#we had a fine interaction but it was literally like… four hours after my lesson and before her date. and she just wanted to hear about my

[irlnikeiyomiuri]

i had ONE decent interaction with another person and now i want to ask my friends to come hang out. however, i literally never left my house once covid started, and the few friends/acquaintances i chatted with, as soon as i saw them on person, i very strongly disliked them.

i have one friend.

#puts my head in hands……… #also i think she may hate me. so. :(.- I SAY THIS NOT TO VENT. I DO NOT FEEL ANYTHING !!!!!! #i just think u all need to sympathize with how difficult it is to go find fwends #-oh my god im already facing the adult issue of unable to make friends bc of lack of interaction with others #i. the body is still not close to 18. ….. ………… #gently whacks andrew. damn bitch who did u let take care of this thing why ur life in shambles?? (totally not my fault) #edit. anyways should i reach out to my friend and try to get her to hang out uhhhh… some time later this week ? #or do i try and contact the person i was around the other day. i’ve known her since like 4th grade but idk if i should call her a friend #we had a fine interaction but it was literally like… four hours after my lesson and before her date. and she just wanted to hear about my #trip. which did in fact take four hours to discuss #so it’s like hmmm do i want to be around her for longer in a unstructured setting- #HER STUPID BF IS SO RICH AND ITS SO INFURIATING TO HEAR ABOUT #THEYRE SO WASTEFUL WITH THEIR MONEY ITS INSANE !!!!!!!! #it makes me so like. ticked off. tf do u mean they last-minute booked u a flight across the country so u could come w them #to the fucking PENINSULA UR BFS GRANDMA O W N S. WHAT ??????? #i’m trying to be vague. but this peninsula is in a /nice/ fucking area like if i were to say it y’all would immediately know what i’m #talking about. like uhh. cape cod martha’s vineyard that type of infamy. owns a whole ass peninsula……….. #i HATE IT i HATE RICH PEOPLE !!!

[sohotthateveryonedied]

so i’m trying to write duke and i don’t think i’m writing him right. how would you describe his personality because with don’t trust fanon lmfaooo

(this was only supposed to be a paragraph or two i swear to god)

1. first things first, duke is a hardcore gryffindor. don’t let the yellow color scheme mislead you, okay. and while most of the time he’s depicted in fanon as “omg this family is crazy and i’m the only sane one,” it’s actually pretty much the opposite? if anything, i think the other batkids would be like “oh finally, someone who can match our level of chaotic energy. HEY DUKE WANNA BUNGEE JUMP OFF WAYNE TOWER—” and an hour later they’d all be in the batcave getting lectured by bruce for leading poor sweet innocent duke astray when really he was already planning on doing that this weekend.

listen, this is the kid who once jumped off a bridge to escape police. this is the dude who decided to fight criminals while they’re still eating their wheaties at 6am in a bright yellow suit. and while duke seems to be the best at following bruce’s command at the moment due to having been trained by him most recently compared to the others and is still figuring out how to be a hero, i’m positive that if bruce weren’t here to guide him, duke would be running around gotham taking down criminals anyway. i mean, he literally did do that with the “we are robin” kids. plus there was the whole thing when he was like ten years old and decided “i am going to singlehandedly stop the riddler in my light up sketchers and pikachu backpack. try and stop me.” 

duke is headstrong and has a strong drive toward heroism. he’s an extremely enthusiastic and passionate person in general, and i try to capture a little of that when i write him, even with mundane things like trying to beat his siblings to the last cupcake. 

2. another thing i noticed is that duke swears like a sailor in comics? seriously, this boy could give jason a run for his money with how many “@#!%” speech bubbles there are. i don’t know if this is just a trend the writers added in the comics i’ve read of him, or if it’s a genuine trait throughout every comic he’s in, but that’s something to make note of when writing dialogue for duke. after all, he did grow up in the narrows, so it makes sense that he’d use a lot of swearing and slang in his everyday vernacular.

3. i would also make a point of noting that duke is fairly young compared to the rest of the batfamily, being the second youngest after damian. duke is still a teenager in high school, and he acts like it. he’s got homework and friends and is eager to make a difference in gotham, trying to juggle everything and make it all work somehow. he’s stubborn and doesn’t give up easily, so it’s important to write him as someone who is trying to save the world while also struggling with finding time to study for his next math test. he's human. he doesn’t get to dedicate all of his time to fighting crime like cass or jason might be able to, since duke is still a mostly normal teenager with teenager problems.

4. and don’t forget that unlike the other batkids, duke still has two living parents. sure, they’re jokerized and might not ever be the same again, but they’re alive and that’s what holds him back from letting himself get as close to the waynes as he wants to. duke won’t be calling bruce “dad” anytime soon, and i think he’d have some internal struggle over stuff like holidays and birthdays with the waynes, remembering what his parents are missing out on and wondering if joining the wayne family is a betrayal to them. duke is very conflicted over this, even if he doesn’t say it directly. stuff like ducking out of movie night early or feeling a bittersweet pang during thanksgiving dinner makes sense for someone in his situation. 

(i usually ignore that aspect in my fics because i want duke to just be adopted and part of the family already, but not everyone does that, and that’s perfectly fine.)

5. honestly, duke is such a caring individual and we as a fandom need more of him being a shoulder for people to lean on because he’s?? so soft?? duke can be so sympathetic and rational when it comes to emotional problems. it seems like duke internalizes every bit of advice he gets from the people around him and uses it to inspire others and help them through their own problems. as tough and hotheaded as duke can sometimes be, he really is good when it comes to emotions.

6. duke is a smartass. he will 100% use sarcasm against any and every authority figure he meets, usually just for the hell of it. 

7. he’s very frank in general, usually the first to be like “okay full disclosure, we’re about to die right now. that sucks. anyway—” in a situation. he’s honest and tends to be upfront about his fears/anxieties, usually for comic relief, but i think it still counts.

8. okay i have to add that duke is also kind of a punk? he and jason have a lot in common because of this: they both grew up in one of gotham’s worse areas (jay in crime alley and duke in the narrows) and they’re both highkey deliquents. duke has no problem getting into fights or talking back to authority figures, and it’s gotten him in hot water on more than one occasion. it’s why he kept getting moved around the foster system before bruce took him in because no one wanted to keep him.

9. he’s also gotten so close with the other batkids and we love to see it!! duke calls cass “sis” and treats damian like the annoying little brother he never had and i adore every second of it. we haven’t gotten a lot of interactions between duke and the others aside from training and stuff, but he and jason have the whole “punk kid who got adopted by batman and is baffled by how rich people live” going for them, so they can bond over that. and duke is a thinker like tim, so they can hang out and do puzzles or play chess or whatever it is that smart people do. (and duke and steph are BESTIES i don’t care what anyone says.)

10. most of all, duke is still learning how the whole hero thing works. he’s young and he’s trying his best, but he also makes mistakes. he will be impulsive and screw up, and he’ll try and merge the lessons batman’s taught him and that his parents taught him and that other heroes teach him until it all makes sense in his own mind. duke isn’t experienced like dick or even damian, so he’s going to be lagging behind for a while until he grows until the role he’s made for himself.

other miscellaneous details to include: 

- duke is dating izzy, who used to be part of the “we are robin” gang with him - he used to live at the manor and now lives with his cousin jay, but honestly i just have him living at the manor in everything i write because i like it better that way - he can control shadows and light now! what a king! - duke secretly writes poetry and is good at creative writing in general  - this:

- duke is super smart?? he figured out that agent 37 was dick grayson without even trying?? i’m so proud of him - his biological father is this supervillain called gnomon so now duke has got four parents: his mom, his dad, his supervillain dad, and bruce (plus selina if you count her as the batkids’ stepmom, which i do) - jason calls him “narrows” and i love that

- and, lastly, the most important panel in the history of comics:

#this took so long to make #but i'm happy i did it #i love the chance to talk about my boy duke #lay it on me papa bob #batman #batfamily #batfam #duke thomas #dc signal #dc lark #we are robin #robin #batman and robin #batman and the signal #batman and the outsiders #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #black bat #orphan #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #batgirl #damian wayne #dc comics

[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

She-Ra movie where Catra just goes to therapy. that's it. that's the whole movie.

JHSBJHBNJHJNDNDN

this is not my best, but. here you go!

“Good morning, Catra!”

Catra doesn’t move from her position on the arm of Perfuma’s bench. “You’re late.”

Perfuma rolls her eyes. There are flower petals in her hair. “You’re early.”

“Time is relative, Flower Girl.”

She actually laughs at that and moves to sit down on the bench next to her, smoothing down her skirt. “Time is also a construct, but that might be a little too much for morning meditation.”

“I thought this was a therapy thing.”

“It can be a therapy thing if you want it to be.”

Catra huffs a laugh. “Do I want it to be? I mean, we haven’t exactly done much in these... things.”

“That’s because we’ve only done four of them, Catra.” Perfuma crosses her legs, settling her hands in her lap. “I’m working up to bigger things.”

“‘Bigger things’?”

“Bigger things,” she repeats serenely. Catra frowns into her lap.

Perfuma takes the silence as an opportunity to start humming, guiding flowers up from underneath the bench to wind through the slats and curl around her crossed legs. Catra shakes her head when the stems start to bend inquisitively towards her and forces her eyes shut. 

She pulls her tail into her lap (just in case Perfuma’s flowers decide to start winding up it) and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Are we just gonna sit here for an hour?”

Perfuma sighs loud enough for her to hear it. It’s not... directed at her (at least, that’s what she tells herself), because she never sighs at Catra, so she puts it down to a plant dying or something (which is literally the only reason she sighs now. She hopes) and keeps her eyes shut.

“Did I ever tell you about my first meeting with Scorpia?”

Catra opens an eye to level a Look at her. “No? Why is this relevant?”

Perfuma shrugs. “I thought you might like to hear it. It’s not a particularly soft or romantic story. It’s not what you’d think our first interaction would be like, looking at us now.”

“Um-”

“I know you’ve been worried about your relationship with Adora,” she tells her gently. “Did anything specific happen between you?”

Catra swallows and shoves down the ball of anxiety in her chest. 

The answer is... complicated. Technically nothing happened at all. Technically they’re still fine - still ridiculously, ecstatically in love, still disgusting the fuck out of anyone in a 10 mile radius. But Catra feels... off. Something’s off, and it’s probably her fault, and she feels... tense. Like she’s four seconds away from slipping up, from driving Adora away again, and Adora knows. (Maybe she wants her to drive her away, which is a stupid thought that makes no sense.)

“No,” she says, and Perfuma frowns at her.

“I don’t believe you.”

Catra shrugs, tugging her sleeve. It’s cold out.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I would not like to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to. But is it okay if I talk about myself and Scorpia?”

“... Yeah.”

She can feel Perfuma smiling. In the silence that hovers between them, she can feel Perfuma’s smile like sunshine on her skin. 

Connecting with people feels good, actually.

“Scorpia came into the war council room with Emily,” Perfuma begins, playing with the ends of her hair. “So of course our first response was to attack. We didn’t know why she was there, or why she had a Horde bot with her. We were scared. I... I didn’t know. I sensed there was more to it. She’s not an intentionally malicious person, you know. When she said she genuinely wanted to help us, I believed it.” She smiles. “I’m glad my first instinct was right.

“There’s more to the story than that, but she accidentally stung me whilst I was stood behind her. It hurt less than you might think, and the paralysis wore off quickly. She apologised. It was very sweet.”

Catra grins. “That sounds like Scorpia.”

Perfuma nods, almost to herself. “She didn’t mean to.” She turns to Catra, smiling gently. “Scorpia wouldn’t hurt anyone intentionally.”

She gives her a significant look. Catra stares back blankly. 

“Was there... a lesson or something?”

Perfuma laughs. “I was worried you thought you’d intentionally hurt Adora or something.”

And despite herself, Catra laughs to. “No, it’s not- that. It’s something different. I’m just paranoid. Don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to worry,” she tells her. “It’s what I do.”

“What, worry?”

She laughs again, and a flower grows up from behind the bench and settles between them. She plucks it off its stem as gently as she can and hands it to Catra, who takes it without a word. “Help.”

She stares at the flower in her hands for a moment. 

Silence again. 

“I.. I don’t know. I guess I’m just... scared.”

“Of what?” Perfuma prompts.

Catra swallows. “Of not being the person Adora wants me to be. Something’s felt... off recently. I feel like it’s my fault. I feel like it’s something to do with all these nightmares I’ve been having, or like I’m disappointing her, or something. I feel like it’s something to do with the fact that we don’t - talk - like we used to, because she’s spent so much time overworking herself and staying up writing reports or something and I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m not... good enough for her, y’know? I’m just so-”

Perfuma touches her wrist, and her voice falls away nothing. “Catra, all I want you to do for now is sit and breathe with me,” she says slowly, gently. “Do you remember those breathing exercises we practiced?”

Catra nods. 

She takes a breath in and Perfuma lets go of her, retreating back to her circle of flowers. Breathing exercises. Those. She remembers about two of them, but both of them seemed to involve exhaling and inhaling slowly, which is something she can do. 

(Maybe breathing works. Sometimes.)

And after ten minutes, Perfuma murmurs, “You’re not doing anything wrong. You have no reason to be worried. I know that doesn’t make anything any easier, but if you need direct reassurance, don’t be afraid to talk to Adora. She won’t be annoyed with you for talking to her.” She leans sideways again, shifting closer to Catra. “She loves you. And she’s struggling too.”

Catra pauses.

It isn’t... it isn’t some big new revelation. Perfuma knows exactly what she needs to hear - know she needs to verbalise what Catra understands.

Fuck.

“But- but I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m... I’m useless. I can’t- I can’t solve this.”

“You don’t have to. You just need to be there for her. Hold her when she needs it. Tell her you love her when she needs to hear it, and when she doesn’t. I can’t give specific advice to stop her from overworking herself, but I suggest you talk to Glimmer about lessening the amount of work she takes on. And try asking her to come back to bed, and help her with her work when you can sense she needs it.”

It’s vague, but... but Catra finds herself nodding, internalising the information, storing it away in her mind. 

“Okay,” she mumbles, and her voice comes out much smaller than she wanted it to. “Okay.”

Perfuma nods, smiling. “I hope it helps you to some degree. Relationships can be hard.”

She laughs, and the flower in her hand curls its petals inwards and out again. “Yeah. They can. Thank you. I don’t know, I just... needed to hear that. I know it already, but...”

“I understand,” she murmurs.

They fall silent again.

Catra smiles to herself.

#sep texxt #ask #meh-66 #writing #once again no idea what my tags were #sep's writing

[hlizr50]

Revelations

Chapter 1: This is Wrong

Hawke eavesdrops on the Duke's lessons with Poppy and realizes what is happening within the walls of castle Teerman

Read on AO3

Casteel… Hawke… stared at the door as it clicked closed, the Maiden having entered the Duke’s office.

“Penellaphe, I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” Duke Teerman always sounded so haughty and condescending.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I –“

The Duke cut her off, “Do you even know what you have done that has disappointed me?”

Was this why she and Tawny had been so apprehensive of the Duke’s summons? A scolding? A dressing down? It couldn’t have been just that, considering how Penellaphe had frozen before the door.

He took up a position not too close to seem suspicious to the two men standing guard. No matter. He was Atlantian, and even though he leaned against the wall a few feet from the door he could hear every word spoken in that office. He didn’t know what he should expect.

“I don’t. But I’m sure whatever it is, I’m at fault. You are never disappointed in me without cause.” Her words were measured. Careful. And careful wasn’t really her style.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be disappointed for no reason at all. But this time I find myself blindsided by what I have been told.”

Hawke had been her guard for barely a day, but he found it hard to believe that Penellaphe would have committed a crime so egregious to blindside the Duke. Although, if her escapade to the Red Pearl was any indication maybe she had.

“Remove your veil, Penellaphe. You do not want to test my patience.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we… we are not alone, and the Gods forbad me from showing my face.”

“The Gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings.”

They were not alone? His amber eyes narrowed slightly. Who else was there? Had he not experienced the meeting yesterday he would have also wondered why she was apparently hesitant to remove the veil. But he knew the Duke likely wanted to take the opportunity to comment on her scars.

“Lift your eyes.”

A pause.

“You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”  Hawke grimaced. His insides roiled at the thought of the Duke looking at her with those deep, empty eyes.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

The Duke made a cluck with his tongue. “Such a shame. What do you think Bran?”

It was Lord Brandole Mazeen, then. Gods above, what was he doing in there? His lust and depravity were well-known throughout Castle Teerman. The maids were often warned not to earn his attention, good or bad.

“As you said, such a shame.” The Lord answered.

“The other scars are easy to hide, but this? There will come a time where there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”

How many years had Penellaphe been here? How many times had the Teermans and their lackeys taken an opportunity to cut her with those words?

“Do you know what that new guard of hers said? He said she was beautiful. Half of her is truly stunning... You look so much like your mother.”

Hawke had said that. He meant it.

“You knew her?” Penellaphe gasped.

“I did. She was… special. You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise. Wouldn’t have spoken the truth. I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could have been far worse.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed. It was difficult to for him to keep his expression neutral as the Duke continued to berate her. So he kept his eyes down, studying the stone floor of the hallway. It had likely once been rough and uneven, but the years of scuffing boots had smoothed the cobbles to satin.

“You do have such pretty eyes… And a well-formed mouth. Most will find your body pleasing… For some men, those things will be enough.”

He didn’t like the way the Duke paused between his backhanded compliments. Was he looking at her? Touching her?

“Priestess Annalia came to see me this morning,” Duke Teerman paused, as if waiting for a response. “Do you not have anything to add?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Priestess Annalia would have to say. I saw her last a week ago in the second floor parlor and all seemed fine.” Penellaphe sounded confused.

“I’m sure it did, since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly. I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the priestesses.”

So… this was the crime? She hadn’t completed any of her needlework? Penellaphe had sounded confused, and Hawke had to admit that he was, as well. With all honesty and due respect (which was none, if he was being honest), who the fuck cared?

“My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite. I must have been daydreaming.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation I would have easily overlooked your poor conduct. But I’ve learned that you were just in the atrium.”

“Yes, I was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t go often, but –“ she was interrupted again.

“Spending time in the atrium is not the issue and you’re smart enough to know that. Don’t play coy with me. You were speaking with two of the ladies in wait. You know that is not allowed.”

She had barely spoken two sentences to them! Who had run so quickly to report her to the Duke for that? The ladies had been too busy trying to get Hawke’s attention. He grinned at that, recalling the spilled rhinestones and fainting young women. But Penellaphe, who was not to have any interaction with, well, anyone… she had been in the atrium before anyone was there. The ladies had chosen to sit at the same table. Was she just supposed to just stand up and leave?

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“Such a demure Maiden.” Lord Mazeen’s words dripped like acid against Hawke’s skin. He did not have to know the Lord well to know that he would get an inordinate amount of pleasure in killing him. He felt ill knowing that Penellaphe was alone in that room, with those two beasts.

“I’m sorry. I should have left when they entered, but I didn’t.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone apologize so much in his life. What had happened to the woman from the Red Pearl? That Penellaphe was so full of heart and fire. The girl on the other side of that door was…

Defeated.

“And why not?” The Duke prodded.

“I was… curious. They were talking about the upcoming Rite.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that. You were always an active child with a curious mind that flicked from one thing to the next: something I’ve warned the Duchess you wouldn’t grow out of easily. Priestess Annalia has also informed me that she fears your relationship with your lady’s maid has become far too familiar.”

Good Gods, how many imaginary transgressions could there be? How was she not supposed to be familiar with someone who had literally been tasked to be at her side at all times?

“Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else then I apologize.”

Hawke knew that had struck a nerve. Penellaphe and Tawny were close, and the Maiden was allowed so little in the way of… of anything that made life bearable.

“I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them. Not even those who are to become members of the court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were chosen by the Gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

He inwardly scoffed.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. You were chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been chosen by the Gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered. That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should have been the only lesson you ever needed,” Duke Teerman had a talent for cutting words, Hawke noted. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Annalia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, aaaaand the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement? You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.”

The Duke chuckled then. “The meeting would have ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan-“

“Rylan! His name is Rylan, not Ryan!”

There she was, that spirited woman that had so intrigued him.

“THERE it is! Not so demure now!” Lord Mazeen sounded… almost gleeful.

“You mean, his name was Rylan. And does it really matter? He was just a royal guard. He would have been honored that I even thought of him. Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently I’ve been too easy on you. Unfortunately, that means you require another lesson. Hopefully it will be your last, but somehow I doubt it.”

“Yes. Hopefully.”

Hawke sighed inwardly in relief. How long had been here listening to the Duke ramble on about imaginary transgressions and basic human interactions painted as crimes. They should be finished soon.

“I believe four lashes should suffice.”

He froze.

Lashes.

Hawke could barely breathe. This was no mere dressing down, no raised-voice scolding with some hurtful words.

“Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.” Gods, Penellaphe’s fire roared to life at the worst possible moment.

“How does seven sound? I see that number agrees with you. What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.”

This was no “lesson”.

“You know where to go,” the Duke directed.

This was abuse.

“You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Hawke strained to hear. It was far too quiet. The Duke was waiting for something. Could he hear the soft rustle of fabric? His restraint was thinning by the second.

This was torture.

“This is for your own good. This is a necessary lesson, Penellaphe, to ensure that you take your preparations seriously and are committed to them, so you do not dishonor the Gods.”

This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Brace yourself, Penellaphe.”

He heard the faint whistle… then a crack… it had to be a cane that the Duke was using on her.

A cane. Sweet merciless, sleeping Gods.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Two. Was this the fitting punishment for not touching her embroidery set? For speaking a word to a lady in wait who needed to be put in her place?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Three. Was this the fitting punishment for daring to have a friend? For not cowering when the Duke had hoped to humiliate her the day before?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Four. His eyes were wide, but when he looked to the guards at the door they avoided his questioning glare, acting blissfully unaware.

This… this travesty…

It was as if…

As if this happened all the time.

Swoosh. CRACK

Five. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was back there… in Carsadonia. In his cage. Made to bleed. Made to feed. Forced to take and be taken.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Six. The Blood Queen took pleasure from his pain. For decades. He couldn’t understand how any living being could be so monstrous.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Seven.

He let out an unsteady breath. It was over.

Penellaphe hadn’t made a sound.

How?

“I truly hope, Penellaphe, that this lesson… sinks in.”

His rage was white hot behind his eyes. He had to keep them closed. The guards would have been… disturbed… if they saw how they glowed with his ire.

Duke Teerman had signed his death warrant. And it was not going to be quick and painless.

Breathe. You have to breathe. You have to get ahold of yourself. This is not the time and place.

Hawke took a few measured breaths, and his heart began to slow. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d just witnessed.

The door clicked and his head whipped up, amber gaze falling on the veiled woman who gingerly pulled the door closed behind her. She looked up and saw him, and Hawke could see her entire body tense. He just stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze behind the veil. He could tell that she avoided it. Penellaphe then straightened slowly and did her best to walk toward him, past him, as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

Her breathing was labored and he could tell that every step she took caused her pain. He followed her down the hall, cursing to himself when the effort became too much for her and she started whimpering softly with each pace. They made it to the narrow spiral staircase that would lead them down to the main floor. He opened the door for her to enter, and she dared not look at him as she passed.

She was already attempting the first step, grunting with effort to lower her body down through clenched teeth, when he closed the door behind him.

“Penellaphe,” his voice was low. Cold. Raw.

She continued to work on the next step, acting oblivious to his call.

“Penellaphe.”

She stopped.

“How long?”

“What?” she tried to sound surprised, but he could only hear the pain lacing the word.

“How long. How long has the Duke been doing this to you?”

Silence. It hung heavy over him. He felt like he was being smothered, waiting for an answer that he knew would likely ruin him. He could hear her pain-laden breaths sawing in and out. It had taken such effort for her to go down two steps. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep, calming breath.

“Since Ian returned to the Capitol.”

Gods, why weren’t they somewhere with something he could break? Blood red rage roared in his blood. Hawke could feel himself trembling.

“That’s… that’s been years,” he whispered.

“It has.”

