with his arm around her, admiring just how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, as corny as that sounded to him. She was amazing, and deserved so much more than to be hurting this badly and he wished he could take all of the pain and put it on himself so she wouldn’t deal with it. But he couldn’t, the best he could do is just be there for her.

Marley quickly sat up and he didn’t know why for a moment until she spoke, and he glanced up and saw the snow. He was too busy staring at his friend to even notice it started. “Yes, you did. Looks like I’m not the only psychic in town. You can guess the weather and everything.” He told her, smiling back at her.

Marley rolled her eyes. She thought the whole psychic thing was over, but here he was, bringing it up again. “Oh yes. Totally psychic,” she quipped at him. “Had nothing to do with the temperature and the clouds in the sky.”

Marley didn’t understand how she could feel so low until the entire time waiting for him. How she could spend so long hating herself for her choices and the consequences of her actions, how she could dwell on Blaine and his actions until she was in tears, but then when she was hanging out with Ryder, nothing else seemed to exist. It had to be some sort of magic or superpower he inherited from his movies.

“Exactly,” Ryder responded, “Nothing to do with temperature or anything like that, just you being psychic.” He offered the blanket to Marley, wanting to make sure she didn’t get cold while they were here. Especially since it was certain to get colder since they were by the river.

This almost felt like a scene from a movie, the snow falling down around them while they sit in their own private spot at the riverbank. It was perfect for the climax of some romance movie, where the guy would tell his best friend that he’s been in love with her for years and lean in to kiss her. For a moment, he considered doing it.

But this wasn’t a movie. Marley was still hurting from her breakup with Blaine and he didn’t need to add confusing her by admitting the feelings he’s had since high school. That wasn’t going to help her whatsoever. And that’s all he was supposed to be doing right now, helping her get through this.

Marley took the blanket gratefully and spread it across both of them, it wouldn't be fair or right to hoard it for herself, she was the reason they were out here after all. The scene was kind of unreal. It was dark but the moon was bright, especially now with the snow falling. The river was calm, not silent but calm. The two of them under the tree. She knew if someone came along it'd look different than it was, but she didn't mind, though, she also knew that no one would be walking by.

She didn't know why silence with Ryder was so easy, but it was. Sometimes when they were down here all they would do was just sit. Sometimes they'd vent. Sometimes it was all laughter and jokes. Tonight didn't feel like a laughter and jokes night.

As per usual, her mind wandered to Blaine. She didn't want it to, but it did. He claimed Just The Way You Are was written for her, but in the end ... they didn't work with the way she was. Tears sprang again and she quickly wiped them away, but she knew he'd notice, Ryder always noticed. "Do you ... Do you think I'll ever be enough for someone?" She asked him, choking on the last word.

Silence was usually something that Ryder hated. It made him feel awkward and like he had to do something to get rid of it. But with Marley, he didn’t. Silence was fine between them, it was nice even. He was comfortable enough to be okay with the silence with her, but soon enough it was broken when he noticed her tears and listened to her question.

The question was making him wish the circumstances were different even more. He wanted to tell her that she was more than enough for someone, him, but he couldn’t. “Of course. You’re amazing, Marley, you’re going to find someone who will think you’re more than enough. Someone who loves every single little thing about you, who would stop the earth from spinning if you asked them to, someone who would never think about making you do something you don’t want to do,” for a moment, he almost said ‘someone like me’, but he caught himself and just said “and I know you’ll find that someone, Marls.” Even if that someone ended up not being him for whatever reason, as long as she found someone she loved, he’d support her always. That’s what he did, and what he’d always do.

There was no way a speech like that could make her not cry a little more. She didn't deserve Ryder. No one did. He had to be one of the best people she'd ever met in her entire life. Too good for Riverdale, that was for sure.

She gave him a soft smile and wiped her face again. "...Thanks RyGuy," she sighed softly, leaning back down down on his shoulder. One day someone would come along and steal his heart and he'd have less time to spend with her. Marley knew he said he'd always make time, but things were different once love got involved, she was already so lucky he was still single.

"For the record, you'll find that person too," Marley told him, not moving from her spot. "You'll find the most perfect someone for your most perfect self. And you'll get to show off all your cool tricks and I bet they'll rival your love of all things nerdy, like Scooby Doo and Spiderman."

These tears weren’t for awful reasons, so he didn’t feel too bad about them, and once she leaned back on his shoulder again, he kept his arm around her, simply saying “anytime, Marls,” in response to her thank you. Which was true, even if he managed to fall for someone else, which honestly seemed pretty unlikely, he’d still make time to help her out. She was probably the most important person in his life right now, it seemed pretty impossible to beat that.

When Marley spoke about him finding someone, he laughed a little. Mostly because the perfect someone in his mind didn’t rival his love of all things nerdy, and that could be part of why he liked her so much. He could explain things and get excited and she’d listen anyways, and while he’d love if she knew more nerdy stuff, he was more than okay with her not knowing. “Well, I’ll be waiting for whenever that happens, but I’m in absolutely no rush here.” Because the person he did love was the one he was sitting here comforting over a breakup. “I’m all good with being single and only needing to pause whatever show I’m watching to come take you for a late night river talk instead of pausing whatever show and telling someone else that I’m going to go take you for a late night river talk,” he added.

His words struck her deep. He was so selfless. She knew she’d woken him up the first time she’d needed him and both of them were in pajamas tonight. “Pretty sure if you did that, you would make whoever it was hate me pretty quickly. I’m apparently a really needy friend,” she teased him moving slightly so her chin was on his shoulder and she was looking at him. “And the last thing I’d want is someone important to you hating me.”

Would she have to compete for attention when Ryder found someone? That wouldn’t be ideal... Sure, he was big talk about making time for her now, but that was all hypothetical. She pushed all those thoughts from her mind though, not wanting to get caught up in made up scenarios.

“Well, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now to have you willing to come down here in the cold when you could have been home watching Spiderman Verse,” she informed gratefully. “I’ll be sure to make it up to you soon.”

“Nope, I really don’t think I could date someone that would have a problem with you.” Ryder never really thought about someone having a problem with him always being ready to go help Marley with whatever, but he supposed that made sense, some people would probably not like their boyfriend leaving in the middle of the night to go take a girl to a secret spot by the river.

He shook his head when she mentioned making it up to him, though he was glad she felt like the luckiest girl in the world here. “No need. I can always watch Into The Spider-Verse whenever, you don’t need to make it up to me when I’m choosing to come down here in the cold with you.” He told her, “I’ll always take the chance to spend some time with you.” No need for her to make it up to him when he wanted to do it anyways.

Marley didn't think Ryder meant too much by saying he'd never date anyone that had a problem with her, and the time he spent with her, but that meant more than either of them could have predicted. She didn't know how he could predict that, but she had a lot of faith that he truly did mean it.

Into The Spider-Verse. She'd been close enough. Though, she liked that he didn't outright bring attention to her mistake, just kept going like that was what she'd said. "Don't know why you'd choose the cold over your Spiderman movies," she said with a small laugh. "But, no matter what you're going to say or how much you object, I promise you that I am going to find a way to make it up to you, whether you like it or not."

Ryder had to know better than to try to argue with her, he might be pretty persistent, but her stubbornness usually won out in situations like this.

“I’d choose the cold because you’re involved,” Ryder simply said, “picking between my movies or you is always an easy choice.” Though he wanted to object again, say that there was nothing for her to make up to him, he knew she’d win in the end anyways. “Alright, fine, you’ll make it up to me even though I’m doing this because I want to.” He didn’t see why she would want to, he was just doing what he could to help her, but if she wanted to then he wasn’t going to say no.

Marley's brow furrowed. She seriously didn't know why he'd say that, think that ... live by that. She was almost glad he couldn't see her face as she tried to figure out what she ever did for Ryder than would explain how fantastic he was to her. She was no longer focusing on the snow that was still falling around them. She sat up and faced him, placing her chin on her hand while her elbow was on her knee.

"Why?" She asked him, quizzical look on her face. "What if you get a cold, or worse, the flu? What if a bear decides that we smell good and comes and eats us, or even worse yet, what if a psycho serial killer decides we're his next victim, like a modern day Zodiac Killer or something." Sure, they last few were probably far fetched, mostly probably the bear, but there had to be a limit to this neverending bucket of greatness Ryder seemed to be spewing this week.

Now he had to be careful. As he kept reminding himself tonight, it wasn’t the time to admit his feelings for her. So he had to figure out another way to explain why he’d risk any of that, as unlikely as it is, to be with her tonight.

“I can get over a cold or flu. And a bear or new Zodiac Killer death could get us on Buzzfeed Unsolved and that’s pretty awesome and definitely one of my life goals.” Ryder responded, “I’m cool with risking pretty much everything to hang out with you, you’re fun and nice and awesome. My best friend, so why wouldn’t I?” And I love you and pretty much have loved you since high school entered his mind right after, but obviously he didn’t say that. He was ready for her to question it more, but until then he was just going to stick with that. That she was fun, nice, and awesome so he was willing to risk whatever if it meant he could hang out with his best friend.

