#trope tussle week

[starstruckmoony]

wish you were sober.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x reader

summary - you're drunk and try to kiss sirius. he rejects you 'cause you aren't sober. then the same thing happens again, but the other way around.

trope - friends to lovers (non-magic au!), fluff

word count - 2.9k

warnings - drinking, vomiting, mentions of sex, language

you were pretty drunk, to say the least.

parties were something you would usually regret going to five minutes after arriving, yet you always managed to wind up in them. this time, the biggest one yet was being held at james potter's house. you were pretty sure he invited the whole bloody year over. good thing his parents were away for that week. he just happened to be another one of your and sirius' good mates, so you didn't even have to ask him to know whether he'll be there or not. and where sirius goes, you go too. because for one, you would become bored out of your mind without him at some point in the night, and two, he was your best friend. the best friend you definitely did not have feelings for.

so, there you were, stood on the balcony of what you assumed was one of the guest bedrooms, clutching a plastic cup filled with orange juice and a strong alcohol of some sort. you weren't even sure what was in it, it tasted like absolute shit and it made your throat sting harder than anything you'd ever drunk, but it was enough to get you wasted and that's what mattered. you were leaning maybe a tad bit too close to the railing, one simple push from behind would have you landing straight into the tussle the blokes bellow you appeared to be having.

"don't fall over." sirius warned from behind you. he came back from a quick trip to the bathroom. you scoffed, whining when he tugged at the sleeve of your (his) leather jacket to help you come inside.

you spent most of the party on the second floor, trying to stay away from the bigger crowd. you hadn't seen james for most of the party, and you could only assume what he was getting up to since lily was nowhere to be seen either. you had remus with you for a while, however. he wasn't very fond of parties, so he opted for staying upstairs with the pair of you where it was a little less rowdy for as long as he was able to. at some point in the night mary and peter came looking for him. you were surprised when he actually left you and sirius for them, and you simply could not grasp why it happened. sirius could though, he was guilty of staring at you like a lovesick idiot (that of course flew over your head because you couldn't even walk properly let alone think straight) and remus wasn't about to watch the two of you snog right next to him.

sirius was sober, much to everybody's surprise. you couldn't pinpoint why he wasn't in the mood for drinking, and why he was only on his second bottle of beer four hours into the night. in any other scenario, he'd be stumbling around the house, most likely butchering one of abba's songs despite always putting on a face whenever james and the girls wanted to listen to them. he told you it was the party that bored him.

unbeknownst to you, he decided not to drink much that night after seeing you had different plans. sirius wanted to make sure you would get home safely (after experiencing several train-wrecks trying to walk home with you while both of you were hammered). he also wanted to unsure that nobody else would try to do anything stupid to you in your drunken state. many blokes had their eyes on you, and very obvious to everybody but yourself, sirius despised all of them. he wanted them nowhere near you. he always let his jealousy get the best of him somehow, at least that's what remus liked to say. but they didn't deserve someone as good as you, he'd tell himself, nor were they worthy of your attention. sirius loved you, he really did, but of course, you were too oblivious to realise how much he truly cared for you, even when you weren't intoxicated.

"okay, mum." you rolled your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder the moment you made it to the couch. "is this your fourth one?" he looked down at the cup in your hand with furrowed eyebrows.

"sixth." you giggled, waving the cup around. he managed to catch it before it fell out of your hand and spilled everywhere, and then threw it out the open window.  "you've had enough."

"you twat, i was drinking that." you attempted to reach for your long lost drink, but failed when you felt a jolt of pain shoot through your head and you fell onto sirius' lap. you turned from your side and onto your back, and finally took note of the way he was looking at you. he seemed worried, and even your drunken self could see that. you scrunched your face up and poked at his chest, drawing a laugh from him.

your head was seriously begging to spin, partially because of the alarming amount of what you hoped was only vodka in your system, but partially because of sirius. and his stupid smile, and his stupid hair, and his stupid self that you adored with your whole being.

the alcohol in your body must have truly been messing with your brain, because you suddenly blurted out something you would never, ever, dared to have said while sober;

"i really wanna kiss you." it was almost inaudible, but sirius definitely heard it. he stiffened, sucking in a breath. he wanted more than anything in the world to kiss you, but not while you were in this state.

"y/n, no, you're drunk." sirius shook his head. you sat up with a pout on your face. he let his head fall down with sigh, and then glanced back at you only to be met with your disappointed expression.

"am i not pretty enough?" you took his hands into yours. he didn't pull them away.

"y/n, don't be silly." he massaged your knuckles with his fingers. your face didn't change, and your drunken mind couldn't make any sense of what he was saying. all you understood was the word no, and that was enough to break your heart.

"that's not an answer." you whined, leaning forward in attempt to kiss him. sirius instinctively moved away, causing you both to slide off the couch and straight onto the floor. you fell onto his chest. he huffed, gently pushing you off of himself and standing up. he took your hand and pulled you up, and you collapsed against him.

your face was pressed against his shoulder and his arms were tightly wrapped around you, preventing you from falling and holding you in place. you felt safe in his embrace.

"y/n." he said softly. you looked up at him, lips pouty and eyes glossy. "i knew it. you don't think i'm pretty enough to kiss."

"love, you're not sober enough to kiss." you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. he laughed, helping you stand up properly. you murmured something incoherent, latching onto his arm so that you don't fall over. 

"i'll kiss you when you're sober," he cupped your cheeks and smiled in attempt to reassure you. you so shook your head with a frown. that was not anything near satisfying enough for you. the emotional outburst, along with all of the vodka you consumed that was making your stomach turn, became too much to bear.

you pushed him out of the way, and made a clumsy run out onto the balcony. you caught onto the railing, leaned over it, and everything you had eaten and drank that day came back out. and again. and then again. at least it broke up the silly fight going on down there. amidst all of that, you felt one of sirius' hands patting your back, and the other holding your hair away from your face.

you turned around and stumbled back inside, groaning in pain, feeling completely and utterly humiliated. "are you alright now?" he questioned worriedly as he followed after you.

"think so." you nodded, your face beet red from the shame you were feeling. you two managed to waddle downstairs and out of the house without any additional incidents (other than almost stepping onto a sleeping emmeline on the stairs and then running into marlene and dorcas who were eating each other's faces in the hallway).

"climb onto my back." sirius kneeled down in front of you once you successfully made it out onto the pavement in front of james' house. you obliged, feeling only slightly happier seeing that he will give you a piggyback ride home. it was the easiest solution he could think of, as trying to walk you back to your house with your wobbly legs would be a lot more challenging. yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, both of you ended up with scraped elbows and bruises on your knees.

"promise." you snuggled your face into the back of his neck, inhaling his scent. it always calmed you, it felt like home. "hm?"

"promise that you'll kiss me."

"i promise." oh how he wished you were sober.

***

about a six days later, you were at it again, at marlene's birthday party. but this time, it was sirius who had too much to drink, not you. after having the worst hangover of your life the week before, you refused to touch any type of alcohol that was offered to you and decided to keep watch of your best friend, just like he kept watch of you. you tried not to leave his side, even in the crowded living room, where the air was so thick you could barely breathe, and where you couldn't even hear yourself think because of all the noise, coming both from the attendees and the record player in the corner.

"is the room spinning for you? it's spinning for me." sirius looked up at the ceiling, a drunken laugh slipping past his lips.

"how about you sit down?" you suggested, laughing when he managed to smack himself in the face.

"nah." he brushed you off, reaching for the cup with some sort of strange cocktail that he left on the windowsill. he took a swig, and then looked at you, smiling like an idiot.

"has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" he tilted his head to the side. you felt heat rush to your cheeks and you awkwardly squirmed in your spot. "i've heard it once or twice." you swallowed, crossing your arms and looking down at your knees in embarrassment. you cursed inwardly for feeling so affected by his compliments, he wasn't thinking straight at all.

"you should hear it every day." you bit your tongue and glanced over at him. your eyes widened in horror when he began losing his balance. you instinctively reached for his arm, pulling him by the sleeve of his jacket and making him collapse onto the couch next to you.

"ouchie." he giggled, nuzzling his face into your arm. you were as still as a statue, pupils blown wide and face burning red. you didn't have the heart to push him away, so you let him do his thing, as long as it didn't go any further than that.

"y/n." he murmured.

"hm?" you sighed, averting your eyes to pandora and a bloke you didn't know a couple of meters away from you. they looked like they were about to snog any second. you exchanged a knowing glance with regulus who just happened to be passing by the pair of you. he didn't quite stick around though, and you couldn't blame him.

"you're really beautiful." sirius murmured. you inhaled sharply, mumbling a quiet thank you.

"y/n." he said again.

"what, sirius?" you turned your head towards him this time, noticing that his face had scrunched up.

"i think i'm gonna be sick."

of course he was. you almost lost count of how many drinks he downed, so you found yourself waiting outside of the bathroom, leaning against the wall with sirius sitting on the floor next to you.

"y/n." he managed to choke out. "yes?" you groaned, looking over at the bathroom door for the nth time. you gave up on beating the shit out of it when no answer came from the other side, though you were very much annoyed by whoever was in there because why the hell were they taking so bloody long.

"you know what we said at james' party?" he mumbled, his head falling to the side and resting on your legs. yes, you do. though you pretended not to remember anything that morning last week when sirius stayed over at your house after dragging you there. he didn't bring anything up either, so you thought it was safe to assume that he believed you couldn't recall what was said and that he could get away with it.

the truth is, he really did think you forgot and didn't want to make things awkward. he had feelings for you and he never tried to lie to himself about it, but much like yourself, was a bit oblivious. he chalked the whole "kiss me" outburst of yours up to the alcohol and refused to think or talk about it.

but now, his thoughts weren't exactly the clearest. he was too drunk to control what was coming out of his mouth.

"not really. many things were said." you cleared your throat, refusing to look at him. he grunted, struggling to get up onto his feet. when he did, he fell slack against you, throwing his arms around you.

"kiss." he sniffled. you squirmed out of his hold, sighing. "what about it?"

"i said i'll kiss you when you're sober," you nodded slowly, tapping your foot on the floor nervously, "now you're sober."

you laughed, shaking your head, "yes, but you're not."

"doesn't matter." he argued, pulling you into a hug again. the bathroom door opened just as he did.

"oh, for fuck's sake crouch." you cursed as barty walked past you with a satisfied smirk and a blushing evan trailing behind him. you rolled your eyes and quickly dragged sirius inside.

"what was i saying? oh yeah, it does matter." you retorted, leading him over to the toilet bowl. you had a death grip on him, making sure he doesn't fall because that would be simply disastrous, and you could finally breathe normally once you made it there. "how?" he leaned against it, looking up at the ceiling. he just seemed so... sad.

"because you're not sober." you stated the obvious. he whined, flailing his arms around like an angry toddler. "that's not important, i said i'll do it."

"sirius, forget the promise–"

"i don't care about the promise, i just wanna kiss you." he cried and launched himself forward into your arms. you didn't push him away this time, but held him instead, running your hands through his messy hair. "how about we kiss when we're both sober?" you suggested, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. you were certain that it would never happen, and that you'll just keep making promises you know you can't keep.

"deal. tomorrow." he pulled back, sticking out his pinkie finger.

"tomorrow?"

he nodded. "promise." you locked your pinkie with his, and whispered, "okay, promise."

he was throwing up in the toilet ten seconds later. what a way to end your night.

the morning after, you woke up early, with sirius already awake and lying next to you, wrapped up into the blankets as if he was in a cocoon. only his eyes were peeking out and he smiled when you met his gaze. he looked adorable, you swore it was the best sight you had ever woken up to.

"good morning to you too." you chuckled tiredly, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with a yawn. "how are you feeling?"

"everything hurts and i smell bad, but other than that, i'm feeling fantastic."

"wonderful." you replied sarcastically, lifting up the blankets from your body to get out of bed. sirius tugged at your wrist before you could do that.

"what?" you met his eyes, and you instantly knew what he was thinking. "why didn't you say anything last week?" your lips formed into a thin line.

"figured you said it not to hurt me," you shrugged, looking down at your fingers which were now intertwined with his, "not 'cause, you know, you actually wanted to kiss me."