And then she began struggling down the steps again. As if that were the end of the conversation.

It wasn’t. Not even fucking close.

He practically leapt the three steps down to stand in front of her. “Is that all you have to say? Poppy this is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that.”

“Am I not? Do your friends know about this? How have your friends helped you?” Hawke spat, clenching his quaking fists at his side. “From what I can tell, I’m the only person who seems to give a flying fuck about what just happened. Tell me how that doesn’t qualify me as your friend.”

“There’s nothing that can be done to help,” she whispered and turned her head to the side, suddenly finding the stone wall quite interesting. He uttered a curse and reached for the chains that held the veil on top of her head.

“Take this Gods-damned thing off,” he growled as he pulled it away. He couldn’t stand trying to speak with her without seeing into her eyes, seeing her face. She was a person. Her emotions and expressions mattered. But she barely even flinched, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere near his boots. Her face was flushed and her eyes lined silver.

“Look at me.” When she made no move he reached her hand to her. He lightly traced his fingers over her left cheek down to her jaw, pulling gently so her face was lifted to him. “Please, Penellaphe. Look at me.” Her emerald gaze met his, shining with pain and sorrow and shame.

“I… I used to try. I used to do everything I thought I could to fix whatever it is that I’d done that had disappointed him,” she blinked, allowing a couple stray tears fall. “But it was never enough. No matter what I did, no matter how demure I was, no matter the eggshells I walked on and the dedication I tried to show… I realized eventually that my dedication was never the point. It was never about what I did or didn’t do. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. He would find anything-“

“Like not doing your fucking cross-stitch?”

She sucked in a breath and pulled away from his fingers. “How much did you hear?” the fire-haired beauty clasped her hands in front of her heart. He held onto her gaze and her eyes roared at him with hurt.

“Everything.”

She shuddered and bowed her head. Her hands trembled as she brought them up to cover her face. Hawke could feel humiliation rolling from her in waves and saw the tension in her shoulders. She was weeping before him.

“He will find anything that could possibly be an offense. He’s punished me for walking too quickly and breathing too loudly. And I have come to realize that… he only does it because he wants to hurt and humiliate me. He knows that his words make me flinch and his touch make me want to peel the skin from my body. And he relishes that. And I hate that he has that kind of power over me.”

Hawke’s ire sharpened into something cooler, more calculating and thoughtful. He had come to Masadonia to kidnap and ransom the Maiden, a symbol to all of Solis. He’d come to send a message using their precious prize, a privileged brat that was no better than those soulless creatures who had raised her.

He took a measured breath and ran a hand over his face in realization.

She was... innocent. She was a pawn, a possession. She was a victim, kept in a cage just as he had been, albeit far more gilded. And even though there was an illusion of life and choice, she was guilted, berated, and beaten into submission.

And Gods, she was still brave and vivacious enough to risk the Duke’s ire. Reckless enough to step into a brothel and send all of Hawke’s expectations straight to hell.

There is nothing that can be done to help.

There was. He could take her away from this. He had planned to do that, in a way, but now? How could he deliver her back to the Ascended knowing that this is what her life would be? And how could he convince her of the truth? She was smart, and Hawke knew that she didn’t agree with everything the Ascended ordained. Her reactions at the council meeting had been proof of that.

He reached out to her again, taking her hands in his and pulling them away from her tear-streaked cheeks. He stroked his thumbs over her knuckles and spoke her name to draw her gaze.

“This is wrong. You hold no shame in this. He has done this to you, and that is evil and terrible and monstrous. Tell me you realize that, Penellaphe,” he urged. She nodded softly. He gave an encouraging quirk of his lips and continued. “He does these things to make you feel weak and powerless, and you are neither of those things. He knows that you are curious and full of life, and he is afraid that you will be able to see past his façade and into his own weakness if he cannot keep you squashed under his heel.”

Hawke let go of her hands and gingerly held her face between them, using his thumbs to wipe away any remaining dampness that fell there. He looked down for a moment, and then brought his eyes back up, a burning golden stare.

“I need you to make me a promise, Penellaphe. Can you do that?”

“A promise?” she whispered.

“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll trust your instincts. Question everything. You are fierce and intelligent, so think about what they do and what they say. Think about it… you are the most important person in the entire kingdom. They should be worshipping at your feet, not taking a cane to your back,” he was afraid he’d said too much; pushed too hard. Would she be suspicious? Would she balk at his request? Her gaze was green as springtime, and her eyes stared into his, trying to process what he was saying.

“Can you promise me that?”

The knight endured her gaze for a few tense moments, her face still in his palms. She closed her eyes after a sigh and placed her hands over his, dipping her chin.

“I promise, Hawke.”

Thank the Gods.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and the Maiden inhaled sharply. Chuckling, he let her go and reached down to the discarded veil.

“I will make you a promise, as well,” he extended his hand with the soft fabric. She moved to grab it and he clenched her hand with both of his. Startled, she looked to him again.

“He will never hurt you again.”

She smiled wistfully then, and he could read in her expression that, as much as she wanted that to be true, she didn’t believe that anyone had that power. Then she pulled the veil from his hand and attempted the next step in front of her.

It would take forever to make it down the stairs.

“I have an idea,” Hawke smirked. “I think it will help. But you have to trust me.”

“I… I don’t trust you. Not when you have that look in your eye,” she laughed lightly.

“Here, if I squat down can you climb on my back?” he turned around on the step in front of her. He knew he was still much taller than she was, even on a step below. “It may be painful to get there, but if you can wrap your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my waist we could make it down much more quickly. And hopefully without too much strain on your back.”

Hawke felt a hand on her shoulder, but she hesitated. “That would be… incredibly inappropriate. What if someone sees?”

“You’re hurt. If someone opens one of the doors we’ll hear it and have enough time for me to set you down and throw that Gods-forsaken sheet over your head,” he scoffed over her shoulder. “Now wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll grab your legs when I stand up.”

He was surprised when she didn’t argue and her forearms crossed in front of him.

“Ready?” He asked, knowing the first time he lifted her up would probably cause her some pain.

“Yes.” Her grip tightened around him. She gasped into his shoulder as he stood straight, putting his hands under her thighs. He waited a moment, listening for her breath to even out as she adjusted to the soreness.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Hawke gave her legs a light squeeze. She nodded against his shoulder, and he started gingerly making his way down the stairs. He thanked the Gods that he was Atlantian, strong and light on his feet. He knew he could practically glide down without causing her any additional discomfort.

They reached the bottom landing and he gently set her down, heart constricting when he saw her wince as she slowly lowered her arms to her sides.

“Here,” he grabbed the veil from her hand and placed it over her head. He studied the tiny chains that were supposed to hold it in place, and he had to admit that he wasn’t sure what to do with those. A giggle escaped from behind the veil.

“Give me that,” she grabbed the chains. “It’s not far to my room. We should be able to make it there without it falling off.”

Hawke grinned and pulled open the door. “After you, Milady.”

They walked down the corridor slowly and silently. He would look down at her from time to time, wondering how she could possibly have the strength to be so spirited and brave knowing the consequences that could await her. What would the Duke do if he’d known about her little trip to the Red Pearl? He frowned to himself and looked forward. That had been reckless, but he understood her need for life. For freedom. She had wanted to experience things that everyone else in the world took for granted. They said she was Chosen, privileged. But she was also alone.

Well, no she wasn’t. Not anymore.

As they stopped in front of her door he turned to her. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Tawny gets an ointment from the healer. It will help, but I may not be… I may stay in my room for a while. But I heal pretty quickly, and this isn’t the worst I’ve had…”

The anger roiled through him as she trailed off. Of course it wasn’t. Of course seven lashes for not touching her embroidery set and her attitude hadn’t been the worst that he’d done to her.

“I… he…” he swallowed and took two deep breaths. “I’m going to calm myself so I don’t do anything reckless about what you just said.”

“I’m sorry,” she answered quietly.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Penellaphe. None of this is your fault. I am simply… staggered by his cruelty,” he managed a soft smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Get some rest.” Hawke reached down and squeezed her hand before he opened the door and motioned for her to go in. He began to close the door behind her when she stopped.

“Hawke?”

“Yes?” he answered, looking for her eyes behind the veil.

“You can… please, call me Poppy,” she gave a shy grin and shuffled into the room. He pushed the door closed behind her and leaned his forehead against the wood.

He was shaking.

Breathe, Hawke. Breathe.

His ragged breaths seethed out from between his teeth. In for four counts, out for four. In… out… in… out...

After what seemed like ages of breathing exercises he pushed away from the door and stalked down the hall.

He needed to think. And talk to Kieran. He would be none-too-thrilled at the change of plans.

But plans would change.

Duke Teerman would die.

They would have to find another way to get his brother back.

Because nobody was going to hurt Poppy again.

#FBAA #fbaa fanfic #poppycas #ao3 #fanfiction #poppy x casteel #poppy balfour #what if

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Hell's Studio fic idea: A pipe bursts and Sammy becomes a toon Imp like Snowflake and Bendy, and Joey doesn't know how to reverse it ASAP, so Sammy is stuck as a toon Imp and Sammy decides to hangout with Snowflake until Joey can reverse the ink's magic (Bonus points if: Sammy gets a uncontrollable stutter as a toon Imp, Susie cooing her small boyfriend, and Sammy drawing with snowflake)

I am So sorry that this took so freaking long, but here you go!

Wally slapped his forehead in exasperation as he heard the pipe bursting from the music department's break room. Then proceeded to go in there, with Snowflake following close behind just in case he needed someone small to check in any holes in the wall that the pipe made in the process.

The sight was familiar, but unwelcome to the pair; a pile of thick ink sliding down onto the floor through the broken pipe peeking through the ceiling. Snowflake was only thankful that it had spilled to the floor instead of the pool table.

“I’m startin' ta think dat eitheah we should completely tear down da music department to put in a betteah pipe system, or just stop fixin' the dang things so dat they at least stop surprisin' us."

The Janitor grumbled as he started mopping up the mess.

"A-at least nobody got caught in it this time."

As soon as Snowflake said that, something under the pile began to move.

“Mmmmh?"

"Yikes, spoke too soon, kiddo."

Wally stated calmly as he started to scrape the excess ink off of what looked exactly like Bendy, except the imp's tie lacked the fun patterns Bendy often wore, and more importantly, he was missing his mouth. So the obvious conclusion the pair made was: The ink ruined his tie by dying it black and also stole his mouth.

"M-mr. Bendy?! are you okay?!"

The formerly buried imp looked at the other one with a perplexed expression before mouthing something, realized that he wasn't saying anything, patting his face where his mouth should've been, and looking like he was about to panic.

"MMMMmmPPHH?! MMMH!! MMPHH!!!"

"Looks like the ink erased your pie hole, boss."

The imp rolled his eyes at stared at Wally in a very sarcastic manner before leaving the room, most likely to visit Joey about this issue.

"...Do you think he's not going to want to do that drawing lesson later?"

"What, Bendy? not want ta draw with ya overah somethin' like this? Nah. It's nothin' fun to wake up to, but I don't think it'll eat at him like it will if it happened ta Sammy."

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

"MmMMmMMM?!?! MMPHH!! MMMPPHHH!?"

Sammy hopped up and down while wildly gesturing to the blank white space on his face where his mouth was supposed to be while Joey flipped through heavily ink-stained spell books. Meanwhile, the real Bendy was still gawking at his doppelganger, still not quite sure whether he should feel flattered or offended that the ink pulled this on Sammy. But also not saying anything because he couldn't find any jokes to lighten the mood with.

It would be one thing if the ink also gave Sammy Bendy's trademark smile (that could make other expressions too). If it did that, Bendy would be making so many mirror and twin related jokes. But it didn't.

"It's going to be fine." Joey repeated almost more to himself than to the hopping mad imp. "Just because an ink flood took out some of my reversal spells, doesn't mean that you're going to be stuck like this forever. Best case scenario, it'll take a few hours for me to find the right one, worst case scenario I'm going to need to order a new book, and that might take a while."

"MMm MmhP?"

"I don't know how long! Some of these are the rarest on the market! Goodness knows how long it'll take to replace if it's ruined and has the correct cure in it..."

The music director let out a heavily muffled, frustrated sigh.

"Yes, I'm annoyed too." Joey sighed as well. "But at least it's not going to be forever."

'Easy for you to say.' Sammy thought to himself as trying and failing to talk was starting to hurt his jaw. 'You're not the one dealing with this! how am I supposed to do my job when I can't speak to anyone?!'

He must've been gesturing as he thought this as Joey snapped his fingers in realization and handed Sammy a notebook and a pencil.

"I know it won't help with the more vocal aspects of your job, but it's better than not having any way to communicate. And much easier than trying to learn sign language in less than a day and with only four digits on each hand."

He tried to write down 'Thanks Joey' but his hands refused to obey him. Confusingly, he instead drew a thumbs up.

"Why thank you! Glad to see that you're taking this better than expected Sammy. I'd better get to work on looking for that spell..."

As Joey left the room, Sammy frowned at the notebook, trying to figure out why he did that. Bendy also peeked at the drawing and felt something click.

"So..." the copied imp awkwardly tugged at his tie as he avoided making eye contact with Sammy. "Just outta curiosity sake, does Snowflake know about this? At least, the fact that it's well, you instead of me?"

Sammy gave Bendy a funny look but nodded anyway.

"Okay, follow up question: ...Is now a bad time to tell you that before you burst in here trying to tell us to fix this that Joey and I were arguing over whether I should go to this meeting with GENT or to give drawing lessons to Snowflake like I promised to, and literally right before you came in I said: 'Well dang it Joey if I could be in two places at once, I would!'?"

Sammy frowned as he saw the guilty yet pleading look in Bendy's eyes, calmly took the newspaper off of Joey's desk, rolled it up and smacked Bendy right upside the head.

"Hey! What gives?!" He sputtered as he rubbed the back of his head.

The Mute music director drew a series of pictures: Bendy putting something in the ink, the ink rising up and flashing him the 'ok' hand sign, Bendy giving it a thumbs up in return and leaving on his merry way, a shift in perspective revealing Sammy as a human having seen the interaction but shrugging it off, Sammy (still human) playing pool with Jack, Grant, and Johnny, the four of them having a good time, the ceiling above them creaking and rumbling ominously, making the four opt to leave, Sammy coming back into the pool room slightly later and keeping an eye on the ceiling, Sammy taking what he came back into the room for, the ceiling above him suddenly bursting and covering him with ink, and the last picture; a bunch of puzzle pieces being fit together, with the picture on the pieces being a lit light bulb.

After showing Bendy his work, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground.

"What?! You can't seriously blame me for- Okay, yes. I did kinda make a request... but I figured I'D be the one getting drenched! Not you!"

Sammy raised a single eyebrow as Bendy let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, if I knew that this was what would happen, I wouldn't have done it! But now that it's happened ...would ya help me out with this?"

Sammy's next drawing was his current form with an intentionally bad scribble of Bendy's mouth on the space where he was supposed to have a mouth to indicate it was (poorly) drawn on, and he was trying and failing to do Bendy's job for him as he couldn't speak.

"Of course I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities to make you pretending to be me look like an idiot in front of those big wigs at GENT. I mean, goodness, if this thing flops, who knows what'll happen."

The Musician then showed Bendy a drawing that was so horrible and cold that he wouldn't even dare grace it with a description.

"WHAT KINDA DEMON DO YOU THINK I AM, LAWRENCE?!" Bendy quieted down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it, Damned if I do the thing, damned if I don't do the other thing. I can't let down Snowflake, but if I'm not at that meeting, the studio's relationship with GENT could get bruised! This is why I tried this stunt in the first place!"

He sighed as Sammy just continued to tap his foot in annoyance. "Tell you what, help me and I'll give you anything you ask for! A raise, me not pranking you for a month, more paid vacation days, magic-repelling acetone, name it and it's yours!*"

*Within reason. I'm a demon not a miracle worker!

Sammy showed Bendy an intentionally shaky 'Ok' sign, the closest thing he could think of to a picture version of a hesitant and unwilling 'fine, I'll do it...'

"Oh Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Bendy practically crushed his doppelganger in a spine-breaking hug. "I really owe you this one Sammy!"

'I hope you realize how goddamned lucky you are that I like that kid.' Sammy thought to himself as he patted his double on the back. 'Otherwise I'd hang you out to dry for doing this...'

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

The music director had no interest in deceiving Snowflake; even if he wanted to follow Bendy's plan to the spirit of his deal, he knew too well that the studio and it's ink would always drag any secret up to the surface. So it would just be easier to come clean at the start before lies had the chance to spiral into something that could completely break the poor kid.

"Hi Mr. Bendy! Are you ready for our lesson?"

Sammy nodded, but gestured for his pupil to wait a second before he flipped through the pages of his sketchbook and showed him a series of pictures: some showing the origin of his new condition, and the others showing his deal with Bendy.

"Oh." The child imp seemed sad, and slightly disappointed, but also not surprised. "So Bendy couldn't make it today either..."

The older imp sympathetically patted Snowflake on the back and tried his best to draw out an explanation, but it's kind of hard to put 'He really did want to make it, in fact, he wanted to so much that he was willing to split himself in half for it! But as you can see, it kinda backfired...' into picture format, luckily he got the message across fairly well.

"I-it's okay, I understand. Thanks for filling in for him Mr. Lawrence!"

Snowflake pulled out his own notebook and pencils.

"Do you think you can show me how to do hands that well?"

Sammy eagerly nodded and flipped his book to a blank page.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #sammy lawrence #snowflake the demon #bendy the dancing demon #wally franks #joey drew #Hell's Studio AU #fanfic

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark? (10)- Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count- 2157

Warnings- swearing, that’s it I think

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Tony is waiting in the car with Happy after school on Monday. The paparazzi are loving it. They’re shouting both your’s and Tony’s name, trying to get pictures of the father/ daughter duo. You on the other hand are not loving it. Especially after he came home with a busted up Iron Man suit the other night, not willing to explain anything, and then left to spend almost the entire weekend at the Compound. “Why are you here?” You ask as you climb into the back seat.

“Oh I am great. It’s so good to see you too.” He ignores the question you ask and you roll your eyes. The mood he’s in reminds you of the person you met back when he told you you were moving in with him and you once again hate it.

“Fine, whatever, don’t explain anything. You’re shit at that too.” You pull out your phone, expecting Happy to start driving, but the car stays in one place. “Are we going?”

“Waiting on one more thing.” Tony says as Peter walks up to the car.

“Uh hi Mr. Stark, Y/N.” Your eyebrows furrow together as he gets into the car with you and your dad. “Thanks for the ride, but I really could have taken the subway to the lab.”

“I think he personally vendetta against the subway.” You say with another roll of your eyes. Peter smirks, remembering your conversation from the other day. You’re personally relieved that someone else is in the car so you don’t have to have an awkward ride with Tony, but at the same time, Tony and Peter- not quite the ride you wanted either.

“So how was MSST today?” Tony asks looking at both of you.

“The usual.” You reply, not wanting to give him anything.

“Pretty good.” Peter responds.

“How about German Y/N? Learn anything interesting today?” Oh he wants to play that game does he?

“I don’t know, how was Germany? See anything interesting there?” Peter looks at Mr. Stark over your head trying to figure out how much you know, but he gives Peter nothing.

“Just the usual Avenger stuff. But seeing as you seemed to have not gone to your lesson on Friday, I would think today would have been interesting.” So he knows you skipped, big deal. Instead of replying, you just shrug and put your attention on your phone. You can play the insolent teenager when you want to. “FRIDAY power off Y/N’s phone except for essential functions.” Your screen goes dark apart from your blood sugar readings.

“Really?” You meet his eyes. “You wanna do this now?”

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“No you’re trying to bring up stuff that happened while you were too busy off being an Avenger. Pepper already talked to me about it. Like family does.” It’s a low blow sure, but you’re feeling pissed off now. “But you would have known that if you hadn’t spent all weekend with your precious Avengers instead of at home with your family.” You spit the words at him.

“The Avengers are family.”

“Yours maybe. But you’ve been preaching at me about how you want to get to know me better. Then every chance you get you turn around and then leave. If you didn’t want me, you should have left me with Nana and Pops. Now you’re being rude to Peter. Talk to him. ‘Cause I’m done.” You cross your arms and won’t look at him.

“This is far from done.” Tony says. “You don’t get to throw at me that I don’t want you and then expect me to turn around and not to rebuttal it. Because that is the farthest thing from the truth.”

“Yeah? Because every time I call you, worried about you nonetheless, you tell me it’s not a good time or that you’re busy. You promise you’ll be home in twenty-four hours from a mission, then three days go by and I don’t even get a phone call telling me that something happened. I had to find out from other people, who won’t even tell me what happened. Then you come home in a busted up Iron Man suit, again won’t explain anything, but then turn around and spend the rest of the weekend at the Compound. That definitely screams that you want me. Shove me off on your girlfriend and your head of security. That doesn’t make me feel like I’m a burden to you at all. You won’t come to me unless I’m literally dying. Is that what needs to happen? I need to be actually dying to get the tiniest bit of attention? Because if that’s the case, being a Stark isn’t fucking worth it.” The words explode out of you and you can’t stop them. “You said you’re not the best at having a kid either, but you’re going to try your very best at it. This seems the farthest from that. And before you apologize for fucking up again, just know there’s only so many times you can say that before it loses it’s affect.”

Tony takes a breath before speaking, “you’re right. I did fuck up again. When you lay everything out, I’m doing a shit job again. But I promise you, you’re not a burden. You’re wanted in this family. I love you. Pep loves you. Happy, well I won’t speak for him, but I’m pretty sure he loves you too.”

“You’re loved kid.” Happy says from the front seat. “Sometimes more than the big guy. He just pays the bills.”

“Thanks Happy.” You didn’t mean to take your frustrations out on one of the people that has been here for you since all of this started. Peter notices the differences in how Happy acts with you, must be because you’re Tony’s kid.

“Definitely do not pull that dying stunt again because I have a heart condition and I can’t take seeing you in the med bay again. Ok? No you don’t have to be dying to get the little bit of attention, but Rhodey got badly injured.”

“Rhodey is injured? Is he ok?” You may have said the Avengers weren’t your family, but they are. And now you’re worried about your Uncle Rhodey- whoa where did that come from?

“He’s going to have to make some adjustments but he’s going to live. I was trying to make sure he was ok- or well trying to make him better than ok this weekend and I should have done a better job explaining that to you before I ran off. I’m still learning how to be a dad kiddo. And I’m going to break some eggs before I make an omelette.” Peter’s watching this interaction between you and your dad. It’s a whole different side to Mr. Stark. One who owns up to things when he’s done wrong but also wants to be better.

“Fine, but I better get an omelette in the end.” You say, only slightly kidding.

“You tell me what toppings you want and I’ll make sure you get it.” Tony says.

“Also give me my phone functions back,” You say before adding a please to the end.

“FRI turn her phone back on.” Tony says before adding, “You want to put some music on Y/N?”

“From my only subpar choices?” You tease him before asking FRIDAY to turn on your June playlist, even though the songs are getting a little old. But your top three playlists at the moment are June, I Hate My Life and Tony Stark Can Rot. The latter two you’re not going to ask FRIDAY to play in front of Peter, so June it is. House Of The Rising Sun by The Animals starts playing as Tony turns his attention towards Peter, who has fallen into the background as you and Tony had your argument.

“Sorry you had to witness that Mr. Parker, but as I mentioned to you in one of our other other conversations, she is very important to me, hence her education is very important to me. Can’t have her skipping class you know?”

“Of course not sir.” Peter’s eyebrows pull together and you stifle a laughter that is threatening to break free.

“Something funny kiddo?” Tony asks, eyeing you.

“Oh nothing. Social media. Yeet or be yeeted out there these days.”

“I think it’s actually yeet or be yoted.” Peter teases you.

“I disagree, good sir.” You tease back.

“I don’t know what this is that you’re talking about, but back to me.” Tony says from the other side of the car. “Now Peter, you’re a year ahead of Y/N correct?”

“Yes Mr. Stark.”

“Can you explain to her why science should be her favorite subject? Because I have tried a number of times and it has not hit home yet.”