Marley couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of course he'd have an answer for all of that. She'd tried to throw impossible situations at him and he hadn't even blinked and had answers for her. How many people in the world would say they'd risk everything to hang out with a friend and probably mean it. Amusement slowly faded from her face and she just looked at him, smiling softly. "You're ... too much," she replied quietly, reaching up and rubbing her thumb on his cheek.

Maybe it was because she was sad. Maybe she just needed to be close to another person. Maybe it was because she believed there might be something more behind his words, though she didn't know why there would be, but maybe. The next thing Marley knew she was leaning forward and kissing him. As soon as she'd started, she backed away, eyes wide .. "I... I.. um..."

She didn't have the words to explain what she'd done and all she could do was wait for Ryder's inevitable questions.

Good, that seemed to work for now. All she was saying in response to his answers for her scenarios was that he was too much, which honestly was something she said to him anyways, so it didn’t bother him. “I think I’m just enough, actually.’

Then she leaned forward and kissed him. And he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to kiss back, obviously, but he didn’t even fully register that Marley’s lips were on his until after she pulled away.

This wasn’t right. He thought he was doing pretty good at not giving super obvious signs that he liked her, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe she knew. But it was still too soon, he didn’t want to be a rebound or anything like that. But he also didn’t want to seem like he was upset that she kissed him. Ryder was, in a word, stuck.

“Why did you kiss me?” were the first words out of his mouth once he was actually able to speak again. “I’m not mad or anything, it was nice, but your breakup wasn’t that long ago and I’m just supposed to be comforting you right now.”

Ryder didn't say anything for a while. Marley couldn't help but start to panic, internally of course, she couldn't let him see that. She sat there, speechless herself until he spoke but she wasn't expecting a question. Why did she kiss him? Truth be told, she didn't have an answer for him. So ... instead of answering him she got up, wrapping the blanket in her arms. "It's late ... and the snow ... it's starting to stick ... we should go.. I want to go home."

Marley couldn't even wait for him to answer before she turned and started walking towards Ryder's car. This was a mistake. He would regret bringing her here, he'd stop coming over, he'd ... she'd stop being his best friend all because she'd impulsively kissed someone who was just saying ... all the right things to someone who's heart was still broken.

He didn’t get an answer, instead, Marley stood up and took the blanket. And Ryder didn’t get to respond before she started walking away, leaving him to scramble to try and get up and follow her.

This was bad, she was regretting it and she probably wouldn’t want to hang out with him because she impulsively kissed him because he couldn’t help saying as much of the truth as he could without outright telling her what he hasn’t told her for years.

Ryder finally caught up to her before she got to his car, “Marley, wait a second.” He gently grabbed her arm to stop her, “Let’s just talk for a second. I’m not upset that you kissed me, it was just a surprise. I wasn’t...I just want to comfort you right now. Be there for you in any way that I can be.”

He didn’t want to do something that may confuse her feelings when she was already going through so much. Otherwise, he probably would have kissed her once it started snowing and told her everything.

Marley knew he'd follow her, he had to, it was his car after all. She wasn't even surprised when he stopped her, grabbing her arm. She decided to play ball and turn to face him. What she hadn't expected was seeing worry written all over his face. She heard him out. Maybe he didn't hate her for what she'd done. Maybe he would still be able to call her his best friend.

She crossed her arms across her chest, holding the blanket close, and bit her lip, unable to keep eye contact. "It ... It just happened ... you can forget about it, okay? Just ... it never happened." Marley knew she had to let him off the hook. This was a one time thing, she'd thought too much about the nice things he'd said and let it get the best of her in a weak moment. "Don't worry about."

He didn’t really want to forget about it and pretend it never happened, but if that’s what she wanted then he’d have to agree. “If that’s what you want. I don’t mind, I don’t know, not forgetting about it.” He should’ve just stopped at ‘if that’s what you want’, instead of adding on the other stuff. Ryder didn’t want to go on and say why he wouldn’t mind not forgetting, especially if all she wanted after kissing him was to forget about it. That clearly couldn’t have been a good sign if he ever did want to admit his feelings.

He let go of her arm, almost ready to finish walking to his car so he could take her back to Charlie’s and she can pretend that the last half of this night never happened if that’s what she wanted to happen. But he doesn’t think he could forget, honestly, it was nice, no matter how short it was before she pulled away.

Marley didn't know what she wanted. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. She shrugged. "I ... I don't know what I want ..." Maybe there was more truth to that than she'd intended. It took a second before his words sunk in. He didn't need to forget it? Had she not messed up that terribly?

Marley took a breath before opening her mouth again, meeting his eye. "You ... don't need to forget ... that I kissed you? With .. no warning? Why?" She needed to know that he really didn't think she messed up. She needed to know she was still worthy of being his best friend even though what she did was kind of uncalled for.

He sensed those words were about more than just not knowing if she wanted to forget they’d kissed, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet anyways, there would be time for that later if he thought about it.

Ryder knew she was probably going to question him saying that he wouldn’t mind not forgetting, but he hadn’t been able to think of an answer that wasn’t I’ve thought about kissing you so many times that I definitely don’t want to forget that it actually happened. “Because it’s not like it was awful or anything. Nothing’s wrong with you kissing me,” he said, putting his arms around himself to substitute not having pockets in his pajamas.

Despite everything, Marley couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m pretty sure not awful is the bare minimum standard when it comes to kissing,” she mentioned, feeling a little bit better already. They’d move past this, she could see that now.

Marley looked around at the snow still falling around them. “We probably should still go while the roads are still fairly clear,” she told him.

Were they ever going to address the kiss again? Marley has no idea. Up until now the only time she’d ever kissed Ryder was back in high school, for Grease. And there was a lot different between stage kissing someone and impulsively kissing someone because ... well she didn’t even exactly have an answer for that.

Good, that got a chuckle out of her. "I didn't mean it like that. The kiss itself was really nice. I just meant that the scenario itself wasn't awful," Ryder tried to explain. Not that it should matter, since clearly they were okay with each other now.

When she mentioned leaving, he finally looked away from her and looked around at the world around them. "Yeah, probably." He decided to continue walking back towards his car again, this was good, they were okay. Maybe they wouldn't talk about the kiss until whenever Ryder got the nerves and timing right to tell Marley how he felt, but as long as they were okay, he could wait until then.

"I guess I can be alright with really nice," Marley replied as the began walking to the car, taking their time because she knew the last thing that either of them needed was her falling and breaking her leg or something, especially since her stability had been a little off lately.

Really nice was a normal way to describe a kiss shared between friends right? Maybe they were hanging out a lot more lately than most people would consider just friends, but that was how it'd always been. After they'd finished their last show of Grease they'd been backstage, still in costume and everything, and he'd jokingly asked her out. It was adorable, and the only time anyone had every asked her out during high school. It'd been sweet and she told him he didn't have to be Danny anymore, the show was over, and he'd laughed. Maybe she missed the simplicity of high school. Regardless, it had to be a normal way to describe what had happened.

She sighed as they walked and bumped his arm with hers. "I guess it was nice for me too."

Ryder shrugged while he started the car, “I’m better than I was in Grease. But if you want comments on when we kissed in high school, it was great. Best first kiss I could ask for.” He told her, beginning to start the drive away from the river.

Grease was amazing for him. He never performed before then but he saw a really pretty girl sign up and he felt compelled to. He always told Marley it was because her and Blaine were both too pretty to not want to join, but honestly it was all Marley. He didn’t even really see Blaine until the first rehearsal. Marley got Sandy and he got Danny and some part of him felt like it was fate telling him that it was meant to be. All through rehearsals and running lines at the river, he felt drawn to her, and finally asked her out after their last show. But she thought it was a joke so he played it off like it was one and stuck with her being his best friend, which was already more than enough for him.

First kiss? Marley hadn't known she'd been his first kiss ... or that he'd even count that. She bit her lip and looked down as he drove. "I didn't know that... I'm glad it was something you'd consider your best.. well, not your best kiss just the best first kiss, but yeah, even though it was just for a play and ... I should probably stop talking."

That hadn't gone anywhere she'd intended it to go. She had meant to say best first kiss, not best kiss. There was no way that was his best kiss, she didn't even think it should qualify as a proper first kiss, let alone best in that category.

It was just for a play, but Ryder counted it anyways. "Play or not, it was the first time I kissed someone. I count it." If he didn't count it, then Charlie probably was his first kiss and he doesn't even know if he wants to count those as kissing since it just happened when they hooked up. "Not like I've even kissed many people anyways, I don't have too many to count."

Her for Grease, Charlie when hooking up, really the only time he kissed someone was his girlfriend in high school and it took a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven to happen. Which, honestly, was probably part of the reasons she broke up with him in the first place, but he chose to not think on that too much. It was over with.

