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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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*sings* Cinderella...you’re as lovely as your name, Cinderella~...

Okay, some quick notes before we start. Despite the beauty of their work, painters’ palettes were actually rather limited on pigments during the Renaissance, only having three pigments more than artists did during the Middle Ages. The Moly is a magical plant that appears in Homer’s The Odyssey. Hermes gives it to Odysseus as a charm to protect him from Circe’s spells. It’s been most commonly compared to the snowdrop flower by scholars. It also is referenced in the canon Potterverse as a powerful herb that can counter enchantments.

The Willow Song appears as a motif at the end of William Shakespeare’s Othello, though it was written at least thirty years earlier. In Othello, Desdemona sings a few stanzas of it in response to her husband’s growing distance and madness -- to the audience watching the play in Shakespeare’s day, which would already know the song, its inclusion foreshadows Othello and Desdemona’s tragic ending. “No One is Alone” is from Stephen Sondheim’s well-regarded musical Into the Woods, which features Cinderella as a semi-major character -- the song is actually even partially sung by Cinderella in the show!

I edited the art for this section, as you can tell. Badeea’s painting is a modified photograph of the Chateau de Chambord in France, overlaid on top of my own drawing. (Thanks, Lunapic!) This is also my very first time drawing Badeea!! GOD, is she pretty!! I think her eyes are my favorite of all the HPHM cast.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When Carewyn followed up with Andre the next morning, he was quite disappointed when he saw Carewyn wasn’t wearing the new shoes he’d made for her with her uniform. He honestly hadn’t even considered that they wouldn’t be comfortable for walking in -- and honestly, Carewyn could sort of understand why. Andre had never been able to leave the palace grounds, so there no doubt were a lot of practical things he’d just never considered...such as how very flashy royal fashion was, compared to that of the common man. He was pleased with the feedback Carewyn “passed along from her cousins” for him, though -- completely unaware of the fact that all three comments were really opinions that Carewyn herself had had about the dress.

“Hmm...that is a good point,” said Andre, his hand resting on his chin. “Red is a beautiful color...but a deep blue would not only bring out your eyes, but it would also perfectly contrast your ginger hair, since blue and orange are on opposite sides of the color wheel...”

His face burst into a bright white smile. “Your cousin Iris really has an eye for colors.”

Carewyn successfully fought back a groan, even as her eyes drifted up off toward the top corner of the room.

“...Well, she has taken up embroidery as a hobby. I suppose when one spends a lot of time doing samplers, one could develop an eye for colors.”

And also create a lot of initialed handkerchiefs to conveniently drop in front of noblemen so they pick it up and return it to you.

Andre, however, reacted with some interest. “Is that so? Hmm...well, maybe when I’m working on your new pair of shoes, I could invite her over for tea so she can give me her second opinion before I give them to you.”

Carewyn had never disliked a thought more in her life that Iris having a say in what she wore -- but knowing that she shouldn’t be the one to sabotage Iris, especially when her cousin would no doubt be able to do it well enough on her own, she put on her best smile.

“...I’m sure Iris would enjoy that very much.”

Sure enough, within a week, Iris had been invited to the palace for tea with the Prince. Carewyn could only imagine how thrilled Iris, her aunt Claire, and Charles were. As for Carewyn herself, she knew it was now time to do as Charles said and stay out of Iris’s way...and so when Iris arrived, she made sure to clean the rooms in her wing of the palace in a different order and not sing so that Andre wouldn’t be able to “check in” on her with Iris in tow. She didn’t think she could stand it if Iris got to look down at her polishing the palace floors.

Her lack of singing, however, did catch Badeea’s attention. When Carewyn collided with the court painter in the hallway, she expressed some concern.

“I missed your accompaniment, while I was painting,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

Carewyn felt guilty as she leaned her broom against the wall for a moment. “Oh...yes, Badeea, I’m fine. I merely...well, my cousin Iris is spending time with the Prince today, so I thought to...well, not draw focus.”

Badeea nodded in understanding. “Mm, yes...some things are meant to be background details, while others are meant to catch the eye straight away.”

Carewyn and Badeea caught the sound of Iris’s twittering, bird-like laughter echoing down the hall toward them. Not wanting to be seen when or if Iris and Andre came out into the hall themselves, Carewyn quickly picked up her broom and went around the corner -- Badeea adjusted her easel under her arm and followed.

“Say, Carewyn,” said the court painter thoughtfully, “why don’t you dress up in that nice yellow and green dress you have and come to the market with me?”

Carewyn blinked.

“I need to pick up some more carbon black and indigo for this painting I’m working on for Andre, but the man who sells those paints loves to price gauge. If you were dressed up all fancy and you slid in a reference to your family, though, he might be less likely to try to rip you off,” Badeea added with a tiny, coy smile.

Carewyn frowned, feeling a bit unsure. “I don’t know, Badeea -- I still have a lot of work to do...”

“You have the whole rest of the day to finish,” Badeea reminded her. “It would only take maybe an hour or two. And it would get you out of the palace while your cousin’s here.”

Carewyn considered the matter. Truthfully she’d been hoping to finish her work quickly so she could stow away back to the library and scan more troop deployment records...but she really did hate the thought of bumping into Andre and Iris, not just because of how much Iris would hate Carewyn getting any attention and therefore delight in tormenting her in front of the Prince in order to puff herself up, but because she didn’t want to provoke Charles’s ire unnecessarily.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go change.”

Not long later, Carewyn had put on her mother’s old dress, pinned her hair up, and joined Badeea by the front gates, and the two headed into town on foot. The sky was still rather gray -- it had been raining and thundering for the last couple of days, and there was still a lot of mud in places. Carewyn was glad she was wearing her worn brown shoes under her gown rather than the pretty heels Andre had made for her -- particularly since nobody would likely be looking at her feet.

The shopkeeper in question was indeed a bit intimidated when Carewyn offhandedly referred to “her grandfather, Charles Cromwell” -- and soon enough, Badeea had been able to skip most of the haggling she would’ve normally had to make just to get her paints at a decent price. They left the shopkeeper’s stall, several jars of paint in hand.

As fate would have it, as they walked at the market, someone else was also shopping, and at the sight of the familiar dress and mane of ginger hair, he ran up to meet them.

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn and Badeea both looked up, to see Orion striding up to them. He once again wore his slightly-too-clean, but modest white shirt, olive breeches, and boots, and he was carried a basket full of henbane.

Carewyn’s red lips spread into a smile. “Orion...hello.”

Orion brought a hand up to his chest and offered her a short bow.

“It seems the stars favor us after all, my lady,” he said, the corners of his own lips kissed with traces of a wry smile.

Carewyn shot a quick glance at his basket and quirked an eyebrow.

“Purchasing some more incense?” she asked pointedly.

Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “I’m afraid we’ve already used up what I bought previously. Fortunately the gentleman from last time remembered my face and didn’t give me too much grief.”

“That’s fortunate.”

Carewyn glanced at Badeea to Orion and back.

“Orion, this is Badeea Ali -- she’s the Crown’s court painter. Badeea...this is Orion Freeman. He helped me retrieve my horse the other day.”

Badeea’s dark brown eyes were very bright. “Ah, yes -- KC had said that you were thrown off your horse. Thank you for helping Carewyn, sir,” she added to Orion.

“It was my pleasure,” said Orion. “What’s the subject of your next piece, if I may ask?”

“A foreboding sky and a distorted reflection,” Badeea replied.

Orion looked intrigued. “That would explain such dark shades. Who commissioned the piece?”

“The Prince,” said Badeea. “But his request was just of a view of the entire palace, from a distance -- I was simply inspired by the rainstorm that passed through a few days ago, and how the turrets of the palace looked reflected in the castle moat.”

“I wonder how the castle of Royaume would see itself, if it had eyes,” said Orion levelly. “Would it see its beauty, or would it be the type to be critical of its flaws?”

“Hm...or would it see the beauty of its flaws?” asked Badeea.

“True,” granted Orion. “Flaws make us more human -- would that make something more beautiful, by serving as contrast to our strengths?”

“Flaws aren’t something you should simply have to accept,” said Carewyn demurely, her arms crossed. “One should strive to be better than one already is. Even if one is only human, that doesn’t mean they can’t work to be something better.”

Orion turned to her, interested. “And what would be better than being oneself, my lady?”

“Being a better version of oneself, of course,” Carewyn said, sounding matter-of-fact. “One can always be kinder, braver, stronger...more cunning, more passionate. One can always learn more, and do more, and be more.”

“Yes...but it seems like those could be crippling expectations to hold over yourself, to never be enough,” said Orion, and although his expression was very inscrutable, his lips twitched with something of a frown.

“Perfectionism is a disease that affects every artist sooner or later,” said Badeea sympathetically.

Her dark eyes flitted from Orion to Carewyn thoughtfully.

“I must be getting back to work on my painting...would you like to join us at the opposite bank, Mr. Freeman? I would be happy for some feedback on my work, before I present it to his Highness.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn for her approval -- she offered a small smile, and his lips turned up in a full smile of his own.

“I would be honored.”

So the three set about finding a less muddy spot by the castle moat, across from the palace. They found one right by a beautiful willow tree, where Carewyn very carefully lowered herself onto the grass. Badeea fetched her easel and chair, setting it up so that she had a good view of the castle. Orion looked over her incomplete work appreciatively.

“It looks like it could breathe, were it a living thing.”

“Thank you,” said Badeea. “Now then, I’ll need to concentrate while mapping out the sky, so no initiating conversation, please. These paints stay on fabric just as well as my canvas, so they won’t easily wash out. I would appreciate some accompaniment, though, Carewyn.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn curiously. Carewyn avoided his eye.

“Badeea, I don’t think -- ”

“Ah, ah,” said Badeea, holding up a gloved finger quickly, “no conversation. Accompaniment or nothing, please.”

She then set about mixing certain shades and color spotting sections of canvas.

Carewyn frowned. It was one thing to be singing while she was working herself, to pass the time, but Orion’s focus was still largely on her, and it felt weird. Still, she thought to herself, it wasn’t like she was bashful about singing in front of others, exactly -- she knew her voice was more than serviceable. There was really no harm in it. So, glancing up at the willow tree above her head, Carewyn rested her hands in the grass, leaned back, and sang.

“The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

Her hand in her bosom, her head on her knee --

Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...

She sighed in her singing and made a great moan --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

‘I’m dead to all pleasure -- my true love is gone --

Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...’”

Carewyn felt Orion’s dark eyes on her at the start. Before long, though, his eyes had fluttered closed, and he sat in perfect silence. As he listened, his shoulders loosened and his expression seemed to clear of all tension or pretense, like a child peacefully falling off to sleep. Badeea painted and shaded to the sound of Carewyn’s low, melancholy singing, adding white highlights to the dark gray and black shadows to create a cloudy sky with sunlight poking through.