“I uh- don’t think I can convince her of that.” Peter messes with the earbuds dangling from the neck of his shirt.

“You better be careful Dad, he might try to convince me to go to the dark side.”

“I’m sorry, the dark side?” Tony’s eyes go dark, staring Peter down, although he has no idea either where you’re going with this.

“Star Wars fan fiction. Super dark place.” You tease, not even looking up from your phone. “You should be proud, he offered and I said no. Can’t be going to the dark side at this point in time. What kind of legacy is that?”

“I swear I did no such thing. I actually said it would be no place for her, sir.” Peter throws his hands up. “I thought you were my friend Y/N. Friends don’t throw friends under buses like this.”

“I don’t think I like the two of you hanging out.” Your dad points a finger at the two of you.

“You wouldn’t take away one of the few friends I have would you?” You say looking at your dad with as close to puppy dog eyes as you can manage. 

“Fine, I surrender. You can stay friends with Mr. Parker for right now. But no more threatening to go to the dark side, of any kind.” You laugh and turn back to scrolling through your phone. 

You’ve scrolled Twitter and Instagram. You’re not going to risk Tumblr with Peter sitting next to you, so guess that means time to catch up on all your Snapchat streaks. Flipping over to the filters, you want to see what new ones there are today. The first couple have been there for the past few days, the puppy, the bear ears with glasses, and the heart ones. But then you spy one that makes you laugh. And it does say try it with friends. “Dad you have to try this with me.” You show him your screen as the Iron Man mask falls over your face and War Machine falls over his.

“No. I am Iron Man. Not Rhodey!” He practically shrieks. 

“What’s wrong with being Uncle Rhodey?” You ask, not realizing it’s the first time the words leave your mouth.

“Nothing is wrong with being him. I just look better in red and gold. Fix it.” 

“Download the app yourself. I have my own streaks to send.” You flip over to one of the other filters and your dad watches over your shoulder.

“No. Who are you sending that to?”

“Betty? We have a two hundred and thirty three day streak?” You explain.

“Pick a different filter.”

“Why?” 

“Because you look fine as you are. You don’t need all these beauty filters dressing you up.” Tony couldn’t voice that he didn’t like the fact that it was making you look way older than you needed to be.

“You’re overreacting. Peter, what do you think?” You show him the snap.

“Uh you look nice no matter what Y/N. But I think the Iron Man one is way cooler.” Peter says.

“Ugh you guys are the worst.” You retake the picture with the Iron Man filter and send it to Betty.

“Much better.” Your dad says. “Now how do I get a streak with you?”

“You aren’t cool enough to have a streak with me.” He places his hand over his heart. 

“Ouch you wound me so kiddo.”

“Right back at you.” You send pictures to your other streaks before you see a request for a new friend on Snapchat- peter_p has friended you. You hit accept and send him a similar Iron Man filtered pic. Peter surprises you with a pic of your dad with the War Machine filter over him that you screen grab before the time runs out. You set it as your dad’s caller ID photo, and can’t help when the giggle escapes your mouth. 

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks, trying to look at your phone.

“Nothing.” You and Peter both say, which definitely doesn’t convince Tony. 

“I’m never letting the two of you ride together again.”

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway  @iamaunicorn4704  @furiouspockettoad  @daughter-of-stark  @eternalharry  @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fan fic #Tony Stark #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter!you #happy hogan #Pepper Potts #peter parker imagine #imanativeofswlondondahling #becoming a stark?

[inventors-fair]

“Two Mechanics” Commentary: It All Comes Together

Well, this was a surprisingly popular contest. I know there was a fair bit of hype for it, but we got enough entries that I had to worry about shutting people out. That’s unusual to say the least, but quite pleasing to know that so many people are engaging.

I’m going to take a lesson and look at these from the lens of intention rather than explicit nit-pickiness. There will be a “nitpicks” part at the end, but that’s just for minor improvements if need be. I make small mistakes like that all the time, and if you wanna ignore that and focus on the commentary, feel free to do so. However, the nitpicks are reflections of polish. The extent to which something has nitpicks does affect judgement. 

Additionally! If you’re reading this, we’d like to know: do you read your own commentary, all the commentary, or do you skip it entirely? And if you’re skipping some or all of the commentary, what would help you engage with it? I would like to point out that reading the comments on everyone’s cards can potentially help with your own experimentation in the future and help with design choices. However, if that’s not what you’re after, we would like to know how to improve that experience.

Some cards are marked as “JUDGE PICKS,” which are cards that were close to being runners-up or winners but, for lack of space, are presented here as examples instead.

Let’s get to your wonderful blends.

@abzanhero — Herald of the Saviors (JUDGE PICK)

What I like: I really never expected to see Imprint and Fateful Hour on the same card together. I like how this is a strange, fragile tutor that can really improve the late-game if you adjust it just right, but in a build like Solemnity/Unlife Combo, this can be an insane win-con.

What we can improve: There’s not much to improve upon here. My two main issues are that 1) there’s an expectation that Fateful Hour cards have a smaller effect that’s improved by the hour (Gather the Townsfolk) although that’s not a requirement, I suppose, and 2) Imprint could have just been a search/exile clause, and there’s no real need for it to have that specific keyword. That said, there’s no reason that it couldn’t have it; it’s just minor flavor questions.

Nitpicks: “Fateful Hour” should be italicized. Mechanically, you need to point out that there needs to be “tokens that are a copy of a creature card exiled with Herald of the Saviors,” as the ETB trigger can be copied.

@aethernalstars — Collective Knowledge

What I like: Blue toolbox is a pretty fun archetype, and I do like that last option the best of all. It’s a pretty crazy mill strategy that can work really well with wheel effects. Spiral/Crypt builds could use this card for sure.

What we can improve: Without reminder text, anyone looking at this card without extensive rules knowledge would be absolutely lost. I get the vibe you were going for, but this card begs for reminder text. At uncommon, there’s no excuse for this many options without it. I understand that you might have been extremely cluttered for space with reminder text. In that case, that should have been a clue to go back to the drawing board. Flavorfully, I’m also getting major clashes between the two mechanics you’re using. Escalate is a vibrant, exciting feel of increasing public power. Cipher is a covert and subtle mechanic antithetical to Escalate’s vibrancy. I don’t understand what feel this card was going for at all.

Nitpicks: See notes about reminder text.

@askkrenko — Mocking Goblins

What I like: Goblin Diplomats comes to mind here. I can imagine that on the table in a 4-5 person commander game, this could get amazing in the late-game. Putting Overload on a permanent is actually pretty interesting, and I’m fairly certain that that actually works, right? I can’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t. Because of the multiplayer aspect I imagine that if this was drafted it would be in a Conspiracy-type set... Wow, yeah, this would be a fun limited card.

What we can improve: There’s not too much to improve here mechanically. I will say that the name and flavor text aren’t grabbing me at all. It’s been done before in similar ways, and heck, that’s fine for tropes. Just could have used some more spice.

Nitpicks: Definitely needed reminder text here, once again, as most non-evergreen mechanics do.

@bluebread-mage — Vorel, Rejected Strategist

What I like: I actually didn’t know Vorel’s full story, so I appreciate you adding that in there. It gives an interesting explanation of the mechanics you chose to use, and this is a slightly different version of +1/+1 counter interaction that I’ve seen around for contests like this, so kudos for that.

What we can improve: I won’t go ahead and say that this card straight up doesn’t work, but the hoops you have to jump through to make it actually do anything are difficult to say the least. So, you have Riot, and he gets a counter, and all your creatures gain evolve. Do you play a creature after that? Probably not if this is turn three. But then next turn... How do you get a counter on Vorel now? And if you do, without the means of a specific continuous counter generation like Forced Adaptation, you’d need to cast a spell to give him a counter, which means that you’re probably spending mana, which means you have less mana for a big creature, which means that the creature you DO cast probably won’t trigger evolve, and — do you see where I’m going with this? He’s asking for too many resources to make the effect worthwhile. I love the flavor idea. I love what you tried to do. It’s just not practical in gameplay terms.

Nitpicks: Your “evolve” reminder text should have been reworded to show what it would do for every creature; as it is, it would only do Vorel, which isn’t what your rules text says.

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion — Diabolic Seer

What I like: So, I was reading the text, and then I got to the last line, and I was really pleasantly surprised that you brought the exploit back around to add the flash clause. Pretty great name, too, if a little meta; if the cards you were riffing off didn’t exist already, it would be radical.

What we can improve: In short, this card is balanced, assuming that:

You’re not playing any sacrifice strategies in the two colors with the most sacrifice strategies.

You don’t have any other creatures to search up a recursive win condition.

In constructed, you’re not playing fetchlands.

You’re not searching up further answers after already searching up recursion.

...and that’s my main issue with this card. Repeatable tutoring is absolutely bonkers good in literally any format whatsoever. Four-mana repeatable tutoring is, to say the least, broken. And you’re potentionally giving it flash? That is, IMO, a break. Small personal notes: I don’t know why this card doesn’t have a subtype; and the flavor text is vague. I don’t understand the character’s goals, role, or place in the world.

Nitpicks: “...put it into your hand, then shuffle your library. Until your next turn, if a creature was exploited this turn, you may cast that card as though it had flash.” Additionally, I understand the artist is Nataša Ilinčić, but I had to go on a Google expedition for that. Anglicizing to “Natasa Ilincic” may have been a better choice.

For those interested, the artist is actually fantastic. Check ‘em out HERE.

@corporalotherbear — Underworld Escapist

What I like: “Spirit Rogue” is an interesting combo that I like. Gives some neat little feeling of why it’s an escapist, or at least it’s a complimentary type. I also enjoy the idea of the escape being an adventure flavorfully.

What we can improve: ...does this card work? SHOULD it work? So it goes on an adventure, you cast it normally, it dies, you cast it from your graveyard on an adventure, rinse and repeat. Okay, that’s probably what you were going for. In that case, my goodness, this needs to be rare. Nigh-infinite recursion that can make bodies is probably too powerful. Personally as well, I understand the Amass and the flavor text, but what does a rogue making an army have anything to do with escaping? And why would it be an escape if you can cast it from your hand first? I’m really iffy on the eventual flavor of it all.

Nitpicks: None, as I understand the comprehensive rules would need to either be rewritten or re-explored for the second side to work. Hm, but wouldn’t it be cool if it was “You may send ~ on an adventure from your graveyard.” But, again, that’s more of a hypothetical question than even a nitpick.

@dabudder — Davriel, Pact Breaker

What I like: Bringing back characters for further exploration is always fun. We got a couple cool folks from WAR, certainly, and it’s always a pleasant surprise.

What we can improve: I just straight up don’t like the gimmick at all. Planeswalkers shouldn’t even have gimmicks, IMO. The first ability is fine, I would respect that if the rest of the card was completely changed. Fateseal is an unfun mechanic that, on this card, you can activate easily. I don’t have much to say about this card because of how it’s based in unfun gimmicks. I read through the wiki to get an idea of what Davriel’s like, and while I do appreciate how you tried to capture a lot of complexity in a single card, this isn’t it. I feel you’re trying to tell a massive story in a way that it doesn’t need to be told.

Nitpicks: Make sure you change your rarity, which I will assume was a mistake.

@deafeningsandwichpeach — Tempting Angel

What I like: Well, this card is weird. And I need to clarify, this is in the “What I like” section because I do like weird. It’s not broken, which is fine. Wow, though, the... Exile then Show and Tell and all? On a 9/9 flier? This card would destroy some games, and I could see it being a cube all-star and a crazy commander blink monstrosity. Once this hits the board, it needs to be removed IMMEDIATELY. Oh, and then... Containment Priest nonsense. Man, this could be a wacky card.

What we can improve: I will say, that a 9/9 body may be way too big. A six-mana 6/6 may have been more appropriate, and more balanced. In the late-game, if your opponent doesn’t have great draws, they’d probably be out of a card to put onto the battlefield. I have the feeling this couldn’t be a draftable card for that reason alone... Eh, maybe I’m just paranoid.

Nitpicks: Flying and Convoke need to be separated by a comma, not a semicolon. I think the same can be said for “permanent” and “then” in the second line.

@dimestoretajic — Gruul Rampager

What I like: That flavor text is friggin’ phenomenal, man. It’s a Gruul feel, it’s an orc feel, it’s a berserker feel. You captured an uncommon feel as well, too. I like how it’s a little more red than green, even though the two are definitely in good alignment with each other.

What we can improve: +1/+1 counters and -1/-1 counters should not go on the same card. Full stop. I know it’s mechanically cute, and I’ll be honest, I like how they work on this card. But it’s one of those Magic rules to avoid confusion and to stop weird triggers. The game can handle it, but it’s not fun to figure out. There’s acceptable weirdness and then there’s just inherent guidelines.

Nitpicks: Why does this card have a color indicator? Also, you misspelled “Berserker” in the typeline.

@evscfa1 — Burning Trails (JUDGE PICK)

What I like: This is a very difficult card to judge. Searching up two lands is powerful, but there are more efficient ways to do it eternally, so this card itself isn’t broken. Jund Lands and Gruul Ramp love it absolutely. I’m thinking of this in commander because, well, there’s no other reason for a rare ramp spell like this. I’d hate to open this in draft...or would I? Slightly different/better/multicolored Cultivate isn’t the worst thing in the world, possibly. This card is making me think. The versatility is pretty interesting as well, and I can see where land-matters cards would like it.

What we can improve: I’m really torn on whether or not this card needs both kinds of recursion, because as interesting as it is, my gut really isn’t understanding why they both NEED to be there. Is there an interaction I’m not seeing? I don’t think so, I think it’s just different recursion, and yeah, there’s lands-in-hand-for-retrace, plus the sacrifice to filter, but that’s just efficiency, not necessarily synergy. Honestly, this could also be an uncommon for that cost, I think. It would be a powerful-as-all-getout uncommon, but it just doesn’t feel rare to me in terms of crazy power level.

Nitpicks: None.

@forteleijon — Cordeceyp Crawler

What I like: Well, besides your lovely photograph, I think that the mechanics you chose work well flavorfully. A mutating fungus that can crawl out of the grave is pretty cool!

What we can improve: Firstly, if you can, I would highly recommend downloading Magic Set Editor for complex cards like this. Secondly, did you forget the escape cost about exiling cards from your graveyard? Otherwise, you can just cast this from your graveyard every turn without restrictions like Gravecrawler. I mean, this card isn’t Hogaak, but still. That probably wasn’t your intention, but once again, we come to reminder text. Rare cards sometimes eschew reminder text in complex sets, but mechanics like Mutate demand reminder text through and through. 

Nitpicks: Since “escape” is a verb on almost every creature card that uses it, the last ability can say “You may have Cordeceyp Crawler escape mutated onto target creature you control” as opposed to a trigger. Additionally, is that a misspelling of “Cordeceyp?”

@fractured-infinity — Emmara, Voice of the Conclave

What I like: I’m sort of content with the fact that Emmara is everyone’s Selesnya favorite. In terms of this card, I think that you chose two good mechanics to represent her and her guild. PT checks out, mana cost checks out, wording all checks out.

What we can improve: ...but she doesn’t do anything by herself, and that feels a little frustrating to me as a rare card. There’s nothing inherently or objectively wrong with this design, and there are plenty of proliferate cards that just proliferate by themselves. I would much rather have had a rare card that did at least something to make those abilities better. What if she made a token upon entering or placed a counter or something? I dunno, I’m just iffy on her power on the board.

Nitpicks: The word “Populate” you put in the reminder text should be lowercase.

@gollumni — Danz, Ascenscion Assistant

What I like: “Demon Noble” is a great typeline. I can see how this would make politics very, very complicated. Do you want to build around having no cards in hand and perhaps using the graveyard as a resource? You can discourage people from attacking and make political blocks as well. This is a very political card!

What we can improve: I can’t think of any specific improvements to this card. I think that it’s one of those cards where you yourself don’t want to be the monarch, and that’s a complex idea that I don’t know will always work out well in a draft environment like this may be intender to supplement. After all, 99% of limited games are won through combat damage. Such is fate. I think for this particular contest, I’m a little saddened that Partner doesn’t really...do anything. This contest was supposed to be about two mechanics interacting, y’know? And Partner is a mechanic that doesn’t really interact with any other on-card mechanic in the same way that our winners did.

Nitpicks: “Ascension” is misspelled in the name.

@greensunzenith — Eversworn Tombguard

What I like: Hell yeah, this card is cool. A knight sent to protect a grave or graveyard? Well, it’s not mechanically tied to your graveyard, but maybe it’s a burial site! I see that Orzhov symbol in the background. Interesting, how they might be using new techniques to protect themselves on a new Ravnica. This is an amazing draft card with possible constructed potential. I’m a big fan.

What we can improve: Besides the eternalization being a Bolas mechanic, I feel that, unfortunately, this is one of those cards where the Afterlife mechanic would be better being a different one, or no mechanic at all. Of course, that’s not your fault, and this contest asked for it. If you’re saving this card for a cube or a custom set, I would replace Afterlife with just a death trigger. Maybe it would read better, if you want to keep Afterlife, as “Eversworn Tombguard has afterlife X, where X is its power.”

Nitpicks: None.

@haru-n-harkel — Wistar, Lab Rat

What I like: I was absolutely not expecting a multicolored adventure or even an off-colored adventure. This poor ratty is going off and learning about everything, and then they come back and distribute their knowledge. So strange! Adventures are interesting cards for sure. I’ll have to find the download for that, because I just scoured my MSE and I can’t seem to find it. And you know what, I was going to gripe about keyword counters technically not being a “””new mechanic””” but whatever, that’s a personal interpretation that doesn’t change the fact that this is a fine card.

What we can improve: Is this supposed to be on Eldraine? I don’t really understand why this card is black at all. What lab are they supposed to be in? I see “lab” and I think “Innistrad” but that’s bias... What does research have to do with returning a creature? Are scientists clerics? ARE they a scientist? The gist of what I’m getting at is that this card has a couple cool mechanical ideas but I have no idea what it’s really supposed to represent. I don’t get a sense of place or strong meaning from this card.

Nitpicks: It’s hard to tell the difference between abilities in the main body; another indentation might fix that, or it may just be too much text. And also... This is the pettiest, most useless nitpick I’ve ever given, but your set symbol in this specific frame is really hard to distinguish. I would futz around with it for a bit.

@hiygamer — Woven Repetition

What I like: I can see how you got clever with this one. The splice and the rebound make for some interesting combinations. The cost is probably appropriate, if a bit high. You’d want to make some really carefully calculated decisions, unless you’re just pitching lands, to give that big spell rebound.

What we can improve: Rebound absolutely needs reminder text. Someone opens this in a booster pack and it’s going to be a head-scratcher for sure. I’m glad that it works (Thanks, Cast Through Time!) because I almost thought that it didn’t, but man, a lot of players will be confused with this at common. That’s the major issue; was that a misclick or something? This is most definitely an uncommon or rare card for complexity alone. Personally, I think that it would be best to also only exile one card, and you know what, this really could be mono-blue. What’s the white in it?

Nitpicks: None.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Steam Blast

What I like: Yup, that is indeed someone getting blasted by steam. It’s a solid bounce card that feels both Izzet-y and could see play on any other world. It’s a powerful spell in the UR archetype that could see plenty of nice draft play. The consensus is that the replicate will indeed see the entwined-ness. Hm, will it see more than one mode? Complex ideas at play here!

What we can improve: I know you have a style to maintain, but modal spells are significantly improved by the bullet points, and this card is hard to parse. As a rare, while complex, it’s a lot of colors to invest in a removal spell. Fine for an archetype, but I suppose that’s the nature of replicate. I don’t know, this card just doesn’t grab me. Maybe it’s the name, maybe it’s the nature of rare removal. There’s nothing inherently ‘wrong’ with it, though.

Nitpicks: None.

@ignorantturtlegaming — Heartwarming Reunion

What I like: This is indeed a feel. You chose a good image and flavorful bond for this card. With a few tweaks, this could actually be a really powerful GW archetype card with some great draft implications and enchantment synergies.

What we can improve: There are a few things to work on with this card.

The name “Heartwarming Reunion” implies a moment that would best be represented on an instant/sorcery card. I’m thrown off by its continuous nature.

Soulbond doesn’t affect how a creature is cast. “Nontoken creatures you control have soulbond” and it would affect them like Rhythm of the Wild. 

What does bolstering have to do with being a reunion? A relationship I can see but there’s a massive flavor disconnect. Also, it should be “paired creatures” and not “creature pairs.”

I understand what the flavor text is trying to do, but it bunches up the text above it and also doesn’t say anything that the name hasn’t told us already.

In short, there a few great ideas but they’re stuck between a couple of stumbling blocks.

Nitpicks: The last ability should be shortened to “Paired creatures you control have lifelink and vigilance.”

@joecurryat — Forsaken Devotee

What I like: I remember seeing that art a little while back, the Eldrazified Vampire. I loved Innistrad’s art direction. Anywho, though. I think that indeed Monstrosity is a fine enough mechanic for the Eldrazi. 

What we can improve: See above comments about reminder text. The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that it’s a human cleric. Even excusing the vampiric origins of the art, why is it becoming monstrous? It feels like there’s a disconnect between what the card wants to be and what it is. Annihilator was certainly...a choice. If you play this on turn 5-6 and monstrosify it on turn 7, you get a 9/9 lifelink with annihilator. The desire for powerful cards is strong, but annihilator isn’t fun, was never fun, and needs a major overhaul to be fun again. This card just isn’t it. Additionally, and this is more polish, but what on earth is that flavor text trying to say? Who’s saying that? Who is them? If it’s that hard to parse, it’s even harder for it to add meaning to the card.

Nitpicks: “has,” not “gains.”

@kavinika — Undercity Thug

What I like: The Ravnican (I’m assuming) undercity is a fantastic place for all sorts of mercenaries. The name’s not going to win any awards, but it gets the job done in a cool and flavorful way. That’s a very strong exploit ability, and would almost be first-pickable in a lot of drafts. The extra potential removal makes this formidable.

What we can improve: See notes about reminder text. When looking at this contest, we were hoping that there would be instances where the two mechanics compliment each other. This is the second revolt/exploit combo of this contest, and I’m a little frustrated that they don’t have any meaningful interaction. Sure, they both involve potential permanents leaving the battlefield in different roundabout ways, but it’s not attacking on the same turn that it’s exploiting a creature. The distance just isn’t working.

I usually don’t comment on this, because I respect the fact that we’re not professional writers, but that flavor text needs serious revision. An active antagonistic oppressor is fine in a game about conflict. The language is... Well, it needs revision.

Nitpicks: None.

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Ceaseless Soul-chief. (JUDGE PICK)

What I like: “Orc Spirit Warrior.” Hell. Yes. It’s a big smasher, a big finisher, an anthem, a warlord, and they’re so full of souls and anger that they’ll return even stronger than before. I want to draft this card, I want to build casually with this card, and I want to see a world in which this card can come back strong again and again. 

What we can improve: I can’t think of any significant improvements. I will say that it might have been better, unfortunately, if this card was not a spirit. I can make my personal justifications however I want and I may love it, but ghosts probably shouldn’t have other ghosts in them.

Nitpicks: “Chief” definitely needs to be capitalized.

@machine-elf-paladin — Legacy Forger (JUDGE PICK)

What I like: The name actually captured me. it’s a great warrior name for sure. Mentor and Renown are two +1/+1 counter mechanics that don’t necessarily have amazing synergy, but you made them work here. This is a powerful combat tool, great use of mentor in green, and makes combat complicated for your opponents. Really awesome use of just using keywords to get your point across! Simple and effective.

What we can improve: The flavor text could use some clarification. Reads a bit clunky.

Nitpicks: Are you using MSE M15 Mainframe? If not, I would recommend it so you can get the flavor bar in and space out the words more.

@misterstingyjack — Promenade Parade (JUDGE PICK)

What I like: You can be aggro in a pinch, or you can wait and go a little wider, and even pick up a better token in a pinch! This is a pretty cool card that makes fantastic use of Ascend to bring across a flavorful card. “If you have the city’s blessing, the city grows with citizens.” Like — that’s so awesome?? I loved how you made a really surprisingly happy card in the aftermath of an otherwise dark event. And heck, it’s not a bad card either.