Come to think of it, Marley didn't even remember her actual first kiss. She knew it was at an after party of the play they'd done her sophomore year, but the who had completely escaped her. She was glad Ryder had something he could remember, something that ... maybe meant something.

"No surprise here, but I don't have many to count either," Marley told him, though they both knew that was hardly news. She didn't realize how nice it was being with someone who didn't seem to have the same views on sex as the entire town seemed to. The same views that had put an unfixable rift in her relationship. Sure, her and Blaine were talking again, but it was hardly the same. All she wanted was for it to be the same as before any of this had happened. She might not have regretted it, but she wanted it back still.

"Honestly, if I didn't know that you drink water, I'd probably think there was something in the water supply that makes everyone think sex is the best thing ever." Ryder commented, sure, he enjoyed sex, usually with guys more than girls, but it didn't matter to him. He could go the rest of his life without having sex again, there were tons of things that were better than sex. Comics, pineapple pizza, movies, hanging out at the river with Marley, a billion other things he'd rather do instead of have sex.

The drive back to Charlie's felt longer than the drive to the river, but that probably had something to do with the snow and him being a little more careful. And, possibly, him going a little slower on purpose just to stall this night with Marley and make it last even longer. But he wouldn't admit to that, just blame it on the weather.

Marley could only nod to that. "I could say the same about you, Ry," she commented. "You were the one who said you'd give up sex for the right person." That was something not even Blaine could do in the end. He might have tried for her, if she'd let him, but in the end, it wouldn't have worked, she could feel that in her gut.

Ryder was taking his time driving, probably because of the snow on the ground, but Marley was grateful. Sleep was something that had been evading her lately. She'd barely been around Pop's, which was unusual, but she didn't have the energy. But being with Ryder almost gave her the energy she felt had been sucked from her. Him dropping her off would only result in falling back into the slump she hated.

Ryder gave a small shrug, “Yeah, well, it’s not hard or anything. I don’t need sex to have fun.” Sex was weird anyways. No need to worry about needing it in a relationship or anything when they can do anything else. “Pillow forts are way better than sex anyways, adding whoever I’m in love with,” Marley, “sounds like an even better idea.”

He was about to keep driving, head to Charlie’s and drop her off, but an idea popped into his head instead. “Do you want to stay at my place for the night? Well, rest of it anyways?” She could have his bed if she wanted, and it’d mean he can have a bit more time together. “Since it’s so late and all, no need to wake up Charlie or anything.” His parents were fast asleep and definitely wouldn’t mind seeing Marley in the morning anyways. They’ve been wanting him to ask her out since high school, whenever they weren’t already assuming they were dating, at least.

Only Ryder would bring up pillow forts as an alternative to sex. Only Ryder could make it seem normal to do that. It was something she really couldn’t help but appreciate so much.

When Ryder suggested taking her back to his trailer, the one he’d said didn’t have enough room for her. She knew that before she’d kissed him she wouldn’t have even thought before saying yes. She also knew that she should go back to Charlie’s. All that being said, the offer was there and it’d mean having him around for the rest of the night.

“Sure,” she nodded after a second. “But don’t think I’m kicking you out of your room. Unless you insist on that, but we all know I’m more stubborn here and arguing with me will end in defeat.”

Good, she agreed. That meant Ryder could keep driving to Sunnyside instead of Charlie’s place. “You don’t have to kick me out of my room, I was planning on sleeping on the floor.” Ryder told her, though he was sure she’d disagree with that too, “But you are more stubborn, so let’s just share the bed. Make things easier on the both of us.” He added.

He kept driving until they got to his trailer, him getting out and opening the door for Marley for the last time tonight. Quietly entering the trailer with Marley, he took her to his room where Scooby-Doo! Camp Scare was still paused from when he left earlier that night. With an easy grin, he turned it off and laid down in his bed, making room for her and suddenly a lot more tired than he was expecting, but he kept his eyes open to seem more awake in case Marley wanted anything else.

Marley almost laughed when she saw that Scooby Doo had been on. Nothing was more fundamentally Ryder and she wouldn’t change it.

As soon as he made room for her, she climbed into the bed, yawning for the first time in the night. She resumed an almost equivalent position to how she’d been the previous Monday, laying on his shoulder. She knew what it looked like, but right now, in his warmth and security, she couldn’t be bothered. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the night sink in and letting herself breathe for a second. “Thank you,” she said quietly after a second. “For everything and for being you.” She leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, not something entirely new, but not their usual either, especially after earlier, but she really did want him to know she was grateful.

Almost like an automatic response, Ryder’s arm went around Marley, keeping her close and enjoying being in her company. Then she thanked him and kissed his cheek and he could only grin, “Anytime, Marls. Whenever you need me, you got me.” He responded just as quiet as she was. Then silence fell over the two as he made sure she was sleeping and that everything was okay before he closed his own eyes and was able to sleep himself.

#para:ryder lynn #chara:ryder lynn

[ginnyzero]

Motivations to Write

In my last discussion post, Ideas, Squeaky Toys of Doom, I touched upon a few motivations of why people write. And I guess, it’s the next natural thing to talk about, once one has an idea, there has to be some sort of will to go forward with it, other than tossing it in the bin as useless. As in all things, from going to the grocery to store, to committing a crime, one must have a reason! And if you want to sound sinister (or overly legal) we call it motive!

Before I start meandering, the dictionary describes motive as an inner drive or impulse that causes one to act. A motive is an incentive. It’s the stimulus that gets us out of our chairs (or into them) and doing something. They are the reasons that provide us with the stress to change our ways. (Yes, I said stress. There is positive stress and negative stress, just like there is positive criticism and negative criticism.) Motivations affect us and can be as varied from “I need to eat” to “I have a dream.” Eating is something solid, dreams, are the exact opposite, ephemeral. And having both is important. (I’ll just leave this here.) Motivations are what take you from where you are now, to the future of where you want to be if you want it.

And motivations, these reasons, are as varied and broad and different as the people that come up with them. These are a few I know it. Whether or not the writers you know fall under them may or may not be the case. Just like there is no bad idea, there is no wrong motivation to write. At least, I’m not holding any judgements. And all of these can be combined and used to fuel each other.

Basic Motivations: Money, Fame (Power), Love

Firstly. Let’s get these three fundamental motivations out of the way.

Money, everyone wants to write a book and get rich just like JK Rowling. They want their own house, a swimming pool and a private jet. (Hey, don’t we all want to be rich. No judgement.) Or, you’ve got the other writers, who want to make enough money just to pay their bills and live comfortably. Money is a big motivating factor. The world seems to go around on money and it’s hard to do anything without it. We’ve all got to eat. We need roofs over our heads and as a society we’ve become very dependent on this thing called electricity.

Fame, and I lump fame with power. Writers, just like everyone else, want to be known. They want to be recognized. They want to leave behind a great body of work that people can come back to over and over again. This is a way to become immortal. Fame also brings other perks. Fame can bring television or movie deals. Fame has public appearances and interviews. Fame has people coming to you instead of you going to them. Fame gives you influence and power. Influence and power can change things. Some people like the idea of it.

And love, there are writers that actually just enjoy writing and want to do what they do. They love to come up with ideas, string together plots, hack through scenes and what characters grow and change. I feel, and this is just my feelings and opinions, that all people should love what they do in one way shape or form. And if writing is what makes someone happy and that’s what they like to do above all others, then that love can be a great motivation.

Now, there are five other motivations that I have thought of/remembered and there are probably many more, but these are ones that I see talked about by other writers.

Motivation: “I like this.”

These are the writers who just plain like a concept. I don’t think Louis L’amour and Zane Grey would have wrote so many westerns if they didn’t plain just like them. (Err, that was unintentional, and I’m leaving it. Homophones!) These are writers who will take their idea and just pound it into the ground until you have to wonder if they ever had another idea in their head. Brian Jacques wrote 21 Redwall novels before his death. Mercedes Lackey has written 30 tales in Valdemar (and as far as I know is still writing in that universe.) Jim Butcher is on his 16th Dresden File (of a proposed 28, I think.) And Anne McCaffery’s son has taken up where Anne left off in Pern. And that, ladies and gentlemen is just in science fiction/fantasy. To write that much material for one universe or genre alone takes dedication. Formula writers (by which I mean the structure of their story is the same for every single book/trilogy they write,) genre writers and romance writers can fall under this motivation.

But then there is the opposite.

Motivation: “I don’t like this. I want to see this instead.”

This motivation is often reactionary. This is the cry of disgust from every reader who has thrown a book across the room, got up and went to their computer and sat down and tried to write it better. There are also things that some writers just don’t want to see or write in their novels, so they don’t.

This writing can often be derivative. But you say, what writing isn’t? That’s a real good question. But this motivation uses a lot of things in the public domain such as Jane Austen, Sherlock Holmes, fairy tales and legends. Historical Alternate universe can also fall under this, such as ‘His Majesty’s Dragon,’ by Naomi Novak. In fact, I feel almost anything considered ‘historical’ can be considered this. A ‘I don’t want to see the battles of the war of the roses, I want to know about the love lives of the nobles instead!’