"i wouldn't have said it if it wasn't what i wanted." the honesty in his voice destroyed you. you didn't even have to look at him to know that he was telling the truth. your vision became blurry, and you fell into his arms.

you held onto each other for a good minute, and then pulled apart, only to collide again, letting your lips meet. you were finally kissing him, kissing your best friend. your best friend who was finally sober.

"ew, morning breath." you pushed him away, letting your head rest on his shoulder and laughing uncontrollably. "this is the worst moment we could have picked to profess our love each other." sirius chuckled along with you.

"you're the one who decided to get all cheesy at the crack of bloody dawn." you lifted your head to look at him, and you couldn't help but smile. he looked so happy, you wanted to kiss every single inch of his face.

"i'm mental about you, you know." he said softly, wrapping his strong arms around you. you buried your face into his neck, sighing in content, "i'm mental about you too."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black one shot #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #pandora lovegood #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #emmeline vance #marlene x dorcas #dorlene #barty x evan #rosekiller #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #reread atyd the other day and im not okay

[cloudninetonine]

*walks on tiredly, looking like I just had a tussle with a Guardian or a particularly vicious Lynel, pats both Wild's and Hyrule's head over their birthdays, perishes like the Skulltula* Hey there, just passing on by quickly after the new chapter, how you doing?

Also, I came as soon as I heard like holy mother of the Golden Three- I have so many thoughts of the new Player's Aid chapter just, Cloud, you wonderful individual you just slayed me, perfect thing to come back to after a bad week of existence making me want to do it like Time in the Downfall timeline thank you for the food.

Hyrule and Wild being soft and protective of Player? Perfection, it's in the little things like cradling their cheek and holding their hand to keep them close so he won't lose them again because they were one of the few good things left he really had in a ruined world, his ears fluttering at his faith in him which honestly probably means everything for Wild, who feels like he failed everyone in his era and likely failed Player too when they dissapeared at first (goodness I can't imagine how that was, defeating The Calamity or Ganon, reuniting with Zelda and then Player just, being gone? I have a feeling the boys didn't cope well), and Player shielding Rulie from the Ache's sight even if it won't do much? And the immediate understanding and knowing of Hyrule Castle both Player and Wild even if not quite for the same reasons? Wind being a shit and Player biting back? Player's faith in Time? Perfection, I adore those little details because it really illustrates how as much as the heroes need and want their guide around, so does Player want and need them around.

Also Player's thoughts are very valid and realistic and I love them for it, if you're not used to gore in any way or with rough injuries you're not going to cope well in an environment like Hyrule at all for a while, something tells me there's going to be a lot of ongoing trauma to deal with (or repress) when Player actually learns how to fight with a weapon (because I can't see the boys not teaching them how to handle at least a bow or a dagger after this) and inevitably has to kill a monster, or heck even a monster disguised as a human or a Yigah Clan member since those guys are people, even if in self defense.

Also the horror enthusiastic in me adored the whole build up with the Ache, sure it's an obvious trope, specially if you're one for playing games or watching literally any media ever, but it was still really great between the description of the Skulltulas (ten out of ten, would kill with fire again because even if I don't hate spiders any that eats flesh can meet my old buddy: the homemade flamethrower) and the sheer body horror of the transformation, Zelda has plenty of horror elements when you really dig into it and I always adore when someone makes use of it, I called it the second Player describes Maggie (because they look too average and usually that's a red flag when it comes to lone adventurers, because if they weren't alone before then were are the remains of the others? Plus somehow it feels in character that a disguised Dink or his subordinates as shapeshifters would pick forms with dark features) and the reveal really broke that amazing build up of tension, because there's nothing worse than knowing there's something wrong, knowing it's a trap, and still having to walk into it.

Dink's reveal was also masterful, although yeesh that's really building up a theme with Player having awful luck with teleportation huh? Between the Yandere's and the Mess Au and Koridai and Courage and likely Mecha too and if they meet First at sone point we can also add that to it, and also Satori Mountains, Craein sends their solidarity from the Ancient Au (Player 🤝 Craein : Really bad luck with teleportation and it's mostly Dink's fault), someone give them a lucky charm or something, wait, now that I think of it Twilight tracking people by scent was a whole thing in his game, get to memorizing man! That or maybe Wild can since they're half Sheikah Tech now? I dunno, I'm just guessing and likely getting off topic because I'm sleep deprived and excited (also I have a feeling that the hand reaching for theirs was likely Wild or Hyrule, and that's gotta be rough on them who remember Player and now have to cope with losing them twice, that and all of the Links have trauma with losing or failing people, so seeing someone that even if they don't fully trust but feels familiar in the back of their mind and whom they've sworn to protect because they can't fight is probably going to smack all of the boys on the face with a fish). The prickling feeling of unease, like being watched by a predator when you're acutely aware you're prey and vulnerable one at that? Dink is looking at you ?! Looking at all angles and even above only for him to drag them below? The claws? (not quite human featured Dink and the Uncanny Valley of it my beloathed- {affectionate but also wanting to hit with a brick}, the sheer drama and theatrics of it? Such good food, it clearly shows how he's a really wrong, tainted Entity, like a stain or sickness in reality itself and I eat that up, it really drives home how inhuman he is and I love it, that was great even if I'm really concerned for Player because welp, that just proves Dink is very aware they're the Guide {the Guide's current iteration? I've been thinking about it a lot, because Player is one of the many people in the Zelda fandom who played the games, and you already said how it works when the games are replayed, so maybe there's a lot of candidates, but our Player is the one the most like the Guide or they're an iteration like how all the Links are iterations of each other/the Hero's Spirit?}, Can't imagine he wants anything good with them in any way, specially depending on how much information he has.

Anyway, that's all for now, I'll be back on the semi regularly scheduled Lora and Ancient Au trio plus Ancient Player/Craein content and thoughts at another time since I'm tired, thank you for the great update and have a nice day!

-Signed, Just a Tired Summertime Musician.

HI SUM I'M GLAD YOU ENJOYED THE RECENT CHAPTER! Took me long enough to get it out OIUBFOEIU

I hope you're feeling much better! I understand hard weeks but I'm here if ya need me!

I'm glad you like the littlest details I do try my best! The same with the realism in the scenes! We love a joke here and there but reality is reality and at the end of the day seeing blood and guts, even from a monster is still at the end a very disturbing sight to see!

Gonna love writing the trauma that follows with Player having to kill something for the first time!

I'm also glad you liked the Ache build up! Wanted the trope to be there as a kind of reminder that Player's a bit more self aware than a lot of people around them, even if the Chain did know that it was a trap Player still has that critical thinking by their side! (I also want to eventually tie it to Guide properties but I still need to build on that, ya know?)

I'm also a huge horror fan myself so expect more horror elements in the future! Hopefully if I write it well the next chapter is gonna have them

We gotta love Dink and Uncanny Valley (Please someone with artistic skill draw some Uncaanny valley shadow boyo I will pay in life force) I really enjoy writing his scene because I just can't wait for what's following! :D Probably first introduction to the true abilities of the Guide ;)

See you around babes!

#cloud answers

[andkisses]

you’ve been friends forever, even if you wished for more—so is now the night when things change?

yeonjun x reader | wc. 1.4k

genres/tropes: fluff, confessions

mentions of/warnings: none

a/n: inspired by the prompts "you’re lucky that you’re cute." + "wait, you think i’m cute?" from this post | title taken from this song

The cotton candy you’re sharing on the walk home is sticking to your fingertips.  It’s not really even your cotton candy—Yeonjun had bought it, offered to buy your own, even.  But you’d declined, saying you weren’t really in a sweets mood.  This changed, of course, once you started walking back.  The summer festival had set up in town, and the beach house everyone had pitched in to rent together for the week was, well, on the beach.

Summer heat and salty air surround the two of you as you walk back.  Towards the shoreline, you see a couple of rogue fireworks rise and pop up from behind the row of houses.

“Those look like fun,” you comment, daring to glance at your best friend from the corner of your eye.  Did you wish, especially in moments like this, that the two of you were more than friends?  Absolutely.  Were you going to risk years of friendship on a bet that he’s felt the same way all these years?

Absolutely not.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun comments, holding up the tub of cotton candy for you to pick some more out of.  He doesn’t even try to fight you.  “Just like sharing cotton candy.  That I bought.  For myself.”  He turns toward you, sarcastic grin plastered on his face.  It makes you laugh, and you reach over to take some more.

“I mean,” you say as the spun sugar melts on your tongue, “you could easily hold it in your other hand.”

“You mean like this?” he asks, switching the tub to his other hand so it’s on the outside of your couple.  “You wouldn’t just, oh, I don’t know, switch sides to match?”

You pause to stop walking, throwing a stereotypical pose with your lips quirked and your finger tapping on your chin.  You fake-think for no more than three seconds.  “You’re right!” you cheer, skipping to catch up and replace yourself on the cotton candy side of Yeonjun.  “I would,” you say quietly, taking the rest out of the tub.

“I really should have gone ahead and bought two, huh.” Yeonjun shakes his head, looking at the empty tub with fake remorse before tossing it in a can.

You walk ahead, already climbing the steps up to the beach house.  “And if you did,” you call over your shoulder, “I’d probably still have taken some of yours.”

You hear Yeonjun fake scoff behind you, and without looking, you know his shoulders have rolled forward and he’s rolled his eyes.  The image alone makes you laugh.  And then: “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

You keep climbing up the stairs to the beach house, hand on the railing, laughing like you were before.  And then, as if someone reached out and pressed a hand against your chest it hits you—all at once, when you reach the landing.

Yeonjun thinks I’m cute.

Oh, wait.

Oh god.

“Wait, you think I’m cute?”

You’re looking down at him now, hand on the top newel post, looking down the front steps at him.  He stands at the bottom, hands in the pockets of his denim jacket.  The sea breeze tussles his bangs, but his gaze remains set on you.

You hear the waves crashing from behind you, past the row of houses, but it’s nothing compared to the rushing of your heartbeat in your ears.

Yeonjun smiles softly, the kind where someone might start crying. “Yeah,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  As if, somehow, he’s afraid he’s said perhaps the wrong thing instead.  “I do.”

Down the beach, someone lights a firework, the start of tonight’s show.  You hear it hiss as it races up into the sky, until… pop–boom.  Yeonjun’s face is washed in a sparkling shadow of color, and his attention is still on you.

Suddenly, it’s hard to catch your breath.  “Does that mean you…”  Your hand grips the railing.  The world is spinning, and Yeonjun is right at the center.  “Do you like me?”

Yeonjun nods, and before he speaks, he clears his throat, a closed fist against his lips.  “Yeah,” he says again.  “I do.  And it’s scary.”

“Why?” you ask, taking a step back down towards him.  He stays in one place, eyes on you.

“Because,” he says, as if you should know.  “We’ve been friends for so long, and I’ve liked you for just as long.  And I never said anything because I never knew if you felt the same way.  And I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Ahead, fireworks keep popping, their fizzling lights casting colorful glows on everything as they drown out almost all other sounds.  As Yeonjun talked–as he confessed–you kept walking, until you step off the last step, standing right in front of Yeonjun.  The tips of your sneakers nearly touch.

Carefully, and slowly, Yeonjun takes one hand from his pocket and raises it.  When you don’t move away, he reaches out, cupping your cheek, fingertips pressing lightly into the back of your neck behind your ear.  His hand is so warm, and you feel yourself leaning into his touch.

Yeonjun’s voice is small, barely audible when he asks, but you’re sure you’d hear him even if every single firework went off at once.  “Do you like me back?”

You smile, knowing exactly what to say.  “Yeah,” you reply, reaching out to grab his free hand.  You lace your fingers with his, happy when he squeezes back.  “I do.”

He smiles, the kind that comes with a half laugh.  His eyes sparkle with welled up tears, and you find yourself wanting to reach up and wipe them away.  “Thank god,” he whispers, still grinning.  “I thought I’d ruined it all.”

“No, no, never,” you assure.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks, leaning in, your noses a moment apart.