What we can improve: The only real “issue” that’s not even an issue is the flavor text and the name/flavor combo. The flavor text itself is in “gets the job done” territory, which you know what, that’s fine, they don’t all have to be Hemmingway. But I would also assume a Parade would be, like, a bigger event, and you could get a lot of people there. Right? Am I going crazy? This is a serious reach, so don’t take this as a design critique per se. All polish and pedantry. You did good.

Nitpicks: None.

@morbidlyqueerious — Swarming Platoons

What I like: I had to read this a fair bit to really get what was going on here. This is actually really complex, and I like the implications of what’s going on! You can get a 4/4, a 2/2 and two 1/1s, or two 2/2s. Like, that’s a lot of options in two words and two numbers! I think that I actually like the mechanics of this card a lot more than I had upon originally considering it. That text would make for a really great sort of Modern Horizons-y card.

What we can improve: I’m really lost as to how you decided to place this card in the universe. Servos are artificially created inventions, sure, so...are they natural now? Is that how Kaladesh is evolving, per your flavor text? Why is it offering answers? I don’t really see the question. You’ve made it a construct, and yet calling it nature. And the name “Platoon” is a soldier-y thing, and doesn’t convey an insectile invention feel. In short, fantastic mechanics, flavor is all over the place and confusing.

Nitpicks: “Platoon” also doesn’t need to be pluralized. 

@naban-dean-of-irritation — Starforged Legion

What I like: That’s a badass name, so that’s a great start. I’m amazed that that second ability is only a single sentence that I actually can’t find any flaws with, so that’s impressive to say the least. I assume this is sort of Theros-based? “Starforged” seems to imply that, but you know what, even though I can’t place it, this card makes me want to learn more about the world. That’s a point in its favor.

What we can improve: I don’t think there’s much to improve aside from the fact that it’s narrow. Incredibly narrow. Unfathomably narrow. Seriously, getting this card to work at all is an absolute mess of mana. Many players would love it, and I mean, fifteen mana for thirty power across six creatures would be pretty cool! But god, the effort that would have to go into making this really work and live the dream... Maybe it’s okay, you know? It’ll never see any play outside of someone’s five-color kitchen sink mess-around-and-find-out deck, but... Shoot, y’know, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Can’t call it a winner, but it’s a winner in my heart.

Nitpicks: None.

@nine-effing-hells — Arcanist of Ulamog.

What I like: I will definitely admit that I did not expect devoid to show up again. I also did not expect a processor wizard. You know, this card has some interesting multiplayer aspects. Your opponents also have flashback, but that flashback can be used for your own cards to copy, and... Heh. This is a cute idea with some technical interaction that I like a lot.

What we can improve: This card is also basically unplayable without dampers. Giving all cards flashback? Unless you have Leyline of the Void, Drannith Magistrate, etc, but in limited, that’s going to backfire like nobody’s business. And if your OPPONENT has either one of those cards, good lord... Yeah, this feels like a crazy bas time for you the controller. Sure you get a 4/4 for four out of it, but I don’t think that’s enough to combat the amount of crazy flashback you’ll be getting to oppose your plans. Could be fun in multiplayer though.

Nitpicks: That wording on the second ability seems correct. Someone smarter than me might find something wrong with it. Worth checking a rules guru.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Pharika’s Forgotten

What I like: Using dredge was a bold, bold choice. Despite it being a broken mechanic, the fact is that in a vacuum this card could work really well. I think in limited there could be some fun graveyard shenanigans for eventually getting this card back or for using other resources from your graveyard. Honestly, this card is not top-tier, and it has to be that way, because otherwise whoo boy that would be a mess. No, it’s middle-of-the-road, pretty natural, pretty great, pretty synergistic, and not the worst it could have been for using a still-broken mechanic.

What we can improve: I don’t think there’s much that needs to be improved, even though this didn’t really grab me by the throat and make me build around it. I’ve never been one for reckless self-mill but I love mill as a strategy. Who am I kidding, this card’s probably fine. Would make for an INSANE cube uncommon.

Nitpicks: 1). “...mill three CARDS.” 2) Missing two closed parentheses. 3) Needs an emdash after Escape and no space between the dash and the mana cost. 4) “Exile” should be capitalized. And the fifth you already knew about, so don’t worry too much.

@rasputin-gold — Resonant Call

What I like: This card caused a lot of potential discussion in the chat. The ruling is something completely unusual and would have to have a lot of crazy stuff following it in the comprehensive rules. In general, the consensus was that it worked, and it would have a lot of statistics around it that people would talk about. Interesting cost, interesting wording, and the name is actually kind of weirdly nice.

What we can improve: And this card is unfathomably broken. If you have four copies of a card you haven’t drawn, and you’re going first, and you put a single counter on Resonant Call to name something, assuming 51 cards left in your library, what is the probability that you hit the named card? ... I don’t know my math that well, but in limited, if you have a single card you haven’t drawn that you’d like to cast for free, you have a little over a 60% chance of hitting that card. For a common, this is insane and build-around-able for cheating out literally anything you want faster than most any other card. And that’s pretty busted. I don’t think this concept is salvageable. It’s just too risky. Also, see notes on reminder text. 

Nitpicks: Not a critique, but is that a flea in the art?

@real-aspen-hours — Seedsower Oke

What I like: This card is pretty delightful. They’re a druid, a tree, and they make little tree babies. What’s not to love? Convoke is a fantastic mechanic, EVOKE is a fantastic mechanic, and this card could be used for a variety of getting things on and off the battlefield. It’s a card I’d love to see in limited and I think for a very casual commander audience it could work well too. I don’t think that conceptually there’s much to improve upon with this card. It’s got a great feel and I like who they are.

What we can improve: I feel that you could really have made this a 4/4 or even a 4/5. It deserves better stats for a big tree boy! That’s all, just one degree more of pushing to really make him good.

Nitpicks: Evoke should always be the last ability on a card.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Zataz, Renegade Researcher

What I like: I’m going to assume that there are some three-color counter cards in this archetype that you’re envisioning? Or at least, three-color draft support. It’s pretty reminiscent of Master Biomancer, actually. That’s not a bad thing, because that card was great, and as a three-color legend that makes artifact dudes this card is pretty great too. I would have to see a lot of support to make him work in a draft, but 100% he would be an awesome counter-based commander.

What we can improve: There aren’t any major gripes with this card. He does feel...busy. Maybe it’s the frame, maybe it’s the nameline. But I’m seriously questioning “Vedalken Elf” Those are two majorly separate species that aren’t connected in any significant way, and maybe you’re going for a Simic kind of blend but honestly, it’s far more confusing than innovative.  

Nitpicks: Perhaps you could have just said “Zataz’s power” instead of the full name. Wouldn’t have made a huge difference, but.

@shakeszx — Recurring All

What I like: Two-mana 3/3s are a big risk. Aggressive greenery is pretty standard for the archetype and often shows up in competitive aggro builds, so I appreciate you channeling this. Cute name, too! 

What we can improve: I’ve already talked about +1/+1 and -1/-1 counters, and again, it’s cute how you’re making them work here, with the evolve and all, but they just don’t belong. Maybe it’s just me but I also don’t understand the flavor text at all. Do the Golgari have an ooze issue? I thought they liked oozes. Slime Molding says otherwise. Boros would have made sense, perhaps Azorius. Not Golgari.

Nitpicks: Use shift+enter to separate quotes and attribution in your flavor text on MSE.

@snugz — Roar of Revival

What I like: Confession: I never played Battlebond and don’t like team Magic at all. So, forget all that, let’s talk about it from the perspective of someone who DOES like that sort of stuff! This card is invaluable. A big win, pulling life out of your butt and going crazy. Big life gain isn’t my favorite thing either, but you managed to make it new and improved and flavorful and interesting and gave it camaraderie. 

What we can improve: I don’t really have any major improvements for this one. It’s everything that a lifegain spell can be. I think my only caution is that, well, this only really works in 2HG. You gotta target two players, and in commander, that other big multiplayer format, this card is useless. Actually, in basically any other format this card is useless. Unless you want to play Tainted Remedy combo. ... Hmmm...

Nitpicks: This card might read better as “Each of up to two target players gain X life.” Or, if you wanna keep 2HG stuff, “Two target players each gain X life.” Also, have you considered reinstalling to the newest MSE? You don’t have to, you just seem like someone who could really push that stuff to its full potential.

@somethingtothatextent — Expansive Growth.

What I like: It’s an interesting use of cost mechanics. Overload necessarily costs more, but Convoke helps it cost less. I like that balance! The method of making rare cards feel rare and making their effects seem awesome isn’t always easy to do. I think that you dipped into some nice territory here.

What we can improve: Firstly, the name doesn’t feel as expressively creative as it could be. Without even a little context, the complex/unique mechanics lose a bit of touch. Mechanics are more important though, and I think that the way you were forced to make this mechanic happen resulted in the wording being really clunky.

Now, I do have a potential solution: Imagine a card with: “Put a +1/+1 counter on target creature you control, then you may double the number of +1/+1 counters on target creature you control.” So the spell now can give a counter and potentially double another creature, OR you can go ham with it like your costs want to. Does that make sense? I want to play with this card for sure. It’s good! It’s straight up a good card! Just needs world placement and some wording adjustment.

Nitpicks: None.

@sorustyitshines — Phagus, Eater of Worlds

What I like: Mythic dragons are always a smash and a hit. The devouring of historical permanents combines with the flavor text in such a way that actually makes the flavor text kind of moot. Like, it’s eating history! That’s pretty great! Hardcasting this card will always make for some groans, but the reduction gives it an appropriately mythic status. I think that it’s really powerful as hell, but it’s not unbalanced, I don’t think.

What we can improve: Really, the only major improvement is the name and the mechanical link. “Eater of Worlds” has been done in a lot of IPs. It’s cute, but. Mechanically, I feel disconnected between the cost reduction and the devour. Both of them have an interesting flavor link, I’ll give you that. They just don’t have anything to do with each other, and you’re building effectively two different decks. The things you might sacrifice to Phagus aren’t going to help you cast it again, right?

Nitpicks: “Haste” should be lowercase. The ellipses in your flavor text should be a comma and the period after “all” could possibly be a colon. Or, tbh, this card would be fine without it. That’s a lot of text. Also, I’m curious as to why you need “historic permanents” (which should be “historic permanent CARDS”) instead of just regular historic cards. The card’s already hinted at the fact that it can eat concepts.

@starch255 — Frantic Recruiter

What I like: Replicate now can indeed work with casting permanent spells, so kudos for that. I just had to look up casting and copying and the comprehensive rules for how replicate and rebound work, and as far as I can tell, yeah, this works exactly how it should! I feel the kinda Boros vibe throughout this, and casting from exile with a bunch of tokens, well, yeah, that can be pretty gnarly. A bunch of 1/1s are interesting. What you’ve done is effectively made a RW Reclaim the Wastes that can be doubled. And... You know, I wanna build with it, so that’s cool. Rally the Peasants forreal.

What we can improve: See notes about reminder text. This card is super confusing without it. If you had printed the reminder text I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have needed to look up all that other stuff, harrumph. (I probably would have anyway.) In all seriousness, all my notes about reminder text are here to express that complex ideas need space and you can’t ignore that it’s a necessity especially for ideas like this.

Nitpicks: *GAIN haste UNTIL END OF turn, not “have haste this turn.”

@thedirtside — Lunch Break

What I like: This was one of the most popular and loved cards in the mod channel, so take some kudos there. We loved it. “I’m gonna exert myself and get some food. Y’all can wait for me.” It’s pretty obviously silly, and that’s honestly great. I’ll be honest, silly cards like that outside silver-border rarely win contests, but they’re good for a laugh as long as they’re good.

What we can improve: The first iterations that you submitted, however, were a lot better in my opinion. There’s no reason for this card to be an instant, right? If you’re doing this during a declare attackers phase, that’s not going to change much from if you were to do it during your precombat main phase. Also, the wording really got messed up. I feel that you could have spent more time on flavor text as well. The card’s feeling is great up until then.

Nitpicks: So, a revised card would be a sorcert that reads. “Whenever a creature you control attacks this turn, you may exert it. If you do, it gets +1/+1 until end of turn and you create a Food token. (An exerted creature won’t untap during its controller’s next untap step.)”

@walker-of-the-yellow-path — Spellchaser Hound

What I like: Doggies! Yeah, I don’t even need to see the good boy to know I love him. Mutate feels fresh and funky, the counters are reminiscent of Ikoria without necessarily being set there, and there’s some potential for flavor in the dog fetching more prowess counters as things get crazy.

What we can improve: I really do appreciate the prowess counter reminder text. It might not say what prowess counters do, but that’s another issue. And the fact that you need that shows what we already kind of knew about prowess triggers: they’re complex as hell. Ability counters are...frankly, they’re awful for memory issues as is if you don’t have some kind of ability to remember them and they get equally weird with older cards that check and give permanent abilities... The point is, ability counters are weird as is, and prowess counters are pretty egregious. I don’t think this card is a mistake, but I think it’s really, REALLY complex in the world of Magic, and I would watch out. For what, exactly? ... Don’t worry about it. 

Nitpicks: If you don’t have a certain frame, you can ask the chat or ask for a mod who can do their best to make a render of cards like miracle/mutate/etc. The MSE Discord also has a tech support section.

@wolkemesser — Orca, Doom of Argenti

What I like: You managed to make me look up ancient Dominaria lore and yes indeed, Orca and Argenti are Magic people and words that make sense of it all. Gotta love that deep stuff! 

What we can improve: See above notes on reminder text. See above notes on +1/+1 and -1/-1 counters. But on this card, it’s especially egregious; she enters with haste, perhaps, she dies, then she returns with persist and a +1/+1 counter and starts all over again, and is basically unkillable because the counters will cancel each other out. Additionally, from what I could find, I don’t understand why she’s an Elemental when the story and her Oracle text mark her as a Demon. With flavor, I also don’t really understand the flavor text at all. She’s based on the real Orca, right? Any in-world flavor text would probably have been more appropriate.

Nitpicks: None beside the aforementioned ones.

I’m going to go hug my dog. Please keep questions and comments about commentary in mind, and if you’re reading this, be loved and be safe. Tomorrow enters a new dawn, a new time... Hm, time.....

—@abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #contest #entries #two mechanics #commentary #long post #this is almost seven and a half thousand words #inventor's fair

[completely-zucked]

I've been homeless and immobile for a while, but I'm in danger of losing my accommodation and wheels (again).

Mentally and spiritually, I have been homeless for nearly two decades. I have once again been threatened with eviction because I don't have enough money in my bank account to pay my rent or meet my car repayment and other loans. Each time it happens, things get worse and there's no negotiating.

This time around, though, I might call their bluff, because I was already being driven mad (quite literally) by the restrictions, manipulating and gass-lighting (being called a cold, uncaring self-centred, irrational, illogical, lazy, stupid, narcissistic and paranoid sociopath — enough to make a guy with self-esteem and motivation issues suicidal). What's changed is that now I've been banned from using, cleaning and/or performing any maintenance on any room in the house except my bedroom (including bathrooms and toilets), which was previously one of my responsibilities. I have to use outdoor ones/the old servants' quarters, which doesn't have a door on the bathroom. )I live in the southern hemisphere; it's winter here.) I'm not allowed to hang a curtain or take material to make one, so I use an old chlorine bucket in the passageway/corridor outside as an indicator that I'm in there. I'm not allowed to be out there past 21:00 and am not allowed to move my stuff to the servants' quarters or garage because they are being used as storage space for tools and, occasionally, as a home gym by/for my landlord. I'm also not allowed to use any tools or appliances (including vacuum, cleaners, brushes, brooms, dustpans and cloths), because no maintenance. Everything of mine that I don't keep hidden and locked away has been confiscated. Of that, everything that I bought myself has been discarded or claimed as belonging to my landlord and landlady. (My soap, of all things, was the first casualty, which is what tipped me off and prompted my buying locks for those things I could lock away.) I am also not financially able nor permitted to buy more tools, containers or locks (and replacements for those) since my finances are being scrutinised and my choices, decisions and purchases criticised.

My broom is a paintbrush, my dustpan a plastic shopping bag and my duster a roll of paper towel. My vacuum cleaner is a cardboard tube glued to a Pringles can with a PC fan inside. ... And they wonder why I've taken to doing DIY projects that repurpose recyclable household items ; how irrational of me ... Le sigh.

That means no fridge, kettle, microwave or stove. I also don't get cooked meals. That would be fine on its own if I weren't subject to restrictions. I live off powdered milk, coffee, cereal, peanut butter, marmite, bread, orange squash concentrate, syrup, biscuits and bananas. Sometimes, I skim a couple of tablespoons of yoghurt out of the container when they're not around, or dilute fruit juice with water at a ratio of about 1:3, just to have some variety/luxury. I had some meal replacement shake powder too, just to keep me from starving, but that's gone and I can't afford to replace it. If I ask for more, I'll have to pay it back; they keep track of everything they buy for me (including a bottle of vitamins) that I'll have to pay back if/when I get a job again. I already owe about $220. It was, of course, a big deal when I bought myself twelve beers on special for $9 the day I got paid for the first lot of contract work I'd done in nearly six months since losing my job, despite the guy underpaying me by just over $100 because I hadn't insisted on a written agreement and was in no position to haggle/negotiate; the last time I do favours for friends, especially those who're religious. (The fact that I'm rationing out the beers at one a week and am only on my sixth one next weekend doesn't have any relevance to my landlady, who tried to confiscate a couple with intent to give them to my landlord and made an almighty fuss about how selfish I was being when I said I'd be fine with sacrificing them if either of them had just asked for one, how she'd noticed my ex always bought the wine despite our having agreed on certain divisions of costs when we were together, and a whole lot of other irrelevant bullshit.)

I need help getting out before the end of June, assuming I find a job and somewhere to go by then. Otherwise, I'm quite likely to end up on the street or attempting to off myself again. Currently, I have no job, nowhere to go and not even enough money to buy a cheap bicycle for $175. Even if I take my car to a dealer who'll settle the balance of my loan with the bank, I get nothing for it because it's an old model which I haven't been able to afford to take better care of and is pretty much a lemon four years after I drove it off the showroom floor. (I should have traded it in after two, before the new model came out). That's the best deal I've been offered. The alternative is to either trade it in for something else and extend my loan or take an amount that's less than it's worth and continue paying off a loan for a vehicle I no longer have. Hooray for death by a thousand cuts under Consumer capitalism.

Apparently, it's all my fault for not learning my life lessons, growing the fuck up, sorting my life out and GTFO of the family home a hell of a lot sooner (by at least a decade, nearly two), when the physical abuse by my peers first started in small and subtle ways. I thought that would all be behind me when I left high school, then varsity, then two corporate jobs. But no, I'm the kind of person who attracts bullies and toxic, abusive relationships.

The moral of the story

If I had known what I now know and the lessons I have learned when I was a padawan/young twenty-something, I would have taken my education seriously and applied myself to obtaining both CS and EE degrees instead of a crappy, near-worthless diploma, moved into my own two-room shoebox as a priority and bought a bicycle instead of a car. Anywhere I can't reach by bike probably isn't worth going and a car is an immovable liability/waste of money two years after purchase. At least I would have my own space (which I so desperately crave). At least then, I could be an allegedly horrible, reprehensible and repulsive degenerate of a person all by myself without anybody to hurt or hurt me. I'm fucking done with living with other people for a while. Fuck that noise; I want a thousand days of solitude, even if it's in a corrugated iron shack in an informal settlement. I'm prepared to cook my supper in a three-legged potjie over a wood fire and boil collected rainwater in a cast iron pot while I wait for my orchard and mielies to grow.

Honestly, at this stage, I'm prepared to live on a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a camp chair and folding table in somebody's garage, undercroft or old servants' quarters (as long as there's a plug point and running water) just to be able to get away from here. I just want some space of my own to be myself (horrible or otherwise) again and keep my interaction with people to a minimum while I figure out how to cope with/manage my shitty life situation, get back on my feet and out in the world again without being scrutinised, criticised, judged, condemned, restricted, rejected and ostracised. That shit is literally making me crazy and suicidal. It is not in any way conducive to me so much as thinking of an action plan/way forward, let alone pursuing it. Yet, somehow, I still manage to restrict the time I spend buggering around on social media (still too much), which I apparently need to succeed in the modern world, hunt for jobs, write, make music and try to flog my Patreon to disinterested parties. Oh, and I'm also writing a proposal for a social media site for someone who's attempting to gather funding.

Seeing my shrink for two hours a month (which costs me a month's wages from my part-time weekend job) and the afore-mentioned job is not enough, as much as I love animals.

So if you can spare between ten and twenty-seven dollars a month to help keep me afloat, please subscribe to my Patreon. Your support will be greatly appreciated.

#homeless #immobile #I need money #finance #abuse #gaslighting

[snarkwrites]

Title: ghosts of christmases past

Theme: holiday party

Fandom / Character(s):Juice Ortiz x OFC! Hazel Morrow.

Warnings: A little bit angsty/bittersweet here. This is kind of Juice and Hazel being stuck on the side of the road together and... internally reflecting on their last christmas together, alone and earlier at the MC. One in particular. Listen, if I’m never gonna write either version of this story, just enjoy these random ass little bits as they come to me, lmaooo. Love you guys.

FYI, the bit in italics is Haze having a bit of a flashback. This ties to the theme, I promise.. It’s theme adjacent...

I made the moodboard thing. Don’t steal or repost/claim as your own.

Word Count: uhh.. 300 to 700+, roughly.

My last intention was for this to... Turn angsty and bittersweet. But alas, here we are.. But don’t fret, it ends kinda.. somewhat happily.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave @sassymox and @kyleoreillysknee are the only people on my Sons Of Anarchy taglist. If you’d like to be on there, dm my main or this blog or click that link belowa nd add yourself.

also gonna tag bb @champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Sweetie, can you go with Juice into town? Your brother said that Tig and Chibs are sending him after some things for the party tonight and I need a few things too. I’d do it, but I’m kind of enjoying Grandma time with little bit and your nephews.”

My mom thought she was asking the harmless questions. Apparently, she’d completely forgotten how Juice and I can’t even be in the same room anymore without either a shouting match or awkward silence and heavy tension as the air around us filled to the brim with things that hadn’t been said. 

And all I could think was that this time a few years ago, before I left town, we were so happy. I thought he was it for me. I thought back then that by now, we’d be settled down. That maybe Juice would be working at Teller Morrow and I’d be teaching or something.

I swallowed hard and nodded. My mom wasn’t going to let me out of this and obviously, whatever she needed was important.

She handed me a list and some money. I tried to shove the money back at her, explaining that I’d pay, but she wouldn’t hear it. 

As I went to walk out the door, my mom called out to me. “Juice was a better man than Jase.”

I whirled around, gazing at my mother with my brow raised. “ If this is your way of saying you told me so, Mom… Trust me. Lesson learned.”

“No, I was just suggesting that maybe you use the time you’re out with Juice, you at least attempt to talk to him. I know things went wrong back then, but I also know that if you didn’t still feel something and feel it strongly, you wouldn’t spend so much time picking fights with the poor guy. He doesn’t really have anyone but the club, Hazelynn.”

I opened my mouth but I closed it. My mom had a point. And lately, any fool could see that Juice was really going through it.. He rarely talked to anyone, he was always so damn tense I thought he’d jump right out of his skin. If he did have to interact with me, he was even more tense. Standoffish, even, and that wasn’t like the man I’d known years before. That wasn’t the man I loved. Juice was more easy going and a bit of a joker. Not this tense and serious guy he’d apparently turned into as of late.

I was beyond worried about him. To a point where my own current situation was sort of taking a backseat. But any attempt I’d made to reconnect had been met with annoyance. Bitterness. And deep down, that cut me.

He was literally the one man I’d honestly never wanted to give up back then. But I had to at least try to follow my dreams. I had to at least try living a life free of the MC and it’s dangers and scary situations. I’d just needed a break.

“You know I’m right, Hazelynn. You look at him the way I used to look at Jax’s father. You never wanted to break it off back then. You’re home now. You’re safe. You deserve to be happy. And if Juice makes you happy, maybe you need to stop pushing that down and lean into it. Just a thought, sweetie.”