I also find that this motivation can also be used as sort of a research tool. For instance, when a writer likes things from two or three different (but similar potentially or even not) novels, but doesn’t like how any of those novels actually used their ideas. So, the writer takes the ideas they like, combine them into one thing and wah lah, they have their own universe to play in.

“I don’t like this, I want to see this instead,” is a huge motivation in fan works. A huge amount of fan work is either exploring romantic pairings that wouldn’t happen in canon, expounding upon things that weren’t seen in canon or even changing the setting completely and seeing what the characters will do. Continuations, prequels and the children of the main cast are all very common stories that happen in fandom. Given how huge fanfiction.net, mediaminer.org and AO3 are, plus the stuff on journaling sites, private sites (including forums) and tumblr and so on. This is a huge stimulus for people of all ages to write.

Motivation: “I have a story I want to tell.”

The ultimate, “I have something I want to talk about.” By golly, these people have something to say and they’re going to say it, whether you like it or not. They may have a message to get out there.

There is the personal side of this. These are the autobiographies, biographies and ‘based on a true story,’ writers. They’re using their story to spread a message or theme that they think everyone should hear. Which isn’t a bad thing, everyone who writes has a message whether or not they know it. These writers are just more aware of it than others.

Then there is the not as personal aspect of this motivation. These are writers that have a story in their head that they want to tell. And they’ve looked on the shelves and it’s not there, or it’s there in similar form but not how precisely they would do it. They see a void in the market place that they want to fill. Or sometimes, they just have a story in their head trying to get out and they need to get it out so they can move onto something else! There is usually a heavy dose of ‘I like this,’ involved in this type of writing.

Motivation: “I want to help others.”

Ah, the selfless motivation to write or the pretentious one depending on how you look at it.

This can go hand in hand with “I have a story to tell.” These writers hope that by telling their story that they can inspire, help or warn others. Stories about overcoming adversity. Stories about reaching out to others. Stories that show the bad side of life. Or conversely, the stories that show the good side of life. These writers want whoever reads their story to take away something from it, something that will hopefully make the reader a better person.

I have to say that a lot of Christian fictional literature falls under this heading. I’ve read quite a bit of it and not a lot of it has stayed with me, because there isn’t a lot of Christian fictional stories (or at least not when I was reading them) that focused upon walking the life of a Christian. They were usually much more focused upon converting the reader and if you’re a Christian already it feels like they are preaching to the already converted (aka the choir.) Or they were trying to show what a good Christian marriage was with varying degrees of success. Pick one.

And lastly,

Motivation: “I want to feel better.”

This motivation is where writing hits the pure emotional level. This type of writing is cathartic. It releases the feelings inside the writer and gives them a voice. A lot of emotional writing comes from a place of anger and despair. How the writer chooses to translate that anger and despair in their writing is up to them. There are those who will through the guise of writing graphically describe incidents that happened to them so that they can use the characters as a method of coping. They take back their power and control in their writing and use the fictional world as a cipher of the real world to change things. There is also the opposite, those who take that anger or despair and write silly happy things as a way of making themselves feel happier. It’s a way to make themselves laugh while in the undercurrents of the writing they are also often dealing with the deeper issues in their life. In emotional writing, an audience isn’t necessary and may or may not be helpful.

Emotional writing can go along with “I have a story I want to tell,” and “I want to help others.”

Now on the other hand, some people write dark, angry, disturbing stuff because they like writing dark angry disturbing things. And other people write funny silly things, because they like writing funny silly things and they don’t need to feel better. (So, I don’t recommend you call out anyone on the motivations for their writing if you feel it’s coming from an emotional place, because it may not be and you shouldn’t assume anything.)

A lot of these motivations for writing are the same as the motivations for publishing. There is a huge difference between writing something and publishing that something. Just because a writer creates a story, doesn’t mean that they will want to or are going to put it out there in a public manner. That’s their choice and no one should try to take it away from them.

Motivations are tricky things. They can change over time or be joined by other incentives. If you desire to write, there is no wrong reason to do so! They’re your reasons and no one has the right to call them bad ones. It might be because of one of the reasons I posted here or because of others. Whatever the reason is, we writers have to feed those Squeaky Toys of Doom and keep on plugging away.

#writing #motivations #writblr #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writing motivations

[akelyokikagu]

Paper Cranes - Chapter 1

Onmyouji AU. 

Chapter 1: Pieces of wish

Someone was coming for her ass.

To be exact, she had been pursued since a hour of two and it was becoming hard to continue. The trappers were well-prepared and competent, they had weakened her with vicious bullets— something able to slow down her regeneration capacity— and it hurt like hell. She probably had been tracked down since at least a month, as they perfectly knew when she was vulnerable: during sunny days and where did she usually go in the mountain. The others never accompanied her during one of her ballad, the area was usually safe and no one sane would dare to penetrate the Yato’s territory.

Kagura didn’t know whether to qualify the hunters of smart or simply stupid.

They had been playing hide and seek for a while now, with all the trees surrounding them it would have been easy to hide if not for the bloodstains she left. Jumping in green wouldn’t do— she was clad with red cheongsam. In all, she would analyse the situation to be pretty much fucked . Yato or not, she was losing her vision and blood, each steps meant pain and darkening sight while fear filled her mind.

Humans themselves did not scare her, she could easily dislocate their bones and pulverize them into a quivering mass of flesh which meant a horrible death for them. However, their greed was as insatiable as blood for a Yato, it was never enough.

She heard the trivial sound of shouts coming closer. They probably understood which way she went for, right corner to end up in a deeper forest but she knew. It wasn’t going to conclude well for her, and for them. Kamui, Mucchan were going to find and avenge her in a violent massacre, which Kagura didn’t really agree to. Anyway, it will took them times to find her, meanwhile, she’ll live the worst humiliation for a high-breed demon like herself.

“She’s here, search her around! Don’t forget to seal her as quickly as possible before her companions come.” A man voiced out in a commanding tone, probably the leader of this dangerous capture.

“We’ll be able to do whatever we want with her in our hands, name a price and we’ll get it.” Another one talked, he was the closest to her spot: behind a large trunk to shadow her small frame. By peering discreetly Kagura could count four of them, though they had divided midway in their hunt, one to chase her and the other to . “Fame, women, money, everything will open up to us!”

The girl cringed at his smug face. Not with your bloated stomach anyway. Who’d want a nasty man like you? Her hand rested on the opposite shoulder, as if to ease the severe injuries, two holes there, three on the left leg and one on the right one. Could she be called a walking-cheese now?

“Fucktards…” She cursed under her breath, her legs trembled if pain. She couldn’t much more and those humans were going to get and seal her in a Shikigami and let Onmyoujis bid until someone buy her for a ridiculous price. “If only I had my umbrella, Kamui was right when he said to always bring it with me.”

It hitched her to just go and launch at them but that would be equal to suicide. So yeah, not really a good idea. Or maybe if she wanted to die which was not the case here. One more string of curses flooded her brain and she started to ponder seriously on how to evade when there are, in all, around ten men pursuing you. She got some moment to rip her cheongsam and wrap her wounds, it bought her some time as the red liquid was becoming more faint.

There was a river not far, a good idea to disappear, she and her damn blood, if only she was not this tired and wounded. Besides, a single rustling sound and the hunters who are literally two meters far would go and shot her. She couldn't take more bullets. Her breathing was already hoarse and irregular, she couldn’t run, she couldn’t fight. Fact is, she was at her most vulnerable state right now. It’s just the same as before, someone please come and save me—

“Oh, what  do we have here?” The corpulent man mockingly wondered, “Finally got ya.” His tern lips curved into a large rictus, one without pity nor empathy. She didn’t shiver, but stared at him furiously, her eyes gleaming, transpiring of nothing but hate. Her hands curled into a fist and bit her lips, acknowledging that she couldn’t fight back. Their bullets couldn’t even be caught, it burned to her bones. Humans are great when we’re talking about making deadly weapons.

“Monster.”

“Funny’ that you say that when I ain’t a Yato, I’ve never killed any’thing. I bet you couldn’t say this much, lil’ Yato.”

A snarl donned on her face, teeth gritting, “I bet I can. At least we don’t enslave people for our own benefits, maybe we wouldn’t kill if you humans weren’t so greedy.” They had, after all, chose a fourteen years old girl like her as their prey, mercilessly shooting her with customized bullets, just to be able to gain what? Glory, perhaps? There was no glory in this, only selfishness she couldn’t stand.

On the other hand, the hunter just chuckled before mumbling what sounded like a mantra while holding a paper manikin like how a priest would, with a cross (at least, in the shonen mangas she read). Her last sight would be light surrounding her.