When Carewyn was finished with the song, Orion slowly opened his eyes, meeting her gaze again at last. His eyes were oddly hesitant, almost shy.

“Y -- ”

He hesitated. Then, his black eyes softening handsomely, he closed his mouth, and it slowly spread into a smile gentler and warmer than Carewyn had ever seen before. He clearly approved.

Carewyn smiled in return and inclined her head in a silent “thank you.”

Carewyn sang some more songs until Badeea had finally finished and Orion and the two women had to part ways so that Badeea and Carewyn could pack up the easel and finished painting and bring them inside.

The following morning, Carewyn was surprised by KC pulling her aside to hand her a packet of what looked like handwritten sheet music.

“Your friend Orion stopped by a little while ago to give this to you,” she explained.

Carewyn was taken aback.

“I reckon he must’ve hopped over the wall,” said KC, unable to fight back a laugh. “I caught him strolling through the southwest gardens. I told him I’d bring it up to you, so that he wouldn’t get himself in trouble.”

Stunned, Carewyn looked down at the sheet music, shifting the pages so she could scan each line. Her blue eyes softened, growing deeper and darker with emotion, as she read the words and notes.

“...This...this is beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up at KC, unable to fully keep the awe from her face. “...You don’t think he wrote this?”

KC shook her head. “No, he said it was a song he learned when he was young, and that he tracked down the sheet music for you since he didn’t think he’d be able to properly sing it for you. I’ve never heard it either, though.”

Carewyn spent her meal times and about an hour before bed that night perusing the sheet music so she could learn the song. The following day, she felt confident enough to sing some of it while she started about cleaning the Queen’s Chambers.

“Mother isn’t here now...who knows what she’d say?

Nothing’s quite so clear now...feel you’ve lost your way?

You decide alone...but no one is alone.

You move just a finger, say the slightest word --

Something’s bound to linger...be heard...

No one acts alone...careful -- no one is alone...

People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers --

People make mistakes,

Holding to their own...thinking they’re alone...

Honor the mistakes everybody makes, one another’s terrible mistakes...

They could still be right -- they could still be good.

You decide what’s right -- you decide what’s good.

Just remember...”

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn stopped sweeping and looked up, to see Andre striding through the opened door of the Queen’s Chambers toward her.

“An -- your Highness,” Carewyn corrected herself very quickly, after noting who’d accompanied Andre.

Just behind him in the door frame was her dark-haired cousin Iris, dressed in her best rose velvet and her own almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed with loathing at Carewyn over Andre’s shoulder.

Andre, perfectly oblivious to the silent tension between the two cousins, gave a laugh.

“Oh, Carewyn, we’re not back to that again, are we? It’s ‘Andre,’ ” he said with an indulgent smile. “I haven’t heard that song before -- did you learn it recently?”

“Ah...yes,” said Carewyn. She could feel Iris’s fierce glare burning a hole in her face over Andre’s shoulder even without looking at either of them.

“It’s really quite lovely,” said Andre. “Please, do sing the rest of it when you’re able.”

“Of course, Prince Henri.”

Carewyn was absolutely not going to call Andre by his nickname in front of Iris -- she knew how Iris would shriek her head off about it to Charles.

Andre sighed and shook his head in something like tired amusement.

“I was hoping we’d catch you on your rounds,” he said conversationally. “I’m just about finished with your new shoes! Iris said your favorite color was ash gray -- I’ve never really worked with that color before, so it’ll be a bit of a challenge -- but I’m sure I’ll find a shade that might suit you...”

Ash gray? Running with the ‘Cinderwyn’ nickname, then, are we, Iris?

Carewyn forced a smile. “...Thank you. That’s...very kind.”

Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, she quickly rushed over to pick up her full dust pan with her other hand.

“Forgive me, I really should go and empty this -- ”

At that exact moment, Iris had strode forward, bumping Carewyn’s shoulder in just such a way that the pan was knocked backward onto Carewyn, covering her, her orange and tan dress, and the floor with all of the dust, dirt, and grime she’d swept up over the last hour.

“Oh!” said Iris in feigned surprise. “I’m so sorry.”

Her gaze, however, was just as hard and unapologetic as it had been when she’d ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress at home.

“Carewyn!” said Andre, concerned. “Are you all right?”

Carewyn coughed.

“...Yes, of course,” she said, her voice very hard and stoic in the back of her throat. “It was merely an accident.”

She shot Iris a cold look as she looked over her now thoroughly ruined uniform and the dust and dirt all around her feet.

“Please, go on ahead with Iris, your Highness. I’ll clean up this mess.”

Once Iris had successfully steered the reluctant-looking Andre out of the room, Carewyn closed the door, took off her dress, and finished cleaning the room in her undergarments, so as not to spread the dust and ash around any further. Then, very carefully, she darted across the hall from the Queen’s Chambers to Andre’s, so that she could fetch the high-necked, gold-embroidered dress made out of white linen and light blue velvet he’d recently finished for her from his walk-in closet. After all, she told herself, she needed something to wear while she was getting her uniform cleaned -- and well, at least Iris would be less likely to ruin this dress, since Andre had stitched it himself.

Holding her dusty, ashen dress in a folded pile against her chest, Carewyn headed downstairs toward the laundry. On her way through the entrance hall, though, KC -- who’d just come out of the library -- ran up to walk alongside her down the hall.

“Seems your friend is back.”

Carewyn’s messy ponytail flapped over her shoulder when she looked at her in surprise. “Orion?”

KC nodded, her lips curled up in a wry smile. “I thought I saw someone hopping over the wall through the library window, just now. Shall we go investigate?”

Carewyn bit her lip, looking down at the ruined uniform in her arms.

“Let me drop this off at the laundry first,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Carewyn ran down the stairs and threw her uniform into one of the tubs to soak, before quickly doing her hair up in a simple, but slightly more presentable braided bun and hurrying back up to join KC. The two women then headed out to the gardens, only to hear something of a scuffle.

“A man with innocent intentions does not hop over castle walls,” said Bill’s voice, though it sounded much lower and harder than Carewyn was used to hearing.

“In this case, sir, I assure you, I do.”

“You will declare your true name and business at once, sir, or I shall see to it that you’re locked in irons and hauled before the King himself -- ”

“Bill!” cried Carewyn.

Bill looked up, startled. The ginger-haired castle guard had slammed Orion back-first against a tree, holding him up off the ground by his collar with one hand, but at the sight of Carewyn and KC running forward, the suspicion and righteous anger in his face dissipated instantly.

“It’s all right, Bill,” Carewyn reassured him. “He’s a friend.”

“Put him down,” said KC.

Bill looked from KC to Carewyn in confusion, before glancing at Orion warily, but he nonetheless did as they said. Once he’d lowered Orion to the ground and let go of his shirt, the dark-haired man calmly adjusted his collar and picked up a satchel that must’ve come off in the struggle off the ground.

“Thank you, Carewyn...Lady Katriona,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not just been in a loose choke hold.

KC grimaced. “Orion, I’ve saved your butt twice now -- we’ve more than gotten to the point of you calling me KC.”

Orion smiled wryly. “I’m glad of it.”

Carewyn, however, still looked a bit harried. “Orion, what were you thinking? Hopping the wall...it’s no wonder Bill thought you were up to no good!”

“Well, the gate was locked, and no one was there to greet me,” said Orion airily.

“Well, of course the palace of Royaume has very strong security,” Carewyn said exasperatedly, “the royal family lives here.”

“I must wonder how the royal family ever receives visitors, then.”

“They don’t,” said Bill rather coolly. “They invite them, and very rarely, at that. And they clearly didn’t invite you to trespass on the grounds.”

Orion was unfazed. “Well, fortunately, I wasn’t looking for such an invitation, to begin with. I merely wanted to give this to Carewyn, as a gift for Madam Ali.”

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a jar of unusually shiny silvery-white paint. Bill, KC and Carewyn’s eyes all were very wide as Orion handed the jar to Carewyn.

“I asked a few people where best to locate materials for paints,” he explained. “One man pointed me to a flower that grows at the border called the Moly. He made this paint himself. I don’t think any colors like this are made and sold at the market, so I thought I would bring along one of his jars for Madam Ali, so she might use it for her next project.”

Carewyn’s light blue eyes were very bright and touched as she looked up at Orion.

“Orion...it’s wonderful,” she said, her soft voice incredibly warm. “Badeea will love it.”

“You said he used the Moly?” asked KC, as she took the jar from Carewyn and looked at it. “Maybe Badeea could mix up some more paint of her own, then.”

Bill glanced at Orion with a raised eyebrow. “Or the Crown could simply buy it from the vendor who sold you that paint.”

Carewyn noticed a strange, almost skittish glint flicker through Orion’s eye.

“...I’m afraid that jar was a favor, not a purchase,” he said softly.

“I think Badeea would be fine with making her own, Bill,” Carewyn said firmly. “The Crown wouldn’t want to set aside extra money for materials anyway. It’d be a lot cheaper to make a paint like that in house than to buy it from someone else.”

Despite his frown, Bill nonetheless sighed and nodded. “...True. Charlie’s needed a new set of scratch awls for ages.”

Orion looked pleased. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“Perhaps the next time you want to see Carewyn, you might figure out a way to do it that doesn’t require you scaling walls like a prowler,” said KC amusedly.

Carewyn shot KC a slightly reproachful look. Orion’s muted smile rather resembled that of a satisfied house cat.

“I’d be happy to arrange more regular meetings outside the palace, if Lady Cromwell would be open to it,” he said, his black eyes sparkling as he glanced at Carewyn.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly at him. “Once again, Mr. Freeman, you seem to have an unusual amount of freedom, if you’re able to consider allocating time just to meet me.”

Her lips then spread in a wry smile.

“Still...I can hardly sit by and let you get arrested for trespassing on my account. I have some time available late tomorrow morning, before noon. I could meet you by the gate then.”

Orion grinned. “I’ll look forward to it, my lady.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #katriona cassiopeia #andre egwu #bill weasley #badeea ali #orion you sneaksy bugger #definitely manipulating things to 'learn more about your enemy' and warm them up to you #so as to make connections you could use to do diplomacy later when the ruse is up #but at the same time...you sure are oddly comfortable with putting yourself in risky positions to interact with carey-bear ain't you >3 #iris's face claim is a brown-haired devore ledridge #I'll probably be drawing her at some point with andre -- GOD do I feel bad for this guy #as naive as he is about the cromwell family dynamic I think he already prefers carewyn's company to iris's #but honestly who wouldn't *snorts*

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metalbvcky · 4 years

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*Shows up late to the Stucky/Marvel fandom Post-EG with Starbucks and dozens of fics that I’ve read in hand* So you guys like fanfiction?