“Mom, I…”

“No buts. Go. I need everything on that list now, not four hours from now.”

I eyed my mom and after a second or two, I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, stopping to put on a light jacket. It wasn’t terribly cold, but I knew it would get cooler the later in the afternoon it got.  I made my way down the hall and into the guest room where I’d put down my little girl Serena earlier after she crashed for her daily nap. I leaned over and brushed my lips against her forehead. “Mommy will be back as soon as she can, okay? Until then, Gramma’s got you. Be sweet, little angel.” I muttered, walking to the door of the bedroom and shutting it quietly behind me so the boys didn’t run in and wake her up.

I’d just walked outside when Juice’s motorcycle as well as my brother’s and Opie’s came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. They were laughing and talking and as usual, the second Juice and I locked eyes, his jaw set and the smile was gone. There was only hurt and bitterness there.

Opie and Jax shared a look and quickly retreated to the inside of our mom’s house and I shuffled my feet, trying to figure out a way to ask if he’d give me a ride to town too. Even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the last thing he wanted to do was have me riding behind him on his bike. Even something as simple as an accidental brushing of bodies lately seemed to make him overly annoyed.

And it hurt.

I knew I’d hurt him. I just wanted to make up for that. But so far, he wasn’t willing to let me.

“Are you going into town?” I asked the question tentatively. Juice stopped messing with the bike to look over at me and then he shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“My mom, uhh.. She needs some stuff from the grocery. I’d go in my car but it’s kind of sitting in Teller Morrow on a jack right now…” I gave a sheepish look and bit my lip, watching his facial expression as he seemed to take forever mulling it over.

“Fine. I’m leavin now though.”

“I’m all ready to go.” I answered, stepping a little closer. I stared up at him intently, noticing just how pronounced the deep circles seemed to be under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping.

,, Oh Juice,” I thought to myself, ,, Why do I feel like there’s something wrong but you stubbornly refuse to reach out.”  

He eyed me and bit his lip. For a few seconds, I almost thought he was going to say something. He looked like he wanted to ask me something so badly that it literally almost came out, but he closed his mouth and cleared his throat, nodding to his motorcycle. “Hold on tight.”

I slipped onto the bike behind him, careful to hold on tight but leave distance. Last thing I wanted was for him to get annoyed because I was leaning against him a little.

The ride into town was quiet, only the sounds of the motor and the wind. I shivered a little, wishing I’d opted for a long sleeve beneath my thin jacket too. I’d forgotten just how chilly it got to ride a motorcycle, because I hadn’t done it in so long.

The lights of town were coming into view when things went downhill quick, fast and in a hurry.

The motorcycle got wobbly and Juice swore, pulling over on the side of the road, near one of the canyons. The wind picked up a bit and I hugged myself. Juice kicked at the motorcycle and dragged a hand over his head. A movement which I spent far too long staring at as my mind just kind of… Drifted.

To a Christmas a few years ago, back before everything went so horribly wrong between us.

XXX

“ Baby girl, wake up.”

The warmth of his breath against my ear had my eyes fluttering open and as soon as I saw the bright midmorning sun, I groaned. “Oh no. Mom is going to absolutely murder me.”

“We both crashed. Question, how dead do you think I’m about to be in Clay Morrow’s eyes, scale of ten?” Juice asked the question as he rushed around, grabbing my clothes for me so I could go and jump in the shower. My head was pounding. I knew the few drinks I had the night before at the MC Christmas party had been a very, very bad idea… Especially when you consider that of my entire family, I’m the one who never does things like this.

But last night had been magical. Cuddling in front of a bonfire with Juice, wrapped in a blanket. Stargazing as we sipped cocoa and later, whiskey… and we just kind of really talked about the future. Where we saw things going.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that after I graduated in the spring, I was heading off to UCLA. And that I intended to put distance between myself and Charming for a while. I just.. I needed the break from the rollercoaster of crazy my life had always been. I needed time to process discovering that my father wasn’t the same man as Jax’s father, but Clay Morrow, a man that I really hadn’t ever bonded with. A man that I’d always seen as merely ‘dad’s replacement’. 

I didn’t want to ruin our time left together, so I hadn’t quite told him yet.

His arms wrapped around me from behind just as I went to step into the shower in his bathroom and he muttered quietly against the shell of my ear, “Want some help washing off, baby girl?”

I turned to face him, melting against him and biting my lip as I gave a soft laugh and giggled. “Your hands all over me? It’s only one of my biggest fantasies, baby.”

His mouth crashed against mine passionately, our tongues tangling, his hands all over me as he pulled me even closer somehow and mumbled into the deep and passionate kiss, “Love you so fuckin much baby girl. Can’t wait until we don’t have to deal with curfews and all this other shit. When it’s just you an’ me. Our own little family.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and smiled up at him, nodding even though I knew I wouldn’t be around for a while. But not having the heart to tell him…

XXX

“I asked you a question, Haze. You listenin to me?” Juice’s stern tone had my head snapping up and I bit my lip, surveying the blown tire. I finally managed to clear my mind from my memories enough to ask what he’d said and he grumbled, repeating himself.

He’d asked if I had any signal on my cell phone. I handed it over and he took it, unlocking it and promptly pausing.

And in that moment, I wanted to kick myself, because I forgot that I’d taken a photo of him with Serena asleep a few days ago at the MC when she got dropped off there to be watched by Jax and the guys until I finished my shift at the hospital. I’d come in to find her asleep on Juice’s chest, arms around his neck. She’d told me on the way home that she had three favorite uncles now… Apparently, she’d really bonded with Juice.

I told myself that I put the picture on my phone because my little girl was in it. But deep down I knew it was more or less because the two people I loved most in the world were in a photo together and I wanted it where I could see it every time I had a shitty day or a long double shift at the hospital.

He glanced at me, rubbing his hand over his head and held the phone back out in haste. “None. Same as mine. We’re either walkin or we’re standin here all night. Because I don’t exactly have a spare.”

“Shit… I.. I can walk up the road a little, see if maybe I can pick up service.” I offered, starting to walk away before Juice even had a chance to verbally answer. I’d gotten a few feet away from the motorcycle and Juice and I heard him running to catch up, stopping me.

“It’s getting dark. I’ll come with ya.”

“I figured you might want some space, I… you were getting annoyed.” I mumbled softly, staring up at him. His entire expression changed and he sighed quietly, shaking his head no, tilting my chin up when I decided it was better if I looked down and not directly at him.

Because I couldn’t take the pain in his eyes anymore. I also hated that I was the reason it was there to begin with.

Everything had gone so horribly wrong between us and it was all my fault. All because I’d been too afraid to do what I really wanted. Too young, too stupid, too filled with all these big plans. Plans that all went wrong and even if they did go alright, they always felt wrong. I’d never really felt like I was where I was supposed to be.

But since I’d come home?

I hadn’t felt like I was ever supposed to be anywhere else. Maybe I never should’ve left. Maybe then my daughter would have a good father and not some prick of a sperm donor who was already married and wanted no part of her, or of me.

“I wasn’t. It’s just hard bein around you… Knowin that I wasn’t enough.” Juice mumbled quietly and I gave a quiet gasp.

“Juice, you’ve always been more than I deserved.” I found the courage to actually hold his gaze, my brows knit in concern because his words weren’t like him… and somehow, I knew he meant them and that he felt them.

Had he always felt them?

“That’s not why I left…” I started, only to go silent. “I left because I had to know if there was more to life. I needed a break from the craziness and I had a lot on my mind. I was so in love with you that sometimes it scared me.” I trailed off completely, muttering the last part “I wish I never left every single day.” quietly enough that I thought maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

But he did hear it. And he tilted my chin again, leaning down a little, his mouth brushing against mine. “It’s also hard bein around you because I still love you, baby girl. I never stopped. I just thought you didn’t...”

“I didn’t what?” I asked, my mouth brushing up against his with each word that left it. His fingertips dug into my waist and I rubbed against him just a little, my breaths shaky and erratic. Everything coming at me so fast I didn’t have time to process. I waited on him to answer.

“That maybe you didn’t love me.” he finally answered, adding quickly, “I was scared back then too…” his hand caressed my cheeks and he stared into my eyes. The wind picked up and he wrapped his arms around me to try keeping me warm just a little.

“I still love you too.” I admitted it quietly, making him blink in shock when his eyes met mine. He swallowed hard and started to  tenderly move his hands up and down my sides, one hand stopping to caress my cheek all over again.

“First.. We get off the side of the fuckin road.. Then, baby girl… when we get back to the MC, we’re going to have a serious talk, okay?”

I gave a soft laugh and nodded. “Okay. That’s fair enough. Let’s go try to find a spot with some service, yeah?”

“Yeah, even though I don’t wanna let you go right now.”

“You have all night to dance with me and hold me.. Like that last Christmas party we went to back then.. I’ve missed us so much.” I pointed out, making him nod.

Nothing mattered but getting back to the MC. Because I had so much I wanted to say. So much I needed to do to make things right again. To show him that I loved him and I’d missed him every single day I was away. That I made a huge mistake back then and I was so sorry.

#12daysofchristmas #12 days of christmas #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz imagines #my writing; juice ortiz #my fics; juice ortiz #my moodboards; juice ortiz #this might be a lil angsty i warn

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Written for @azulaweek​. Prompt - Night. (Image Source)

Summary: In which little Azula is very insistent, and Lu Ten can't say no to that face, even if it is an ungodly hour of night when all sensible Firebenders should be sleeping. 

~~~

Today we get FLUFF! I never write actual fluff so you’re welcome.

~~~

“Lu! Lu Lu Lu Lu Lu Lu Lu!”

“Ugh, what the - Zuli, kiddo, is that you - mmph!”

Azula had slammed her cousin’s bedchamber door open, run into the room, jumped onto his bed, and bellyflopped on top of the half-asleep teenager all in the space of about three seconds. “Lu!”

Lu Ten jerked the rest of the way awake, bolted upright in his bed, and reached out to grab the little girl and hold her up by the armpits. “Zuli? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is there an assassin?” He looked around the dark room wildly, scanning for threats.

She giggled down at him. “No! There’s a thunderstorm!”

Right on cue, a massive rumble rolled through the sky. Now that Lu Ten was listening, he could hear the rain falling hard outside. “Oh,” he said, relaxing a bit and setting her down in his lap. “Is that all?”

“Come on,” she said, tugging his arm. “We have to watch!”

“Kiddo,” Lu Ten yawned, “it is...I don’t even know what time it is. Too dark for Firebenders to be up, that’s for sure. You need to go back to sleep.”

She pouted up at him. “But you promised! You said next time there was a thunderstorm we’d watch it together!”

He had indeed promised, as the last time he’d been in the palace during a thunderstorm he had literally been on his way out the door to boot camp and Azula had nearly thrown a fit when he told her he had to go. “I did,” he agreed, “but I was kinda thinking we’d be doing that during daylight - ”

She stared up at him, small and expectant and wide-eyed and trusting and a little brat who knew exactly how cute she was. He was being played. Lu Ten was completely aware that he was being played. He was eighteen and dealt with the Fire Court on a regular basis, he knew manipulation when he saw it.

That didn’t stop his heart from melting. Better to allow yourself to be manipulated by your adorable five-year-old cousin than some scheming politician.

And besides...he couldn’t not be there for his cousins. He was always willing to take the extra step, spend a little more time, be a little more patient. He wouldn’t say he was good with kids, exactly, but he was good with Zuko and Azula. He’d figured out how to be, because...well.

Aunt Ursa was the best, but Grandfather was too old to bother with children, and Father was often off on campaign, and Uncle Ozai was...not exactly parental material. He rarely involved himself in his children’s upbringing, and when he did, Lu Ten rather wished he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d be better at it in a few years - or a decade - when the kids were older and capable of holding something approximating adult conversation. Lu Ten wasn’t holding his breath, but he could give Uncle Ozai the benefit of the doubt. Grandpa had barely known what to do with Lu Ten until he’d been eleven, after all.

For now, though, Lu Ten was fully capable of blundering his way through every awkward, confusing, hilarious, and ridiculous situation he could with his cousins. At least they were old enough to use words now - that made interaction so much easier.

Except for the part where they could use words to craft a persuading and manipulative argument.

“You said,” Azula said in a very small voice that made Lu Ten’s heart crack clean in two.

He sighed. “You’re right, I did. And what kind of prince would I be if I didn’t keep my word, huh?” With great mental anguish, he tossed off his blankets, stood up, scooped Azula into his arms, and made his way to the window. There was a nice wide window seat, and he settled onto it, sinking back against the comfy cushions and pulling his legs up so he could lounge against the wall.

Azula slid down beside him and leaned so far over the window sill she almost fell out.

“Whoa, careful kiddo,” Lu Ten said, pulling her back, and then he added, “It’s fine, just us, back to your posts,” when a pair of guard-shaped shadows across the courtyard startled and moved forward. They complied silently, leaving Lu Ten and Azula as alone as royalty could ever truly be.

Azula didn’t lean outside again, but she stayed pressed up against the sill, staring up at the storm. The window was wide enough to comfortably lounge in, stretching all the way up from the seat to the ceiling in beautifully carved teak wood edged with latticework. The intricate geometry and sharp angles were a direct contrast to the view they framed - the night sky was filled with round, roiling clouds that swirled haphazardly overhead, lit for an instant by a far-off streak of lightning. The thunder followed in a low rumble, distant.

“Whoa,” Azula breathed, still staring. “How far away is it?”

“Hm?” Lu Ten asked. “Oh, sorry, forgot to count. We’ll do the next one, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was raining buckets out there, Lu Ten saw. The raindrops hit the courtyard flagstones hard, bouncing back up again in little splashes before settling into puddles. It was the start of the rainy season, and the weather was starting with a bang.

Literally.

“Lu!” Azula said, pointing excitedly at the streak of lightning that flashed through the clouds.

“One one thousand,” Lu Ten counted, “two one thousand - ”

“ - three one thousand,” Azula counted with him, “four one thousand, five one thousand, six one thousand, seven one thousand, eight one thousand, nine one thousand - ”

Thunder clapped overhead, much closer than before.

“How far away?” Azula asked eagerly.

“Almost two miles.”

She bounced a little. “How does it work again?”

“Hm,” Lu Ten said. He reached around her, held up his hands in front of her. “How many fingers do I have?”

She snorted. “Ten.”

“Right. So. How many groups of five can you fit in my ten fingers?” He wiggled his fingers pointedly.

Her brow furrowed, and she stared at his hands. Her little fingers idly poked over his. “...Two?”

“Two groups of five,” he agreed. “It takes five seconds for the sound of lightning to travel one mile. So if it takes nine seconds to hear the thunder, that’s almost two miles.”

“Hm,” Azula said, processing that. She was distracted a moment later, when a fork of lightning came down in the distance. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand - ”

Thunder.

“How many groups of five fit in five?”

She snorted. “Just one.”

“One mile then,” Lu Ten said.

She was staring out at the spot of sky where the lightning had arched down from the heavens. “Do you think it hit anything?”

“Probably,” he yawned. “When it comes down like that it’s gotta hit something.”

“I wanna see something get hit by lightning.”

“Ask Grandpa for a demonstration tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean - ”

For an instant, the sky was cracked in two by a massive flash of light, so bright that in that split second the entire courtyard could be seen clear as day. Lu Ten saw Azula’s face, lit up in awe as she gaped upwards. Then it was over, and the world plunged back into the dark of night.

The thunderclap was immediate and deafening.

“Whoa,” Azula breathed when it was over.

“No time between that lightning and thunder,” Lu Ten laughed. “It’s right on top of us.”

“Do you think it’ll hit anything?” Azula asked, excited.

Lu Ten shrugged. “I hope not. That would be dangerous.”

“But we’re Firebenders.”

“And that’s wild lightning. You don’t go walking on lava for fun, do you?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Azula leaned back against him. “I want to make lightning.”

“I’m sure you will, someday,” Lu Ten said. Maybe sooner than usual, even. Azula had taken to firebending lessons like a turtleduck to water, and her instructors and family members alike were astonished at how quickly she learned. Prodigy, some people had started to whisper, with knowing looks towards Fire Lord Azulon. Grandpa was a prodigy himself, and Azula had been named for him. Perhaps it’d been precognition, or maybe Azula had been blessed by the spirits as a reward for the honor shown to her grandfather.

Either way, it made Uncle Ozai happy. The man practically preened whenever someone complimented Azula’s skills, already advanced past what was normal for a child her age. Lu Ten hoped Azula’s gift helped Uncle Ozai forge a connection with her, finally figure out how to relate to his own kid. The man was still hopelessly distant when it came to Zuko. How ironic, Lu Ten thought, that Ozai lived right here in the palace with his children and never seemed to know what to do with them, while Lu Ten’s father had spent much of Lu Ten’s childhood out on campaign and still managed to forge a tight-knit bond with his son.

“I’m gonna make the best lightning,” Azula declared. She was still staring up at the clouds, entranced, but her eyelids were drooping.

Lu Ten pulled her into his lap so he could tuck her up against his chest. “You’ll have to work very hard for that,” he said, “but I’m sure you can do it.”

“I’ll be the best Firebender ever,” she yawned.

Lu Ten smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re gonna be the fiercest little general. You and Zuko both.”

“And we’ll help you win the war?”

There were only ten years until the comet returned. She would be fifteen, one year shy of legal adulthood. Hopefully the plans they were setting in motion around Ba Sing Se would win the war before that, but if the Fire Nation had to use the power of the comet to end it once and for all, and if everyone was needed to help strike the final blow...well. “Of course you will.” He ran a hand over the top of her head.

She smiled and sighed and watched the storm out the window, her eyes slowly closing. Lu Ten briefly considered moving them back to his bed, but...he was tired, he didn’t want to jolt her back to alertness, the window seat was comfortable enough, and now that he thought about it his eyes were already closed...

He didn’t bother getting up.