You nod, squeezing his hand tighter, heart beating wildly.  “Please do.”

And he does.  Hand still in yours, he uses his other to pull you close.  Your noses bump into each other, but you don’t care when his lips crash into yours and he tastes like sugar and sea salt.  You aren’t sure if the goose bumps on your skin are from him or the breeze.  You want to let go of his hand, run your fingers through his hair.  You want him to run his through your hair, to catch you by the waist and pull you even closer, to whisper your name against your ear.

That doesn’t happen, not yet, because the moment the kiss breaks, you hear a sharp clap.  Startled, you both turn around, Yeonjun’s arm going around your shoulder to pull you closer.  A tired-looking Soobin stands, leaning against the railing with his elbows.  He takes a long sip of his fruit punch juice box before speaking. 

“Glad that got sorted out without direct intervention,” he says.  “I would have hated to lock the two of you up in the shed until proximity and nature made things happen.”

You blush at your friend’s suggestion, but blush more when you realize Soobin knew before either of you did.

“You think you’re special?” Yeonjun asks, the tenderness from his voice replaced by the jovial, teasing one from before. “Just because you figured out we liked each other?”

“No,” Soobin replies, taking another long sip.  “No, everyone knew except the two of you.  I did, the neighbors did.  The kids who pummel each other with water balloons.  And we’ve only been here like a three days.  Oh, the paperboy.  The grocery clerk, the–”

“Okay! Okay, we get it,” you call up to him.  “We figured out last.  But at least we got there.”

“Like I said, thank god.���  Soobin turns to head back inside, but you call after him.

“Why were you out here anyway?” you ask.

Soobin rolls his eyes. “We have a curfew, you know.  Agreed on it Day 1? You two weren’t back, and I could hear the fireworks.  I figured you were out here watching. So I checked seaside first, and you weren’t there.  Turns out, you were making fireworks of your own.”

“Okay, that’s good, thank you,” Yeonjun called.

Soobin smiles, laughing, and you find yourself smiling too.  “I’m happy for you.  For both of you.”

“Me too,” Yeonjun says, placing a kiss on your temple.  You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, putting your hand around Yeonjun’s waist.

The last of the fireworks are popping, one after the other in quick succession.  You look up at Yeonjun, and his soft gaze is fixed on you again.  You’re beginning to wonder if you’ll ever stop smiling.  “Me too,” you say, just soft enough for Yeonjun to hear.  “Me too.”

#kwritersworldnet #ficscafe #kdiarynet #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #txt #tomorrow x together #yeonjun #prose #all

[fayes-fics]

Hi Faye thank you for doing this game 🧡

🎁🐬💌

Hi Nonny!

Aww of course, I always enjoy these sorts of things, if people are interested in asking 😁

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Ooh okay. Here is an extract of a modern Ben fake boyfriend holiday fic I’m working on at the moment:

—

“This is so American it's almost a cliche,” he jests quietly, looking up at your parents' house, holiday string lights twinkling in the dusk.

You giggle at his remark and bump him with your hip, quickly escalating into a friendly tussle. He hauls you into his arms and swings you in front of him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, your limbic system alive at the feel of him pressed into you even behind heavy coats.

“Just go with it,” he responds with an easy confidence and that dazzling smile. As if in slow motion, his lips descend, and you reel as they lightly brush yours, an explosion behind your ribs at this passing touch.

Over your shoulder, you hear the front door opening and realise it’s for show, for a particular audience. You are grateful for the forethought but completely discombobulated from this almost kiss.

How am I going to survive a week of this?

—

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Hmm mostly I only write Benedict and Anthony. Of the two Benedict just flows, he’s so clear in my mind. Anthony sometimes fights me, especially modern, for some reason. But he’s not that hard once I find his voice. I find the female Bridgerton characters tougher to write, if say they appear in the background of a story, most cos I care that they are written well. A&B I sort of see as fun filthy puppets to play with lol. I care more about how to represent women.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

For Anthony, it’s enemies/rivals to lovers, my fave Anthony is one verbally sparring with someone that just boils over into passion. For Benedict, I have written a lot of friends to lovers especially modern AU, but for him I really like second chance love, like Moments and Mrs Bridgerton, where they find their way back to each other again. I do like writing Benedad too, it just suits his character so well imo.

I love a bit of trapped together and would like to write more of that for both boys in the future. I think the only one I’ve written so far is Somewhere Only We Know (which I have a real soft spot for)

Thanks for your ask 😁🧡🧡

Fanfic writer ask game

#faye answers #ask games #fanfic writer ask game

[dream-thief-forever-amen]

Heartbeat has been a surprise show. Cute and feel good. We are currently at episode 12/16… and I have a feeling the rating is gonna land around 8/10 for me… unless a miracle happens. There’s nothing wrong with 8/10. That’s a good show. A show you recommend. But is this show gonna burn itself into my mind? It seems unlikely.

Could it have been funnier?

Yes. Vampire lore is well known and ripe with opportunities for comedy - in particular the means to make playful digs at modern society. Comedy is hard to write, so most dramas just fall back on generic trope humor… like sitcom shows use. Laugh track, only mildly amusing stuff. Oh he’s got a bad haircut. Wow. Funny stuff. Better writers tie the comedy to the characters personalities and circumstances.

Could it have added more satisfying plot layers with other the cast members?

Definitely yes. The side characters are all fun in Heartbeat, too, so much potential - the other vampires, the reincarnated rich girl, the neighbors, the handsome 2nd lead… even the cat dude. But they are just garnish really, the show doesn’t develop them past their tropes. Also, this show would have greatly benefited from a side couple, ideally a vampire couple.

Do the leading couple have chemistry?

Yes and no. They have great friendship chemistry. Romantic? Uhm… not feeling it… though our leading man has mastered the art of staring at someone with a dreamy expression on his face. Still… chemistry is chemistry - it defies the best actors intentions.

Think of other shows with a similar vibe… that were 10/10. If you compare them, you’ll see the biggest differences are the three main points above.

Think of the romantic comedy goldmine of The Greatest Love… every character in that show was hysterical or the situations they ended up in had me laughing. The plot was great. The stakes were real. The writers dug hard into mining celebrity culture for laughs. Fun up to the last episode too.

or The Master’s Sun. This main couple had friendship chemistry but made up for it with physical comedy - they tussled with the wild abandon of siblings. The second couple had enough chemistry to pick up the slack, too. We had several plot lines unfolding, tons of episodic plots via the ghosts, and not a dull moment to be had.

Think of Goblin… and maybe Strong Woman Do Bong Soon.

Anyways… four episodes to go with Heartbeat. I’m enjoying myself each week catching up. We shall see…

#kbs heartbeat #heartbeat Korean drama

[livinginthefifthdimension]

I posted 523 times in 2022

That's 60 more posts than 2021!

58 posts created (11%)

465 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@anisaanisa

@inussunflower

@fandomobsessions016

@inuyashapridemonth

@shinidamachu

I tagged 161 of my posts in 2022

#inuyasha - 38 posts

#sesshomaru - 25 posts

#sango - 20 posts

#inukag - 20 posts

#sesssan - 19 posts

#inuyasha fanart - 15 posts

#fanfiction - 14 posts

#kagome - 11 posts

#inuyasha fanfiction - 10 posts

#ask game - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#mean girls in question won’t rest until there’s no one willing to read their shitty fanfiction

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

lol this is Fandom 🤣🤣🤣 18 and 54 for the Trope Mash-Up 🥰🥰🥰

Secret Relationship and Circus AU.

InuYasha watched from the rafters as Kagome rode atop his elder brother’s back, shooting arrows through blazing targets. Any moment now the ring leader’s girl friend would take her place and they’d both steal the show long enough for the others to escape to the back of the tent and get ready for their next act. 

But something went wrong. There were a dozen sudden explosions, and the tent caught fire in moments. Chaos gripped the staff and the audience, sending the one pleasant night into a spiral. Sango slipped from the rafters with ease, disappearing and then reappearing at Miroku’s side. They grabbed Rin and Shippo and headed for the exit. Kagura grabbed Kohaku and followed Kikyo, but he couldn’t watch over everyone. Not when the smoke was clouding his eyesight. 

Kagome, however, he could see perfectly--smoke be damned. He saw her fall off of the canine’s back and he saw her go still. The only way down to her was back the way he came, but the fire was already spreading. He knew for sure that there wasn’t a way out anymore, not from that angle. The canine that once held her returned to his humanoid form before slinging her over his shoulder and leaping up through the hole of the collapsing tent without bothering to look back.��

InuYasha got himself to safety easily enough and forced his way to the front of the crowd, opening his mouth to demand answers, but Sango’s voice made him stop short. “Who are you to her?” He was still a new addition to their family of freaks and Sango was taking a while to warm up to him. He wanted to elbow her out of the way, to proudly proclaim that he was her boyfriend. Her lover. Her darling dear. But Kagome’s plea that he keep things between them echoed between his ears.

Grudgingly upholding their pact, he took a step back, letting Sango kneel beside her to assess her condition. The words, ‘just a friend’ tasted like bile on his tongue, so instead he settled on something that felt more accurate. “I’m no one to her.”

28 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

#4

A World Without You

Twice in a row was more difficult than I thought it could be, but it’s finished and I’m content until tomorrow. :] @inukag-week​

**

When Kagome woke up wrapped in InuYasha’s arms, she immediately knew something had gone wrong. Sunlight broke through the woven mat separating them from the world beyond their threshold and decorated silver bangs in golden stripes. Which never happened. InuYasha couldn’t sit still, he never could, and time had done nothing to tame the white hot energy burning at his core like a supernova. If he wasn’t leaping he was pacing and if he wasn’t pacing he was chasing the twins or dragging a cart or fighting with Sango. For InuYasha to be in motion was to be alive.

Read more HERE

32 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

#3

A World Without You

I didn’t go for violence in the role reversal, so I added some here. :] @inukag-week​ ** Kagome extends her arms to InuYasha and he drinks her in eagerly, happy to learn the origin of every scrape and puckered portion of scar. It began with his hands running along her shoulders. He caught sight of an injury she’d caught a few days back when trying to play demon slayer with the girls. A tussle had ended with her back being sliced open by a particularly sharp rock. Initially she hadn’t thought to tell him. It had only bled for a moment before it was nothing but a stinging memory. 

“What’s this?” He sounded so concerned when he asked and somehow she is now stuck explaining every scar she’s sustained on her top half. 

“You almost have as many as me.” He takes off his top layers and begins pointing and listing. ‘This one is from when Sesshomaru got all pissy that he couldn’t find tessaiga’ and ‘this one is when Sesshomaru was bored’. The longer he speaks, amusement making his words less gruff and more childlike, the rage she feels boiling below the surface grows hotter and harder to contain. When she cuts him off, she’s had enough.

“How many of these are from Sesshomaru?” 

Read the rest HERE

35 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

#2

Kimi gazed down into her wine, wishing she could creep back up to her room and crawl beneath the blankets that— come nightfall— she’d be sharing with two bodies instead of the usual one. The band was energetic and the guests were crowing with delight as Touga pulled his new bride into his arms for their first dance.

She had no right to be so upset. Touga asked her a thousand times how she felt about marrying Izayoi. He gave her every opportunity to back out, to keep him to herself. But how could she? They looked so fucking content it was nauseating.

Next she’d be expected to dance with her, to twirl her around the dance floor as if this union were not the direct result of Touga loving a prostitute more than he loved the Lady of the Lands. He could deny it all he wanted, but Kimi knew —without a shadow of a doubt— that a happy man didn’t find himself with two wives.

“Mama.”

Sesshomaru’s little voice could scarcely be heard over the roar of the band, and Kimi turned to face him— hoping to drown out the clumsy footfalls of their brilliant new bride.

Her son was perched on the edge of a table, his red nose the only indication that he’d previously been crying. She liked to imagine that he thought that he’d hidden it well, but a boy whose markings were still muted and incomplete could only be so clever.

“Why are we not enough?”

The question hit her in the gut, knocking the breath from her chest, and for a moment all she could manage was his name.

“Lady Yue says father is having another child with that woman. She— she says that they’re wed because he loves them.”