Yeah so, because of quarantine I’ve been consuming a ton of fic. I’ve probably read over 1.5 million words in just a couple months. So why not share what I’ve been reading! Note that some of these are older (popular) fics so veteran Stucky peeps will probably know of them since I not too recently delved into the realm that is Stucky fanfic. :)

Down below are over a dozen fics with different tropes, Canon/AU’s, and what not. Please do heed the tags on some of these. For the curious: My AO3 bookmarks.

Also shoutout to @stuckylibrary, the mods over there are doing the lords work.

Key: ♥ = My fave, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard ♥ by Halbereth, Lorien - Words: 152,284 | CW Fix It, Slight Canon Divergence, Recovery, Slow Burn

Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help. He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve.

From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.” Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

Reap The Whirlwind by Cristinuke - Words: 18,221 | Canon Universe, Post CW, Domestic

Bucky finds a cat. Or rather, a cat finds him.

Your Favorite Ghost by augustbird - Words: 21,013 | Canon Divergence, Post TWS

It's harder than Steve ever expected to bring Bucky home.

Despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) ♥ by praximeter (Zimario) - Words: 71,532 | Canon Divergence TWS, Body Modifications

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

This city bleeds its aching heart ♥ by Renne - Words: 34,537 | Canon Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

The Best Way to Wake ♥ by LeeHan - Words: 42,293 | Post TFA, Canon Divergence TWS, Recovery

James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!”

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail ♥ series by owlet - Words: 264,438 | Canon Divergence (sort of)

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Undersell, overcommit by silentwalrus - Words: 10,222 | Canon Universe

Steve goes so hard for Bucky that he becomes a licensed, practicing massage therapist.

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches by Sena - Words: 26,734 | Post-TWS, Canon Universe

Steve lives in Stark Tower and doesn't have much to do when he's not going after Hydra strongholds. He attends charity events to make Pepper happy. He goes hiking with Sam. He hangs out with Clint in Bed-Stuy and watches Dog Cops. Sometimes Tony gives him super alcohol in a sippy cup. Sometimes he sees Bucky out of the corner of his eye and wonders if it's real or if he's starting to lose his mind.

Alternately, the one with terrible jokes, a foot chase through the Lower East Side, and a tiny little robot named Shitcan.

Sugar Sweet ♥ from the Red Velvet series by ColorCoated - Words: 173,400 | Modern/Sugar Daddy AU, Age Difference, Slow Burn

"What's your name?" It wasn't even a line. He was just pretty and Bucky wanted a name to go with that face. With that strong jawline. With those deep blue eyes. A little smirk, "Steve."

Awww, Steve. He looked like a Steve. Bucky pursed his lips in a way he hoped was attractive, "You should buy me a drink."

College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

Steve and Bucky Go Away for the Weekend (and cook a lot) ♥ by E_Greer - Words: 30,126 | Canon Universe, Domestic

In which Steve coaxes Bucky out of the Tower for a birthday weekend away and sweet, fluffy domesticity ensues. Phlintasha helps keep Bucky calm, Steve has Opinions about how you set the table, stories are told, greenhouses are toured, baths are had, books are read, tears are shed, stars are gazed upon, and everyone makes Bucky feel loved. Includes Friday night dinner, Saturday morning breakfast, Saturday lunch, Saturday dinner, and Sunday brunch.

Dona Nobis Pacem by thegraytigress - Words: 65,214 | Canon Universe, Recovery

"This job... We try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes it doesn't mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that... Next time maybe nobody gets saved."

An incident on the battlefield exposes how much Steve's falling apart under the crushing weight of leading the Avengers after Sokovia. Now Bucky's adopting a new mission: save Steve before he destroys himself completely, even if it means the end of Captain America.

Give 'Em Hope ♥ by L1av - Words: 130,022 | Modern/Hospital AU, UA/Age Difference

Dr. Steve Rogers likes to think that if his patients have hope- their chances of survival will increase. Bucky Barnes has a 20% chance of survival and a desperate yearning to experience life. Against Steve's better judgment, he develops a relationship with his patient. It's illegal. It's wrong. But it's giving Bucky the hope to keep going, so Steve's going to keep giving it, because he wants Bucky to survive. He needs him to.

You belong (to me) by hermionesmydawg - Words: 29,759 | S, DS, Canon Compliant, Post CW

"Hold on." Bucky lifted a finger and backed out of the doorway, returning a moment later with his cell phone. He snapped a photo of Steve, typed a few words, and then returned to his apple. "What the hell were you doing at a sex club last night?"

"Not having sex, if that's what you're wondering." An alert sounded from Steve's nightstand - a new Snapchat message. He rolled his eyes and unlocked his phone. Sam was always sending stupid Snapchats and frankly, Steve couldn't figure that goddamn app out and cursed whoever created that piece of shit.

The chat wasn't from Sam this time, however. It was a picture of himself, not looking guilty at all, with the caption "when your buddy catches you looking at p*rn."

Circling Back from the It’s Not Linear series by chaya - Words: 59,642 (Series Total: 136,782) | Canon Divergence

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him.

Continuing Education by 743ish, romanticalgirl - Words: 14,443 | S, Canon Universe/College, Shrunkyclunks

Steve is invited to be a guest lecturer on the WWII unit for Bucky's college course. Bucky's more than happy to glean any extra knowledge (in more than just history) from Steve, and Steve's happy to eductate him. But then Bucky has to decide if he can handle the fact that Steve throws himself into danger, and if the sex is worth it. Or if it's not just sex anymore.

Salt & Sugar by GoldBlooded, stfustucky - Words: 19,598 | Modern/Restaurant AU

Steve Rogers is a bigshot celebrity chef in New York City, and Bucky Barnes is a classically trained pastry chef in Moscow.

When billionaire and mutual friend Natasha Romanoff calls on them to collaborate for her Memorial Day Benefit Gala, they both brace themselves to spend the week working with some jerk they're bound to hate. Except... Steve makes a burger that could bring Bucky to tears, and Bucky makes tartlets so beautiful Steve's sure they qualify as art. Maybe, just maybe, together they could make this a night to remember.

@/sgtbarnes1917 and @/cptrogers1918 by BayleyWinchester - Words: 114,203 | Canon Universe, Social Media Fic

Bucky Barnes broke Twitter with one photo

Proprietary Information ♥ from the Additional Information series by notlucy - Words: 85,141 (Series Total: 165,871) | Modern AU, Age difference, Slow Burn

Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Deep in the Woods (Where My Heart Has Been Waiting) by SilverMyfanwy - Words: 15,353 | Pioneer-AU, Shrinkyclinks

Steve Rogers gets lost in the woods in a snowstorm. Bucky Barnes takes him in. Pioneer-era AU ish with Shrinkyclinks, evil chickens and a cabin in the woods.

A Bucky Odyssey by inediblesushi, thorstbench - Words: 9,952 | Shrinkyclinks, Cap!Bucky, Nurse!Steve

Bucky Barnes, Captain America, has a plan to make Steve Rogers, SHIELD nurse, fall in love with him. Confiding in the Internet might not be the best idea, though. So when the bad pick up lines do not work and Steve looks determined to staying single, he decides to be more himself and less what he thinks he should be.

At first I wanted to wait to post this until I finished a few more fics from my ever growing read-later list but what the heck, now or never! I’ll probably end up making a part 2 reclist by the amount of fic I’m reading these days.

Happy reading and stay safe out there fellow Stucky trash members!!

#stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fic rec #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stucky au #marvel fanfic #steve x bucky #my reclist #long post for ts #wow this is over a million words worth of fic + that doesnt include everything else ive read omg #the amount of talent in the destiel and stucky fandoms are insanely incredible #a total of 21 fics and at least 5 are apart of a series ... thats a lot of words

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liannisha · 3 years

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The Astronauts: Will x Elliot (or Elliott) one shot

Prompt: After Will died and got revived by Matilda, Elliot couldn’t help but to be worried about his friend who was still under shock.

Tags: Fluff, comfort, cuddles, confession

_________________________________________

After the junior crew found out that they were now the ones driving the ship, they all decided to call it a night after this crazy day.

Samy had to have surgery, Matilda left the Odyssey II for good, they now had to drive the ship.

Will didn’t tell anyone he died yet, only Elliot knew since he witnessed it. At the moment, the young boy stayed alone in the med bay, sitting in a corner rocking himself like a small child, not able to sleep or eat anything. It all happened too fast for him. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again, again.

Elliot, on his side, was laying on his bed, thinking about everything. Then he realized he wasn’t the one who almost went for good, he realized that Will must be an inner emotional mess. He was always there to help others but since no one knew, who was there to comfort him? Suddenly, guilt struck him. Wasn’t he the one supposed to make sure he was okay? After all, he was there when Will..... Elliot didn’t even want to think about that word. The cheerful boy was always smiling in front of the others, even after all that happened. At first, Elliot was wondering how could anyone possibly keep a smile like this on their face. After more thinking, he concluded it was not possible that anyone could do that without forcing themselves at least once.

“You say you’re okay... but are you?” He mutters, staring at the ceiling.

Resolute to get everything cleared, he got up and walked out of his cabin, heading towards the med bay.

Once he got there, Elliot knocked once. Knocked twice. Three times. Since he got no response he slowly slid the door half-open and his first sight was a vulnerable child almost hidden in the corner just by himself. Not being noticed yet, he quietly walked up to him being careful to not make sudden mouvements or noises that could have startled him. In the end, he failed. He tripped over himself and almost fell but managed to catch himself. A bit scared, Will turned around and looked up to his best friend.

“Hey.. Sorry for affraying you, I knocked on the door but you weren’t answering so I thought I’d, y’know, check up on you.

Elliot shrugged and sat next to him.

- Hey El, Will rubbed his eyes as Elliot noticed the bags under them, you know you didn’t have to, he forced a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by his friend.

- Oh I know, but that’s what ‘friends’ do soooo..

He acted casually and wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders making the poor child blush. An awkward silence took place.

Out of the sudden, Will starts sniffling while Elliot stares at him in shock, he never saw him cry, not even during the countdown.

- I-.. I thought Matilda was my only friend...

- Turns out not, we’re all here for you.

They both smiled, from that moment, nothing was awkward. Elliot’s hand reaches out for Will’s cheeks and softly wiped the tears he shed with his thumb.

- No need to cry, beautiful. He quietly mutters the last part

- Huh, you said something?

Will asked as he thought his comrade muttered something unillegible.

- N-no, it’s nothing..

The two looked into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment. They slowly leaned in and surprisingly not hesitating one bit. They knew they bothwanted it and that for a long time. Then, their lips met for the first time. It was soft, lovely and a bit too quick to their taste,but they both needed air. They parted and smiled.

- Woah.

Will chuckled.