The lightning flashes were far away now, the thunder distant rumbles, and the sound of the raindrops hitting the courtyard flagstones were a constant, steady patter that lulled both prince and princess to sleep.

~~~

Author’s Notes

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are super appreciated!

One of my deep-rooted headcanons: Azula absolutely adored Lu Ten, and he adored her right back. (Maybe this isn't a radical take these days, but back in the 00s/early 10s I seem to remember the few fics that involved Lu Ten and Azula having it that Azula hated him and was cool with him dying. *shrugs*

This takes place just over a year before the siege of Ba Sing Se starts, for reference.

The lightning-thunder-counting is totally a thing and if you didn't know that then I apologize for your childhood and its lack of cool older cousins. Basically if you count the seconds between lightning and thunder and divide it by five, you get the number of miles away the lightning was cuz that's how long it took the sound of thunder to travel to your location.

I kinda figure there are no glass windows in the Fire Nation, just a thing I thought of while writing this cuz the image of rain on the windowpanes is so natural to me but then I was like "Wait..." There's no air conditioning in the Avatarverse and you really need that island breeze to be able to pass through easily to keep cool. Does this make things easier for assassins? Probably, and that's why you get guards stationed everywhere to relieve Azulon's paranoia, lol. RIP to the brave men and women who're keeping watch in a downpour.

Regarding Lu Ten's relationship with his cousins - listen, I do not mind children, I like to think I can handle children, however, I was a teenager by the time my first cousins were born, and after over a decade of my life wishing I had a bunch of cousins to play with like my friends, suddenly just having...babies around was kind of...underwhelming. They were FINE they were just...small and gurgly and had few ways for me to interact with them, and I'd already had three little sisters so I was kind of over the baby stage. SO imagine my SURPRISE AND DELIGHT when the kids finally started talking and having discernible personalities and interests and then one day I was suddenly holding a full-on conversation about Transformers with a five-year-old and we were both contributing to and invested in what we were talking about and I realized "Oh my god I love these children."

So that's kind of the personal life experience I pour into Lu Ten's relationship with his cousins in my headcanon - he loves them, spends time with them, doesn't quite know what to DO with them, and then suddenly they're talking and he's like OH THANK AGNI I CAN FINALLY GET TO KNOW YOU. XD

#azulaweek2020 #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #Azula #fire nation royal family #Lu Ten #caelum writes

[aziraphaleandcrowley]

Tldr: me word vomiting lots of random emotions and thoughts I’ve been having about my life. Would put under a read more but tumblr mobile is shite. Ignore if you wanna, I just needed to throw this into the world cos I’ve been so socially distant from everyone in my life that I haven’t spoken to anyone about this, and I’m not sure I would’ve even if I actually replied to my friends more than once in a blue moon

...............................................................

Me: honestly convinced I’m never gonna find romantic love cos I’m ace and probably aro - at the very least I’ve never been attracted to/interested in someone enough to want to date them and the whole being sexually attracted to someone and looking a people and wanting to have sex with them sounds fake and doesn’t resonate with me at all.

Me: is theoretically a very sex favourable and positive person but the idea of sex with someone I’m not dating is just so weird to me but damn do I wish there was someone who knew me and my likes and dislikes to be intimate with

Me: is super duper disappointed to not experience love/sex but is simultaneously doing literally zero to create opportunities cos I just don’t speak to anyone outside of my family and colleagues, and the one single guy I had any interest in at work is gay and has left.

Me: reads fanfic constantly and I’m now wondering whether it is beneficial in distracting me from my loneliness or enhancing it. I think both. I think I need a break from fanfic at the very least but honestly don’t know what I’d do without it cos it’s been my go to hobby for so many years and I legit read for 30+ hours a week and that’s soo much time to fill???

Me: really doesn’t want to have kids in the future cos I don’t understand kids in the slightest and pregnancy is terrifying and I still feel like a child myself and I know this is something which may change in the future but I don’t think so and my mum bringing up wanting grandkids on a near weekly basis recently is kinda starting to put me on edge cos I’m already starting to feel like a disappointment cos I’m an only child and I’m the only opportunity for grandkids - which I know is ridiculous but it how I feel and that’s valid

Me: with my grandad in hospital (he’s gonna be fine, he would be out of hospital if he actually did what the doctors and nurses said about doing exercises etc) it has made me think about the family I do have which is: my mum, my dad, my grandad and my uncle. That’s it. I have two other uncles and several cousins etc who I see maybe once a year but they don’t really count.

Me: has a handful of really amazing friends who I haven’t spoken to in months and I don’t even really know why. They’ve all messaged me and I just havent replied. I’m not trying to actively push them away like I did with a friend in the past who I just felt drained with in the end whenever we interacted, but honestly every time I get a message I just feel exhausted at the prospect of ongoing social interaction. And it’s silly cos I know exactly the kind of thing I could message people about to start a conversation, like I could talk to Emily about finally watching Hamilton and how it’s been two weeks and I’m still listening to song on repeat and how she was right about how good it is and yet it’s been a week and a half since I’ve thought about sending that message and yet I haven’t and just uggghhhh @me

Me: is horrified by the idea of being alone for life romantically, and knowing that between my ever dwindling family and me not talking to my friends that being alone if more likely that I ever want to think about

Me: wants to live a happy life of my own but don’t know how to. I want to move out but can’t afford to on my own and it’s super impractical when I can live with my parents for £20 per week for food. But god forbid if anything happens to one of my parents I’m gonna be stuck at home forever cos I have so little family and my parents have literally no one else to turn to.

Me: wants to do a masters in gender and sexuality studies writing about representations of asexuality on screen but I know I could write and entire book which would be great for phd level but I missed the deadline to apply cos June was crazy and all I’ve been doing recently is working 6 days a week then working on my car for a day before working another 6 days. And even if I did a masters and maybe eventually a phd I have no idea what I’d actually do with it? I have so little ambition for anything right now and the future is just a void of mystery in which I don’t even know what I want???

Me: is starting to think I might actually be kinda depressed. I’ve thought it on and off for longer than I’ll ever admit but I’d do quizzes online and they’d say I wasn’t so I didn’t really think too much more about it (and yes I know an online quiz is shit and means nothing but there’s no one I would want to talk to about it cos I feel like I have to be strong for the people around me and shit but yeah). I know I’m not happy, but that doesn’t necessarily equal depressed. All I know is I’m uninspired and I feel kinda empty. Doing stuff I do enjoy, if I actually do it, just makes me feel tired half the time so I end up trying to nap instead but then I don’t sleep great either, waking up in the night or when my dad is getting ready for work so I very rarely get a solid 8 hours of sleep. I’m irritable a lot too...

Me: even if I am depressed what does it matter? Like it does matter ofc, but my mum is on media for depression and it’s taking her weeks to get an appointment with the doctor to try and get a different dosage. I’m not a danger to myself or others, I’m unhappy, but who isn’t with COVID going on and there are people who need mental health services more than me. Which is really hypocritical of me to say cos I’ve told my best friend so many times that trauma and mental health etc aren’t competitions of who has it worse but it’s the truth. Also my mum and colleagues access the only mental health resources in town and I do not want to deal with interactions with people I know whilst trying to improve my mental health.

Me: I don’t know how many times I’ve said it in posts like this but something needs to change. I was set on a good course at the start of the year. I was getting out, socialising, doing new things, inspired to cook, learn to new music and change my lifestyle, and then COVID happened and since all of that has slowly drained away and I need to find a change to revitalise that. I’d hoped getting back to having driving lessons and working on my car would be a start, and to be fair it’s been less than two week since I restarted doing that, so maybe I can find a new spark of inspiration still. Within a couple of months I will pass my driving test. Hopefully it won’t take much longer than that to get my car finished and on the road (hopefully it’ll take two weeks to finish putting the rear end back together so we can finally get my car back on four wheels, then it’s just lots of little jobs which hopefully won’t take too long). The weather is supposed to be decent this week so I might work up the effort to go for a walk down the fields which always seems to relax me a little. And the cinema reopens at the end of the month so I’d finally have an excuse to get out of the house (I know COVID is not over and things should not be going back to normal any time soon, but I need to do something other than go work for 4 hours everyday and spend 90% of my time at home and most of that time in bed because I have nowhere else to go). I don’t know what else I can be hopeful for in the coming weeks but that’s a start and just listing them out here has made me feel a little better so.

I keep thinking about Patrick from Schitt s Creek, leaving his hometown to escape a life which didn’t fit him and finding everything he needed in a tiny town in rural Canada, and wishing I could do the same, but I know I’d just end up even more alone because I am not a social person in the slightest and don’t kno how to be despite knowing that me making changes is the only way to improve myself.

And then a line from Hamilton about death is easy, living is harder, and I want to make it abundantly clear that I do not in any way, shape or form want to die, but living is hard and I have an easy life. I have enough money that I was able to loan my dad the money to buy a car, and still have more savings after that than he does, I have a good that if not particularly well paid I do enjoy and I’m good at, my family live me in their own way, even tho I feel that part of my social distance and reluctantance towards others is because no one in my family is particularly socially inclined.

Maybe I just really need a hug.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore but I just had so much build of of words in my brain that they had to go somewhere and this has turned into my go to word vomit place

Things will get better. I don’t know when or how but they will. But they won’t if I don’t get enough sleep for a starters. So off to bed I go. If you’ve read all this thank you, I guess, for listening cos I’m not sharing this with anyone irl just yet. And I’m sorry this is so long but tumblr mobile doesn’t let me put in a read now but I want this out in the world even tho no one will see it

#anyway ignore me #long post for ts #sorry #tmi #rebecca speaks #again #with the amount of posts i jave like this on here im really starting to think i need to find an actual person to discuss stuff with #not sure what therapy options there are in the uk cos all my knowledge come from here which is so us centric #but i think im gonna do some research #tomorrow tho #long post #personal

[loki-godofmischief-myking]

Worthy

Loki x Reader 

You were one of Odin’s bravest warriors descended from a proud and strong warrior family. He and your father would see you marry off only to someone who is worthy- all sights are on Thor except yours. You have an interest in another prince.

Warning: Mature Content (18+) / Smut

Odin gave a hearty laugh as his eye took in the scene in front of him. The children he hoped to find training into the late hours of the afternoon were already sprawled out on the ground. 

You head-butted Loki making him lose his footing. Taking advantage of the situation you lowered your stance and swiped your leg across his- hitting the back first. Loki fell forward with a groan but managed to catch himself, landing on his hands and knees rather than on his face. 

“Do you admit defeat?” You stood above him with your sword to his chin. 

Anger filled Loki as once again you had managed to make him kneel before you. He was no fool. If he continued to fight you he too would end up like the others. “I do,” he admitted with a clenched jaw.

A triumphant smile played upon your lips as you withdrew your sword from Loki letting your pride get to your head for a second.

A second was all it took for Thor’s brute strength to knock you off your feet. “Surely you have not forgotten about me Lady Y/N.” The boy was already showing signs of battle. His brow was covered in dirt, his hair stuck onto his glistening skin, and a small cut on his cheek gained focus.

Sif walked off carrying most of Volstagg’s weight on her shoulders. “Come on big guy, we’ll get you healed.” She herself had some visible cuts and scrapes on her knees. 

It was but a second that Odin acknowledged the greeting of the two young warriors in training as they walked past him. Surely she had taken the rest of the warriors three to the healers if they were nowhere to be seen.

“For Asgard!” you shouted in your girlish high-pitch voice pinning Thor to the ground with your shield wielding arm at his chest and dagger to his throat. All young girls seemed to sound the same before coming of age but your voice came from deep inside your diaphragm. It carried an air of authority to it and as unmenacing as it sounded, the power of the delivery was phenomenal. You were truly a proud warrior. It was only when you shouted your battle cry that people were reminded of your age. 

“Lady Y/N we are both of Asgard,” Thor reminded you. The fire in your eyes had convinced him you might actually think him to be the enemy.

Odin’s hearty chuckle caught the attention of all three of you. The princes casually acknowledged him while you took a knee and bowed your head in the way your father had taught you. “My King,” you so graciously spoke earning Loki’s scowl.

How easily you would kneel before his father but not him was a constant wonder to him. He too was royalty yet you never regarded him as such.

“My young valkyrie you may stand.”

“Father, did you see? Did you see Lady Y/N knock me to the ground?” Thor’s loud cheery voice seemed almost too happy for what he spoke of. But he was genuinely surprised. He had grown taller recently and hoped it would result in enhancing his chances of winning you. Clearly, it had not.

Odin nodded, “Our future enemies will not stand a chance against her.”

“You are too kind Allfather.” 

Sif came back, hands at her hips. “Any more young babes want to go to the healers, or are you boys men?” Despite her injuries, Sif chose to wear them proudly and let them heal on their own.

“I am a man!” Thor proudly bellowed.

Loki’s brow rose in challenge of the statement, “You are an oaf!” Had his brother been smart like he, his wounds would be lesser. Loki stood up showing no traces of battle. He dusted himself off and stood regally.

“What of you Loki?” Odin asked. “You hardly put up a fight.”

“I do not wish to waste my time.”

“You must train like the others,” Odin sternly reminded him. “Do you wish to remain weak your entire life?”

Loki’s hand clenched into fists.

You did not miss the inclination that Odin considered Loki to be weak. “Loki is anything but weak Allfather. He has exceptional mastery over magic compared to any of us. He is clever, sharp, and tactical. Those are all qualities of a great warrior.” You knew you might have overstepped your boundaries when Odin’s head tilted in question but it had to be said. Poor Loki was always being compared to Thor and you didn’t like it. It was similar to how your parents compared you to all the past valkyries in your family. “My father says those are the qualities of a great warrior.”

Loki softened as you stepped up for him.

“If he says it then it must be true. Your father is the greatest warrior Lady Y/N and I see he has taught you well.”

“Thank you, my King.”

“Let us go wait for the warriors return in the throne room.” Odin turned to leave having accomplished what he had set to do, fetch his sons so they may stand together to thank the warriors upon their return- as was custom.

Thor and Sif ran behind him leaving you and Loki behind.

“I will not thank you for speaking the truth,” Loki approached you with a furrowed brow. His eyes fixed on your unruly hair. He picked the greenery out of your disheveled braid before asking, “Would you like me to fix it?”

You instantly turned your back to him allowing him to work his magic. 

Literally. 

In a matter of seconds, wisps of gold cascaded around your head and a neat braid fell over your right shoulder. 

He walked in front of you admiring his work. “There you look much more presentable.” He knew how you loved to please your father. 

While he liked you to win battles and train hard he also wished for you to look the part of a Lady. This meant keeping a neat appearance even after training all day.

“Thank you, Prince Loki,” you smiled up at him. The two of you were very similar. Wanting more than anything to prove yourselves to your fathers. Even if he was cold at times you knew who he really was on the inside. 

In the throne room, Loki left your side to stand beside the throne with his family. You stood to the right at the foot of the stairs, alone, along with the rest of the high-class warrior families and nobles. 

When the doors opened your eyes instantly landed on your father. He leads the warriors sporting more scars than when he had left. Next, you looked for your mother who was just behind him along with her sisters. The four of them were the best Valkyries of all time. They easily surpassed their ancestors and you were expected to do the same to their accomplishments. 

You were truly burdened by glorious purpose. 

Row after row of warriors marched in, In each, you found another familiar of yours. It was quite intimidating when your family tree was laid out to view.

You zoned out during Odin’s speech although you were sure you knew what he had said. It was mostly the same speech time and time again. Congratulating them all on keeping the peace within the nine realms and returning to Asgard with the respect of all who inhabit it. 

"Let us feast!”

As the crowd dispersed you remained unmoved. Thor and Sif ran off ready to satisfy the appetites you had worked up for them. 

Your father was called up the stairs of the throne where he and Odin exchanged hearty laughs. They got along so well people joked they might have been brothers separated at birth. They were like two halves of a whole- both missing one eye. While King Odin’s left eye was once sacrificed, your father lost his right eye in battle, protecting him. The similarities did not end there.

Loki stood off to the side watching as your father beckoned you over. 

“I hope my daughter was not too much trouble my Queen.”

Queen Frigga dismissed the thought. “Y/N is quite the warrior but a lady nonetheless. She has attended all her lessons as well as her training.” 

Your mother stroked the top of your head causing your perfect braid to fray a bit at the crown. The only affection your father showed was a nod of approval. He expected nothing less of you so he would not praise the norm.

At that moment Loki saw the sadness that glazed over your once bright eyes.

King Odin was surprisingly supportive of you. He assured your father of your Valkyrie status.  “Won’t be too long before she joins you on the battlefield now. The young warrior has even managed to defeat prince Thor in training.”

A few of your teenage cousins gathered around you thinking it false. That is until Thor came at the mention of his name and proudly vouched for you. “Lady Y/N truly is the greatest warrior. She brought Loki to his knees, the warriors three to the healers, and Lady Sif was unconscious for a moment but she woke up fine minutes later.”

“It was only one minute!” Sif corrected.

“Norns little Valkyrie!” Your aunt knelt down beside you. “The prince of Asgard sings your praises.” It was their greatest wish for you to marry into the royal family and fulfill what none of them had been able to do. 

“Thank you, Prince Thor,” you thanked him. 

Loki cursed Thor’s perfect timing. Had he not stepped in to aid you then he would have been able to do so himself. 

While their attentions were on the blonde prince you looked over to the fairer raven-haired prince. You smiled when you caught his green eyes looking right back at you. There was definitely something pulling you towards Loki, a connection you could feel but never explain.

\\\

As the years passed your interactions with Thor and Loki dwindled. Before you would spend your days running about the palace causing mischief and havoc to the maids. Training with them was always fun but it was child’s play in comparison to what your family planned for you.

As you came of age your training intensified. You were still living at the palace but you trained from the break of dawn to nearly dusk. Your only breaks were for manners and etiquette with Queen Frigga. 

Loki had no choice but seek you out at the training field.

“Straighten your back.”

You did as you were told, holding in the pain that came from holding your own weight up.

“Down!” your father ordered before quickly calling you back up. It went on for a while with him circling around you and Lady Sif. She was the only other person able to keep up with your father’s training. 

You didn’t even realize Loki was there until you heard your father. “Prince Loki, have you come to train today? Your brother has been skipping out in favor of attending to the ladies of the court.”

Loki smirked loving the fact that even your father knew what a ladies man his brother had become over the years. “I assure you that I only have eyes for one woman in this lifetime.”

“Wha-” a sharp puff of air escaped you as you lost your balance and fell to the ground. All the air had been knocked out of you. 

It was no secret that Loki wished to court you. That silver-tongue of his had nearly gotten you in trouble many times. While both your father and Odin hoped Thor would be the one to court you, Loki was a good second. The only problem was your father’s standards. “You may have her Prince Loki...”

“Father!” you hated when he spoke of you like a good to be traded. Even if you too liked Loki. “I am not a slab of meat for you to barter.”

He simply held his hand out to stop you. “...You may have my daughter if you prove yourself worthy Prince Loki.” WIth the way Thor was acting it seemed perhaps it would easily be done.

“I assure you, one day I will make your daughter a Queen, my Queen.” Full of charm and charisma, Loki was always easily able to smooth talk your father into letting you join him for some leisurely activity in the meantime. “For now it would be my honor if you allow me a moment with her.”

Your father looked back at your hopeful gaze unable to resist allowing you the opportunity. “Go on then.” Before you could get too excited he chimed in with a bit of a warning. “Remember to be back for evening training with your mother.”

“Yes father,” you quickly jumped over Lady Sif who was still holding her weight up on her forearms. Any break was welcome but spending an afternoon with Loki was your ideal recreational activity. 

Loki did not have to offer his arm because you always took it upon yourself to take it. “Let’s go before anyone tries to stop us,” you muttered realizing how your cousins were fast approaching. They too wished to make sure whoever you marry was worthy of such a great warrior.

\\\

Then it happened. 

Loki faked his death and attacked Midgard.

You were front and center at the throne room awaiting his arrival when Thor brought him back to Asgard in chains. Your heart sank at the sight, you yearned to reach out to him and almost did if it wasn’t for your father who put his arm out in front of you.

When Loki’s eyes met yours he smirked. You were truly as lovely as ever with your near immaculate appearance say for a few loose tendrils of hair that had probably come loose after a training session. “Y/N,” he greeted you in such a familiar way that insight your father’s wrath.

“Loki-”

“Do not speak to her!” 

“Father,” you tried to stop him.

He walked up to Loki but the guards formed a barrier between the two. Their barrier was only a formality for they knew your father would easily break through if he truly wanted to. “You will never speak to her again!”

Odin slammed Gungnir to regain order. 

No words were needed your father obeyed Odin’s call and retreated. “Let’s go Y/N.” He forcefully guided you out of the throne room despite your protest, leaving you to wonder about Loki’s fate.

It wasn’t until hours later that Thor showed up at your home to inform you of Loki’s punishment. He called you outside where he explained what had happened after you left. “I’m sorry Lady Y/N but my brother must answer for what he has done.” 

You sighed knowing he spoke the truth. “I just wish I could see him again, to talk and understand why he did what he did. There must be a reason.”

Thor gave you an apologetic smile. “Lady Y/N I know you and my brother were very close.”

“I love him, Thor.” That was perhaps the first time you had let anyone know of your feelings for Loki. You didn’t exactly hide your infatuation but you never officially entered a courtship with him leaving room for people to wonder.

“I know.”

“Then will you help me?”

Thor took a step back knowing what you would ask. “I don’t think it will be possible Lady Y/N.”

You persisted near begging Thor to allow you the opportunity to see your once significant other. “All I ask is to see him.”

In his cell Loki paced. He was plagued by negative thoughts of you despising and abandoning him- thoughts he had harbored since the day he fell off the Bifrost or rather let go of Thor. Since then he thought he had lost you for sure and your father’s threats only reassured it.

However, the single moment he held your gaze seemed to bring hope that you might still feel for him. His thoughts were broken when Thor appeared before his cell. His guise fell when he saw you accompanied Thor.

Loki stepped closer to the edge to get a better look at you. 

“Stop,” Thor commanded. “Loki I warn you now do not attempt to escape or I’ll be forced to keep Lady Y/N from ever visiting again.”

You put your hand on Thor’s shoulder to ease him off. “He will not misbehave Thor, you have my word.”

He nodded trusting you but by now learned his lesson about Loki. 

Loki’s eyes narrowed at your hand on his brother’s shoulder. He did not say anything but followed Thor’s instructions to stand back while he disabled the magical barrier to allow you passage.

“Thank you Thor.”

“I’ll keep the guards distracted for a while.”

As soon as he left Loki walked up to you. “Misbehave, am I some sort of child?” He was not happy about you having to speak for him. In general, he was not fond of having you see him like this- powerless and vulnerable. 

You ignored his line of questioning and hugged him instead.

Loki was rigid and speechless at first but soon he was accepting of your actions. Slowly his arms circled your waist as he laid his head on your shoulder. He was taken aback by the sound of your muffled cry as you hid your face in his chest. “Why are you crying, my Love?”

“It’s really you,” you restrained yourself only long enough for those words to be heard. You were still coming to terms that the love of your life was not dead but standing right before you in your arms. 

Loki held you tighter, “In the flesh.”

You looked up at him with a content smile, tear-stained cheeks and all. “I love you Loki.”

His heart nearly skipped a beat at your sudden confession. “My- is my little warrior becoming vulnerable to my charms?” For all the time he had spent trying to get those words out of you he had only managed to do so after a great deal of effort. Now it seemed you were more than willing to bear your heart on your sleeve.

You giggled out of pure delight and held his face in your hands. “Shut up and kiss me.”

So he did.

Loki lightly sucked your bottom lip, pulled you in by the waist and soon began letting his tongue explore your mouth. His lips were not limited to yours. He began to fervently plant kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He began to unfasten the buckles and laces of your armor as his lips ventured lower.

You were taken by the heat of the moment. Similarly, your hands began to explore Loki’s body. From his chest down to the lean muscles of his abdomen. Your rationality was regained when your chest was exposed to the cold air of the dungeons.

“Loki someone will see-”

Immediately Loki cast an illusion on the cell giving you tow some semblance of privacy. “No one but me will ever see your beauty.” 

Everything happened so quickly.

Before you knew it you had stripped Loki and knelt before him. He held onto your loosely plaited hair as you elicited a chorus of groans from him. They were music to your ears, you became greedy wanting to hear more. You added more pressure with your tongue and quickened your pace until a final moan had you tasting the fruits of your labor.

Loki panted as he bent you over the bed.

You gasped at the sudden change of position. “Loki,” his name left your lips in a low breathy exhale as you felt his long cold fingers at your entrance.

He did the bare minimum to prepare you. “Sorry love but I can not hold back much longer after what you did to me.” He had already cum but an almost animalistic urge laid deep inside him to do so again, this time inside you.

Your knuckles turned white from how hard you held onto the bedsheets. Loki was thrusting deep inside you hitting all the right spots. It was near impossible to remain silent. When his thrusts became far more erratic you began to moan louder. 

“Loki I’m going to ah-” you arched your back as Loki gave one final deep thrust. You had both reached your breaking point with you falling onto the bed after exerting all your energy. 

Loki groaned at the loss of your warmth around him. 

You turned on your back to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Loki closed his eyes feeling a wave of want. “Do not look at me like that or I’ll take you once more.”

“I’m all yours,” you reminded him lifting your arms so he would help you up.

He smirked pulling you up to stand flush against him. The softness of your skin against him would forever be embedded in his mind. “I am not worthy of you.”