“Yes, but—.”

“But why did he need another family? Were we not enough?” His lips trembled as another tear slid down his rounded cheek, unbidden by pride or shame. “Did we do something wrong?”

Kimi would never admit that it was tears stinging her eyes as she saw her own insecurities staring back at her. It was one thing for her to feel inadequate, but her son would not.

“Absolutely not.” She sat her wine down and struggled to compose herself. “Izayoi is beautiful and so…” she choked on her words for a moment, cursing herself for being too weak to lie. How could one be too weak to lie? “Kind. She nor her child are replacing anyone.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

There was no good answer for that, so she swept him off of the table and crashed her partners’ dance. It was that or tell the truth, and the truth was not an option. Before long Sesshomaru was content again, too focused on getting the steps right to worry about being replaced. And when the time came to switch partners, he took Izayoi’s hand readily, placing it in Kimi’s.

“This one will dance with Father so mama and mama can have their dance.”

“Mama and mama.” Izayoi hummed. “What a thought.”

Despite her brave words, Kimi turned her face to the sky, preferring to gaze into the stone ceiling than spend a moment looking at the woman who ruined her life. “It will take some getting used to.” She grunted.

“Naturally. But,” Izayoi tightened her grip on Kimi’s waist only giving her a moment to orient herself before she dipped the demoness. “We have the rest of our lives to get used to one another.” Her petty grunt made it hard to stay angry. If it were that much trouble, one would think that she wouldn’t bother. “If you want, I mean.”

The music never stopped, but they did. Their graceful spin had come to a close and now they were just standing there. Staring at one another, and Kimi supposed that she was rather pretty when she was bathed in the purple-pink rays of dusk.

“It is of no interest to me either way.” She brought up her fan to hide her face, suddenly accurately aware of the other woman’s hands resting upon her hips. The flush that crawled along her neck was, at very least, well hidden.

“Papa, I think Mama has had too much wine again. She’d all red. Should I take her up to her chambers?”

Or so she’d thought.

“I don’t think it’s the wine, pup.”

✨✨

Take your blood money @inuparentsday (maybe next year I won’t wait for the last minute 😂😂)

48 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A World Without You

The first prompt is written and up! I don’t write about them often, but they make me EMOTIONAL. JEEEEEEZ. Rated G for General Audience. @inukag-week​

**

Despite the laundry list of chores awaiting her when she woke up that morning, Kagome opened her eyes with the fleeting taste of a fried pork cutlet on her tongue. Her mother once packed her lunch box with it on days where she found that Kagome was at her lowest. For the first six weeks after realizing she’d never see InuYasha again, it was all she could stand to eat. Everything else felt tainted in one way or another, and there were too many times that she found herself sobbing in the pantry clutching a packet of ramen so tightly the styrofoam would explode between her shaking hands. Fried cutlet, while her favorite, was the one thing she’d never shared with him and so it became the one thing she ate. Every night her mother would cook two meals, fish or steak or chicken for the family, and fried pork cutlet for Kagome. 

Read the rest HERE

51 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[mgi-events]

Hi everyone!

This post is to announce some regular stuff you need to know for our next event:

CIVIL WAR 2022 (Valentine’s Edition)

The event will be host from February 7th to 14th, teams can prepare as much as they want, but submissions have to be publish during that week for them to count.

It’s a content war, so please be nice to each other.

You can participate with whatever you can think of as long as it’s related to your pairing, the pairing doesn’t have to be romantic, If you want to make it platonic that’s okay with us too.

Some examples of participation are prompts, fics, art, doodles, recipes, tik toks, moodboards, playlists.

We’ll have a max of 20 memes per team this year. Even so, If you draw it yourself, they’ll be counted as art and won’t have a cap.

Example thanks to @thedragonbug participation in Civil War 2021

There’s not a min or max of works, you can contribute as much as you can.

All submissions have to be send to my dms (issarockz#1822) along with your team, word count, and the link. (Link can be whatever you published your work, from tumblr to ao3 to even an actual server channel if you’re more comfortable that way)

Example thanks to @phis-corner participation in Trope Tussle 2021:

Once they have been sent to my dms, I’ll publish them in the official event channel in the server and they’ll count as participation.

Example thanks to @flapdoodle-noodle participation in Civil War 2021

The table with points won’t be public this year, we want you all to have fun and do the content you want to do because that’s what it feels right, not because it’s what gives you more points.

Collabs between teammates will count as extra points

As last year, we’ll publish a general prompt everyday, it’s just for inspiration, you are not forced to follow it and can be also used in the following days.

If you’re going to publish on tumblr, please add the tag #MGICIVILWAR2022 and tag us here in @mgi-events or with our main @illiteratefucks

More questions and extra info can be answered in my dms or in the server’s #askthemods

If you’re interested in participating but are not currently in the server, go visit and let us know, we’ll make space 🤍

Thanks everyone! With love, @issaxcharlie, @flapdoodle-noodle and @eggadoodle

Server’s link: https://discord.gg/fWNU4BnAxv

#mgi civil war #MGICIVILWAR2022 #maribat #daminette #jasonette #timari #cassette #dickinette #dick justice #jason supremacy #cass quality #damian dominance #tim tyranny

[cynicalsympathy]

minor Wheel of Time spoilers

I don’t get why fans are complaining about how easy it is to figure out who the Dragon Reborn is in the books. It wasn’t supposed to be a mystery for the audience, revealed in a shocking way--just for the characters in the books. The audience was supposed to see the tried & true tropes and have the hint of who to watch, to see clues coming together, and have anticipation build up. The Dragon Reborn’s identity wasn’t a question of “Who could it be?” it was a question of “How is it revealed to these characters?”

Anyone who reads AsoIaF knows that R+L=J because we have the clues but J doesn’t know it and we don’t know how it will be revealed to him. Chapter 6 of Eye of the World tells us Rand was adopted but not why him being adopted is special. He only knows something he didn’t that morning.

For instance, we get Moraine explaining things to individuals but only the reader gets enough to put pieces together quickly before the in-character explanations. You are supposed to understand what is happening because you are watching it unfold and can see the patterns emerging.

Cut for length and book/show spoilers.

Chapter 5: Creatures of fairy tales have attacked his home and badly wounded his father, so Rand is trying to get Tam to safety. Either in the tussle against a huge Trolloc described as frantic & desperate or later as he drags his delirious father through dark woods, Rand likely touches the True Source. 

His father had always seemed indestructible. Nothing could harm him; nothing could stop him, or even slow him down. For him to be in this condition almost robbed Rand of what courage he had managed to gather. But he had to keep on. That was all that kept him moving. He had to.

Rand never even considered that they might be villagers coming to help. He knew what they were. He could feel it, like grit scraping his bones, even before they drew close enough for moonlight to reveal [the Fade]. (Channellers can sense creatures/people belonging to the Dark One. Not something the audience knows just yet but a hint that the poor boy channelled in order to save his dad at some point already.)

He started out as if he had had a good night’s sleep [continuing to pull Tam to the village on an empty stomach and no rest after being scared watching a Fade ride nearby]...

Chapter 11: The next night, Rand is terrified and mostly for Egwene’s safety, marking a period he certainly touched the True Source. Moraine later references it, since she was close enough to sense it happen, though only figures out which of them did it at the book’s end. If Bela fell back, he would fall back too, whatever Moraine and Lan had to say about it. Back where the Fade and Trollocs were. Back where the Draghkar was. With all his heart and desperation he silently shouted at Bela to run like the wind, silently tried to will strength into her. Run! His skin prickled, his bones felt as if they were freezing, ready to split open. The Light help her, run! And Bela ran.

In chapter 21 Moraine convinced Nynaeve to accept that she can channel with logic and utter fact that also informs the audience why what’s happening to Rand is important to notice. Nynaeve’s experience and acceptance confirms for us that what Moraine says is true. 

Amusement flitted across Moraine’s face. “But I can tell you how it began. [...]Perhaps as much as eight or ten years ago--the age varies but always comes young--there was something you wanted more than anything else in the world, something you needed. And you got it...”

“You felt nothing special at the time, but a week or ten days later you had your first reaction to touching the True Source. Perhaps fever and chills that came on suddenly and put you to bed, then disappeared after only a few hours. None of the reactions, and they vary, lasts more than a few hours. Headaches and numbness and exhilaration all mixed together, and you take foolish chances of acting giddy.” 

(This next section backs up why we need increase our worry for Rand. If Darkfriends, Red Ajah, cruel people, or exposure to the elements don’t kill him, his own magical power might.)

“You have managed a crude control over the Power, even if touching the True Source comes at random. If you had not, it would have killed you eventually. ...Aes Sedai search for girls who can touch the True Source unguided just as assiduously as we search for men who can do so. ...And of course, [those girls] do not suffer the madness that drives men to evil or twisted things. We want to save their lives. The lives of those who never manage any control at all.”

“Each time, the reaction happens closer to the actual touching of the Source, until the two happen almost together. After that, there are no reactions that can be seen, but it is as if a clock has begun ticking. A year. Two years... Of four who have the inborn ability that [Nynaeve] and Egwene have, three die if we do not find them and train them. It is not as horrible a death as the men die, but neither is it pretty, if any death can be called so.”

Chapter 15: In Baerlon, Rand meets Min who outright tells us and Rand that she glimpses pieces of the Pattern, he’s special, and she sees Rand surrounded and summoning lightning so what happens in ch32 can click into place for us. This is the start of his reactions: 

Rand stood there looking after him until Mat came back and grabbed him. At the touch on his arm he blinked, then followed his friend. “What’s the matter with you?” Mat asked. “You going to sleep again?”

“I think I have a cold,” Rand said. His head was tight as a drum, and almost as empty.

...[Mat] kept up a constant chatter as they hunted through the packed streets. Rand made an effort to listen, and even say something now and then, but it was an effort. He was not tired; he did not want to sleep. He just felt as if he were drifting.

...”No,” Rand muttered. He rubbed his head with both hands. It was so hard to concentrate on anything.

Of course, Mat being Mat being a mischief-making means...Mat makes mischief. And it backfires because taveren luck weaves patterns with dangerous people and ignorant boys (But we still love him): 

[Mat uses his sling to hit a stake, causing barrels to roll down a muddy street, making people dodge or get splattered.] The three Children jumped no less quickly than anyone else, their superior looks replaced by surprise. Some passerby fell down, making more splashes, but the three moved agilely, avoiding the barrels with ease. They could not avoid the mud that splattered their white cloaks though.

[Rand] could not help laughing; the humor seemed to be wrapped in wool, but it was still funny. When he turned back to the street, the three White Cloaks were staring straight at him.

“You find something funny yes?” The one who spoke...wore an arrogant, unblinking look, with a light in his eyes as if he knew something important, something no one else knew.

Rand’s laughter cut off short. He and the Children were alone with the mud and the barrels. The crowd that had been all around them found urgent business up or down the street.

“Does fear of the Light hold your tongue?” He glanced dismissively at the sword hilt sticking out from Rand’s cloak. “Perhaps you are responsible for this, yes?”

Rand moved to cover the sword, but instead swept his cloak back over his shoulder. In the back of his head was a frantic wonder at what he was doing, but it was a distant thought. “Accidents can happen,” he said. “Even to the Children of the Light.”

[Lord Bornhald notes the heron-marked blade.]

“I just arrived in Baerlon.” A tingling thrill ran along Rand’s arms and legs. He felt flushed, almost warm. “You wouldn’t know of a good inn, would you?”

[Bornhald gets threatening.] His companions moved up to either side of him, faces hard and expressionless. Despite the mudstains on their cloaks, there was nothing funny about them now.

The tingling filled Rand; the heat had grown to a fever. He wanted to laugh it felt so good. A small voice in his head shouted that something was wrong, but all he could think of was how full with energy he felt, nearly bursting with it. Smiling, he rocked on his heels and waited for what was going to happen. Vaguely, distantly, he wondered what it would be.

[The City Watch breaks up the almost-fight] Rand still rocked on his heels, waiting. The tingle was so strong he almost quivered; he felt as if he were burning up.

Mat came out of the shop, staring at him. “You aren’t sick,” he said finally. “You’re crazy!”