“Sougo, you should at least give it a try. The Shogun bought it for us, it’s the first Yato we’ve ever caught as a shikigami, it would be a shame to sell it back. Besides, you never had one yet and a Shinsengumi captain should have a high-ranked demon as his shikigami! Think of the image, not only of how useful it could be.” Kondo tried to reason his “son” for the nth time, the lass had been hell-bent on never having what they called ashikigami . A soul partner who can provide more support than a human’s and was more loyal, too.

“Kondo-san is right, you are famous for being the prodigy, both as a swordsman and as an Onmyouji , yet didn’t sustain one.” The puff of smoke were drive in mid-air, patterned in small and hazardous waves. Sougo’s face contorted in irritation, Hijikata-san could poison his lungs if he wanted but it bothered him, he hated the odour which reminisced him of good old times. It wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t need anyone to protect my back or help me. A shikigami will only bother me, consume my energy that I could use into spells or parchments—”

“You know you’re wrong,” Hijikata crashes his cigarette suddenly, he had enough of the teenager, sometimes. He had always been childish when not around his now late-sister and he knew that, deeply within, Okita wasn’t really bad to the core, however, he was stubborn. “You are injured. You always get more injured than us and it’s not only because you are reckless.”

The flaxen-haired boy was, indeed, covered with bandages. “I kill more than you or any other members. I don’t need a dead to watch my back.”

“Do you consider Zaki’ to be useless? He ain’t strong, that’s for sure, but he’s useful. He watches our back when we fight and supervise us from within and both you and I know that you need someone to do the same for you. Even you can’t dodge ten blades at the same time, not to mention a hundred.” He sighed, it was tiring, speaking to him could be as gratifying as speaking to a stone. At least, stone wouldn’t talk back.

“He’s not, but he could let you die. Please die, Hijikata-san.”

“OI, I’M TRYING TO BE SERIOUS THERE!”

“C-Come on, calm down, you two.” Kondo distanced by pushing them to the opposite direction, instead, he handed out the paper manikin to the youngest, imitating the ultimate skill of young girls nowadays— the puppy stare. “Give it a chance you don’t know who you might meet.” His smile is warm akin to one of a parent to his son, and Sougo surrendered.

He hesitantly accepted the piece of paper, his eyes examined it, though the seal was one of the highest-quality to never allow the demon inside to escape, the presentation was rather simple. It was human-shaped, with small horns on the head and what looked like a hair accessory. There wasn’t any name on it, no indication of the gender (if Yato even had genders, they didn’t know much about them).

He took a sharp intake of breath, closed his eyes and focused on what was beneath this lifeless piece of white. There was like a feeling of fire, not a blazing flame but gentle light, like a candle’s one. Okita wondered if this was normal, but soon shrugged it as he felt a presence slowly sipping out.

“YOU! I’LL SPILL YOUR GUTS!” A high voice bellowed, he didn’t have the time to cock an eyebrow that he was already thrown against a wall, the strength was inhuman— definitely— he broke the wall, coughed blood. When his eyes traveled to a girl. First, she was very petite, pretty much around fourteen-fifteen years old, pale and the, her most striking features.

Red hair and big, round eyes. She looked frail. Is she really the Yato? Wait, she did throw me.

“Wait, you are not the one who sealed me.” She was obviously bewildered— he almost laughed at her own naïveté— she looked like a lost child. One who can crash you against a wall, but still. He was having a hard time believing that she was a Yato, the strongest demon clan they ever heard of. “YOU!” She glared at him, “Tell me what day is it. Who are you? Where am I?”

“Ahum, Today is...The fourth of June, thursday and you are at the Shinsengumi compound. This boy is called kita Sougo, your well...Future onmyouji.” Kondo answered though not asked, he was sure that Sougo was alright but would he be able to tame her? She sure didn’t look cooperative.

Actually, she was furious.

“No, I won’t. I want my freeness—”

Okita corrected, “Freedom—”

“My freedom back!” Maybe the fire I felt was her anger. It didn’t hurt, though. “It’s better for you guys too, or Kamui and Mucchan are going to kill all of you, no exceptions. Release me, you have no right to keep me as your pet—”

“The correct term would be shikigami .” Red clashed with blue. Adrenaline rose from his toes to his head, there was something about that make him boil from excitement, in the way she was so confident even in this kind of situations. “And it’s better to keep you, instead of letting souls and demons roam free and steal living people’s soul energy,” he scrambled, stood up to flash a smirk at her. (A vein popped on her face.) “You need it too, right, so you won’t disappear, you’ll end up as shikigami anyway.”

“As if, I don’t need anything from you puny humans.” She send him a challenging smile, a few days had passed since her capture which meant her body had been fully healed by then, not even a single scratch was left. Also, they were in a traditional japanese room, no sunlight and the weather was still bearable, she could easily pummel those three men. “Give it to me,” she pointed the paper, “release me.”

“Maa maa, Sougo and young lady, we should calm down and sit dow—”

“It’s no use, Kondo-san, they are already fighting each other. I think she’s perfectly fitted for him, no one could serve this idiot for long anyway,” Hijikata sipped his cup of tea which turned cold over the time while his hand rummaged through his pocket, flicking a bird-cut manikin out of it. Immediately after, a man appeared. “Oi, Yamazaki, how does a Yato seal a contract?”

“I have no idea, vice-commander.” A perplexed face was plastered on him, he wa considered to be the spy and the knowledgeable one of the Shinsengumi, for he had lived a long time and was good at socializing. “I mean, they are secluded, the best way would be asking...her.” He glanced at the blur of red mixing with brown, “Is she the Yato for captain Okita?”

Hijikata nodded. “Well,” he decided to finally walk to the two kids and kick one on the other. He was used to dealing with sadistic brats, and they were destroying the room (Kondo already passed out!). The girl was biting Sougo’s arm while the said victim was crushing her leg, the two were about to cry out of pain yet resisted, as if on some battle of who could withstand it the longest. “Stop destroying the room and make a contract already!”

“Die, Hijikata-san.”

“You die first, Sadist!” The redhead relinquished her teeths from his arms, only to ball up her fist and strike right on his jaw. That’s where it hurt the most, if she believed her brother, and it seemed to work. “Shut up Mayora—” How did she know he liked mayonnaise? “I’m not going to be anybody’s shikigami, especially not his.”

“Gyaha, you bitch, you could have avoided hitting me on the jaw!” His eyes glinted in a strange way. He wasn’t bored. “I’ll make you suffer until I die, right, Chinakami?”

“Who are you calling a Chinakami, Chihuahua?”

Hijikata and Yamazaki observed the scene unfolding in front of them, not sure if it was a good thing that the boy finally found what could be considered as a match or cry because of the new sadist here. Besides, Yamazaki wasn’t feeling good about it, even if Okita did look entertained, the girl emitted nothing but disgust, for unknown reasons. Sure, some demons and souls were resilient in making a contract and serve humans but they eventually got used to it and considered it to be good option to get enough energy to live, without killing off anybody. His family, for example, had always served government, now under the form of the Shinsengumi.

The Yato Clan was mysterious, were hardly seen and seemed to see it more as a humiliating thing rather than a win-win deal. They weren’t the only one, the strongest clans usually thought the same, maybe do they feel superior to humans or was there something he did not know of?

“Vice-commander, they are about to break commander’s Otae-shrine.”

“Ah.”

#Gintama #Okikagu #Fanfic #Onmyouji AU #Kagura #Okita sougo

[hankalorinczova]

Art, Language, Poetry (Preview)