“Only I get to decide who is worthy of me and I say you are.”

With Thor’s footsteps fast approaching Loki used his magic to make both of you presentable again. He was beyond words for you. All this time he worried you would despise him as much as everyone else did. He was happy to see he could still count on you.

In a blink of an eye, Loki slipped a ring on your finger.

“What’s this?” you happily asked. The ring was silver and had a lovely blue stone that seemed to glow. 

There was no time to explain or say much, “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

“I will get out of here and we will be together once more.”

-end-

A/N: Sorry I did not update the series this week but here’s this oneshot to satisfy your Loki needs ^^

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x you #Loki Odinson X Y/N #loki scenarios #loki imagines #loki fics #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #thor #marvel scenarios #marvel fan fiction #marvel imagines

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Mixed Signals

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new transfer at McKinley High. He quickly becomes fast friends with Kurt Hummel—Glee Club diva, straight A student, Cheerio extraordinaire. He plans to win his heart, but there’s just one problem: he can’t make heads or tails of Kurt’s personality, as it seems to change every hour or so...

A/N: So uh, I don’t really know what this is I haven’t written anything in literal years and I just popped this trash baby out so... yeah enjoy

* Blaine follows his new show choir director into the choir room, which he notes is significantly less grandeur than the one at Dalton, but he digressed. McKinley was supposed to be a new start and although leaving Dalton isn’t something he was ever too keen about, he knows he has to try and find the silver lining of it all, at least for his parents’ sakes.

Said silver lining presents itself in the form of a pale skinned, blue eyed boy wearing a cheerleading uniform who caught Blaine’s eye as he took center stage of the room to introduce himself. “Hello everyone,” he waves to the eclectic group of students with one hand and keeps the other safely in his pocket. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I just transferred here from Dalton Academy.”

It seems he has unnamed male Cheerio’s attention, he can practically feel the boy’s gaze quickly traveling up and down his entire body, as if assessing him. “Let’s all give Blaine a warm welcome,” says the teacher—Mr. Shue, he remembered. He gestures to the chairs in front of them as the thirteen other members applauded. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” It doesn’t m take long for him to make his way towards the empty seat next to Cheerio boy and claim it. It also doesn’t take long for the rest of the New Directions to exchange a multitude of glances that range from surprised to suggestive to sly.

The boy offers Blaine a hand and an almost bashful smile. “My name’s Kurt,” he introduced himself. “Kurt Hummel.” After fifty minutes of solos, rehearsing, and casual chatter, Blaine is definitely intrigued by Kurt, to say the least. He learns that Kurt and Finn are step brothers after the latter had come up to him and asked what they were having for dinner. “Oh, you two are dating?” Blaine had asked, not so smoothly and unable to keep his interest discreet despite his best efforts. This caused the tallest of them all to laugh heartily, throwing his head back. “No, we’re brothers. Kurt’s dad married my mom. I used to be kind of a dick, but our brotherhood kind of changed that. Did you know that grilled cheesus never said anything about gay people—“ Finn goes on for several more minutes about all he’s learned about gay rights in support of his brother, and Kurt watches and listens with equal parts pride and amusement. Not everything he says is entirely accurate, but neither Kurt nor Blaine have the heart to tell him that. Instead, they just exchange bemused glances every time it happens and let the leader of the New Directions continue on, blissfully ignorant. The bell finally dismisses them, and before Blaine leaves, his new friend is practically bouncing over to him. Blaine notes the hopeful look on his face as he gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “I know this might be a little forward, but,” he reaches out and pulled his arm towards him, rucking up Blaine’s sleeve. He tries to stay calm as he watches the purple pen move furiously, scrawling out seven digits on Blaine’s forearm. “We should hang out.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We should.” * The next time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s changed out of his Cheerio’s uniform and opted for a subdued gray tee shirt paired with a blue hoodie. He can’t say he’s not surprised at the disconnect between Kurt’s effervescent personality and muted fashion sense, but he’s excited to share calculus with him nonetheless. He throws his hand up in a friendly wave towards the boy and is slightly confused when he receives nothing more but an angrily puzzled glare in return. Offset, but not entirely discouraged, he sits right behind him. The lesson continues and Blaine is taking immaculate and thorough notes about the square root of negative integers when Kurt bursts out in disbelief. “Woah, woah, there are imaginary numbers now?” He scoffs, and Blaine is startled at how much lower his voice is. “Are there unicorns in the next lesson?” “Mr. Hummel,” the teacher scolds, folding his arms. “Are we going to need another chat with principal Figgins?” “No but we might need one with the people in charge of educating the nation’s youth.” He mutters. Blaine is absolutely floored at the jarring contrast between the Kurt he met two periods ago and the one sitting in front of him right now. Still, he doesn’t want his new friend to get into trouble, so he places a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch from the other boy. He whips around to face Blaine. “What?” He hisses. “Nothing, I just... don’t want you to get into trouble.” He admits.

He looks at Blaine like he’s never seen him before this moment, absolutely bewildered. “Thanks,” he says, not an ounce of actual gratitude in his voice. “But I can handle myself just fine.” And he turns back around to face the board. Blaine sits there, stirring in his confusion. He hadn’t know Kurt could be so... abrasive. At least, not based on his interactions with him earlier that day. He brushes it off with a shake of his head. Maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s sure it’s a one time thing. * It’s not a one time thing. Blaine slowly realizes over the course of more than a few days, that it’s an actually very regular occurrence. And normally, this would be the sort of thing that makes Blaine run for the hills, but the fifty-percent of the time Kurt is being his normal optimistic self (he quickly thinks, what if he just assumes that’s Kurt’s default personality because it’s the first one he met, but he pushes the thought aside) he is really into him. He hasn’t been this into a guy since... well, ever. He’s seen Kurt stand up to several jerks with comebacks that had the power behind them to instantly disintegrate anyone who dared to try and shoot any homophobia in his direction. He isn’t used to this kind of bravery, mostly because it wasn’t needed at Dalton, but here it definitely is, and Blaine admires courage like that. Kurt was there when he had first gotten slushied, willing and more than prepared with all the needed grooming supplies to help get the sticky sweet ice out of Blaine’s unfortunate hair. They had even sung a few—admittedly flirty—duets for their glee club assignments. That was the Kurt he liked. But he’s also seen Kurt crumple up the cute note he’d left for him on his desk and immediately toss it into the wastebasket. He’s seen him mock fellow Cheerios when he’s not in uniform with “Two, four, six, eight! Heard you like to fornicate!” and a sarcastic grin. But what he can’t fathom is how Kurt from glee club, who never fails to ask “Mr. Shue, may I?” ever so politely, and Kurt from history, who refers to Bill Clinton as “came-a-lot”, are the same person. He’s made serval mental notes to help him unravel the enigma that was Kurt Hummel, dividing the two versions of him into “Glee Kurt” and “Calculus Kurt”. Glee Kurt likes to talk, likes to learn everything he can about Blaine. So he tells him everything from piano lessons at age four, to his annoying older brother Cooper. He also likes little intimate touches—a hand on the thigh after a good joke, the grazing of each other’s hands, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Blaine never complains about this, if anything, he encourages it by reciprocating every sign of interest Kurt shows, especially since they’re gone just as easily as they come. Calculus Kurt speaks in a lower register than Glee Kurt, and after trying to reach for his hand during the few minutes before class and earning an outraged swat in return, Blaine’s learned to practically avoid any contact with him at all during that class, whether it be verbal or physical. He only steps in when he thinks Kurt’s snide remarks might get him into too much trouble. It’s confusing, to say the least, but Blaine Anderson is not a quitter. * “God my brother is driving me crazy,” Kurt moans as Blaine walks him down the hallway. Blaine chuckles, unable to imagine what Finn could have possibly done this time. “Was his late-night Call Of Duty tournament keeping you up too late?” Kurt looks puzzled. “He doesn’t play Call Of Duty,” he replies. Blaine’s forehead creases in confusion because he’s sure he’s heard Finn boast about his marathons on that video game on more than one occasion. “No, his laptop died and he refused to give me back mine so he could work on his journalism project.“ Blaine had no idea that Finn was so passionate about writing, but he supposes Kurt knows his own brother better than he does. * It takes a few weeks, but Blaine finally figures it out. It’s the Cheerios uniform.

He’s been sheltered by all those years at Dalton, so when he came to McKinley he didn’t understand right away, but now he does. Status is everything to the kids at this school and if you’re wearing a Letterman jacket or a Cheerios uniform, nobody’s going to screw with you.

But if you’re not... well, Blaine is certain that Kurt’s built up walls of his own to protect himself from the idiots like Azimio and Langanthal when he doesn’t have the Cheerios uniform to do it for him.

It’s the only logical explanation.

At least it is until he walks into the choir room and Kurt is wearing black jeans with a bright yellow raincoat.

“Wow,” Blaine greets him, mostly out of surprise from how different this outfit is from Kurt’s normal wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Kurt takes his usual seat next to Blaine.

“I-I think it’s great,” Blaine stammers, hating how hard it is to make heads or tails of the boy sitting next to him. “It’s just so different from your usual get up.” “I know.” Kurt chortles. “Sue had them sent out for dry cleaning, so we get to freestyle dress today.” So, Blaine supposes, it’s not the Cheerios uniform. * Blaine sighs as he walks into calculus. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a really bad idea because Kurt is always in a bad mood for this class, but he doesn’t care. He’s hoping that if he can get Kurt to act like his normal self now, he can do it indefinitely and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He takes a steadying breath and walks right up to him. “I usually know to wait until you’re out of this class, but I can’t take it anymore. Will you go to dinner with me?” Kurt looks up at him like he’s the dumbest creature on earth. It stings. “Sorry,” Kurt spits without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “I’m not gay, but if I were, I don’t think you’d be my type.” Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His hurt quickly morphs into anger and he retorts back, “You know, I get that you’re capricious, but I never took you for a coward,” before pushing past him and taking a seat in the very back of the class. He doesn’t see confounded look on the other boy’s face and doesn’t hear him whisper, “What the fuck,” to himself. * The situation gets a hundred times more confusing when Kurt comes up to him in the hallway a few days later. “Hey!” He calls out to Blaine. Blaine tenses. He so does not want to have this conversation right now, and certainly not in the middle of the hallway. He keeps walking, keeps avoiding Kurt. “I am talking to you!” Kurt finally catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder to force Blaine to face him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and I want to know why!” Blaine is dumbfounded. “Look, Kurt,” he scoffs. “If I had known you were still in the closet, I would’ve probably backed off. But you came onto me! I get not being ready to come out, but I really like you and I don’t know how much longer–hmph!” Before he knows what’s happening, Kurt is pulling on the front of Blaine’s jacket, bringing their faces together. And it’s... nice. It’s really nice. The pressure of Kurt’s mouth against his own is warm and even, and for a moment Blaine forgets all the crazy that seems to revolve around Kurt Hummel because all he can think about is the world of possibilities this kiss is opening up. Kurt pulls away, leaving him in a daze. “Would someone who’s in the closet do that?” “I guess not.” Blaine responds airily, head still spinning. * When Blaine sees Kurt at the end of that day, shoving some books into his locker, he can’t keep his stupid grin off his face. Blaine comes up behind him and grabs his waist playfully, spinning his around. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says before pulling them together. If he’s being honest... it’s not very good. He can feel Kurt grimace and tense up by the time their lips meet, and he’s about to pull away and ask what’s wrong before Kurt beats him to the punch. He shoves Blaine’s chest, splitting them asunder. “What the fuck was that?” Blaine can see that Kurt is absolutely seething. “I just thought- after earlier today—” “In case I haven’t been very clear before, I’m gonna be completely transparent now,” he fumes. “I never want to see your face again. Stay the hell away from me!” Blaine watches in a melting pot of emotions as Kurt turns around and all but sprints away from him. What the hell was that all about? * Blaine knocks on the Hudson-Hummel household door vigorously. He knows Kurt told him to stay the hell away from him, but his stubborn frustration tells him they are going to talk about this god dammit. The door opens and Finn can barely get out a friendly greeting before Blaine busts pats him. “Where’s your brother?” He demands. “Uh, which one?” “Don’t play dumb, Finn!” The taller boy only looks at him expectantly. “Kurt!” Finn sees the look in Blaine’s eyes and knows he’s searching for some kind of answer, probably one he can’t give him. “Uh, Kurt!” He calls. “Your boyfriend’s here and he looks kinda pissed off.” Kurt comes down the stairs, face lighting up when he sees Blaine. “Hey—“ he starts, but Blaine wastes no time getting to the point. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss or not?” “What?” “I should go.” Finn points out uncomfortably. “I thought it was nice, right?” “It-it was not nice.” Blaine exhales. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” “Am I missing something here?” “I have no idea why I’m still here.” “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, Kurt!” Blaine finally explodes. “In glee club all you want to do is flirt and hold hands and banter which I am all for, believe me! But then in calculus you seem like you want nothing to do with me!” “Calculus?” Kurt’s face twists up in a lack of understanding. “We don’t have that class together. I don’t even take calculus, I’m in statistics—“ And then it hits him. He doesn’t take calculus, but there’s one person he knows who does. “CARSON!” Kurt screeches so loudly that even Blaine, seething just a moment ago, is startled. Blaine hears another set of footsteps rush down the stairs accompanied by a familiar voice. “I swear to god if you called me down here while I’m in the middle of editing my college entrance essay to tell me how unflattering my wardrobe is again I’m gonna—“ The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Blaine, and Blaine blanches. “Oh, my god.” He mumbles. Standing in front of him is an exact replica of Kurt, wearing the same blue jacket he’d always donned in calculus. He looks at Kurt, then back at—Carson. It all makes so much sense. Kurt didn’t have a dual personality, Blaine was just an idiot. Twins. Fucking twins. “Oh, my god,” Carson says, turning to Finn and Kurt. “It’s that weirdo I was telling you about!” “Wait, this is the creepy guy who has a crush on you?” Kurt asks in bewilderment. “I thought you were just expressing your closeted homophobia a la Finn circa sophomore year?” “Oh,” Finn rolls his eyes. “You just have to bring that up again.” “You know I’m not homophobic,” Carson retorts, ignoring his stepbrother. “This is that guy that gave me that note, asked me out, then kissed me without warning!” “You kissed Carson?” Kurt and Finn ask in unison. “I thought he was you!” Blaine defends himself. “For a month?” Carson asks, unconvinced. He scoffs. “Convenient.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt growls back at him. “Dude,” Finn interjects, voice beginning to bubble up with laughter. “They look nothing alike.” “Finn, they are literally identical twins!” “What, did you just think Kurt was really fickle?” Carson asks incredulously. Blaine opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut immediately because even though he now realizes how utterly absurd that sounds, it’s exactly what he thought. “Oh, my god.” Finn, Kurt, and Carson all chorus in realization. The horror of the situation dawns on Blaine and a white-hot embarrassment starts burning in the pit of his stomach. “I have to go.” He says, eyes wide as he turns to leave. Kurt grabs his hand. “What? You don’t have to leave,” he explains. Blaine shakes his head incredulously. “You’re not done with me? After all that?” “Of course not!” He laughs as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Do I think you can be a little ridiculously oblivious? Of course. But I really like you, Blaine. Besides, this will make a great story one day.” From behind them, Carson rolls his eyes. “Can I fucking go now?” Kurt shoots his brother a glare then immediately turns his attention back to Blaine. “But if you ever kiss my brother again, we’re through.” Blaine lets his head fall forward and huffs out a laugh. “Deal.” 

#klaine #glee #wow look at me im writing! #im honestly so nervous to post this bc i know it came out shitty #and i havent written in forever #just like #ugh #idk why im so nervous lol #ive posted much worse shit on here #sbl #glee/sbl

[gveret-fic]

Prompt: Kara and Lena take their first vacation together

Lena had always imagined their first vacation to be to Cairo, or Rome, or even Istanbul. Somewhere with a deep history or unique architecture. But she supposed, to Kara, who measured travel by light years rather than miles, there was little difference between Shanghai and Midvale.

But, oh, it was fine. Rather than a relaxing, romantic experience somewhere faraway where her face was less recognizable, Lena was going to meet her lover’s foster parent. Which was just fine with her, of course. If there was ever a thing Lena had a perfect track record with, it was mother figures.

“Lena.” Kara placed her hand on Lena’s thigh. “She’s going to love you.” She squeezed. “And if she doesn’t love you, she’ll at least tolerate you.”

Lena let out a laugh. “Thank you for the reassurance.”

“Cuz I love you,” Kara continued. She took away her hand and swung one leg over Lena’s thighs to replace it.

Lena pulled on Kara’s hip to tug her halfway into her lap, rearranging her in a way that was sure to cause Lena’s legs and ass to fall asleep within the hour, but it made Kara giggle, so screw the consequences.

She wrapped her arms securely around Kara and settled in for the rest of their train ride.

If Kara had gone by herself she could probably have flown. But Supergirl carrying Kara Danvers’ girlfriend all the way to Kara Danvers’ home town might have been a tad suspicious.

By the time they reached Eliza’s home, Lena’s entire lower body had indeed descended into pins and needles. She tried to discreetly rub feeling back into the back of her thighs as Kara knocked on the door.

The door swung open abruptly, and Lena rushed to remove her hands from her ass. Feeling caught out, she crossed her arms over her chest, then immediately uncrossed them, struggling to recall the basics of body language.

Meanwhile, Kara exclaimed and jumped to embrace Eliza tightly.

“It’s so good to see you,” came Kara’s hug-muffled voice.

“It’s been far too long,” Eliza agreed.

Kara stepped back and touched Lena’s elbow. “Lena, my foster mom, Eliza.” She turned to Eliza and said, surprisingly formal, “Eliza, um, please meet the woman I love.”

Lena had to cough to clear the inopportune lump in her throat at those words.

“Hello, Lena,” said Eliza, and moved to step forward.

Hug or handshake? Hug or handshake?

Be cool, Lena told herself frantically.

“Lena Luthor. Pleasure.” She held out her hand.

Miscalculation. Eliza was clearly going for the hug.

They engaged in an awkward dance that resolved in a contorted sort of mutual pat on the back. Two minutes into the encounter, and Lena was ready to sink into bed with a face mask and headphones and the resolution to never have another interpersonal interaction again.

“Please, come in,” Eliza said, as if Lena hadn’t just irrevocably lost her right to be welcomed into anyone’s home ever.

Kara pinched her waist. “Relax,” she mouthed. Lena could only give her a helpless shrug.

Eliza showed them to the living room, where a number of chairs faced a long sofa.

Now what? Should she sit? Is the ability to stand up for prolonged periods of time a desirable trait in a daughter’s significant other? If so, Lena is already failing.

“Kara, could you get us some drinks?” said Eliza. “I’ll give Lena the tour.”

Kara waved to Lena cheerfully and went into the kitchen. Lena sifted desperately through memories of Luthor networking lessons as she followed after Eliza.

Eliza’s home was generic to the point of being literally unremarkable. “You have a lovely home, Dr. Danvers,” Lena brazenly lied. Grasping for a polite comment to make, she gestured at the windows. “I, uh, love your drapes.”

“Oh? I don’t really care about decor and all that,” Eliza said dismissively.

Lena privately noted that she had made no comment about Lena’s use of the honorific. Message received, she thought, straightening her back until she felt a slight twinge.

This was going well.

“This was Alex’s old room,” Eliza was saying. “You know Alex?”

“I do.”

“What do you think of her?”

Lena exhaled. Finally, a subject she could compliment sincerely. “Loyal to a fault,” was the first thing that sprang to mind. “Determined, caring, overly self effacing perhaps. It’s clear that awkward charm and selflessness run in the family.”

Eliza snorted. “Never thought of Alex as selfless,” she said. “Well. It’s good you get along, I suppose.”

Lena felt herself bristle. Certainly more selfless than you or I, she wanted to say. But normal families liked to tease each other harmlessly, didn’t they? Not every unflattering comment was meant to belittle or control.

They finished the house tour and joined Kara in the kitchen and accepted mugs of hot cocoa. Trust Kara to make the best possible choice when asked for unspecified drinks.

“So, Dr. Danvers, I heard from Kara that you’ve been developing a multipurpose vaccine with extraterrestrial immune systems in mind,” Lena tried. “We’re introducing a new alien-safe hypodermic needle next quarter, if you’d be interested in a—”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do business together,” Eliza interrupted bluntly.

Lena swallowed her instinctive retort. Kara was nodding as if this made perfect sense to her, so Lena tried not to jump to conclusions.

Kara took it upon herself to carry the conversation for the next several minutes, and Lena silently sipped her cocoa and tried to find an appropriate place to join the discussion. Every time she gathered the will to speak up, however, the conversation had already moved on.

“Lena,” Eliza said abruptly after a four minute dissertation by Kara on the superiority of mutts. “A word, please.”

Lena glanced at Kara, who held up two thumbs and mouthed You got this but offered no helpful objection. Her jaw worked.

“Of course.”

Eliza herded her into her office. “In here. You can sit in my chair.”

My chair needed no clarification; there was only the one. Lena worked very hard on refraining from clenching her jaw as she sat, looking up at a very much still standing Dr. Danvers, Alien Girlfriend’s Foster Mom.

“You seemed nervous today,” Eliza observed neutrally.

“Oh, I—uh—” Lena immediately regretted opening her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Hm,” said Eliza.

“I don’t mean to—You seem perfectly nice,” Lena blabbered. “I assure you, my intentions toward Kara—”

Eliza waved her hand. “I don’t care about that. Kara’s an adult. If she gets her heart broken, that’s a part of life. She would live, and grow to exceed you in every way.”

Eliza’s gaze was calm and unwavering, and Lena found herself unable to look away. She felt observed, assessed, without any idea as to the results.

“I agree,” she said quietly.

Eliza nodded. “Likewise, I don’t care about your politics, or your media presence, or your taste in interior design,” she continued. “I care about one thing. Do you know what it is?”

“Whether—whether I can make Kara happy?”

Eliza made a noncommittal sound. “I’ll trust you with that,” she said, not sounding entirely convinced.

“Then—?”

“Kara loves you,” said Eliza. Lena knew this, of course, but the matter-of-fact words were jarring somehow, coming from her. “This is why she brought you here. She wants you to be part of our family. Do you want the same thing?”

Did Lena want the same thing? To be linked to Kara in the way most profound to her, to have a family that she can be unreservedly proud of, to be part of something beautiful?

“Yes,” Lena said, trying not to make the unspoken duh too conspicuous.

“Then you are,” Eliza said simply. “Go help Kara set the table. And don’t call me Dr. Danvers ever again. You’ll both be here for Passover, won’t you? Bring some appetizers. Grain-free, you remember.”

Before she quite realized what she was doing, Lena was out of the chair and on the tip of her toes, arms around Eliza Danvers. Eliza reciprocated easily, without a hint of hesitation, her grip tight and steady. Another thing that seemed to run in the family.

“Oh, I thought you might just be a standoffish ass,” Eliza observed over Lena’s shoulder. “Now I’ll have to reevaluate my analysis.”

Lena let out a slightly wet laugh. “Thank you.” She was aiming for sardonic and accidentally landed on sincere.

Eliza pulled away with the classic shoulder squeeze and eyed Lena like she knew every one of her secrets. “We should get back before Kara suspects me of assassinating the woman she loves.” Her approximation of Kara’s dreamy, painfully earnest tone was quite good, really.

Lena decided to file her away as mom who enjoys affectionately making fun of her kids. Also under gives good hugs and does not observe small talk etiquette.

Not altogether an uncharming person, in all honesty.

Back in the kitchen, Kara was humming to herself and munching on a bag of dry granola. Kara feeling at home was truly the most absurd, emotionally fulfilling sight.

Lena surreptitiously wiped at her eyes and sidled up to her. “Eliza enlisted me to set the table for dinner.”

Kara turned to her. “Are you crying?” she whispered loudly.

“No,” Lena told her. And sniffled.

Kara wrapped an arm around Lena’s hip, hand dipping down to give her ass a firm squeeze. Lena laughed breathlessly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kara murmured, putting down the granola and handing Lena a stack of very ugly placemats.

Lena glanced from the placemats to the fridge, littered with Nature magazine clippings, precariously magnetized stacks of bills, and a single tiny cut off photo booth picture of teenaged Alex and Kara making silly faces.

Nevermind Cairo or Rome or Istanbul. There was truly no other place she’d rather be.

#supercorp #my fic #thanks anon! #i took this in a different direction hope you don't mind #anonymous

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will….

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

Microbiology was your least favorite class of the semester. And it wasn’t even because you were basically useless when it came to absorbing scientific information or keeping the different theories and discoveries straight. You did well enough to pass the class with a decent grade.

No, it was because you were stuck taking the class with Kim Jongdae.

You didn’t hate him. In fact, you might have even had a bit of a crush on him due to his good looks. Okay, and due to how sweet he could be… to everyone else. He mostly ignored you and he had a semi-good reason for it so you couldn’t completely blame him.

The first time you met Jongdae was at a house party. A house party that you didn’t want to go to in the first place. You were supposed to be going on a date with a guy from your Chinese Dynasties class, but he canceled at the last minute and made it abundantly clear there would be no rescheduling. You were in a miserable mood and all you want to do when you were in miserable moods was curl up under your soft throw blanket on the couch and watch a mind-numbing romantic comedy. But Eun Na was having none of that.

With more force than necessary, Eun Na dragged you out of your apartment and into her car, driving you to some basketball player’s parents’ house for an overly extravagant party you were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be having in the first place. Silently from the passenger’s seat, you cursed Eun Na who knew you hated crowds and drunk people. Crowds of drunk people were a category that you went nowhere near. But she didn’t seem to care that night.

As she parked down the street from the house that was located on the outskirts of the rich neighborhood it resided in, you talked yourself through the square breathing technique your dad had taught you when you were younger in an effort to calm your nerves. Eun Na forced you out of the car and you trudged slowly behind her.

The house was stuffed full of college students way beyond the fire safety code. Music blared from the front living room, making you wonder if the people standing right next to the speakers had permanently damaged eardrums. In the back was the kitchen where half-full bottles of vodka, tequila, and other alcohols were scattered all over the counter among abandoned solo cups and ripped open cardboard cases of beer. Eun Na didn’t let go of you until she was right in front of the liquor bottles, grabbing a two liter of coke in the process.

“One drink!” Eun Na yelled over the noise and chatter. “You only have to have one drink! Then I won’t nag you anymore!”

“Fine!” you growled back. Perhaps you could find a plant to pour it in once her back was turned. After shoving a rum and coke in your hand, she stared at you expectantly. Knowing she wouldn’t leave it alone until she saw you take a sip, you brought the cup to your lips. The mixed drink tasted nothing like the ones you’d been forced to try in the past. You couldn’t explain what it was, only that you wanted more.