Rand drew a deep breath, and abruptly it was all gone like a pricked bubble. He staggered as it vanished, the realization of what he had just done flooding in on him.

Chapter 24: Rand has taken longer than ten days from his first channeling, if I counted correctly, but that might be a factor of him being a male channeller and one of the differences between males and females with the One Power. Or that he’s concentrating on survival enough that the side effects are a delayed reaction. That said, his very next PoV after Moraine’s speech includes: 

Four days into their trip downriver found Rand atop the (50 foot) mast, sitting on the blunt end with his legs wrapped in the stay. He threw back his head and laughed into the wind that blew in his face. [...] On sudden impulse he unwrapped his legs from the stays bracing the mast and held his arms and legs out to either side, balancing against the sway.

When he is convinced to climb down, he makes an acrobatic trick of it. only to realize: Rand’s eyes went to the forestay and followed it up to the top of the mast, and as they did his mouth dropped open. He had slid down that. And he had been sitting on top of... Light, what is happening to me?

Chapter 26: Rand is hearing about how Logain can do “things” unlike another recent false Dragon. Rand doesn’t know enough to suspect anything about himself but its another confirmation for us and a warning how Rand needs to be cautious. 

But as ch32 shows Rand and Mat hunted and trapped in an inn’s room by Darkfriends who wait in the hallway and outside the barred window: 

No way out. The words seemed to drift to Rand through wool stuffed in his ears. No way out. Thunder muttered overhead, and was drowned in a slash of lightning. Have to find a way out. Gode called to them, demanding, appealing; the door slid another inch towards being open. A way out!

Light filled the room, flooding vision; the air roared and burned.

“Lightning, Rand. I was looking right at the window when it hit the bars. Lightning. I can’t see worth--” [Mat] broke off, squinting at the aslant door, and his voice went sharp. “Where’s Gode?”

As the first rain hit Rand’s face, lightning forked above the inn, and he came to a convulsive stop. Gode’s men were still there, lying with their feet toward the opening. Pelted by the rain, their open eyes stared at the sky.

“What is it?” Mat asked. “Blood and ashes! I can hardly see my own bloody hand!”

“Nothing,” Rand said. Luck. The Light’s own...Is it?

Rand’s desperation is enough to do “things” like use lightning to blow iron bars off a window and kill Darkfriends but he deliberately fails his perception check. Remember Min? The audience is not supposed to fail theirs.

Ch33: Rand’s been sick off and on while travelling to Caemlyn. 

He really was feeling better, he realized. It was a wonder to get over being sick so fast.

As for himself...The queasiness in his stomach grew thicker. He dropped on a low stool, holding his head in his hands. The kitchen was cold. He shivered. Steam filled the air; stoves and ovens crackled with heat. His shivers became stronger, his teeth chattering. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it did no good. His bones felt as if they were freezing.

All the reactions fade out by the time the party reunites. A few days later however, he channels in the major fight and only realizes that is what he was doing and what it means afterward. The clock is ticking as to whether he can pit stubbornness against power and win, or die. But that’s for the rest of the series to show.

There are also clues so we know something is up, even if we miss it the first time through but also explained later why the clue is important to the story.

   “Here,” she said, and Rand was surprised when she pressed a coin into his palm, closing his hand tightly around it with both of hers.

   “There’s no need,” he began but she waved aside his protest as she gave Ewin a coin as well, then pressed Mat’s hand around one the same way she had Rand’s.

“Of course there is,” she said. “You cannot expect to work for nothing. Consider this a token, and keep it with you, so you will remember that you have agreed to come to me when I ask it. There is a bond between us now.”---EotW, ch2

We and they learn why Moraine ensures Mat and Rand get the special hand-off quickly and why the token is special via Nynaeve in ch21 but more importantly is:

“Lady...I mean, Moraine?” Rand asked hesitantly as she turned away. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder, and he had to swallow before going on. “Why have you come to Emond’s Field?” Her expression was unchanged but suddenly he wished he had not asked, though he could not have said why.--EotW ch2

and that all pairs with: “I had suspicions from the first,” Moraine said. “Suspicions are not proof though. After I first gave you the token, the coin, and made that bonding, you should have been willing to fall in with whatever I wanted but you resisted, questioned.”--EotW, ch 52

The point is: you--the audience--was never supposed to be in the dark, surprised by a huge reveal. You were meant to see the Pattern weaving around taveren. The big question is if the Dragon Reborn will actually defeat the Dark One and there is no clearcut answer that he will or maybe goes insane and destroys everything the way the prophecies sound like he will.

The show doesn’t seem to understand that so season 1 makes changes just to have that big reveal of “Who Is It?”. And the changes make no sense when compared to original lore. Reincarnation was always male-to-male and female-to-female in WoT; not male-to-maybe-female-maybe-male like ATLA. The Dragon was always going to be male because he had been before. Why change that just to confuse the audience, in ways that make knowledgeable characters look ignorant?

Two Rivers lost their history and need to reclaim their identity as Manatharen under Perrin’s leadership; nothing being remembered was the point of the tragedy of its betrayal and destruction. 

The point of bonebreak fever wasn’t how great Egwene is; it was that Nynaeve is a healer who loves deeply enough to touch the True Source for a little girl. The point of Nynaeve’s first channelling being Healing is how deeply she loves, not just her love for Lan; the point of her channelling for years outside of official training is that the White Tower is not actually the only authority, it’s just the most controlling. The point of Egwene tagging along when they leave home is that she is ambitious and clever and important; not that she might save the world, her greatness lies elsewhere.

Male and female channelers cannot see each other’s weaves because they are drawing on separate halves of a whole. It’s even stated in the show that Moraine knows that but then Logain can see Nynaeve Heal like a blinding light. Why? Well, otherwise, the incredibly powerful dude believing he is the true Dragon surrounded by enemy Aes Sedai would have no reason to NOT press his attack and escape. Lucky for them he somehow sees saidar and was blinded/shocked long enough so that everyone lives.

The point of Rand having such a dramatic channelling at the end, in front of an army, was to show that he is super-powered among powerful people, that the feared Dragon’s first public ‘announcement’ of his presence involves saving an army of good, desperate people who were making a last stand for survival in a losing war. Without killing himself and nameless others for one blow. The point is that he is worth helping to that finish line because he helps others. Not that gIrlS Are GoOd aT wAr ToO! that we got. Why now will anyone trust him enough to swear themselves as his followers?

The point of Logain being taken to Queen Morgase is that non-Aes Sedai have their place and authority, to highlight how the White Tower manipulates thrones for its own causes. And to introduce Elayne. For that matter, Moraine claiming to be a collector of stories and not blatantly declaring her identity is because Aes Sedai are not widely trusted. They are feared as almost Darkfriends or tolerated as a high authority to treat politely and hopefully not anger throughout book 1, the major exception being Fal Dara because Aes Sedai help them. 

Shit, Fal Dara and Moraine got absolutely backwards characterization in the show. Book!Moraine uses discretion, clever words, a warm smile at the start and grows cool as they travel; show!Moraine is cold at the start and openly tells youngsters “You might be the Dragon Reborn” which should have sent them all running and screaming away. Book!Moraine constantly uses clear logic and utter truth or sly words to get obedience but doesn’t tell some important details (Aridhol being Shadar Logoth); Show!Moraine acts cold, expects obedience, is obeyed more out of fear “Well the lady does shoot fireballs” than her logic being consistently accurate if cold-blooded.

Book!Moraine never thought twice about protecting villagers from a Trolloc raid, she did it competently without harming any buildings (the damage being done by Trollocs) and then Healed so people had every reason to be offered respect instead of chasing a dreaded Aes Sedai out of town with pitchforks. Show!Moraine knows the Trollocs are near but warns no one, causes more damage than the Trollocs (destroys one of the most important buildings, sets fires), then Heals a couple people and announces in a crowded square “One of you is the terrifying Dragon Reborn whose widely considered a servant of evil and broke the world last time” and takes a bunch of kids. But that’s all OK because Aes Sedai are widely respected, always helpful, never untrustworthy, never twist words, and never manipulate others like sacrificial pawns. 

Book!Moraine knows a ton but isn’t sure how it fits together and wants to protect the kids from her less cautious Sisters & says little; Show!Moraine knows next to nothing and says little and takes the kids to Tar Valon where the still-unknown Dragon Reborn who might be a man is in the worst danger of being gentled (irreversible to her knowledge). Show!Moraine doesn’t know what golden eyes mean because apparently little is known about the Dragon, who was an Aes Sedai centuries old when he died? Doesn’t know what sex the Dragon will be because apparently sexes change between reincarnations? Hoped for a female Dragon who the Tower can control and train and no worry about madness? The Green Man doesn’t exist so neither does his garden nor the Eye of the World within it so there was no tragedy of boys who could channel but hadn’t gone mad yet dying in order to create the Eye and hide the banner with the Horn. So no early lesson of “men and women working together as halves of a whole create greater things than working alone”. The entire world was rearranged (seas changed places, mountains rose and fell, earthquakes collapsed cities) until it was unrecognizable but one little spot survived--in the Blight? Doesn’t know that it will be an uphill battle to survive from the start, like it was last time, but does know that this war happens every three thousand years? Doesn’t recognize a seal of the Dark One’s prison, bearing the Flame and Fang entwined? 

Fal Dara in book was shown to be in a tight spot with little hope. Any hope was better than none; yet willing to go down fighting to the last.

Lord Agelmar was written as kind and a gracious host, immediately offering refreshment, respectful because Aes Sedai often help his army hold back the evils coming out of the Blight. In fact, he constantly asks to help Moraine reach the Eye because he recognizes the higher importance than Tarwin’s Gap. “Moraine Sedai, will you not come at least? An Aes Sedai may make all the difference.” 

He makes sure to make the farmers feel welcome and praises the crop they raise. “..And the talk was of books and music until Lord Agelmar realized the Emond’s Field folk were not talking. Like a good host he asked gently probing questions designed to bring them out of their quiet. Rand soon found himself competeing to tell about Emond’s Field and the Two Rivers...Agelmar whispered to one of the servants and while others cleared the table that man vanished and returned with a canister, and clay pipes... “Two Rivers tabac,” the Lord of Fal Dara said as they filled their pipes. “Hard to come by, here, but worth the price.” 

He declares faith in them because they are Manatharen’s blood after doubting they have the skills necessary. “Can you doubt the strength of Manetheren’s blood, Lord Agelmar?”

“Manetheren,” Agelmar said slowly, nodding. “I would not doubt that blood.” Then more quickly, “The Wheel brings strange times. Farmboys carry the honor of Manetheren into the Blight, yet if any blood can strike a blow at the Dark One, it would be the blood of Manetheren.”

But what we got was an asshole who thought he didn’t need help, was rude to an Aes Sedai, didn’t listen to his oh-so-much-wiser sister, got killed in a dumb way because he didn’t listen to a woman. His sister in the books was barely important; she kept things running without being involved in the warfare, made sure her guests got nice clothes with input from Moraine, respected Aes Sedai and got manipulated by a callous one. In the show she was an Aes Sedai who left with incomplete training but is still respected as a skilled practitioner (which isn’t how Aes Sedai see anyone who fails to complete training), shows off using Fire (which women are typically weak in and tend to burn themselves without full training), is supposed to be smart because she tells her brother to call for help, then rallies a bunch of women as soldiers instead of letting them get to safety and dresses in male armor... Only to kill herself and two others by overusing the One Power.

And that is just season 1.

#wheel of time #wheel of time prime #wot book spoilers #Wot show spoilers #i'm a little salty over dumb decisions and fancy cgi lessening a story #i'll still watch it because it might get better #but damn it feel like GoT season 7 and 8 labeled Wheel of Time #I feel like I watched someones fanfic where they didnt like Rand

[verkja]

Pt. 1

Previous | Masterlist | Next

I’ve had some characters lying around for ages, shuffling them through different scenarios, and finally managed to jam them into a mostly-cohesive narrative. I’ll see if I can stick with it.