- Woah indeed. You don’t know how much I’m thankful for you.. for everything you are and everything you do. I am so, so happy you’re still here with me.

Elliot whispered and pressed his forehead against Will’s, as he shed a few tears too. Their breaths were hot but peaceful, heartbeats synchronized and minds at peace.

- I’m glad to be with you too El.

Another comfortable silence happened as the two younglings stayed in each other’s embrace, still on the floor, but they didn’t mind at all.

- I think we’re way passed beyond the ‘friend zone’ line, that’s if you don’t mind.

- Definitely. I wonder how the others will react, I hope Doria won’t bug us that much about that.

Elliot chuckled at Will’s comment about Doria’s childish behavior and played with his friend-not-so-friend’s hair.

- I think we’ll have to expect this from her, the others won’t mind much, at least I think.

Will yawned and burried his face in the crook of Elliot’s neck.

- I love you El..

He then finally fell asleep soundly, clearly exhausted.

- I love you too Will, forever and always.”

Elliot planted a light kiss on his head, stood up and carefully carried him to his cabin.

Once they got there, he layed down with him on the bed, delicately wrapped his arms around Will’s small waist and pressed his chest against the boy’s back, spooning him.

“Thank you Matilda” Elliot mumbled even if he knew she couldn’t hear him.

And he joins Will to Dreamland. Nothing in this world, not even the fact that they were stuck in space and had to drive a spaceship, could currently bother them. And it looked like the universe agreed.

Even though, unbeknownst to the two, the crew watched everything. From the beginning to the end, creepy isn’t it? They couldn’t care less though. Samy was confused why she was there since it was kind of none of her business, nonetheless she was smiling. Martin was glad that at least now Will wouldn’t only bug him now. Doria was restraining herself from jumping up and down and squealing.

______________________________________

So, what do you think? Should I actually make a small series of Will x Elliot? I hope you liked it, took me the day to get all this figured out but even so, I really enjoyed writing it!

Now thanks for reading and have a good one!

Lia, out! ☕︎︎

#the astronauts 2020 #the astronauts #williot #williott #will rivers #elliot combes #one shot #underrated fandom #underrated series #my writing #nickleodeon the astronauts

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dweemeister · 3 years

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2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (final round)

(Yet again, tumblr has not fixed bullet indentations. So this post doesn’t look as clean on your dashboards.)

TAGGING (among others): @addaellis, @cokwong, @emilylime5, @halfwaythruthedark, @idontknowmuchaboutmovies, @introspectivemeltdown, @maximiliani, @memetoilet, @monkeysmadeofcheese, @myluckyerror, @plus-low-overthrow, @shootingstarvenator, @themusicmoviesportsguy, @theybecomestories, @umgeschrieben, @underblackwings, @voicetalentbrendan, @thewolfofelectricavenue, and @yellanimal.

I would also like to tag some followers/previous participants as well who I also would welcome to participate in this final round: @birdsongvelvet, @bitch-genius, @dog-of-ulthar, @loveless422, @lvl9gay, @mehetibel, @phendranaedge, @poncho-honcho, @sayaf, @shadesofhappy, @thethirdman8, @uncoolforelimb, and @wehadfacesthen. Regardless of whether you were tagged or not, all of my followers can participate if they wish.

Happy Holidays to all! After a fascinating preliminary round, now begins the final round to 2020's Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (MOABOS). This is the eighth time it has been contested and the seventh year it has been open to involvement from family, friends, and tumblr followers. I begin every new year not knowing whether I will be able to share with all of you these songs and the movies they come from around November/December. So on the day that MOABOS becomes viable (usually around mid-year), it's a long stretch of anticipation to this point.

For those who have never participated in this before, my classic movie blog traditionally ends the year by honoring some of the best achievements from movies that I saw for the first time this calendar year (the "Movie Odyssey"; rewatches do not count) with an Oscar-like ceremony. I choose all the nominees and winners from each category, save one: Best Original Song. It is the only category I can think of that does not require you to watch several movies in their entirety. I know some of you wonder why I bother with this quixotic social experiment. But I have always considered it a sort of cinematic-musical thank-you for your moral support in various ways - in the hopes of introducing to all of you films and music you may not have otherwise encountered or sought. A small slice of the 2020 Movie Odyssey, so to speak.

This final will be contested by sixteen songs. As I've mentioned before, for the first time ever, there are no MOABOS entries originating from this year that made the competition - a MOABOS first. I have seen one 2020 film since the prelim (Wolfwalkers... at a drive-in mind you), but this entire final is one of yesteryear. Even without any 1930s songs, this year's final is probably the oldest on average. There are some very recognizable songs that made it straight to the final, bypassing the preliminary; those songs are contained within. Among them, a city anthem and a song that should be a city's anthem. Elsewhere, this is the first final to ever feature two classic Bollywood songs - but no classic Bollywood song has ever cracked the top ten. Elvis has three songs in this final, a MOABOS joint record along with Prince and the Bee Gees (both in 2016). But also appearing in multiple entries are Frank Sinatra and Liza Minnelli, Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday. With five non-English-language songs in the final, this year’s final ties 2017 with the largest contingent of finalists not in the English language.

INSTRUCTIONS Please rank (#1-16) your choices in order. The top ten songs will receive nominations. The tabulation method used in the preliminary round is being used for the final only as the second tiebreaker (the tabulation method that will be used principally for the final - aka "single transferable vote" - is described in the “read more” at the bottom). There is no minimum or maximum amount of songs you can rank, but because of the nature of single transferable vote, it is highly recommended to rank as many songs as possible, rather than only one or two. Those who rank fewer songs run a greater risk of their ballots being discarded in the later rounds of tabulation. Again, this is all described in the “read more”.

Please consider to the best of your ability: how musically interesting the song is (incl. and not limited to musical phrasing and orchestration); its lyrics; context within the film (contextual blurbs provided for every entry for those who haven't seen the films); choreography/dance direction (if applicable); and the song's cultural impact/life outside the film (if applicable, and, in my opinion, least important factor). Imperfections in audio and video quality may not be used against any song. I encourage you to send in comments and reactions with your rankings - it makes the process more enjoyable for you and myself!

The deadline for submission is Thursday, December 31 at 8 PM Pacific Time. That is 6 PM Hawaii/Aleutian Time / 10 PM Central / 11 PM Eastern. That deadline is also Friday, January 1 at 2 AM GMT / 3 AM CET / 4 AM EET. This deadline has been pushed back two consecutive times due to a sizable non-response rate - but I very much do not want to do so again.

I have compiled most of this final round's songs into this YouTube playlist. Please note that neither of Kaagaz Ke Phool’s two songs are contained in the playlist. You will need to access them using their respective links.

Enjoy the music! Feel free to listen as many times as you need, and I hope you discover music and movies you may have never otherwise heard of that you find fascinating. The following is formatted... ("Song title", composer and lyricist, film title):

2020 MOVIE ODYSSEY AWARD FOR BEST ORIGINAL SONG – FINAL ROUND

“Angela”, music and lyrics by José Feliciano and Janna Merlyn Feliciano, Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

Performed by José Feliciano

(English-language version) / (Spanish single version)

Played over the opening credits to this teenage drama that is partly a blaxploitation film, partly an interracial coming-of-age romance. The movie wasn't a hit, but the Spanish-language version of this song was received well in Latin America.

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, music and lyrics by Eliot Daniel and Johnny Lange, Melody Time (1948)

Performed by Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers

This is the introductory song to the final segment of Melody Time. That segment is dedicated to the legend of Pecos Bill, and this atmospheric song leads into the telling of that story.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love”, music and lyrics by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, and George David Weiss, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

(film version) / (single version)

Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has just returned to his home state of Hawai'i after a stint in the Army. Not wanting to work on his father's pineapple plantation (seriously), he rekindles his relationship with his girlfriend, Maile (Joan Blackman). This song is sung as an accompaniment to a music box he gives to Maile's grandmother (Flora Kaai Hayes, a former Hawaiian Territorial Representative to the U.S. House). This song is among Elvis' best-known and most widely-covered.

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, music by S.D. Burman, lyrics by Kaifi Azmi, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Mohammad Rafi (dubbing Guru Dutt)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "I Have Seen How Deeply Friendship Lies / I Have Seen People Abandon Me One by One"

Part 1 (3:44-8:27) / Part 2 (2:16:29-2:20:42)

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy, Suresh Sinha (Dutt) is a washed-up director looking back on his life. In the first part, the song leads into the rest of the film - which is almost entirely a flashback. In brief, Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. Eventually, his career crashes after a box office bomb and her career is ascendant. Leading into the second part of the song, Suresh is penniless and working as an extra at the movie studio. Shanti recognizes him, wants to help, but he refuses to revive his career on the back of her success. Kaagaz Ke Phool has elements of autobiography, and Suresh's fate has parallels with what happened to Dutt after this film was released.

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Initially performed by Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong and his band; reprised by various

(initial film performance) / (Louis Armstrong single version)

Endie (Holiday in her only appearance in a feature film) is a maid to the affluent Smith family, whose matriarch looks down on jazz as a disreputable genre of music. In secret, Endie frequents a gambling and jazz establishment in the historic Storyville district of New Orleans and performs here with Louis Armstrong (playing himself) and others when she gets the chance. The matriarch's daughter (Dorothy Patrick), an classical operatic soprano, is transfixed by this new music she has never heard before.

“ Exsultate Justi”, music and lyrics by John Williams, Empire of the Sun (1987)

Performed by orchestra and chorus under the direction of Williams

Lyrics in Latin

In this historical epic, affluent British school boy Jamie Graham (a young Christian Bale) is living with his parents in Shanghai when the Japanese invade. Jamie is separated from his parents and placed in an internment camp. Soon before the end of WWII, the prisoners are moved elsewhere, but Jamie hides and stays put. This song plays as Jamie bikes around the empty camp and continues to play as he encounters liberating U.S. troops. Jamie is dirty and malnourished when found; one can argue that this song is used ironically. It plays once more over the end credits. "Exsultate Justi" is a variation on a theme John Williams develops over the course of the film and harkens back to Jamie's past, attending Anglican services with parents.

“Farewell to Storyville", music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Performed by Louis Armstrong and his band, Billie Holiday, and company

In New Orleans, the Storyville district was a den of drinking, gambling, jazz, and prostitution. The district was the home to a heavily black populace. The U.S. military, about to establish a Naval base nearby, forces the city to close the district for good. This song is a swinging dirge to a center of jazz - a musical genre looked down upon by many of the city's upper-class whites due to its ties (real and imagined) to crime.