In a time that was a record for you, you downed the drink and asked for another. Eun Na gladly obliged. Four drinks later and you were starting to feel it, both in your head and in your stomach. Stumbling to find a bathroom before it was too late, you’d ran into Jongdae in the hallway. He’d stared at you strangely, like you were the only one wandering around drunk and on the verge of being sick (hint: you most definitely weren’t). Hesitantly, he reached out to your swaying figure. And that’s when you threw up on his shoes.

After getting you to a bathroom, he made sure you were okay and then high-tailed it out of there. Needless to say, you hadn’t touched an alcoholic drink since.

That was at the end of last semester. To your relief, you hadn’t seen him again after that night. Until the fall semester started and you walked into your biology class to find him sitting right there in the second row. When the two of you made eye contact, the smile vanished from his face and every muscle in his jaw visibly stiffened. He cut off the contact and kept his gaze down. Your shoulders dropped, understanding why you wouldn’t exactly be his favorite person. Thinking it was best for everyone, you broke your seating rule and sat more towards the back so you wouldn’t be even in his peripheral.

It had been two months of excruciating humiliation. No matter what you did, he always seemed to get to class before you could. Being the friendly and personable type, he was always chatting away with someone around him. But as soon as you entered the classroom, his entire demeanor changed. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to be looking your direction. It was like he had a sixth sense for your presence and it created a dark cloud over him.

Today, like any other day, you simply kept your eyes down, not daring to look at him as you hurried to your seat near the back. Only when you were safe in your desk did you dare to look. Usually when you did, you just saw the back of his wavy, dark brown hair. It fell over his forehead at the perfect length and curled at the nape of his neck. Sometimes it would shake from his laughter and you wished you were closer to hear how it sounded. This was not one of those times.

When your eyes met his, you froze. Jongdae was turned around in his seat, staring up at you. But the look in his rich, russet-colored eyes was different than he’d ever given you before. There was genuine concern as his eyebrows knitted together. In a panic, you cut off the gaze, shrinking in your seat. Confused, you tried not to think too much into why he would seem worried for you while you were just embarrassed at how that little interaction was making your heart run a marathon.

What was wrong with you? You hardly knew the guy. Okay, so he was pretty attractive. But that was never the bases for your crushes in the past. And yet, here you were. You liked nice guys and that was problem. He was practically an angel. If you didn’t see him always volunteer to help out someone who didn’t understand or pick up pens that his neighbors dropped, you might have been able to completely ignore him and go on with your life. No such luck. Instead, you were forced to sit there and watch in complete awe without receiving the same. It seemed that no matter what, you couldn’t get Jongdae out of your head. 

There was something inside that was yelling at you to go take the seat next to him before that model-like girl arrived and took her usual place beside him. Where you wanted to be. But you just couldn’t do it.

Letting out a low groan, you laid your head down on the desk until the graduate teaching assistant turned off the lights to start the slide show on today’s lesson. When you risked it again, you look at Jongdae, who’d turned back around to the front like nothing had happened.

**

You were utterly exhausted as you stepped into your apartment. It was your lucky day since you didn’t have to go work at the coffee shop tonight. After about four hours in the library with Eun Na, you were all caught up on homework and free to spend the next day however you deemed fit. 

Well, there was your short morning class. Okay, and you did have a small afternoon shift at the shop. So really, you could spend your free time between eleven and four however you wanted to. Which meant dramas and junk food for five uninterrupted hours to look forward to and no homework to stress about.

Once the door was locked behind you, you dropped your bag on the couch and headed towards the kitchen to find something to munch on. A vibrating sensation from your back pocket made you jump. Pulling out your phone, you read the caller ID: Eun Na.

“Hello?” you answered, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder while you shuffled leftovers and other foods around in your refrigerator.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?”

You laughed at Eun Na’s upbeat greeting as if you hadn’t just seen her. “Nothing much, just trying to figure out what to eat for dinner.” You picked up a white Styrofoam container, shaking it gently. “Chinese food from last Saturday is not a good choice, is it?”

“Ew, no. Throw that out.” There’s a slight shuffling on her end of the phone and then she was back. “Hey, you don’t work next Saturday evening, right?”

“Uh,” you looked up at your calendar that was magnetized onto the freezer door. “No, I don’t. Tae asked to if we could switch so I only work the mid-day shift. Why? What’s up?”

“A few friends from my neighborhood are having a bonfire and I want you to come with me.”

You whined. “Seriously, Eun Na! I said no more parties. You know what happen last time.”

The one secret you kept from Eun Na was your crush on Jongdae. You knew she would roll her eyes at you, having seen firsthand how he’d gone out of his way to avoid you. But she had heard about your embarrassing first meeting and it’d been your tool to avoid all future escapades.

“It’s not a party,” she argued. “It’s more like a kickback. Twelve of us at the most. Come on, I need my best friend there. Please.” Like a kicked puppy, she started whimpering. You couldn’t stand it when she did that.

No was no longer an option. You slid down to the old, peeling tile floor of your kitchen, leaning your back against the cabinets. “Okay, I’ll go. But not too late okay?”

Eun Na squealed. “Not a problem! Thank you, (y/n)! You’re the best!”

You rolled your eyes, not understanding what the big deal was. But it made Eun Na happy. And, considering what she’d done for you in the past, it was the least you could do for her.

Settling on yesterday’s pizza, you popped two slices on a plate in the microwave and waited for it yell so you knew it was done. Involuntarily, your mind drifted to Jongdae and the look he’d given you. It was almost like he was thinking something was going to happen to you, an accident or some other disastrous situation. Though you didn’t know the reasoning behind the expression, you didn’t think it was pity. If you were honest, you were glad to get some sort of interaction with him that wasn’t pure irritation.

The blaring noise from the microwave pulled your thoughts away from your unnerving classmate and to your stomach, which was gurgling with anticipation. In a somewhat un-ladylike manner, you scarfed down the pizza, remembering to take a few sips of water in between. Satisfied by dinner, but still not quite full, you went back to your freezer and pulled out the pint of chocolate ice cream resting on the top shelf. Then frowned when you took off the lid. Apparently, you had absentmindedly taking a spoonful here and there, leaving only a pitiful amount at the bottom of the cup. With a pout, you put the pint back in the freezer and grabbed your keys, knowing that small little bite was just not going to cut it.

Back out on the streets, you walked diligently to the corner store. The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but the sidewalks were already at a spooky level of darkness. This was a walk you had taken before, but something about the air was sending your senses into overdrive.

As always, you made it to the store and quickly picked out more chocolate ice cream from the cheapest brand. You grabbed M&Ms as a last minute treat for surviving the day. A pathetic excuse for more chocolate, but one you wouldn't disagree with. Grocery bag in hand and purse strewn across your shoulder, you exited the store just to run in what felt like a brick wall. You would have fallen to your butt right there on the concrete if a hand hadn’t reached out and grabbed your arm, steadying you out.

The one who had blocked your path was an obnoxiously tall man around your age. His light brown hair was disheveled on his forehead and his big eyes were wide with worry.

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly. “Are you okay?”

You took your arm back, smiling at him to let him know that you were fine. “All good. Have a good night.”

Before you could get fully past him, the guy stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Wait!”

Biting your cheek to keep your mouth shut from a snarky comment that you’d knew you would agonize over later, you turned around to look at him. “Yes?”

“Oh, um, well.” His eyes flickered around while he searched for an excuse. Shaking your head, you began to turn back.

“Just let her go, Chanyeol.”

You stopped. Jongdae appeared behind the tall one – apparently named Chanyeol – and looked at you with that irritated expression again. So much for the concern. To add to the surprise, the nosy guy from the student union walked up beside Jongdae and rounded out the trio. His look was softer this time, closer to indifferent than the cold stare from your earlier encounter.

You were suddenly very intimidated. All three boys were of different heights, but all of them were muscular and toned and definitely not the kind to be messed with. There was nothing about their stances that were threatening towards you, in fact Chanyeol was looking more like a neglected puppy with the frown on his face. But something in your gut was screaming that underneath their pretty faces was something very dangerous. It was best to get out of there.

“Have a good night.”

You only made it about five steps before Jongdae called out to you. Reluctantly, you glanced over your shoulder.

“Be careful.” Sincerity was clearly in his words, but you had a hard time swallowing his warning. You already knew to be careful. Who was he to try and act this way now?

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #jongdae x reader #jongdae #chen #jongin #minseok #junmyeon #chanyeol #baekhyun #kyungsoo #sehun #exo werewolf au #fighting instinct #kpop

[psycho-slytherin]

The Tenor

A series of coincidences leads you to talk to the best singer in your choir.

Pairing: Singer!Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Genre: pure innocent fluff

Next ––>

|mlist|

“As soon as we get free time, we have to go take pictures, okay? I’ll actually die if I don’t have a photo against that specific wall. And once we’re out of the chaperones’ sights we can order wine! I love Europe, I swear, I’m literally never leaving...”

You laugh. “Whatever you say, Rena.”

“We need a group of at least three, right? I’m thinking you, me, and Taeyeon— oh, actually Hyuna’s joining us because she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“Didn’t she do that last week?”

“Yeah, but they got back together— you know her.” Rena looks like she’s about to say something else, but your guide claps his hands.

“Alright everyone, welcome to Venice!”

Your choir cheers, and you join in. You’ve been looking forward to this trip all year, and now you’re really in Italy with your choir, touring and singing in some of the most amazing churches in the world. “Anyone that wants to try a gondola, line up in groups of five,” the guide says. “Afterwards there’s free time and an optional glassblowing exhibit.” 

Glassblowing? Now that sounds interesting. You turn to tell Rena that much but she’s already looking around for a fifth group member.

“Jennie’s in a group already...” she whines, “Sunmi and Jeongyeon too, ugh!”

You’re sighing bemusedly when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Taehyung, a baritone that you’ve always been friendly with but never close to.

“Hey, y/n, I was wondering if you have a group for the gondola ride?”

You smile widely. “Yeah, and we could use another person. Want to join us?”

Taehyung grins as you inform Rena of your new fifth member. Always the friendly ones, your friends welcome Tae with enthusiasm. The five of you pile into the gondola to which your guide has directed you and you end up wedged between Rena and Hyuna, with Taehyung across from you.

“Watch this,” Hyuna whispers, her plump lips brushing your ear before she speaks loud enough for the whole group to hear: “Hey, Tae!”

You have to give into your laughter: at Hyuna’s words, both Taehyung and Taeyeon turn around with expectant expressions. 

“Ahh, that was great,” Hyuna giggles, sitting back in satisfaction.

You worry that Taehyung will be annoyed by your friends’ teasing dynamic, but you see a sparkle of amusement in his eyes— he’s having as much fun as the rest of the group. The five of you banter easily, enjoying the ambience and beauty of Venice.

“Did you hear that?” Taeyeon cocks her head suddenly and points upriver, past the bored gondolier behind you. Listening intently, you make out the sweet melodies and harmonizations of a group of advanced vocalists— an exclusive subsection within the general choir.

“Are they in the boat behind us?” Rena asks, peering at the canal.

“They sound amazing,” Taeyeon whispers in awe, and you have to agree.

“How did they find their pitch?” You wonder aloud. The song they’re doing is complex and completely a capella— hence, it being an advanced song.

“I bet Jungkook is on that gondola,” Taehyung says, and the four of you nod in understanding: Jeon Jungkook is the choir’s golden boy and the only member of the choir with perfect pitch.

“No wonder they sound so good, if Jungkook’s there,” Hyuna sniffs. You want to think of a clever response, but you’re beyond mesmerized by the notes floating across the water. Like most of the songs in your set, the advanced vocalists are singing in another language and since it’s impossible to focus on the lyrics you settle for picking out individual voices: that clear, ringing voice is your fellow soprano Seulgi, and the throaty alto tone of Sunmi is easily recognizable. 

You have no clue who’s singing base or baritone because as soon as you focus on the impossibly flawless tenor voice, any other thoughts go out the window. You don’t know or care what the words are— the guy could be singing through a grocery list and you’d still be captivated... you snap out of your daze when Rena begins clapping. Is the song over already?

“Encore!” Taehyung whoops, and you hear the advanced vocalists talking as their gondola rounds a corner in the canal, at last coming into view.

“Shit, were we really that loud? I bet our gondolier hates us.”

“It’s fine, we sounded great.”

“We sounded like death, but maybe that’s just me.”

“Someone tell them to stop clapping, it’s embarrassing!” 

As the boat nears yours you see Seulgi waving wildly and next to her is Jungkook, the tenor with the enchanting voice. You and Jungkook haven’t run in the same social circles— despite sharing a class for three years, you’ve never spoken, and you’re quite certain that he’s unaware of your existence.

But you know of him. You’ll never forget that day in freshman year— your director was trying out guys one by one for a solo while the girls oooh’d as backup. You weren’t paying attention, just mindlessly holding your note when your director called on Jungkook to try out. Ten seconds after he began singing, your director needed to stop him because the backup had stuttered to a halt. Every single girl in choir, including you— and a fair number of the guys too— fell silent on hearing Jungkook’s voice. 

Within a minute you had developed a massive crush on him, but with a face and voice like his, Jungkook was impossibly out of your league.

“We’re not even playing the same sport,” you’d told Rena back then. “It’s more like he’s a star in the major leagues, and I sometimes trip over my own feet and call it exercise.” 

Your crush had faded quickly— you never spoke to him and it was hopeless anyways— but that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering whenever you heard him rehearse his solo. There was something impossibly attractive about a voice like his. The gondola ride is over quickly and you join your classmates in crowding around the tour guide.

“Alright, guys,” the guide says once everyone’s settled down, “you have an option: follow me to see a Venetian glassblowing master at work— it’ll only take an hour— or go off on your own and meet back here in three hours. Remember, groups of three or more at all times.”

You feel a tug on your hand. “C’mon, I need to go take pictures,” Rena says, holding up her phone. “Model for me?”

“Oh, uh... I sort of wanted to see the glassblowing,” you say lamely.

“You need to be in a group of at least three,” Hyuna mentions, “and you don’t have three.”

“Sure she does.” You feel a pat on your head and turn to see Taehyung winking at you. “Let me return the favor. My group is gonna check out the glassblowing— wanna come?”

“Sure,” you reply quickly. Rena’s your best friend and you adore her but sometimes she can be a bit controlling, and you’re in Italy. You want to do all sorts of cool stuff, not just walk around and take photos. Tae ushers you away to join the others and you shoot an apologetic glance at your friend, who shrugs good-naturedly and flashes you a thumbs up. 

“The others”, as you discover once about thirty of your classmates have squished into the glass exhibition room, are Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook. You’re on good terms with Jimin and Namjoon and you have a great time whispering and snickering in between heavily accented lessons in the art of glass. 

You don’t talk to Jungkook— you figure he’s the quiet type, probably best left alone to muse about life’s great mysteries or how to make his voice sound even better. The demonstration ends and people quickly empty out, off to find lunch in the time they have left. You catch up to Taehyung.

“Mind if I tag along again?”

“For sure— not that we know where we’re going,” Tae replies, and the five of you set off in search of food.

“How about this place? It doesn’t look bad.” Jimin points eventually at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a hopeful-looking waiter. The five of you settle down, you and Jungkook across from Namjoon and Jimin, with Taehyung at the head. The waiter returns with water, but as you reach for your glass you somehow manage to knock over the heavy pepper shaker, which falls on your other hand with a dull thud.

“Ah, fuck!” You yank your hand away and cradle it, beyond embarrassed that you’ve already screwed up in front of your new friends. While you’re still inwardly cursing yourself, an unfamiliar noise startles you. Beside you, Jungkook’s shoulders are shaking with mirth. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh.

“It wasn’t that funny,” you tell him indignantly.

“No, I just— I didn’t know you swore,” he chuckles, and you realize with a start that it’s the first time you’ve heard his speaking voice.

But also... “You didn’t figure I could curse?” You’ve got the mouth of a sailor, anyone that’s met you would know that.

“Well, you’re always so shy and quiet,” Jungkook explains, and you gasp at him. He thinks you’re quiet? Your director has had to tell you to and your friends to stop chattering on numerous occasions. And Jungkook, the golden boy, the born singer, thinks you‘re quiet?

“It’s big of you to make so many assumptions when we’ve never interacted,” you say, growing miffed. “How many times have I said hello to you in the last three years? And how many times have you responded?”

You see Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. “I...”

It’s a valid question. Choir always puts you in a good mood, and you get outgoing when you’re cheerful. The number of times you’ve said “Hiiiii, Jungkook” and “Kookie, you’re my favorite” is embarrassingly high. He’s never replied with anything more than a nervous laugh or an “okay”. 

As you watch Jungkook struggle to answer, you feel a smile spreading across your face. Have you two really never had a conversation? Why?

The conversation wanders, as conversations are apt to do, and you begin talking about your fellow choir members. “Did you see Nayeon literally wearing stilettos on the cobble street? How does she still have ankles?” you wonder aloud. “See, this is why I wear this stuff.” You pluck at your plain black T-shirt and utilitarian beige shorts. “I mean, I look like literal trash, but-”

“Wh-why...” Jungkook laughs again and you can’t for the life of you figure out what’s so funny. He’s got a cute laugh, though. “Why would you say that?”

“Say what? That I look like trash?” You giggle inwardly at Jungkook’s nod of disbelief.

“It’s called self-deprecation, hon,” you say, lacing your fingers together.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that about yourself,” he protests.

“Why? It’s funny and an unhealthy coping mechanism. Win-win.”

This time his laugh isn’t one of discomfort or shock, but rather a chuckle of fascination and amusement. Who’d have thought it, Mister Perfect is really growing on you.

You awake the next morning with a yawn— you and Taeyeon snuck over to Rena and Hyuna’s room after curfew last night to gossip, which was fun at the time but the choir is performing tonight and now you barely have the energy to make it through breakfast. Rena and Hyuna are already chattering when you join them.

Right when you’ve finished your toast and downed a pot of coffee, your director claps his hands.

“We’ve got a concert tonight, so bring your attire,” he says loudly. “We’re going to walk around Tuscany today. The bus ride is a few hours long, and we’re not coming back to the hotel, so bring your attire.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Taeyeon whispers.

“Because it is,” you reply.

You and Taeyeon are walking together to the bus after stopping by your room when a thought hits you.

“I’m an actual idiot,” you gasp. “Tae, go on without me, I’ll be right back.”

“What happened?”

“I forgot my attire,” you call over your shoulder, already running. You take the stairs two at a time, cursing yourself— you don’t want your director to call you out for being late to the bus. You burst into your room and grab your choir dress and shoes, hurrying back to the bus within seconds. The bus is nearly full when you get there, and Rena is already sitting with Hyuna and Taeyeon is sitting next to Jeongyeon and the only seat available is by... Jeon Jungkook. You approach him. “Is this seat taken?”

He moves his jacket off of the seat next to him in lieu of a response and you sit down quickly, so grateful you don’t have to do the awkward shuffle to find a seat. When your director is done lecturing on what proper tour behavior looks like, you pop in your earphones and put your show tunes playlist on full blast. An hour in, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You ignore it, sure it’s just Seokjin or Hoseok bothering you.

You feel another tap, this one more urgent. You look behind you in annoyance to find Seokjin and Hoseok asleep on each other. Then who’s...?

“Hey, I just wanted to mention,” Jungkook says, and his voice behind you makes you shiver. “You’re sort of singing out loud.”

You go red. “What? Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He snorts again and you roll your eyes. “Yes, I do swear,” you remind him. “Anyways, I’ll stop making noise now, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I liked that song.” He begins humming along, picking up where you left off, and once again you’re struck by the rich tenor voice. You carefully remove your earphones, drinking in the snippets of lyrics and his quiet smile and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

You realize you’re staring and Jungkook must realize it too because he clams up. “Well, anyways...” he mutters, clearly embarrassed, and you press your lips together. Jeon Jungkook gets shy?

“Here.” You offer him an earphone. “Do you like show tunes?”

“I love them,” he replies with a smile. “I remember the first day of freshman year— you walked into choir singing a song from Wicked.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “How do you remember that?”

He shrugs. “How was I supposed to forget the girl that was so unafraid of being herself?”

You feel your heart flutter at his words and you swallow thickly. Time to ease the tension, or you might actually fall for him. “All that, and you still think I was the quiet type?” You poke him in the shoulder with your earphone. “Now, I’m offering this once. Listen to music with me?”

He grins, and a hint of a dimple appears on his cheek. “Once,” he agrees, taking the earphone while you queue up your favorites. 

Once turns to twice turns to more than you care to count and it becomes a regular thing, you and Jungkook sitting side by side, heads bobbing and fingers tapping in unison, and on those rare moments when he begins to sing along you fall silent and let the music wash over you. 

Obviously he’s out of your league but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice feelings bubbling up every now and then— when he understands your fandom references, or takes your music recommendations to heart. You tease him relentlessly about his perfect pitch and reputation, and he in turn begins to loosen up with you. On the sixth day of the tour, he makes a self-deprecating joke and you nearly choke on your pizza.

“Did you just...?”

“Maybe I did.”

“Am I corrupting you?”

The next week you fall in line with Rena and Taeyeon as the group traipses to the Trevi Fountain. “Hey, girls!”

“Shouldn’t you be walking with Jungkook?” Taeyeon says with a wink.

“I sat on the bus with him earlier— plus, you know I miss y’all.”

“Oh, no!” Rena squeals. “We’re going to the Trevi fountain, the most romantic spot of Rome. Go walk with Jungkook! You know everybody ships you two,” she nudges you forward, where Jungkook is walking with Jimin, Taehyung and Namjoon.

“Wh-guys!” You protest, your cheeks going red.

“You can’t walk with us,” Rena sings with a glint in her eye. “But I think Jungkook wants to talk to you.”

You sigh. “You’re not gonna leave this alone, are you?”

“Nope!” Your friends chorus. You roll your eyes, increasing your speed to catch up with Jungkook and company. As soon as Taehyung spots you, you see him whisper something to Jimin and Jimin and they all melt into the crowd.

“What was that about?” You ask as you fall in step beside Jungkook.

The tenor sighs. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“My friends are ostracizing me, so...”

Jungkook laughs. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Your guide claps his hands, halting the group in a small plaza. “Alright gang, the Trevi fountain is just around the corner— home to iconic scenes, the most famous being Roman Holiday or that one episode of Futurama. The story goes that if you throw one coin in, you’ll return to Italy. If you throw two coins in, you’ll fall in love on this trip to Italy—“ here the choir oohs and shrieks— “and if you throw three coins in, you’ll come back and get married in Italy.”

“No one is throwing more than one!” Your director calls, and the group laughs.

“Want a coin?” You offer Jungkook as the crowd disperses. He looks like he’s going to say something, but instead nods and takes the coin, his fingertips lingering on your palm. There’s a tug on your heart, some crazy, stupid, impulsive longing to throw two coins into the fountain. Fall in love... on the choir trip? Pfft, how cliche. You shake your head and sit next to Jungkook on the edge of the fountain before throwing a coin over your shoulder.

“Just one, I see,” he teases, and you shrug nonchalantly.

“I’m not that powerful, Kookie. I don’t have a chance of falling in love— I don’t have your charm,” you reply, only half joking.

That night, you’re chilling in Rena and Hyuna’s room when your phone buzzes with a message. Hyuna swoops in and grabs it, shrieking excitedly at the notification: “it’s from Jungkook!”

“What?” You scramble forward, nearly falling off the bed in a bid to steal your phone back.

“Have you listened to Newsies?” Hyuna reads aloud. “Only a music recommendation? Ugh, boring.”

You snatch your phone away. “Y’all are the worst, you know that?”

“Love you, y/n,” Rena replies dreamily.

You look down at your phone and your heart skips a beat: Jungkook is typing. And then stops. And starts again. And stops again. You’re growing so antsy that by the time he actually sends a message, you nearly drop your phone out of surprise.

Jungkook: hey save me a seat tomorrow on the bus ok?

You rub your eyes and type out a reply: ofc, who else tolerates my love for Dear Evan Hansen? You think for a moment before sending a follow up: although if we keep sitting together I think people will talk

Another buzz.

Jungkook: people already talk

You barely have time to take a shaky breath before a second message arrives.

Jungkook: can I ask u something

Moral support, you need moral support. 

“Guys...?” You ask, your voice almost cracking from the tension. You know you’re overreacting, it’s only been two weeks, so why do you care so much about whatever he’s going to say? With your luck it’ll end up being, can you share your playlist? Do you have the sheet music? The girls crowd around you to read over your shoulder. “Wait, oh my god, wait, is he...?” Taeyeon squeaks excitedly.

“Shut up, shut up,” you implore, eyes locked on your screen. Once again Jungkook begins typing, stopping and starting multiple times, each time eliciting groans of frustration from your friends. “Ugh, never mind,” you throw your phone on the bed and faceplant onto Rena’s pillow, your heart thudding from anticipation.

“He’s typing again,” Rena says from behind you— how does she know your password?— “wait, he actually sent something this time... oh my god!” Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s probably something dumb, or maybe bad news: I heard people ship us and I think that’s awful, perhaps.

“Are you into me?” Rena reads aloud. “Y/n, what are you going to say?”

Oh, fuck. He really does want to set the record straight. “I-I don’t know.”

“What do you feel?” Hyuna urges. What do you feel? You feel flustered, so flustered when he accidentally brushes your hand or laughs in delight at something you’ve said. You feel delight at the conspiratorial whispers when you try to walk ahead or behind your small groups together, and the scandalized gasps when one of you spills the latest choir tea.

“I mean fine, maybe I like him a little,” you admit, to the shrieks of delight from your girlfriends. “But what if he’s asking because he doesn’t like me? I mean, it’s Jeon Jungkook! He could have literally anyone— I heard Nayeon had a crush on him last year— why the fuck would he like me?”

“You won’t know till you try.” Rena says, raising an eyebrow. “Tell him. And ask him, too.”

You take a deep breath and type out a response: Yes. Do you like me? You’re tempted to send a follow up, an apology, saying you don’t want to ruin your friendship with him, it’s okay if he thinks you’re weird, but you don’t get a chance before he responds.

Jungkook: Yeah. After these last few days, I really do.

A/N thank you for reading!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome and thoroughly appreciated. My inbox is always open, and I hope you enjoyed! (And if you didn’t, tell me anyways so I can improve!)

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