Not sure what tropes this story will include; it’s a mediaeval fantasy-ish setting and will definitely have torture, emotional whump, lots of blood, and camaraderie. The first part has only a smidgen of whump: some team outcast stuff, plus implied emotional issues for the POV character, and the listed CWs. There will be more later on. I’ve also written most of a prologue which is just straight-up torture.

I probably won't post this very chronologically, but assuming I do post a reasonable amount of it, I'll try to keep it organized. (Update, at ~80K into this story: I lied, it's almost entirely chronological.)

CWs: Blood, injury, violence, death (of some unnamed enemies), references to past torture, needles (in a medical context), possibly an ableist simile? This is SFW. As usual, please let me know if I missed anything important. Chapter summaries here if you just want the gist of it.

Words: Around 1.5K

They weren’t the best group he’d travelled with, but they were alright. Despite their flaws, they were efficient. In the week since they’d set out, they’d encountered terrible weather and several troops of bandits, and had come through with barely a scratch.

In fact, Radomil reflected as he oiled his boots, the mercenary group’s infighting probably caused more damage than did any external force. Iesto the scout was on watch and Rhedyn the herbalist was still asleep, but one of the warriors was fighting with the sorcerer again while the other heckled from the sidelines.

There was a loud smack from behind him. Radomil exhaled. He wished they would stick to verbal confrontations. If his companions wanted to waste their time arguing, that was their business, but staying back while they beat one another up didn’t sit well with him.

Mures, the sorcerer, usually instigated things, but he wasn’t the only one at fault; Radomil didn’t even think he intended to start a fight most of the time, though he didn’t object when one broke out. He was just unpleasant and hostile. They couldn’t replace him with someone nicer because they needed a wizard, and few people were willing to travel in this part of the world.

Another smack - louder this time, followed by a choked expletive. Radomil glanced over his shoulder. Herve, the elder of the warriors, had Mures pinned on the ground and was hitting him about the head while Aure looked on.

It always played out like this. The sorcerer was terrifyingly competent with magic, but had the physique of a cooked noodle. Since using spellwork against a companion would be an unacceptable escalation and would turn the whole party more against him than they already were, he never came out of these tussles without half a dozen new bruises.

Radomil had tried intervening on one occasion shortly after the group set out together. It hadn’t gone well. Both participants had told him to mind his own business, and Mures yelled at him about it afterward, even while nursing a broken nose. Since then, Radomil had stayed out of their altercations.

Although trying to mediate his companions’ relationships was a lost cause, he’d found other ways to improve their lives a bit. When Iesto’s bowstring snapped and the replacement had a spot of rot, he’d made the scout a new string of strong linen. He played songs from Rhedyn’s homeland around the fire, which cheered her up. And he made sure to take the watch before Herve’s each night, because the man panicked if not woken carefully - a skill the others had yet to master.

He had little in common with his fellow mercenaries, but it was easier that way, even if he missed the camaraderie of past companions. They made a good team when it counted, and though not truly friendly with any of them, he got along with them all. Even Mures wasn’t a problem if Radomil left him alone.

The sorcerer stumbled past him, lip bleeding, as he pulled on his boots. With the show over, Aure went to wake Rhedyn and pour water on the embers of the fire. Radomil stretched the kinks out of his back and looked towards the mountain pass ahead, veiled in a chilly morning mist. Time to set out again.

The day was uneventful until evening, when they ran into another troop of bandits. The ensuing skirmish was vicious but short. As usual, Radomil left his sword in its scabbard and focussed on spellwork, casting chains of ethereal runes to ensnare the bandits.

They killed about half the troop and released the rest after divesting them of their valuables. There was a nice flat site not far up the road, so the two warriors went to set up camp while the other mercenaries picked through the dead bandits’ belongings.

‘I saw that first.’

Radomil sighed inwardly. Mures was indicating a substantial coin purse on the belt of a bandit Iesto was currently looting.

‘Then you should’ve taken it. Early bird gets the worm and all that.’ The scout tossed the pouch in the air before stashing it in his satchel.

‘I don’t fight in melee combat. You’ve already taken several pouches and I didn’t have time to get here before you.’

‘Greater risks lead to greater rewards,’ Iesto replied. Mures had stepped within a few feet of him as they argued, and the scout took the opportunity to punch him in the gut. Mures doubled over with a cough. Iesto hit him again and he dropped to his knees.

He stayed there, which was unusual. Radomil had been about to leave them to it, but he hesitated as the sorcerer threw an arm up to protect his face.

‘Fine, keep the damn coin,’ he wheezed. ‘Look, not now -’

The scout kicked him. Radomil dropped what he was doing and jogged over as Mures coiled in on himself with a strangled curse.

‘Go search the bodies up on the ridge,’ he told Iesto. ‘They should have some arrows you can use.’

The scout raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. ‘Good point.’

As he left for the ridge, Radomil crouched down beside the sorcerer, who was curled up like a frightened spider.

‘Shove off, spellsword,’ Mures hissed, weakly.

‘Are you hurt?’ asked Radomil. ‘From more than Iesto hitting you?’

‘I didn’t ask for your help.’

‘Sure, but I’m offering.’

The sorcerer’s mouth twisted, but he ceased clutching his stomach and slowly sat up. His hands were smeared with blood.

‘That looks serious,’ Radomil noted. ‘I’ll grab supplies if you can move over there.’ He gestured at a partly-concealed dip in the mountainside by the edge of the road.

By the time he found what he needed, Mures had gone where he’d pointed and sat on a rock, still hunched over in obvious pain. He looked paler than usual. Radomil set the supplies down beside him and took a closer look at his stomach. It was hard to see much, but the sorcerer’s robe was wet with blood.

‘Can you take this off?’ Radomil asked.

Mures began to say something that was probably insulting, but cut himself off with a wince and complied instead. He was wearing a shirt under his robe, even more thoroughly soaked. Once that was off, Radomil could see that the source of the blood was a nasty stab wound; it looked like a blade had entered at an angle and then dragged down before going further in. Luckily, it had missed any vital organs and wasn’t too deep. It was irritated, though; Iesto must have hit it straight-on.

‘How’d you get this?’ he asked, starting to clean it out. He’d been closer to the battle than Mures; as a typically mid-range combatant, part of what he did was try to keep enemies from reaching the longer-range fighters behind him. No one had gotten past him during the battle.

‘There was one bandit behind the group.’ The sorcerer’s voice was tight. ‘Waited until I’d gone past.’

‘Ah.’ He pulled a needle from its vial of alcohol and carefully inserted it on one side of the wound. He heard a sharp intake of breath, but his patient didn’t move, so he began to stitch.

Now that he’d washed some of the blood away, he could tell Mures wasn’t bleeding that badly. His shirt had only gotten soaked because it had essentially been punched into the injury.

Once he was done stitching, Radomil pressed a wad of linen over the wound. He asked the sorcerer to hold it in place while he cleaned the area around it in preparation for applying a bandage.

Mures had a lot of scars, he noted. That came with the territory of being a mercenary. They all had scars; Aure liked to show off a particularly grisly shoulder burn that she claimed had come from a dragon, though he had doubts about that. Radomil had an impressive collection himself.

Most of Mures’ scars looked more methodically inflicted than his own. Well, that wasn’t really a surprise either, given the sorcerer’s vocation and disposition. Even explicitly benevolent wizards were often mistrusted, so those who worked with dark magic, like Mures, attracted knights and bounty hunters like flies; if he wasn’t with their current group, they might have been sent after him themselves. Radomil had been a mercenary long enough to know what happened to people who ended up in a dungeon for violating the laws of the land.

He took extra care not to wrap the bandages too tightly around the old torture-scars in case any still ached. No more blood soaked through by the time he’d finished.

‘That feel alright?’ he asked.

Mures nodded silently. He was tense and still unusually pale, but seemed to be moving more easily as he tugged his robe back on without the soaked shirt under it. Radomil reached out to untangle a sleeve for him, and he jerked away.

‘I don’t need your help,’ he snapped.

Radomil shrugged and started packing up the medical supplies. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sorcerer watching him.

‘Wait,’ Mures said as he started to walk away with the supplies. He turned back.

‘...thank you,’ the sorcerer told him, stiffly.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘What do I owe you?’

‘Nothing; just company business. Buy me an ale at the next tavern if you like.’

Mures didn’t respond, just stared at him unnervingly. To be fair, he probably couldn’t stare any other way; his eyes were strange, an indistinct colour that might have been grey or green or even yellow, and one was clouded over like the eye of something dead.

Radomil nodded at the sorcerer and went to pack up the supplies. Rhedyn and Iesto had finished looting the site of the skirmish, so he headed directly to the campsite. There was already a pot of stew cooking over the fire.

He played some music after eating, worked on his rune book, and laid out his bedroll while the stars wheeled over the mountain pass. It was a chilly night for late summer, but they were quite high in the mountains, so that wasn’t unusual.

Pulling on a woollen hat and tucking his shoulders securely into the bedroll, Radomil shut his eyes. The quiet whistle of the wind across the rocks helped him drift off to sleep. He dreamt, as always, of the end of the world.

________________

There is a sort-of illustration for this piece here, showing Radomil bandaging Mures' injury.

#whump #whump writing #my writing #cw:blood #cw:injury #cw:medical #cw:violence #cw:torture #medieval whump #fantasy whump

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

#maribat #timari #timinette #mgi server event #mgi trope tussle #college au #kinda #enemies to lovers #onesided enemies to prelovers actually #but it counts i think #oh well #mlb x dc #ml x dc #tumblr youre testing my patience lately pls #tumblr do me a solid #tumblr dont fucking try me #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #i beg #tumblr what do i have to do #no beta this is tussle

[leatafandom]

41 and 100

Trope Mashup for Sabriel!

First Kiss + Accidentally Saving the day + Sabriel

It would take place after Assy takes Gabe and he comes back. Sam helps him, they get closer and it's as great as it can be. Everyone gets a bit closer, but once Gabriel's grace is fully healed Sam can't help his instinctive reactions. Gabriel doesn't want to lose how close they've gotten or his relationship with Cas or Dean because of it and neither does Sam. However, it's just something Sam can't seem to control no matter how much time they spend together. It's that sliver of survival and distrust that never vanished around angels especially, archangel grace after Lucifer.

They try to move past it, but Gabriel can't ignore it. Dean and Cas try to smooth it over and help, but it just becomes something that is. Whenever Gabriel would get too close, snap, or generally used his abilities Sam would see the flare in the ether and his brows would wince and he'd flinch back before he would remember who it was and stop himself. Gabriel knew it wasn't something Sam could help and that it was a completely fair reaction but after a while it's getting to be too much of a reminder. So he starts taking more space and tries to avoid using any of his powers whenever Sam steps into a room. Which bothers the fuck out of Sam and confuses the hell out of Gabriel.

So it goes on with Gabriel and Sam both trying, separately, to stop the instinctual reaction and retrain the embedded fear. Until one of the bad guys of the week manages to get into the bunker, chasing after the brothers and Cas.

The hunt didn't go well. The fight to end whoever this bad guy is just did not work out and they were backtracking to the bunker. The three run in and try to slam the door hoping the wards will give them enough time to figure out a plan Z. But it claws its way in before they can seal it and there's a tussle.

Dean, Sam, Cas and the monster dude crash down the steps all over the place before finally falling onto the bunker floor. The commotion is so loud that they don't hear or notice the music filling the bunker and Cas and Sam don't notice the bright swirls of multicolored light covering and floating against the ceiling of the entire bunker. The melody when they did was airy and enchanting, the sound of a single wind instrument and what could only vaguely be described as a voice filled Sam's ears.

The moment the big bad landed on the bunker floor, Sam in hand and pinned to the ground, the bright light and music take attention. It dimmed and brightened before it descended, swirling lower, and wrapping around the big bad and piercing through it. The shimmering waves lighten and darken with the high and low notes, the song uninterrupted and unchanged even as it bent into and through the monster. The light continued descending and dancing in swirling light that reminded Sam of the Northern lights, swirling from blue to gold to white as it sang and folded the big bad into nothingness. All to the rhythm of the happy and sad sounds that reminded Sam of untouched woodlands and thick forests.