“Happy Endings", music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli and company (that's Jack Haley - who played the Tin Man and was, at the time, Minnelli's father-in-law - roughly seven minutes in)

(use in film) / (soundtrack version)

It is highly recommended one sees how this song is used in the film. Bear with me: this song is part of a movie within a movie. Within that movie within a movie, there is another movie. "Happy Endings" is the title end song to a film called Happy Endings within New York, New York. Singer Francine Evans (Liza Minnelli) has made it big as a recording artist and caps off her hit film, Happy Endings, with this song. We see Francine's ex, played by Robert De Niro, in the audience as the film ends. "Happy Endings" is a homage/deconstruction to midcentury Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) musicals. It serves the film as "The Broadway Melody" does to Singin' in the Rain (1952) or the 17-minute ballet does to conclude An American in Paris (1951).

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)", music and lyrics by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri, The T.A.M.I. Show (1964)

Performed by Jan and Dean

The link above provides the entire film. You only need to watch from 0:00-4:11. If you like music from this era or want to hear more, this film is highly, highly recommended.

This is the opening credits song to a concert film recorded over two days in Santa Monica, California on October 28 and 29, 1964. The Teenage Awards Music International (T.A.M.I. - yes, I know it's an awkward name) Show included many of the most popular musical stars of that time - almost all of them name-dropped in this song. Jan and Dean, a surf music duo, served as hosts (and performed during) the show. You folks are lucky that this is the only original song from this film!

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?", music and lyrics by Yôjirô Noda, Weathering with You (2019, Japan)

Performed by RADWIMPS

Lyrics in Japanese (translation)

Weathering with You is a romantic fantasy anime about a high school boy who runs away from his rural home to Tokyo, where he meets a girl who can manipulate the weather. It has been inexplicably raining for weeks without interruption in Tokyo, so they form a business to help clear the inclement weather for special events. The melody of this song is heard throughout the film's score. It does not appear with lyrics until late in the film. The song is played under the boy's seemingly impossible attempt to save her from an unwilling human sacrifice.

There is so much plot in this damn film (it's all Makoto Shinkai's fault) - I can't explain the context of the song or this movie in a reasonable amount of space.

“Moonlight Swim”, music by Ben Weisman, lyrics by Sylvia Dee, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

In a musical packed end-to-end with songs, Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has taken a job with a tour guide agency. On his first day, he drives his first clients - a school teacher (who not so secretly is attracted to Chad) and four teenagers (one of whom becomes smitten) - to their destination.

“Personality”, music by Jimmy Van Heusen, lyrics by Johnny Burke, Road to Utopia (1946)

Performed by Dorothy Lamour

(in-film performance) / (live radio performance)

In the fourth film of the Road to... comedy series, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby's characters have just overpowered two Alaskan thugs with a history of murderous violence. As they enter a saloon dressed up as those two thugs, all of the patrons - in a town that only knows the thugs by reputation - shut up in terror. They are treated to a performance by Sal (Lamour), who is trying to find a map of a gold mine that the real outlaws supposedly have. A visual narrator (Robert Benchley) interrupts the scene before the song briefly.

“Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, music and lyrics by Joy Byers, Frankie and Johnny (1966)

Performed by Elvis Presley

(in-film performance) / (single version)

Johnny (Elvis) and girlfriend Frankie (Donna Douglas) work on a Mississippi River riverboat as performers. Johnny is addicted to gambling and believes that another woman is spurring on his recent run of good luck. During a fit of jealousy-as-acting, Frankie accidentally shoots Johnny during a bit of musical theater (someone switched out the blanks for real bullets). This song occurs after Johnny has recovered from the accident.

“Theme from New York, New York”, music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli

(in-film performance) / (Frank Sinatra single)

For most of the film, saxophone player Jimmy Doyle (Robert De Niro) is trying to compose a song but cannot figure out the lyrics (this plays out as a subplot). His eventual girlfriend/later ex, Francine Evans (Minnelli) provides said lyrics. Some time well after they have broken up, he finds her singing this song - which he previously brought to the top of the jazz charts - in the nightclub where they first met. This film flopped (musical movies were out of fashion by the mid-'70s, and a musical didn't seem "on brand" for director Martin Scorsese). But the Frank Sinatra single popularized this song, and it has been used in many venues of popular culture.

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, music and lyrics by S.D. Burman, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Geeta Dutt (dubbing Waheeda Rehman)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "Time Has Inflicted Such Sweet Cruelty On Us"

Song begins at 1:03:31 and ends at 1:07:51

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy told in flashback, Suresh Sinha (Guru Dutt) is a director looking back on his life. Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. This song is the most explicit statement of that love in this film. How much of the scene's set-up is observable by the characters is up to the viewer's interpretation.

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, music by Josef Myrow, lyrics by Mack Gordon, Three Little Girls in Blue (1946)

Performed by Del Porter (dubbing Charles Smith) and Carol Stewart (dubbing Vera-Ellen)

(use in film) / (Frank Sinatra cover)

In this rarely-seen musical (*insert plea to Disney to restore the massive 20th Century Fox catalogue they now own and are almost certainly neglecting*), three chicken farmer sisters decide to travel to Atlantic City in hopes of marrying a rich husband when they learn their aunt's inheritance is not nearly as much as they want. There, youngest sister Myra (Vera-Ellen) - despite the sisters' original intentions of marrying men of wealth - becomes involved with a waiter named Mike (Charles Smith). They go on a date, and they sing this song. A somewhat overly-literal fantastical dancing sequence ensues, complete with Vera-Ellen's dancing skills. This song was popularized by Frank Sinatra years later and has long enjoyed status as a big band/jazz standard.

Contact me however you wish if you have questions or comments regarding MOABOS' processes or something specific about a song or a few. Please let me know as soon as possible if you are having difficulty accessing one of the songs (especially if it is region-locked) or if there is an error in the playlist.

Once more, I thank you all for your support for the Movie Odyssey, the blog, and for me personally - no matter how long I’ve known you or in what capacity. There are no hard feelings if you cannot get to this, although I will be checking in as the deadlines get close. Please wear a mask. Practice social distancing. We'll see each other again on the other side of this pandemic.

TABULATION The winner is determined by a process distinct from the preliminary round. For the final, the winner is chosen by the process known as single transferable vote (the Academy Awards uses this method to choose a Best Picture winner, visually represented here - you should really watch this video if the below doesn’t make sense… which it probably won’t):

All #1 picks from all voters are tabulated. A song needs more than half of all aggregate votes to win (50% of all votes plus one… i.e. if there are thirty respondents, sixteen #1 votes are needed to win on the first count).

If there is no winner after the first count (as is most likely), the song(s) with the fewest #1 votes or points is/are eliminated. Placement will be determined by the tiebreakers described below. Then, we look at the ballots of those who voted for the most recently-eliminated song(s). Their votes then go to the highest-remaining and non-eliminated song on their ballot.

The process described in step #2 repeats until one song has secured 50% plus one of all votes. We keep eliminating nominees and transfer votes to the highest-ranked, non-eliminated song on each ballot. NOTE: It is possible after several rounds of counting that respondents who did not entirely fill in their ballots will have wasted their votes at the end of the process. For example, if a person voted the second-to-last place song as their #1, ranked no other songs, and the count has exceeded two rounds, their ballot is discarded (lowering the vote threshold needed to win), and they have no say in which song ultimately is the winner.

A song wins when it reaches more than fifty percent of all #1 and re-distributed votes.

Tiebreakers: 1) first song to receive 50% plus one of all #1 and transferred votes; 2) total points earned (this was the first tiebreaker in the preliminary round); 3) total #1 votes; 4) average placement on my ballot and my sister’s ballot; 5) tie declared

Previous years’ results for reference: 2013 final 2014 final (input from family and friends began this year) 2015 final 2016 prelim / final 2017 prelim / final 2018 prelim / final 2019 prelim / final

#2020 Movie Odyssey Awards

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goddessdoeswitchery · 4 years

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Hellenic Polytheism 101 Transcripts: Pillar of Hellenic Polytheism Sophrosyne

Hello and welcome to today’s episode of Hellenic Polytheism 101, where we will be moving onto to the next pillar of Hellenic Polytheism: Sophrosyne, which is, essentially, moderation, prudence, self-control, self-discipline, or temperance based upon thorough self-examination. Since we are coming up on a holiday season in the US, this seems like the perfect time to focus on Sophrosyne, and to remember it’s opposite, hubris, and how to avoid it. It is also important to remember that even in Ancient Greece, it was well understood that Sophrosyne could be taken too far, something we also understand still today.

“Earth shaker, you would not consider me sophrosyne if I were to fight with you for the sake of wretched mortals” Apollo says this to Poseidon in the Illiad, as Homer brings us a look at what Sophrosyne would mean to the same deity who brings us the Delphic Maxims, such as know know thyself, know by learning, exercise prudence, praise virtue, nothing in excess, know who is the judge, keep secret what should be kept secret, take sensible risks, be well behaved, be self disciplined, be sensible. This is not the only example in Homer’s work of Sophrosyne. In fact, there are a really a lot of them. I would definitely suggest you read both of them and look closely for examples of sophrosyne. Homer was very sensitive to the need for Sophrosyne in society and in an individual. On an individual level, sophrosyne prevented people form getting into serious trouble, both with themselves and on a religious level. After all, someone exercising sophrosyne would be very unlikely to become a spider after being cursed by Athena, right? On a modern level, someone exercising sophrosyne is less likely to face personal problems as well. You won’t wind up drinking to excess and getting into a car accident. You won’t find yourself challenging someone better than you to a fight. You won’t find yourself taking on more tasks than you can manage. You won’t find yourself spending more money than you can spare on things you don’t need. By exercising sophrosyne you can avoid a lot of trouble. On a societal level, we should try to exercise that same self control and temperance. After all, there is no reason for any country to spend more than 56 countries combined on defense spending. There is no reason for a city to cut taxes and not invest in repairing roads or assisting those who need it the most. There is no reason for a group of friends to go out in the middle of a pandemic to a bar just to have a good time. We can bring the ideals of sophrosyne to our own lives and encourage others to do the same, through voting and talking to others and being an example.

When we do not practice sophrosyne, we tend to fall victim to hubris. For someone who has spent any sort of time practicing Hellenic polytheism, we should all know exactly how bad hubris is. We’ve all probably seen it or heard it online. Recently, there was a lot of talk of witches online cursing the moon, specifically aimed at making Artemis or Apollo angry. Now, in the end, it was revealed to be some big hoax, a lie they told to make other witches start saying things about how they could tell someone had hexed the moon because their own spells weren’t as effective. Then the original hexers could say “Ha! We told you witch craft and the gods weren’t real, see? These guys said they noticed a change but we didn’t do anything, so clearly they must be faking!” The whole ordeal was a perfect example of what could happen if people fell victim to hubris, and many more sensible folks online pointed out that it was hubris, believing anyone could have an affect on a deity by cursing the moon. We’ve all seen other examples of hubris. Hellenic polytheists who say that Artemis would never let a man worship her, or a straight woman, or a woman who has had sex with a man. People who gatekeep, projecting their personal bigotry onto the Theoi. We’ve all come across. Hopefully, most have us have rolled our eyes and ignored it.