A is not only the first letter in alphabet, the very beginning of something. The oposite of the end, what makes from nothing something and anything. The inception, the beginning, the iniciative, the origin something so basic. Something so basic, fundamental, vital, classic. Aardvark, that is the insect or animal I am a little afraid of. Because it´s insect and it is not his fault, but my fear of it. It is similar to ant- isn´t it? I don´t know. I hope that it will my original poetical artistic ability show. Aaron´s rod, it´s the name of some flower or plant, because it was in Botanics in my linguistic dictionary. But what did William Shakespeare say about the rose? It had the infinite and eternal story. He said and wrote something that no matter what name would a rose had. It would be still a rose and I think that the entire universe should be glad. Abaca is a textile fibre I really had no clue about. There are a lot of things in the universe I still don´t know about. I really hope that my English is at least level C1. And after learning all this 170 000 English words it will be C2. I should never go aback and make the same mistakes I made in the past. I do hope that every good single thought, word and deed will eternaly last. I always hope I should have an infinite inspiration. To be like Alan Turing and Leonardo Da Vinci- but that´s are an examples, is my infinite aspiration. An abacterial world has a sterile charm and it is absolutely unpersonal universe. Who knows what is happening right now in the universe, while I´m writing this very verse. I believe there are a lot of things happening in the universe right now. But I am not Stephen Hawking so I can´t explain what, why and how. An abacus is something like an early computer, isn´t it? It´s the word I find on the beginning of alphabeth, that´s it. With computers is related Alan Turing, who, in fact created them. What would the entire planet Earth did, said and thought without them? Abaft is a part of a ship and boat. But on some words is hard to make a rhyme. It is so hard to have inspiration so infinite and eternal and to have a tenacity and time. But I should at least try, oh-I am in the third of this page, already. I will be so happy when my works will be done and ready. It depends if abandon is a positive or negative word. It depends if we abandon something good or bad in this world. So it can or could be really neutral and not polar at all. I do hope that I will have an inspiration and I will never fall. But the word abandoned seems to have even more negative meaning. Beacuse it is related to something a person, object or animal, just something. I will or I would like to write a lot of poetry in so many languages. In Bratislava we have and there are a lot of bridges. Abandonment can be again good or bad, according that what we are abandoning. But we should never abandon good things,situation and people, what the universe can bring. We should abandon everything bad, what exists in the entire universe. But it would be different world, different universe and I would´t be writing this exact verse. To abase anybody is usually not good and it is not moral at all. It is always better to call. It is always good to stop any evil from spreading at the beginning. It will never have any happy and evil continuing. Abasement is equal and a synonym to humiliation. It is quite an oposite to aspiration and motivation. It extremely hurts to be demotivated and humiliated. It is better to be positive and motivated. Oh, the next quite negative verb again- to abash is to threaten anything. It can be also considered as ashamed anything or something. I am aware that these verses are not (or maybe they are) pioneering in the entire history of this planet. But I do hope that I will show the oposite and I will prove that I have a talent. To be abashed is usually a synonym to be ashamed of something. Oh, the same unoriginal rhyme- something- anything. I should be so afraid and careful when it comes to these particular rhymes. I hope that I will have so much more inspirational and better times. Abashment is a synonym of shame. But that is a noun and it should be no one´s name. Even some names in history are really absurd and strange. But even a history can radically and positivelly change. To abate is to weaken anything, but probably both physically and abstractlly. Abstractlly it could be some characteristics, while physically there are people, animals, objects. And of course abstractlly there are different subjects. I should finish all of my unfinished works, deeds and projects. The abatement of good things is bad, while the abatement of bad things is good. Some things are so extracurricular, others are basic like food. It depends on a hierarchy of needs and wishes. Otherwise we would be like infinity, angels, fairies or witches. Abatis is an obstacle for trees I cannot explain the other way. I do know it is so complicated to create some words or to say. To say them on a topic or a word which doesn´t sound poetically at all. It might not sound even philosophically, or how does it call? A battery is supposedlly a type of battery, but I have no clue about these things. I could and I should be wiser and more intelligent as the life passes by and what it brings. To create something so universal, versatile and infinite from ordinary words- that´s a challenge. Even though I am not sure this is like Leonardo Da Vinci, Alan Turing or William Shakespeare, if not I hope it will change. Abattoir is a place for birds to live in. It can be long, short, colourful, wide, narrow or thin. Everything can be so different, but is anything the same? The entire universe is so different, diverse and other and that´s its glory and fame. Abaxial is rotated from its axis and it can be really anything. The Earth is rotating around its axis, but that´s a different thing. A different thing and object is also the Sun itself. What rotates around the Earth, oh I hope I didn´t make any mistake or to dishonest the universe itself! Abbacy is a place of residence, something like the complex of palaces. Even Coldplay with Rihanna sang about kings and queens in The Princess Of China verses. The King is also a character from The Little Prince written by Antoine De Saint Exupéry. It is really different than the creation, songs, lyrics and art of singer Katy Perry. Abattial is an adjective from abbacy and we are still talking about residences. Different characters from The Little Prince had different gestures, characters, temperament, dances. The biggest genius was The Little Prince, the writer, the Fox and the Lamplighter. The last one was a real abstract warrior and soul fighter. Abbess is a superior group of nuns and the Lamplighter from The Little Prince didn´t think about himself, he was superior. But when somebody act superior it can be in fact a proof they are morally inferior. Morally inferior objectivelly or subjectivelly- that´s the question! It reminds me of William Shakespeare ,,To be or not to be- that´s the question!” Even though I know that it is unoriginal to quote and to have the same word as a rhyme. It is for another word in alphabet time. Abbey is a place, residence, a palace too. I love writing, dancing, editing videos, painting, drawing, learning too. Of course I like listening to music, what I didn´t mention. I love when every rhyme I already know and I feel the best emotion. Abbot is a person who owns an abbey and it reminds me of The King in The Little Prince book. He can exaggerate, affect, scream, compliment he always everything took. He liked to proclaim and dictate anything to anyone. He would not accept any dictate from someone. To abbreviate something is not always good, I personally don´t like abbreviating my own work. I would´t be happy, satisfied, I would´t be sure. I would be so insecure and unhappy with everything and it would be pity that it is so short. I would like to survive every flight around this planet on every airport. I would´t like to be abbreviated from any life, event, experience, what is generally good. I used this particular word differentlly, it was not so simple as something so vital as food. I used this word not as an explanation of what it is, but in a contex of a sentence. Every language has its own accent, words and different amount of verbal tense. There are so many types and concrete abbreviations in this world. Sometimes the same word means something different and sometimes two words has only one meaning. It is the oposite of this one word. Every language has a different types and categories of abbreviations, acronyms and similar things. Sometimes the universe can even a language some miracles brings. I do know that some of these words has different word orther as they should have, but you have to know first ABC. ABC is something like the alphabeth, the basics, after that you can create and you will see. It is so great to write different things in English language, when I know it fluently and grammatically correct. I believe that when I learn at least 170 000 words in this language or in each languages, it will be perfect. The abdicate is the same case as abandon- it can be good or bad related to what you are abdicating of. Oh, I hope I correctly connected the verb from the preposition. Every creature has in this universe a unique position. To be the best is for some of us the biggest motivation. Abdication is an act of deleting something in our lifes. It can be anything, the verb is abstract it is not concrete like knifes. The language is remembered the best, when it is remembered in context. There is a part in every brain which is called a cortex.