The three were in shock as the monster disintegrates into nothingness and watch as the energy continues to sing, seemingly oblivious to having done anything besides what could only be described as a murdering protective dance that accompanied their song. His eyes don't leave the light, watching the gentle playful light that crackled and shimmered. Sam's eyes widened, finally recognizing the humming splendor as Gabriel and more importantly unbridled grace. His eyes dash from the light to Cas, finding the angel's jaw slightly slack, but not missing the slight embarrassment at staring so openly at Gabriel's oblivious grace in the ether.

None of them seem to say anything just listening until Dean can't help it and explodes with a, "What the Hell just happened?" And the music stops.

Sam's eyes run from his brother back to the ceiling watching the grace retreat, running along the entrance and library ceiling down the hallway. Sam scrambles to his feet and chases after Gabriel. His eyes were trained upwards and watched the sparkling waves pull from each room and back into the hallway racing back into Gabriel's open doorway.

When he gets there, Sam just stops outside of the door. He just stares and swallows hard at the sight of Gabriel's vessel sitting limp on his bed against the headboard and wall holding an ocarina as the multicolored threads coil and pour back into the vessel and room. It's coating the whole room; just shining and shimmering waves of color covering the walls and air of the bedroom, all funneling into Gabriel's vessel.

When Gabriel's eyes snap open, filled with a shimmering gold laced with blue, Sam doesn't flinch. They just stare at each other for a moment before Gabriel starts to try to explain and apologize if he had scared him. Gabriel had no idea they would be back, he had simply wanted to relax and stretch. The bunker was big enough to give him enough room to spread most of himself out without fear of leaking out and overwhelming someone not accustomed to pure cosmic energy. Sam just stares at him. The archangel was completely unaware of what he had done when he was lost in a song of his own making. Sam questions him.

"So you were just relaxing when we came in?" He doesn't mention the big bad or that they hadn't come in as much as fell in.

"Well… And thinkin' about you, but I kinda always do that, Samalamb." Gabriel just smiles awkwardly shrugging. "I'm sorry if it bothered you but, I'd never hurt you like that Sam. I know I've fucked up before but I didn't do it for the joy of hurting you. I'm not my brothers, Samwise. I'm not gonna hurt you. I don't know how to help you feel comfortable around me now that-"

Gabriel tries to continue but Sam is already pulling him into a hug and kissing him. It's a soft kiss, gentle with affection.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! I adored the mash up. It took me a bit to think about exactly what I would do but then this idea just grew and ran away. I hope you liked it! It was really fun to write a bit of quickish musings.❤️

#thanks for the ask! #asks and answers #sabriel #sabriel musings #sorry if there are like crazy errors #trope mash up prompts

[maribat-newsletter]

Feature Maribat Creator

Meet this week’s Feature Maribat Creator:

chaotic_immortal

This creator has an incredible amount of creativity and motivation. They have also written over a dozen works of content for the Maribat Get In (MGI) Civil War and Trope Tussle. 

You can find this creator on AO3  and Tumblr ( @nightlychaotic ).

Check out some of their fantastic works by viewing their master list.

#maribat newsletter #maribat newsletter featured creator #maribat #maribat newsletter FC #maribat spotlight creator #maribat spotlight

[nightlychaotic]

I posted 3,091 times in 2021

101 posts created (3%)

2990 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 29.6 posts.

I added 226 tags in 2021

#maribat - 62 posts

#dickinette - 37 posts

#enemies to lovers - 23 posts

#mgi trope tussle - 19 posts

#trope tussle ~ enemies to lovers - 17 posts

#no beta this is tussle - 17 posts

#no beta this is war - 15 posts

#mgi civil war - 14 posts

#civil war ~ dick justice - 12 posts

#team dick for the win - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#i'm in the civil war but everyone's doing amazing and i am absolutely loving all the content being created

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Plus One

Marinette studied the man across the table from her, taking a sip of her coffee to help her swallow her pride. “Will you be my plus one to a wedding?”

The spluttering sounds from the other side of the table brought a small smile to her face.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I want you to be my plus one to a wedding. Preferable pretending to be my boyfriend.”

“I’m not saying I won’t do it, but why are you coming to me about this? I thought you hated me.”

“And the feeling is mutual I assume, Dick,” she shot back, exhaling. “All my other friends are either, a: taken, or b: already have a plus one, and I told Alya that I had a boyfriend, so she would stop trying to set me up with people, so that throws everyone she knows out the window.”

Dick laughed. “So you came to your rival to ask for help?”

Marinette pinched her nose and sighed. “I’ll design your suit, free of charge, something many would kill for, and I’ll be covering airfare. All you have to do is show up and pretend we’re in a relationship for the weekend. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“I’ll do it. When is it?”

“Two weeks. I’ll need to be there next week. You’re welcome to come with me or later in the week, but I will need your measurements by the weekend to make sure I can get the fabric and get it made in time. We can do the final fitting in Paris but the brunt of it should be done before we leave. My dress and the rest of the bridesmaid’s dresses should be done by Saturday, giving me Sunday to pack, and I’ll be flying out Monday,” she said, beginning to ramble as she thought about what needed to be done before she left. Dick’s chuckle broke her train of thought as she gave him a sharp look. “When are you free today or tomorrow?”

“I’m free all day today.”

Marinette nodded, finishing off her coffee. “Ready to go when you are then.”

Dick chugged the remainder of his coffee and grinned. “Lead the way.”

Marinette led the way out of the coffee shop, starting the couple block walk to her studio, the two of them walking in silence, until Dick began to whistle. She bit back a groan, she was asking a large favor of him, she wasn’t about to snap at him for whistling, lest he change his mind.

She unlocked the backdoor, and ushered him in, turning on the lights.

“I’m going to need you to take off your jacket,” she said, pulling out a post-it note, pen, and tape measure, before quickly taking his measurements, jotting them down as she worked, only giving soft instructions when needed.

“Great. So when do you want to fly out?”

“When are you?”

“Monday at 10.”

“That works for me.”

“Great. Meet here Monday at 6 so we have enough time to get to the airport and get through security and find our gate,” she told him scribbling her number down on a separate post-it note and handing it to him as she ushered him out of her studio. “See you then.”

“See you then, Marinette.”

---------------------------

They landed at the airport and collected their bags before heading out.

“Do we need to rent a car?” Dick asked looking over at her.

“No need,” Marinette replied. “My friend’s coming to pick us up. We’re going to be staying at his house while we’re here, since he has more space for me to work and my parents are busy at the moment preparing to cater as well as the usual bakery rush.”

Dick was about to respond, when a limo pulled up and Marinette, grabbed her bags and strode towards it as the back door opened, and a tall, blonde model of a man rushed over to give Marinette a hug, lifting her off the ground. Dick shook her head at the slight tightening in his chest.

“M’Lady!”

“Kitty, not now, please,” she replied with a laugh.

See the full post

247 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 07:51:36 GMT

#4

I Like You a Latte

“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so caramel me maybe?”

The barista, Marinette her name tag read, stared at him, a small smirk forming.

“Nice try, Romeo. What can I get you?”

“Surprise me,” Dick grinned as she put something into the monitor next to her.

“For here or to-go?”

“To-go. Name?”

“Dick.”

She smiled, and directed her attention to the next customer, as Dick moved to the side to wait.

“Caramel Macchiato for Romeo!” got called out. Dick looked over to see the barista grinning at him, cup in hand. She gestured it out towards him. He chuckled as he moved to grab it. “Come again soon,” she told him as she handed him the cup. Dick grinned as he left the shop.

--------------

“What can I get you?”

Dick leaned onto the counter, and smiled at the barista. “Are you on the menu?”

“Not today,” she replied with a grin, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Anything else catching your interest?”

“Not nearly as much as you do, but I suppose I’ll take whatever you think and a black coffee.”

“On it. For here or to go today?”

“Here.”

“On it.”

Dick sat at a window seat, glancing out looking at the dreary day as he waited for Tim to arrive. He needed a break from work, so Dick decided to drag him to a coffee shop. Wouldn’t get him to sleep but would get him away for work for a while. A decent compromise.

“Hey,” Tim greeted sitting down across from him.

“Took you long enough,” Dick greeted. Before Tim could respond he heard Marinette call out.

“Flat White and Black Coffee for Romeo!”

Dick went to grab their coffees and came back to Tim’s unimpressed face.

“You’ve been flirting with the barista.”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“How’s it working out for you Romeo?”

“Well she gave me a cookie, so.”

--------------

“I've been thinking about you a latte.”

“Oh have you now?”

See the full post

268 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 22:43:02 GMT

#3

It's a Date

Marinette took a deep breath before sliding into the seat across from Damian at lunch.

“What do you want, Dupain-Cheng?” he spoke up, not looking away from his book.

“I know we don’t like each other, and I’m not asking for you to start, but your family is going to Jagged Stone’s wedding, correct?”

“I don’t know how you know that information but you are correct. Why?”

“I thought you could be my date.”

“What gave you that impression?” Damian asked looking over at her.

“From what I’ve seen your brothers are always one your back trying to get you to lighten up and socialise. This will get them off your back. Besides, you are already invited and if I don’t show up with a date, Jagged will be peacocking me around simultaneously singing my praises while trying to play matchmaker. I do not need to go through that torture again. As much as I love him, I can’t. Not after that fiasco,” she said, shaking her head at the memory.

He sat there for a moment before nodding. “Fine.”

“Great. I’ll design and make your suit of course-”

“Pardon me. I have a suit already.”

“Sure, but you’re getting a new one.”

“Tt. I will not. I have no need for one.”

“I don’t care. As the official designer for the wedding, I’ll be damned if my date isn’t wearing one of my creations,” she snapped.

This got Damian to put his book down all the way as he studied her. “You’re the wedding designer?” he asked. She nodded with a proud smile.

“I am. I’m meeting with the wedding party on Saturday, your father is the best man if I’m recalling correctly. If you can tag along with him that would be great. Otherwise we can arrange for a separate meeting time.”

“Saturday will be fine.”

“Great. I’ll see you then. Thank you for agreeing to do this,” she said, slipping out of her seat and moving to her usual table.

“What was that about?” someone asked as she sat down.

“What?”

“What were you talking to Damian Wayne about?”

“That, is none of your business. Besides, it’s a bit of a secret project. You’ll just have to find out with everyone else.”

----------------------

Damian found himself in Jagged Stone’s penthouse, standing closer to the door watching the chaos unfold. Grayson was playing with the crocodile scratching its belly. Jagged Stone was in a corner gesturing wildly as he spoke to Dupain-Cheng who was nodding along, cutting him off from time to time adding her own contributions as she furiously scribbled in her sketchbook, glancing up every once in a while to scan the room. Penny Rolling, the fiancée, played hostess, providing some snacks and drinks for the wedding party, glancing towards the corner.

Damian raised a brow as he witnessed the silent conversation between the bride and designer, the latter giving her an apologetic smile and head nod, turning back to face Jagged, who had now looped his father into whatever conversation they were having, haven stolen the sketchbook and flipping through it showing the content to his father. Dupain-Cheng nodded taking one final look around the room, grabbing the sketch book back, flipping through several pages scribbling a small note one each page separately before shutting it and towing Jagged and his father over to the main area and sitting them down on the couch, before getting everyone else to as well.

“I’m going to take the bride’s half of the party’s measurement first and do a quick consultation with them before moving onto the groom’s half. I will need to keep the best man and maid of honor a bit longer with the couple afterwards. Mr. Wayne I trust you can keep somewhat of an eye on things out here?”

Damian watched her as she moved quickly taking measurements, navigating around Jagged as he talked, somehow managing to get and write measurements as he moved, keeping with him and avoiding his arms as he gestured.

“Bruce! You should commission Marinette for your next gala. I showed you some of her sketches earlier, they’re even rock n’ roll in person! C’mon let me show you some-” taking his father and starting to walk away until Dupain-Cheng lunged after him, grabbing Jagged.

“Not so fast! Not until after I take his measurements. Then you can steal him away for a minute while I take Damian’s measurements. It’ll only take a minute.”