Even in mythology, hubris is painted to be among the worst things a person can be. Niobe lost her sons and daughters to Artemis and Apollo after she bragged to Leto that she was better than Leto for having more children. Arachne, turned into a spider for daring to compare herself to Athena. Antigone’s father, who lost his son and his wife for believing that his life was higher than the law of the gods. Oedipus refuses to accept his own fate and wound up falling victim to it because of his hubris. Ajax, believing he was entitled to the armor of Achilles and being driven mad and eventually killing himself. Icarus, flying to close to the sun, too prideful to listen to his father’s warnings. Orestes taking it upon himself to avenge his father by killing his mother and being driven mad. Greek stories are teeming with examples of people who have fallen victim to hubris. In many of these stories, sophrosyne is pointed to as a virtue to aspire to strictly to avoid it’s opposite, hubris.

And yet, we can also take sophrosyne too far. For example, in the Bacchae, Pentheus holds himself as a champion of sophrosyne, as fails to understand that by being overly self-controlled and self-discplined and holding himself up as the model of sophrosyne, he ignores the moderation and temperance part. He tried to force everyone listen to him, to oppose the Bacchic rites, and, in the end, his obsession with only a part of sophrosyne causes his own death. The Ancient Greeks understood that there was such a thing as being too controlled. There was such a thing as a fatal exaggeration of one side of the many-sided virtue of sophrosyne. Thus one of the biggest keys to sophrosyne is moderation. Nothing in excess says one of the Delphic Maxims, not even self-control and self-discipline.

As we go through this holiday there a lot of ways you can apply sophrosyne to your life. One of the dangers of the holidays is becoming over-extended. For example, I have a large family. Like…..over 100 people kind of large. So large that we could probably fill a high school basketball stadium kind of large. It’s also got a lot of different branches. Mom’s side, which has dad and mom in separate houses. My ex-stepdad, whose family we still see. My dad and his family. My dad’s ex wife and her daughter and her kids, who I’m also close to. My girlfriend. My kids’ dad and his family. I always joke that we’ve got our own little 12 days of Christmas skit between grandpa jones, grandpa long, Uncle Cody, Uncle Andrew, my dad, his ex wife’s house, my girlfriend, the kids’ dad, his family, and we’ve still got to squeeze out time for our own holiday celebration too. Factor in the fact that, like most customer service based companies in the US, my job doesn’t allow us to take more than half of Christmas Eve and all of Christmas day off. Sure, we’ve got the Sunday before and after when I’m off as well, but that’s barely 3 days for 4 states and 10 places to visit. Factor in the budget for all those places and all those gifts, not to mention the drama that comes around when we decide where we’re having Thanksgiving at and you can understand why I bring up being overextended as a danger of the holiday season. Now, maybe that isn’t a problem for you. Maybe you become over extended by volunteering to work too many hours to help your more Christian friends have time off. Maybe you offer to do too much during Thanksgiving and wind up having to wake up at 5 am to get started on a meal that you can’t believe you promised to cook. Maybe during Halloween, you spend too much time focused on parties or trick-or-treating and realize that you would have had a much better time sitting at home, watching Halloweentown with a bowl of candy and some friends. Either way, we all tend to push ourselves too hard, especially once the holidays roll around and we start wanting to do everything so we can get every experience. We need to remember sophrosyne during this time. Exercise self-control and stay home when it’s something you want to do. Exercise self-discipline and avoid getting gifts when you can’t afford it, there is no shame in saying “Look, finances are strapped and I can’t manage more than X”. Exercise moderation and remember that you can’t actually do everything. Be prudent and accept the reality of whatever situation you are facing. Practice sophrosyne.

Thank you for listening to today’s episode of Hellenic Polytheism 101 where we discussed another one of the Pillars of Hellenic polytheism, Sophrosyne. Today, I relied on the Odyssey, The Illiad, Sophrosyne: Self Knowledge and Self-Restraint in Greek Literature by Helen North, A Period of Opposition to Sophrosyne In Greek Thought also by Helen North, Mythology of the Greeks by George Grote, and the Wikipedia entry for Sophrosyne. Remember, all links to the resources I used can be found on my tumblr at goddessdoeswitchery.tumblr.com, along with a transcript of today’s episode under the tag “Transcripts”. I look forward to speaking with you all again on October 18th, where we will be discussing Eusebia.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheism 101 #transcripts #sophrosyne #pillars of hellenic polythiesm

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Bane (DCU) Additional Tags: Reconciliation, Developing Relationship, Dom/Sub Undertones, Bruce Wayne Is Trying His Best, The rest of the family play a very small role, Slow Burn Summary:

Change is a hard thing for people to grasp, even when they’re billionaire vigilantes and reanimated pseudo-criminals.

Going from parent and child to zombie-son-left-unavenged and shitty-father-figure was rough, and trying to find even ground after Bruce and Jason had been so fundamentally changed by Jason’s death had been almost impossible.

But after a year of improved communication, rooftop tacos, and the foiling of a terrorist attack, they find a new normal for taking care of each other.

I have written over 30k words for this gd fandom since the day @setsailslash got me hooked and every day the mania just grows deeper.

Or,

That time I scrapped smut 300 words in because I thought if I did that how would you know they love the hell out of each other and haha here’s 10k of the concept of Third Thursdays instead: An Odyssey

Read on Tumblr:

Change is a hard thing for people to grasp, even when they’re billionaire vigilantes and reanimated pseudo-criminals.

Going from parent and child to zombie-son-left-unavenged and shitty-father-figure was rough, and trying to find even ground after they had both been so fundamentally changed by Jason’s death had been almost unovercomeable.

Acknowledging the differences is key, though. Where it had been obvious to Jason that Bruce’s problem was that he couldn’t accept that Jason’s different from before, it had taken him a lot longer to figure out that he was still holding Bruce to the standards he’d held when Batman was more like a god than a distressed man desperately doing his best.

In retrospect, he reckons that death’s actually an infectious disease. Jason got the blunt end of a crowbar and his rose-tinted glasses ripped right off his face, and Bruce came away only slightly more lightly with yet another heaping of trauma, and a chronic condition wherein every day he wishes he could kill the Joker while absolutely knowing that he won’t. It’s self-enforced suffering; the Bat is ruled not by absolutes but by ‘should’s and ‘shouldn’t’s, because ‘can’ and ‘can’t’s are too thin a line for him.

It’s been a fistful of years since Jason’s gone full-time on this Red Hood the crime lord thing, and Gotham’s calmer than she’s ever been; if he wants to have the streets crime-freeish, he just tells his underlings to work less.

Heading a criminal empire provides a much better work-life balance than being Robin, and don’t that hit like a bullet to the head?

(Hahaha.)

It’s been a fistful of years since he woke up, and Jason thinks it’s about time that he have a sit-down with Bruce, because they really fuckin’ need to talk about change and loss.

So he orchestrates a casual heist on a quiet night, and sits at the rooftop of the Natural History Museum with a hunk of meteorite that’s ever-so-lightly laced with Kryptonite, and waits.

It’s frigid as fuck for late April, but to be a Gothamite you sure do have to earn it, and ‘it’ sometimes means sleet down the back of your neck in the middle of the night while you’re trying to meet a man. The helmet’s keeping his head dry and muggy as always, but Lord god he might need to come up with an on-brand scarf design to protect the gap between nape and jacket if the weather keeps being Like This.

Jason’s halfway through troubleshooting the concept of a leather scarf when heavy boots land dramatically on the top of the building, the quiet hiss of a grapple line disengaging in the background.

That’s a thing, too. Bruce generally errs on the side of being Creepy and Looming and a shadow creature of eldritch horror to get people to fear the Batman, but he’s all big loud moves when he’s with Jason, all shout-y and hand gesture-y and frowny. The mystique of him in full-on Bat mode disappears when Bruce strides towards him briskly like an agitated goose coming in for an attack, while his cape just drags on the floor instead of obscuring his fundamental humanity.

Bruce had made more of an effort to keep up the persona back before, tried harder to seem significantly less mortal with the cowl on. Now he’s just all human all the time around him, and Jason sees that Bruce is always bleeding out, only sometimes literally.

“Hey, B,” he calls out, though his helmet probably glows like a beacon to where he’s sat on the water tank.

“Red Hood,” Bruce growls out, too professional to use real names, but too worked-up to not be angry. “Why are you stealing Kryptonite? If this is a plot against Superman, I have no choice but to-”

Ain’t that a joke and a half. “No choice but to do what, B? For the guy calling all the shots all the time, you’re talking some pretty amazing shit.”

At that Bruce doesn’t snap back, turning this way and that instead to do a sweep of the roof before he seems satisfied. “Hood, if this is a plea for attention-”

“Ding ding ding,” Jason says as he unlocks his helmet and takes it off, groaning a little when the light drizzle hits his overheated scalp. “Got half of it in one. I’m not pleading for your attention, B, but I am going to get it. We’re going to talk.”

It’s a new technique, just for today. Usually, any interaction between them turns into a clash; somebody lashes out and the other hits back, and fifteen minutes later either somebody’s bloody or they’ve stormed dramatically off the side of a building.

Today, Jason’s going to pull a Batman ( Thou shalt not steal (the tyres off the Batmobile), Thou shalt not kill (the Joker) ) and put down lines in the sand, make this a lawful argument instead of a raging one.

Getting pissed on by freezing April showers, Jason’s feeling unusually benevolent. It makes him want to laugh, a little, that Bruce has the time and the luxury to be angry with him on a rooftop right now because that’s what Jason wanted to do tonight.

It seems to work, though. Bruce is quiet for the longest time, before he comes closer, clearly wary. “So talk.”

“Much as though I love looking down on you, old man, calm yourself down and just come sit with me. You know as well as me that this place’s in a blindspot, so get up here already.”

Another line, another non-request. Jason expects that he’s going to have to wear Bruce down with this, but instead there’s the quiet boom! of the grapple going off, and in six and a half seconds flat, he’s got a seatmate.

Facing the same way, they have as good of a view as you can get of Gotham; the museum’s on a hill close to the bay, and from here you can make out the city lights and the barest outlines of buildings through the mist and rain. Even the looming hills that cocoon the city and contribute hugely to the awful weather and spectacular air pollution are visible, if you squint.

Absently, Jason notes that this is the longest they’ve gone in a while without either of them shouting, even if Bruce is radiating enough tension to heat up a house.

“So,” Jason starts them off, because he should expect no help from the dumbass next to him, “you know that I, like, died, right, B?”