Abdomen is a part of body of any animal, person or creature. Every creature has a unique characteristic and feature. As I write I would like to have an infinite inspiration. In this life and poem I should not repeat and I should have an infinite motivation. Abdominal is related to a part of body as I wrote higher. Inna wrote her lyrics or sang her lyrics with some rhymes such as a fire- higher. Or one of her songs was also a house-like song Take Me Higher. I know that these verses are have the same rhyme, it hurts like a fire. Abdominal aorta is an anatomical expression which sounds like a heart. I try to find in every word the most universal and unique art. Even though as I wrote I probably seem to be no William Shakespeare at all. Oh, but why? Maybe I should not and could not fall. To fall and to have no inspiration. To have rather an endless motivation. Abdominals are type of muscles, but I know it is a next word in an alphabeth, but I should be more poetic. More poetic and universal. The universally, objectivelly beautiful- that´s more than heroic. To have on every word so much inspiration, it seems endless and infinite. In this life, world and dimensions some things and situations are finite. But some of them are eternal, fortunatelly. It is a pity everything good isn´t, unfortunatelly. Abducens nerve is another next word in alphabet which I don´t know the meaning. Oh, I hate the feeling I don´t know something, that´s why I am writing this poem to completely learn the vocabulary of English language. I would like to know all the words in English language or at least 1/10 of them, not only the basic words such as ,,a bridge.” I would like to learn at least 170 000 words from my dictionary in my computer, but probably not all 1 000 000 English words each. I do know that the last verse had a wrong word order, but I did it for art, it is still better to not abduct anything. It was so strange verse, because I used the word ,,abduct” from the dictionary too, as I do in everything. I do have a lot of time for writing this poem and I am writing it for almost 20 minutes. It is mine it is not his, hers, yours, ours, it is not its. Abduction is always a criminal deed, it doesn´t matter of who or what. It is still not the worst and the most evil deed in history, as someone could thought. The most evil deeds in history are topics I don´t like to write about, not at all in an art. Because it doesn´t deserve to be mentioned, said, made, written and called. Abductor is a criminal, but what about an abductor in more poetic meaning? As a Romanian singer Andreea Banica sang ,,Hot De Inimi” or ,,The Thief Of Hearts”, it´s kind of thief or an abductor, it has a similar meaning. It sometimes seems that I perceive the associations metaphorically with the speed of light. Oh, I wish it would be like that I would´t have to wait and fight. To fight with the feeling of no ideas in my brain, or in, on, above, beyond, abeam. Slovak series Bud Bindi is similar a lot to a great British comedian Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean or Rowan Atkinson, as it´s his real name, he is a Capricorn like me and he seems to be inspired a lot of by Charlie Chaplin himself. There are a lot of actors and comedians inspired and thought by or with Charlie Chaplin himself. Charlie Chaplin star sign was the last decade of star sign Aries and Aries are so active, not to be lieying abed. Some Aries are and were so good and genius as for example Leonardo Da Vinci or Charlie Chaplin, some others were so idiotic and bad. It all depends, sometimes not only on astrology. It is all about the science and psychology. Abelian group and now the next word in an alphabeth, now from the sphere and dimension of Mathematics. I have no clue and idea what does it mean, I don´t know even the Chemistry and Physics. But I think it is the matter of fact that all three fields Alan Turing knows absolutely perfect. He would be worth of objective admiration of every atom in the universe, he would be worth it. Aberrant is a synonym for strange, weird and offensive and also obscene. Yesterday we were on a famous, genius, legendary and perfect William Shakespeare- Taming Of The Shrew, but there were also some erotic scenes. He was an absolute word polymath and I believe he did have English not C2 level, but D2 and I believe he knew even more than 170 000 words. 170 000 words are in the modern dictionary of English language in my computer. Oh, with that vocabulary, it would transport us to different worlds. To be aberrated could be good and bad, but oh, I started this verse with ,,to be” and what does it reminds you to? ,,To be or not to be? That is the question.” But this shouldn´t be all quoting the genius masterpieces of other creatures. As I wrote, that every creature has unique, exceptional, odd, different characteristic feature. And so does every colourful, different, antique or modern furniture. Aberration is somenthing, anything what is so odd. It could be new, it could be also old. In any eras of the existence of this planet there are many odd creatures, things, places, situations. It can bring, create and make a lot of aspirations and inspirations . To abet is to seduce or persuade someone somehow somewhere. On Friday we are going to Vienna with school, and I would like to know exactly where. I know we are going to see the universe of art, more exactly the fine art. Every art is and should be interesting, fascinating, original and smart. What would the abeyance of the entire universe or just the time look like? Would be everything stopped? Even in the universe Laika? I do know that subject is first in English sentence, but I did it only for the poetry. I do like fish, lamb but I like pork, beef less and I love poultry. When I am wrtiting this art I do hope that I am the oposite of the word abeyant, which is ,,lazy”. Oh, how I wish I had a vocabulary of any language at least 170 000 words, but I should learn like crazy. Regardless to be like anybody anyhow anytime anywhere. The mankind would and should stop any wars and just stare. There are people who couldn´t and shouldn´t be named that I do abhor. The atitude to these people should be like in Harry Potter- That Who Cannot Be Named or You Know Who. Evil doesn´t deserve to be thought, said and not at all made too. I think I am objective and true, but I don´t know what do you. Abhorrence is anything what is annoying, horrible and terrible. It is simple, primitive, but people use to think that is is intelligent and a riddle. But this opinion is wrong, false and subjective. Every evil is merely primitive and stupid and that is objective. Abhorrent is also the adjective of the abhorrence as I wrote higher and sooner. The sooner something is, the more it is in the past. Every work of art and masterpiece should last. It should last infinitely and eternally regardless of how old is the past. Abidance is the tenacity, permanency and persistence. It could be also described as the adhesiveness, but I hope I used correctlly the word ,,adhesiveness” in this sentence. I am no word polymath yet and my English is not perfect enoughto be able to create new words. The more new words someone creates, the more he is closer to the telepathy and other worlds. To abide is to bear to get over and it is interesting, because the bear is also an animal. Some art, things, people, situation are maximalistic, the others are minimal. It all depends on time, space, situation and who, where, what, when, why questions. But there are one more important, fundamental, vital, crucial and basic questions.

#Art #Language #Poetry #Words

[themusingsofjericho-blog]

Who Taught You How To Hate (Backstory)

Backstory For:

@TaughtHerToHate

A low sigh escaped Veronica's red stained lips as she stared out of the airplane window. Rush was playing softly through her rose gold Beats by Dre, all the while her mind was racing at a million miles a second. The flight from Virginia to Boston was only an hour and a half long, but, that did absolutely nothing to soothe the young woman's jangled nerves...

Veronica Anne Shillinger was born on April 29th in Boston, Massachusetts. She's the only child of famed FBI Agent, Vernon Shillinger and his wife, Arlene, a retired homicide detective for the Boston PD. Growing up, Veronica, affectionately known as "Ronnie" by her father, thought of her parents as superheroes. This was brought on because when she asked her parents what they do as jobs, she was told that they help keep the bad guys off the streets and help keep people safe

The idea of them being superheroes fascinated the young girl, and she bragged about it every single chance she got. Sure, there were the idiot kids who told her that she needed to grow up and that there were no such things as superheroes, but, she always ignored them. Superheroes don't always need special powers to be considered superheroes. Or, at least, that's what Veronica thought. She inherited her stubborn nature from Vernon, which was something that Arlene loved to joke about every chance she got. And, as much as Veronica adored her mother, she was always a proud Daddy's Girl. In her eyes, Vernon was like Captain America. Kids used to laugh and ask her why she compared him to someone as "basic" as Cap, and Veronica always responded with

"Superman is boring and overrated. Besides. What's so great about some overpowered loser who's only defeated by stupid, green rocks?"

Veronica never truly knew how dangerous her parents' jobs were. Vernon was always adamant about keeping his Ronnie safe, so, he always made it a point for him and Arlene to sugarcoat their answers whenever she had a question about cases they were working on whenever it was brought up in conversation. Veronica always hated that. She wanted to know everything, no matter how gruesome the details were. But, Vernon being the stubborn, Texan man that he is, didn't let up. No matter how much Veronica begged him to

Even when she was a teenager, who was old enough to learn about these kinds of things, Vernon still sugarcoated everything under the guise of keeping her safe from the horrors of the world. One night, when Veronica was seventeen years old, she finally snapped at her father, which lead to the two of them having a full-blown screaming match at the dinner table. Arlene tried to intervene before the situation became even worse than it already was, but, in a fit of rage, Vernon screamed at her to shut up and mind her own business. Those words only angered Veronica more, and she shrieked at her father, telling him to not speak to her mother that way. And, before Vernon could respond, Veronica decided to add a certain phrase most teenagers tend to scream at their parents at one point or another...

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I. HATE. YOU!!!"

To this day, the look of pure hurt that crossed Vernon's face at his daughter's words was fresh in Veronica's mind. At the time, she had no clue that those three words would be the last words that she would ever say to him. Arlene knew there were nights where Vernon would come home a bit later than usual, depending on the type of case he was working on. Veronica knew how dedicated he was to his job, which was one of the many things she admired about him. But, there was something in her gut telling her that something was wrong. She just didn't know what...

That is. Until three familiar faces came knocking at, of all the fucking times, four o'clock in the morning...

Arlene and Veronica were awoken by the sounds of someone banging at their front door. And, both of them knew immediately that it wasn't Vernon. He always made sure that he had his keys before he left, and he had a spare tucked away in the mail box in case of emergency. When Arlene opened the door, she was met with the sombre faces of three of her coworkers. Detective Greenly, Detective Duffy, and Detective Dolly. Arlene could tell by the looks on their faces that they were about to tell her something that was about to turn her world completely upside down. As Arlene was about to ask what they were doing at her house at such a time, Veronica was already awake and sleepily standing behind her in the foyer. Sleepily, she mumbles...

"What in the actual fuck are you three boneheads doing here? Can't you tell we're trying to fucking sleep around here???"

The trio at the door didn't laugh like they always did whenever Veronica got slightly sarcastic with them. Instead, there was a sad sigh from Greenly, who asked if they could come in and talk to the two girls. Arlene agreed, and she stepped back to let them in. Dolly instructed them to go sit down in the living room, and Veronica's dread from earlier was slowly starting to return. She slowly sits down on the couch next to her mother, bracing herself for whatever it was the three detectives were about to tell them. After they were settled, Duffy lets out a low, sad sigh before uttering the following words...

"Arlene...Veronica...there's...there's no easy way to say this. Vernon...Vernon was at Papa Joe Yakavetta's house tonight. He was there to conduct some sort of raid to try and take him down, once and for all. But...unfortunately, someone within the family had heard about his plans. I...I'm just gonna come right out and say it. Girls...I'm so, so sorry to tell you this...Vernon's dead..."

Dead. The second that word came out of Duffy's mouth, it was as if everything in that moment stood still. The only thing Veronica remembers after that was her letting out the loudest shriek she had ever shrieked in her entire life. Everything after that was nothing but pitch black and numbness. Vernon. Her Daddy. Her hero...he was dead. Dead at the hands of one of the slimiest pieces of shit in Boston. Papa Joe Yakavetta. She knew who the fuck he was, because her father had mentioned him a few times in conversation. He took her Daddy away from her...