She pulled Bruce into the middle of her small area and quickly began to measure him,

See the full post

289 notes • Posted 2021-05-20 21:37:16 GMT

#2

The Cat That Caught the Canary

Marinette walked through the museum, trying to keep her footsteps soft as Plagg floated alongside her.

“You sure that it’s here, Plagg?” Marinette whispered.

“Trust me Pigtails. It’s here. And you need to get it before we have another Hawkmoth incident,” Plagg said. Marinette winced slightly. Yep. Did not want a repeat of Hawkmoth anytime soon.

“And the reason you didn’t want Tikki or any of the others to know?”

“It’s a surprise!”

Marinette looked at him.

“...And Tikki wouldn’t let us go if she knew we were stealing from a museum and the other kwamii can’t keep a secret from her to save their lives. But I swear. There’s a Miraculous here. It’s not the first time you know.”

“I know. I know. And we don’t need a repeat of that incident either,” she muttered under her breath. “Are we close?”

“It’s just over here. Sheesh, patience Pigtails.”

She rolled her eyes slightly at him as he led her to an exhibition case.

“Care to do the honors?”

Plagg flew into the case unlocking it. Marinette gently opened the case and pulled out the belt that laid inside, tucking it away, before closing the lid.

“Plagg can you relock it?”

“On it.”

“That’s it right? We can leave now?”

“Yep. Unless there’s anything else you want to steal while we’re at it. A little souvenir or two”

“No. We’re not taking souvenirs, Plagg,” Marinette told the mini god without turning around to face him.

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

Marinette turned around to face him. Eyes widening as she looked at him.

“Plagg No,” she whispered yelled at the kwamii who had draped himself in a couple priceless necklaces and wearing a bracelet around his middle.

“Plagg Yes,” he cackled with glee. Marinette sighed running a hand through her head.

“Plagg. Put them back. We don’t have time for this.”

“Aw come on. Live a little.”

“No. Hurry up and put those back. I’m not trying to get caught by GCPD or worse one of the Bats. Now, Plagg.”

“Can’t I at least keep-”

“NO.”

“Fiiiiiine.”

Marinette watched him as he put the stolen jewelry back in its case, muttering under her breath about ‘chaotic mini god of destruction giving me headaches every time I turn around’ and “God Tikki is going to kill us when we get back, why did I let him talk me into this, oh right because it’s “my duty” to.

“You know the museum doesn’t allow visitors for a few more hours.”

See the full post

342 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 16:33:57 GMT

#1

The Reason The Angel Fell From The Sky (I Knocked Her Over)

“Come on, Ice Prince of Gotham here probably wouldn’t be able to be romantic if his life depended on it.”

“I am positive that, if I wanted to, I could be romantic.”

“No, he’s got a point, Damian. You do tend to be a bit cold and icy to everyone.”

“Tt. I could, Todd, if need be.”

“Oh really? You’re going to have to prove it,” Jason replied, shoving Damian. Hard. Into a girl.

The girl, unfortunately, had turned around and taken a couple steps right at that moment, arms full carrying several bolts of fabric. She hadn’t noticed him, and Damian couldn’t stop his momentum. The two collided, knocking the other down, fabric flying. Damian glared at his brothers as he collected himself, before trying to help the girl collect her belongings, grabbing the bolts of fabric and shoving them at his brothers for them to carry. He turned to offer the girl a hand up.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to knock you down. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You have no need to apologize. It was my idiotic brothers’ fault. Are you alright?”

“Oh I’m fine, I do more damage when I trip myself than that small fall. I’m Marinette by the way.”

Damian gave a small bow, taking her hand, slowly raising it to place a kiss on the back of it, never breaking eye contact.

“Damian.”

The two stood there for a moment, a small smirk gracing Damian’s face while Marinette’s cheeks flushed as they stared at each other.

“Not going to introduce us, Damian? How rude. I’m Dick and this is Jason” Dick chimed in, grinning as he broke the small moment.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Marinette said, as she moved to take her fabric back from Dick and Jason. They stepped back and held the bolts away from her.

“Give me my fabric back, please.”

“Nope. We’re carrying these, little lady. It’s the least we can do after knocking you down.”

“Any way I can convince you guys otherwise?” she asked once more trying to grab the bolts.

“Nope,” Jason grinned.

“No way. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” Dick agreed, as Marinette rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Fine, but I’m paying you back for this.”

“You don’t need t-”

“Nope. If you insist, I insist. Come on. Those get heavy fast and we got a bit of a way to walk.”

“I apologize for my brothers,” Damian said, as Marinette led the way. She laughed and smiled at him in return.

“It’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse than those two in the past. I’m not ruining any of your plans am I?”

“No. Not at all. We were simply exploring the city when my brothers pushed me into you.”

“Oh! Where are you from originally?”

“Gotham City, New Jersey.”

“That’s the city with umm… Batman right? My friend Alya went on about them all the time before Hawkmoth showed up.”

“Hawkmoth? Those videos are real?” Dick chimed in from behind.

See the full post

400 notes • Posted 2021-04-16 05:49:36 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#why is like you a latte in my top 5 #ah- #I don't know so here #Fic coming soon? #idfk anymore

[paris-torres-month]

FEVER FEBRUARY DAY 5: Smutty Saturday!!

“Are you saying I’m impossible to resist?” “I wouldn’t go that far.“ “Good.”

🔥💋Happy Blood Fever Day! 💋🔥

25 years ago, on 5 February, 1997 Blood Fever aired. In late October through early November 1997 I’m going to bet that a whole lot of ‘oops!’ babies were born! They’re 24 (& 1/4) now, and Blood Fever is still as sexy as it was when it first aired. Part funny, part serious, part shocking, part poignant, part sad, and a whole lot of sexy, this episode took a dude-bro trope and ran with it, and it still holds up. It still sparks arguments conversations about consent and how we define rape. (Look, if you want to insist that Vorik is a rapist for forcing a mindmeld on B’Elanna while he’s under the influence of pon farr, then you can’t say B’Elanna is purely a victim and give her a pass for her behaviour towards Tom. 🤷‍♀️ Sauce/goose/gander.)

We cheer for B’Elanna when she punches an overly amourous Vorik, and are angry when he faces no repercussions - other than a broken jaw and bruises from landing on the deck in a heap at her feet - for his assault on her. (And we have to defend our stance that he’s a victim of pon farr too).

We’re amused as B’Elanna baits and pushes Tom before they beam down to the planet, and when he’s distracted by the ruins they find there.

We’re confused by B’Elanna’s egregious reaction to Neelix’ fall (but love how Tom walks right past a moaning, collapsed Neelix to see if fuming, pacing, not-really-injured B’Elanna is okay). And we gasp in shock when she bites Tom on the jaw. We remember our Klingon Customs 101 and we all know what it means when a Klingon bites someone on the face!

And here our play really begins - everything else was just set up - and we get to appreciate the devine serendipity of the anniversary of the first airing of this episode landing on Smutty Saturday. A flummoxed, embarrassed B’Elanna runs off to find the galicite myself! and Tom is torn between following her and staying with a badly injured Neelix until a rescue party arrives. Mister Standup Starfleet Field Medic stays. By this point, B’Elanna has pretty much proven that she can take care of herself. But Tom Paris, ladies man, former ne’re-do-well and good-time-guy, does track her down as soon as he possibly can, and here is where he becomes the hero of this little opera. Tuvok fills her in on her condition, she denies that there’s anything wrong with her, the inhabitants of the planet show up and confront them, the cave is shaken by a tremor, rocks fall, and Tom & B’Elanna become separated from their rescuers. Then they argue over a tricorder, and antsy, concerned Tom snaps at her, provoking her now infamous response: you’re using it wrong!

It can be argued that, since the episode stops short of Tom & B’Elanna having intercourse, he does indeed use it wrong. Or maybe he uses it wholly right? He wants her, there’s no doubt of that. He’s been flirting with her for a while now & he’s asked her out on a date before. He’s maybe still smarting from Vorik snapping her up from under his nose at the luau a few weeks ago. And here he is, trapped with her in a cave system while visions of mating imperatives and death dance in his head.

What’s a fly boy to do? Well, unfortunately Tom does the completely wrong thing that you should do when trapped with an amorous Klingon: he pisses her off by commenting that this pon farr thing explains the way she’s been acting. When B’Elanna wants to blast her way out of a sealed tunnel, they tussle over a weapon, but we all know what the gun represents. B’Elanna wants it and tries to aggressively take it from Tom, but he’s holding on & holding back.

“B’Elanna, stop it! This isn about the gun. This is about sex. But that’s not going to happen.”

“I think it is. See, I have picked up your scent, Tom. I've tasted your blood.“

“No. No. I'm your friend, and I have to watch out for you when your judgement's been impaired. If you let these instincts take over now, you'll hate yourself, and me too for taking advantage of you. I won't do that.��

This is an episode about Vulcan customs, yes. And it’s an episode about B’Elanna’s struggle with her Klingon side and all of it’s base, uncontrollable darker emotions. And yes, it’s about sex. But it’s also about desire, and longing, and need. It’s about want, and being handed the thing you think you want, and reconsidering it’s implications on your future happiness.

When their tussle turns into a prolonged seduction attempt, Tom realizes just how serious this situation has become, and he has a decision to make: give in and save her life, but also possibly wreck any chance he has of having a real relationship with her, or resist her and face the fact that he may be condemning her to die. Really, the whole thing is exactly as ridiculous as he thinks it is.

He resists her. She pours honeyed words into his ear - words he’s been hoping to hear from her - but he still resists. He doesn’t trust that she truly means what she’s saying, and isn’t willing to gamble on her later wrath and resentment if he does give in. Tom struggles through her blatantly stalking him from one end of that cave to another, through her gut-wrenching, honest calling him out on his own desire for her, through her meltingly seductive kisses. And he does give in, for just a moment. I imagine his kissing her back as his little reward—and self-fladulation—for being such a stand-up guy. He knows that, even if she does mean what she‘s saying to him, she’s in no condition to consent to or control her own actions. I feel for him. I really do.

The shit sprinkles on his fuck me (but don’t really!) cake comes when they finally reach the surface and Tuvok orders him to help her or she’ll die.

For me personally, the sexiest parts of this entire episode are the almost kisses: Tom moving his mouth away from hers, but just slightly, as he fights his own desire to give in to her seduction. Her kissing/chewing on his wrist when they’re on the surface.

His skimming his lips along her throat. Their sheer joy when she pins him to the ground, and he reciprocates, flipping her onto her back and holding her down.

Then Vorik shows up again and interrupts them, and B’Elanna gets to defend herself! thankyouverymuch, and she once again pounds the little snot into the ground. Don’t get me wrong, I love Vorik. And love this episode. And I’m grateful that Vorik directed his attentions to B’Elanna, because this whole thing served to show both Tom and B’Elanna what - and who - they actually wanted.

This episode is about desire and the denial of it. It’s about violence and restraint. It’s about longing and logic, and illogic. Control and the loss of it. All of that is inherently sexy. It launched a thousand fics: sexy, sweet, raunchy, violent, tender, sad, and yes, smutty. Some people like to mock this episode, which has its roots in TOS’s Amok Time. I think they just don’t get it. Blood Fever vies for the best Tom & B’Elanna episode, imo, because it illustrates who they really are and who they can be, together. Roxann Dawson, Robert Duncan McNeill, Alexander Enberg, writer Lisa Klink, and director Andrew Robinson handle a 90’s frat-boy giggle-fest (fuck or die!!) with delicacy, intimacy, and respect. They lift it from what it could have been to something more. And Tom’s blunt confession in the closing scene:

“Yeah, I know. You’re afraid that your big, scary Klingon side might have been showing. Well, I saw it up close and you know , it wasn’t so terrible. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again sometime.”

—illustrates his acceptance of all of her, not just the competent officer she likes to put on display for everyone else. And her rejoinder, “Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant.” holds a promise for him and every P/Ter out there. Blood Fever was perfect the way it was. And the copious amount of fanfiction and gifs it inspired just made it better.

#fever february #catch the fever #tom paris #b’elanna torres #tom x b'elanna #paris x torres #smutty saturday #blood fever #lisa klink #paris-torres-month