The sharp intake of breath is like a reflex at this point; if Jason ever wants to get a punch in all he needs to do is look Bruce in the eye and remind him of Jason’s death and bam ! An opening right there.

That’s not the point tonight, though. Not quite.

He keeps going before Bruce can interrupt. “I know you know I did, B. I know you blame yourself for it, and you blame me for being angry you didn’t kill Joker, and then you go back to blaming yourself for not actually killing the fucker anyways. You’re all twisted up inside, and you probably always have been, and I guess the thing is I kinda only noticed that recently.”

So recently, he realised it mid-conversation. Wow.

“If you only wanted me to come so that you can berate me, Hood, I have better things to do,” Bruce says, terse and hideously impersonal.

Jesus, he’s bleeding out right now.

Jason nudges him in the side, but mostly just bruises his elbow on kevlar and leather. “It’s not about that. If I was berating you, I would be real fucking clear about it. I just need you to get through your thick skull, that the boy you took in and did your best to kinda take care of, he died and you mourned him and you’re still mourning him, and that’s fine .” It isn’t, not really, because Jason wants Bruce to mourn him , but that’s just a whole ‘nother kettle of fucking fish, really. “He died, and I came ‘round in his place, and we’re not the same people. Death really changes a man, you know, and I’m not your son anymore. I made my peace with that.” Sort of. -ish. Enough to function, enough to know they need this conversation.

He turns to look at Bruce, right at the eery white lenses. “The question is,” he says with a heaviness he doesn’t usually like to show, “have you?”

Lenses can’t blink, obviously, but Jason’s looked at and thought about this man long enough and often enough that he knows what’s going on even when Bruce’s face is obscured.

It’s a stare-off that Bruce somehow loses. He looks away, jaw still clenched tight. Jason can see the muscles twitching there, can almost hear the grinding. If he closes his eyes he can even imagine the little purple case and the clear night guard that Bruce has on the counter in his bathroom.

He wonders if the case is still covered in the stickers that first Dick, and then he himself had covered it in. He wonders if the tradition continued with the newer Robins, and if the guard and the case is still there, or if Bruce in his unwinding madness had just, god, laser-cut his teeth so that they wouldn’t touch or something.

Bruce’s answer is a long time coming, but it does come, eventually. “No,” Bruce tells him like it’s truth taken through torture. “No, I haven’t.”

(It is, truth taken through torture).

Any admission of weakness was well beyond anything Jason expected, and while his first inclination is to take that given inch and make it a vicious mile, to mock the absolute hell out of Bruce, he doesn’t.

Instead, he finds himself scooting over closer, close enough that their shoulders are touching. Bruce flinches, and Jason ignores the tell of discomfort.

“That’s all right,” Jason tells him, mostly meaning it. “He died for me too, you know. So at least this time, B, you got a mourning buddy.”

They sit in silence for a long, long time, until Batman’s communicator goes off and the spell’s broken. Bruce doesn’t say anything after the transmission’s fed right into his ear, just leaps off the water tank and lands on cat-quiet feet on the roof.

It’s as clear a sign as anything that their potential bonding’s come to an end, and Jason’s resigned to going back to his ratty apartment and rage-eating some cold pizza.

Instead of leaping right into action, though, Bruce turns and looks up at him. He holds up his hand, and it’s the stupid chunk of greenish rock. Jason rolls his eyes, but can’t help breaking into a grin. How a man so big and imposing got around to having such sticky fingers is pretty impressive.

“Thank you, Jason.”

It’s the first time tonight Bruce has actually called him by his name, and it’s such a wholesale fucking miracle that Jason is actually left speechless as Batman smirks, turns on his heel so that his cape snaps out dramatically, and disappears.

They meet up semi-often, after that. Jason sent out a company-wide memo; every third Thursday, everybody just stay the fuck at home. Anybody found breaking the order gets to have some personal one-on-one time with Jason and his favourite toy for the week, and about two months after that first meeting, Gotham’s taken to scheduling their outdoor celebrations and festivities to take advantage of the periodic significant decrease in shit like gun violence and kidnappings.

Jason’s got no complaints; it means that whatever rooftop they end up on, they get a view of lanterns and glossy food-trucks, loud music booming up to the rafters even though it’s the middle of the workweek. There’s a taquería-on-wheels that usually sets up shop on the corner of King and 18th, and Jason’s made it his mission in life to make a pilgrimage to it every haloed Thursday to get half a dozen pulled pork tacos. He does it partly because they literally are the best tacos he’s ever had in his life, and also partly because if it’s the matriarch María José at the cashier she will inevitably pinch his cheeks, call him handsome, and give him a glass of rice milk on the house so’s that he can grow some more.

Three months into this, whatever the hell this is, and a whole two tacos regularly go to Bruce, despite the fact that Bruce always comes by with food from whichever truck he buys out that night, a takeaway bag for them and the rest sent to the charitable organisation du jour .

Jason feels a weird sense of satisfaction in providing , though, so he always says he’ll bring home whatever Bruce’s brought to eat later, and instead has them share his tacos and drink and whatever corner store trash takes his fancy on the day. Trying to get Bruce to just go with the damned flow is a lot like trying to socialise the world’s most paranoid cat, and the first time that comparison occurred to him Jason had laughed to himself because he thought it was hilarious.

It came in a little later that cats that are paranoid and wary of people usually have a damn good reason for being so, and if that ain’t just the world’s most relatable shit….

The meeting after that realisation Jason had splurged on two horchatas as well as some churros, and when María José had asked if it was for a date, he had said of course not, ma’am, I’ve still got my eye on you , but in his head he thought Jesus, maybe .

By the fifth time they meet for what amounts to late-night snacks and aching chats, Jason notices and works very hard not to mention that Bruce has foregone the heavily-armoured suit that he usually wears on patrol, and is instead in the Batsuit Lite™, the version he would keep in his office for quick costume changes but couldn’t take a bullet half so well.

The actual Gotham Bat is literally lowering his guard around him, and Jason feels so goddamned all-powerful that he almost wants to send out another memo to say that all crime is all cancelled now, thanks, just so that dinner and drinks with a Bruce who is slowly but surely coming to terms with Jason being his own man can happen more often.

It never sat quite right with him to be provided for, he learns over the course of these dinners. Call it the result of a rough upbringing, call it a trick of the mind, but Jason’s never felt so settled in his skin as when Bruce is sat with him on a night that Jason finagled to be calm enough for the Bat to get time off, eating food that Jason bought for him, dressed as casually as the Bat can because Jason was there to guarantee his safety.

He never really knew what to do with the lavish life Bruce gave to him, before.

He’s beginning to think he has an idea about what he wants to give to Bruce, now.

There’s nothing unusually worldly about Jason’s porn preferences. It’s a secret he’ll take to his second grave, but he has a paid subscription to one of those tasteful for-women pornsites because some nights he and his right hand just want to watch people be kinda sweet to one another, you know? He’s surveyed the length and breadth of what the Internet can offer, doesn’t have any use for the ones where people aren’t having a good time, likes actual orgasms both behind and in front of the screen, and has a good grasp of the kinks that make him tick.

It’s not even sexual, this thing with Bruce. Sortof. It’s literally not sexual to sometimes go as backup with Bruce on cases so wretched they would make even Dick blanch and get queasy, or to share intel he got through nefarious means, or to avoid a kill shot when he can go around after and put the fear of the Red Hood into a perp and a bullet into their kneecap instead. It’s intimacy, yeah, to pick up a phone that rings at 4 o’clock in the morning whenever the usual cocktail of screaming horrors in Bruce’s head becomes literally unbearable and he just needs to hear that Jason’s alive still, tonight.

It’s a sign that he can be there to support Bruce, when he went with the man to his grave next to the Waynes, to just say hello and thank you and goodbye.

It’s not sexual, but close to a year into this, they’re both better off and better people. It started small and it grew big, and Jason just wants to give Bruce even more, make him take it, and more importantly, make him enjoy it.

They’re perched on some gargoyles for old times’ sake tonight, and far, far beneath their feet thousands of Gothamites are out on the streets. Jason’s lost track of the number of new celebrations that have cropped up, timed to meet the regular lull in crime, but tonight’s thing has lots of live bands, and lots of people dancing in the streets, swigging beer from plastic cups as they loosen their ties and kick off their heels and gently groove their way to train stations.

Loud block parties in the city centre on a Thursday are so on-brand for Gotham; it inconveniences absolutely everyone, but also if anyone tried to make them stop they would be mobbed. On any given day there’s no telling if Jason loves the people here or wants to beat them into the ground.

The same can be said about Bruce, as though there’s anything more through-and-through Gotham than the Bat and the man. The night’s been pretty chill, a little on the quiet side, but Jason thinks he’s about to change that. He’s going to draw another line between them tonight, but this one he wants Bruce to actually cross.

Plus, who would’ve known? Unwind the Bat enough and Bruce ends up being pretty decent company. He had a deep well of deeply entertaining bitchiness that was usually smothered under the facade of superheroism, he listened to hostage demands and a casual recap of the latest episode of Love Is Blind with the same amount of near-angry focus, and had a powerful implicit bias for anyone he cared about. Jason’s still in that category, somehow, and that was another group lesson; Jason’s a different man but actually, at the same time, maybe not.

God, identity politics are a riot when you throw adoption and death into the mix.

Nevertheless, Jason’s at the end of his tether. Getting laid’s not got the same kick to it, and sometimes mid-fuck he’s thinking about checking to see if tangerines are in season because if he scores a tempting enough bag of fruit the gauntlets come the fuck off to facilitate the peeling of the skin.

It’s the surest sign possible that this madness has sunk right down into his literal bones; Jason’s speaking from experience, and Bruce drives people all sorts of crazy even at the best of times, so he’s probably been screwed since that day on the water tank when Bruce said “Thank you, Jason”.

And now he’s really just going to say to his former-father-figure some version of not only do I seriously want to fuck you, I want to hold you by the neck to make you be good for me, and then I’ll praise you for just how damn good you can be . Lately it’s starting to feel like the highest calling he’s ever gotten, to make Bruce submit and then aggressively reward him for it.

He waits until they’ve worked their way to the bottom of the tray of nachos, after he’s handed a pack of wet wipes over so Bruce can fastidiously clean his gloves off of neon-orange cheese sauce. Not only is he now the kind of man to go around with wet wipes in his pocket, they’re even the fancy biodegradable ones because B had tutted at him the last time he suggested just tossing a regular one on some shitty roof somewhere.

They’ve probably got a maximum of ten minutes or so before Bruce will get up and go perch on a stoop somewhere he can keep an eye on crime and Gothamites having a genuinely good night out, and Jason knows that that isn’t time he can or wants to intrude on, so if he wants to confess, he’s going to need to do it soon.