It was later explained by Greenly that Vernon had managed to escape after Papa Joe had shot him in the chest, and he was the one who had called the ambulance. And, despite the EMT's best efforts, Vernon died of his wound en route to the hospital. It was as if everything around Veronica shattered, and the last thing she ever told her Daddy was that she hated him. All because he wanted to protect her from the evil that was in the world. It was in that moment that Veronica swore revenge. She was going to take Papa Joe down. No matter what it fucking took

After doing some research, Veronica decided to enroll herself at the FBI Training Academy in Virginia, the exact same academy where her father had trained years and years ago. She was at the top of her class, due to all of her insanely hard work and determination. Nothing was going to stand in her way. She graduated with flying colours, and she had gotten a phone call that she was not expecting in the slightest

It was Special Agent Paul Maximilian Smecker of the FBI Task Force. The very same Task Force that Vernon worked for. Veronica has known Paul ever since she was a little girl, due to him being extremely close friends with her father. The two had met during their training at the academy, and it didn't take long for them to hit it off. She always considered Paul to be her second father, and she was beyond thrilled to hear from him again. He called her to not only offer his condolences and congratulations, but, to also ask for help with a job in Boston. He had been called there after the mysterious deaths of two Russian mobsters, and he asked her if she'd like to apprentice under him until she could really get on her feet. Veronica happily accepted, and she ran back to her dorm room to pack her things and book the earliest flight to Boston she could get. It wasn't long until she was on the very plane that she was on in that moment, heading towards what would finally be her possible shot at revenge on the man who ripped her father away from her...

But, little did she know that she was going to get some unexpected help in the process...

[herbalisia]

Julian Week, Day 5: Salt

Something kind of fluffy, I guess. More Julian x Olivier shenanigans, now with 50% more Portia! Tried a sort of different format using letters as the main focus. Hopefully it reads okay!

@thearcanaweek

Portia was a force to be reckoned with. That much was true. Julian had taken to exchanging letters with her again, now that she knew where he was. Rather, she knew the vicinity he lingered in. More often than not, the letter exchange occurred when Olivier would visit the castle to “investigate further,” secretly sliding a letter into Portia’s hands or receiving one and tucking it away.

Lately, though, their letters had taken a sour turn as Portia exhibited a concern for his well-being that she didn’t often show so blatantly in person. Her words were careful and thoughtful where her face-to-face personality was more no-nonsense than that.

My dearest and most stubborn Ilya, a letter had started one day, making him chuckle into his tankard of ale while he lounged at the Raven like most other nights.

Just so you know, I worked hard for the position that allows me to be this bossy. But never mind that.

Her retaliation to his teasing remark from his last letter to her, he noted. He had mentioned how she had grown strong, but grown bossy as well. He continued to tease that she might have retained more of the salt from home than she believed. His amused smile fell the slightest bit as he continued on.

Ollie is here to help you. From the stories you’ve been sharing, I know it might be hard for you to trust someone, or to want to trust someone. But she worries for you constantly. We talk often when she’s here at the castle. (Girls will be girls, you know.) I worry about her as much as I worry about you, honestly. I know you’re good at hiding and running, and I hope that you stay good at it, but…

There was a deeper space between the words at that point, making him think that she had paused to think about how to continue from there.

But I worry that, if the day comes that you are caught, Ollie won’t think twice about jumping in to save you. In fact, I know she would. But Milady will not take kindly to that, I think. She, like you, has a hard time trusting, and I worry that any small glimpse of possible betrayal could knot a noose for Ollie too be bad news for her. I worry about you always, but my concern is spreading to encompass her, too. You have a lot in common when it comes to self-sacrificial mindsets, actually. That day, when Milady brought her to the castle and commissioned her to capture you so you could pay for your crimes, I was so scared. But somehow, we were lucky. Somehow, she ended up being someone that sought true, objective justice and not just fame or glory from bringing you in. I couldn’t be more grateful to whatever lucky star made her cross Milady’s path. …Sorry, I’m not sure what I’m talking about anymore.

Another space. This time, the words were scribbled on a new line, like an afterthought…or perhaps a continuation after walking away for a moment.

Look. Just be honest with yourself and be honest with her, too. I think she’d worry herself into an early grave with assumptions before she forced you to say what you are always thinking outright. Well, more than you usually do. For all that she is doing to save you, she deserves to at least be treated with honesty. 

Love, Pasha.

He hummed into his mug, nearly empty, and leisurely tossed the letter into the hearth as he rose and crossed to the bar for a refill. This was the only way they could safely communicate, though he wished it were easier than that. He wished he could hold the letters close to his chest, to keep the words of his cherished sister near to his heart always. But if he was ever caught, the letters would be too incriminating. He couldn’t tear down what she’d built for herself just because of selfishness.

As soon as he had the freedom and the resources—namely, the resources at the small magic shop he’d started to frequent again—he penned his reply in the scrawl that somehow only his sister could understand.

Darling Pasha, he started fondly. My, how I missed your scolding after all of our years apart. I truly did. How else would I know you still love me? That being said, you should know by now, dear sister, that honesty is not always the best policy. Don’t you understand that I want to keep Olivier safe? To keep you safe? Even now, as I write you, I worry about what these letters could do to your reputation. You’ve built such a lovely one, after all. And now we are dragging Olivier into this as well? I truly wish that you would refrain from involving even more people I cherish in this unlawful correspondence. Just being uncertain that you are truly burning these letters, as was agreed upon, is enough to shorten my lifespan, and that is something that is already hanging precariously by a thread. Or a lever, perhaps. …Oh no, I’m missing the punchline by a neck, aren’t I? (I only jest, of course. I have no intention of being caught any time soon.)

Also, Pasha. I know you can see right through me. I know you know my feelings. The ones you insist I be honest with. But how is that fair to Ollie at all? I want to live, damn it, but I don’t want her to fail and die in my place. So much of this is so precarious. How can this resolve where we are both happy? This fleeting time with her has to come to an end sooner or later. It is my fate. I will not seek it out nor push her to lead me to it, but when the time comes that she must make the choice between her own well-being and mine, I want to make it as easy as possible for her to choose herself. It isn’t fair for me to confuse her. She has her agreed-upon duty pressing her one way, and I have the consequences of my actions pushing me another. I hope you can understand that. What we have now doesn’t have a title, but it isn’t complicated for that exact reason. It is what we both want.

Ilya

He sighed heavily as he placed the quill down and skimmed over his writing. She was asking something of him that was impossible. If things had been different…No, he wouldn’t even tempt the thought. Things were what they were. It was foolish to pray upon something that never was or would be.

He folded the letter into a small square, sealing it and placing it on the counter for Olivier to pick up the next time she was heading to the castle.

It was a few days before Ollie returned with a letter, arching her brow conspiratorially as she pulled the parchment from her sleeve and offered it to him one day in the shop.  He laughed at her show of being stealthy, even if it was just for his sake. He kissed her cheek as he accepted the letter, squeezing her in a tight embrace.

“I really do appreciate your willingness to do this for us, my dear,” he cooed as he nuzzled into her hair. She giggled at the ticklish feeling of his breath stirring her tresses, returning his hug.

“Anything for you, love. I’m just happy to see you two communicating with one another,” she said with a smile, bouncing off to tidy up the shopfront.  The giddy atmosphere that had surrounded them came crashing down around him when he opened the letter and jumped back as a cascade of white powder tumbled from the folds of the letter and to the floor. He would have to clean that up before he left, wouldn’t he? He clenched his jaw in frustration and started reading.

Ilyushka, your morbid humor is not funny. And no, I did not laugh at it. I can hear you insisting that I must have as you are reading this.

Don’t worry, my anxious brother, your letters are being burned as we agreed. And no, I don’t understand your reasoning. I don’t think I ever could. Your overdramatic love for your own misery is lost on me. I don’t understand why you cannot just be honest with her, and be honest with yourself. You make her happy, you know. When she isn’t worrying about you, that is. Doesn’t she make you feel happy too? Isn’t that enough to make you want to chase that feeling? All of this wishy-washy affection is probably hurtful to her, though she’d never tell you that. But if it is enough for you, it must be enough for her, is that it? Do you truly believe that? Are you honestly letting your selfishness take the reins right now?

He could almost hear her sigh as he noted her line break. Don’t worry, I know you have the best intentions. You always do. You don’t think you have any other options to keep us all safe, right? But know that you are the only one who thinks this suffering is necessary. Ollie has so much confidence that she will find something to redeem you. I believe it, too. We both have a terribly infuriating suspicion that you are an innocent man, but I know you won’t hear that from anyone. Especially from the sister that thinks the world of you.

Oh, and did you like the salt? I could feel it coming off of the page from your last letter, so I scraped it from your bitter words and sent it back. Your thanks isn’t necessary, but you’re welcome regardless~ It’s a valuable resource, after all. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

Pasha

He looked down to the mess of salt on the floor, clicking his tongue in annoyance. What a time-consuming and expensive point she was making… 

“Ollie, you wouldn’t happen to have a broom handy, would you?” he called into the shopfront. In a moment, she was back, eyes darting around for something out of place or broken. When her gaze fell on the salt pile at his feet, she snorted a laugh and covered her mouth, easily surmising what had occurred.

“Portia did say that you had enough salt for all of us,” she chortled.

#julian devorak #julian week #fluff #letters to portia #this formatting is strange #sorry about that #hopefully it is still enjoyable to read #my writing #the arcana #the arcana fanfiction