“B, you know how we’ve been getting along well, lately?” Innocuous, a softball, good start, Jay.

Bruce tenses a little, but he’s not ramrod straight and his lenses are still down as he turns to look at Jason with a piercing look. “What’s this about?”

“You know how months and months ago, I said we needed to talk ‘bout me, and I was right? Well. I’m bringing it up because I think we need to talk about me again.”

Instantly Bruce is on red alert, feet curled under him till he’s wound up like a fight on spring-loaded legs, and he’s looking around with the night-vision lenses up. “What’s wrong, Red Hood?” he asks, ready to leap into the middle of whatever it is that’s got Jason all agitated.

That’s not what he was aiming for, having Bruce get his back up, even if it’s in a show of needless sweet overprotectiveness. Actively winging it at this point, Jason reaches over and holds the approximate nape of Bruce’s neck, even if all his hand meets is vacu-formed reinforced kevlar. It’s what Bruce used to do when he was trying to calm one of them down, and the theory is that the thought of it transmits even if it’s not skin to skin. “Calm down, B, it’s alright. I’m alright. I just want to lay out some things on the table, okay, and I need to know what you think about them.”

Bruce doesn’t smack his hand off, even though he’s clearly disgruntled as he settles down a little, loosening his fists. “When have you ever wanted my opinion on anything?” It comes off harsh, but there’s no point getting angry over a statement of fact, is there?

It’s a fair question, after all. “All the time, B,” Jason says, honest as he can manage. “Sometimes, sure, it’s so that I know exactly what not to do. But c’mon, give me some credit. This whole reconciliation thing is working because I needed you to know what goes on under the Red Hood, and along the way I figured, hey, why not try and understand you under all those layers of trauma and self-loathing and machismo too, you know?”

The sound Bruce makes sounds like a growl, but everything does with a modulator. Jason knows enough to know a snort of amusement when he hears one. “Yes, that is me, an extremely manly man. Spit it out already, Hood. What do you need me to hear?”

“Hey, c’mon, you’re telling me you didn’t used to make us run around in sequined shorts and pixie boots ‘cos you wanted to look scary and macho by comparison?”

The lenses disappear, because Bruce is so dramatic sometimes, and he wanted to properly convey his aghast. “Robin chose the entire outfit by himself. My initial designs were based on my suit, and he refused all of them. He didn’t even want full-length sequined pants. When you came along, I just went with his choices. It’s beyond the scope of my abilities to understand the fashion preferences of youths.” Bruce glares at him. “And you didn’t complain about it once.”

Jason rolls his eyes, and tries not to feel giddy about Bruce relaxing into his touch, how close together they’ve gotten as they talk absolute shit. “One, you should have known by then that his fashion choices literally only make sense to him. Two, I wasn’t gonna turn down free clothes. Three, on God, please tell me that you still have sparkly leggings kicking around in the Cave, because Nightwing’s really due a makeover.”

If they had glossy green beads that clattered loudly with movement, Jason could die happy for the first time.

“Stop getting distracted,” Bruce says mildly. “Nightwing is always welcome to my facilities if he wants to update his costume, and PennyOne dreams of one day being asked for input. Jaybird,” Bruce grabs hold of Jason’s arm, squeezes gently. “Do you need help?”

God, he can’t stop the slightly manic laughter from bursting right through him. “It’s more of a B thing than a Bat thing, okay? And you can tell me yes, and you can tell me no, and they’re both okay. Third Thursday Tacos are gonna keep happening, bimonthly visits home are gonna keep happening, but there’s this thing that, uh.” Fuck, words are hard. He should have just texted instead, but Jason can already see his unbearable desire to drop an eggplant into a DM to make light of a weird, heavy situation, so.

Just shut up and say it already. “There’s something that I want from and for you. You’re probably going to take it badly, which is fine, but I need you to take it seriously. Okay?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, just nods, rubbing his thumb against Jason’s arm.

“I love you,” Jason just goes for it, starts with the most fundamental of truths. “I want to smash you to pieces sometimes but I also literally, actually love you, in a whole bunch of really, really confusing ways. The thing is that one of those ways has me wanting to take you to bed, B, make you submit so you can be good for me and I can be good to you. So what I’m asking is, do I have your permission to try and get you to where I want you to be, B?”

The initial reaction will probably go one of two ways; complete stillness as Bruce digests the information and tries to parse his way through it, or a burst of action, probably a dramatic escape into the dark like Dracula’s the maiden who’s feeling a bit shy.

What Jason gets is neither; what he gets is Bruce’s mouth moving before his brain has come fully online, defensive and reactionary. “Jason! You can’t be serious-”

He’s not having any of that. With the hand on the back of Bruce’s neck he shakes the man a little, breaking him off. “I am, B.” He takes a breath, takes a chance, presses their foreheads together, human(?) skin to lead-lined cowl. “You can say yes and you can say no, hell, you can even say fuck off, but you cannot tell me what I do and don’t want. Christ, if you learned anything about me this past year, please let it be that I’m not a child, and you don’t get to dictate shit to me.”

They stay locked in a staring contest for what felt like ages, even as the boisterous sounds of a brass section going absolutely ham for 9 PM on a Thursday floats up on drafts to them. When the break happens, it’s not with Bruce forcibly jerking away and screaming at him, as Jason mostly expected.

Bruce pulls away lightly, like he’s testing the hold Jason has on him, like he’s testing Jason.

Jason lets him go immediately, of fucking course. He doesn’t even register that Bruce might be looking for a reaction; barring crime or injury, he’s not going to keep anyone where they don't want to be. Hell, part of being an Outlaw was the absolute unwillingness to be held down.

Plus, Bruce’s consent was the most important thing here. Jason figures that between the trauma and the jumble of unhealthy coping mechanisms that make up the man who’s thrown himself at the cancer of Gotham for decades, Bruce probably doesn’t get to make decisions just out of easy, selfish desires very often.

That’s why lunches and dinners would continue no matter Bruce’s answer, that’s why Third Thursdays were going to keep being a thing. Jason doesn’t want this to be a noose around Bruce’s neck, an obligation, a duty he needs to step up to for Jason.

He lets go, because he wants Bruce to want him more than he wants Bruce to listen to him.

They’re at a standoff, but not really. Jason keeps his hands up and visible, leans out of Bruce’s space, doesn’t talk or plead or cajole, just sits on his spiky gargoyle and stares at Bruce.

(God, even the concept of giving Bruce the option to say no satisfies that odd little kink inside of him.)

“I’m going to go,” Bruce says at long last, getting to his feet with a bit of a wobble, like he’s drunk, or like he recently got propositioned by a former-son at the end of an ambiguous dinner date. “On patrol. I’m sure you have things to do, Red Hood.”

Ah, back to full-on codenames it is, huh. This has still gone about a thousand times better than Jason’s most feverish and optimistic projections, though, so he doesn’t take it to heart. He doesn’t get up, gives Bruce the high ground as he smiles lazily up at him. “Oh, you know me. Ain’t no party like a Red Hood party. You gonna be okay on patrol?”

Bruce nods, head jerking like a marionette handled by a very bad intern. “Take care of yourself,” he says, then pauses. Grits his teeth, takes a breath. And then, with barely-there hesitation, “I’ll see you next Third Thursday.”

It’s not phrased like a question, but it definitely is. Jason just salutes sloppily instead of needling Bruce further on the meaning behind the hesitation. “‘Course, old man. Whatever you want.” And just to hammer his point further, “Whatever you choose.”

He sees it land like a body blow, and sees Bruce recover from it twice as quick. A brusque nod, and Bruce disappears into the streets below, a slab of black blocking the citizens from view.

Now left without an audience, Jason topples onto his back, and lets out an explosive sigh.

So.

That wasn’t a no, was it?

He screams at the sky, and a flock of roosting pigeons take off in a startled hurry.

God fucking bless Third Thursdays, holy shit.

Their next couple of Third Thursdays are stilted, but Jason’s willing to put in the effort because while it absolutely sucks to keep going like his confession never happened, he knows how Bruce’s jumbled-up brain works. If they haven’t sat down to have a wholly shitty conversation on how they’re father-and-son, Jason’s just confused, it’s some sort of transference of affection, and he should be finding a nice young someone his own age, then it means that Bruce is still processing. Bruce, after all, prefers to have clear lines drawn between himself and others, for maximum ease in warding off distraction and danger.

If Bruce was completely disinterested, the talk would have come in hard and swift, and there probably would’ve been a lot of screaming. Instead Bruce keeps showing up to TT., if in slightly heavier armour than usual, and Jason can see that he’s more aware of Jason, in full-on observation mode even as he talks about his latest case or any breakthroughs in figuring out who in the hell keeps stealing the good coffee beans from the Watchtower.

It’s progress that’s likely only possible because of how hard they’ve both tried to be better to each other over the past year, and Jason’s pretty sure at this point that when the rejection comes, as long as B’s happy to keep accepting stuff from Jason, they’re going to be alright.

It’s a pretty nice dream.

Things feel rough and uncertain but good on the whole, until it all goes to shit when it’s another Third Thursday and Bruce doesn’t show up on the rooftop of the Opera House. Crime never sleeps, even if it tends to take a nap at Jason’s demand, but B’s conscientious enough to usually text if something came up and he couldn’t come. Once while abducted by Harley and Pam for their weird bi-annual bitchfest, hopped up on Ivy pollen that she swore was a fantastic muscle relaxant and giving Harley his fifteenth bi-annual lecture on how she was far, far too good for Joker, he had even sent a selfie of them all sprawled on a banquette in an abandoned building somewhere with a sad emoji in explanation.

Today, there’s nothing to mark his absence except for his actual absence. Jason sits on edge of the roof and ignores the prickle of unease on the back of his neck. B is a whole adult who’s been roaming these streets doing what he can for literal decades; yes, it’s entirely unlike him to leave someone hanging, yes, it’s the first time he’s gone missing without sending word, yes, something about this stinks, but he could just be running a little late.

God, it’s amazing how optimism can get you at the most inopportune times.

Jason finally cracks, gets his helmet back on to ring the Manor to check in just in case , when the emergency alert trill nearly bursts his eardrum. It’s ingrained into every single person who’s ever worked with the Bat; Jason remembers as a kid seeing Commissioner Gordon startle so hard he dropped coffee on himself when somebody’s phone had gone off with a vaguely similar pitch.

It incites a Pavlovian response; Jason’s already up and running to gain altitude for a better sightline before the alert winds down, and he’s pulling himself up by an angel’s wings by the time Alfred’s voice comes on.

“Good evening, all,” Alfred says, polite even as he sounds incredibly strained. “We have a mass casualty situation. Bane appears to have taken advantage of Third Thursdays, and is in the process of blocking off Cathedral Square; we have reason to believe he intends to set all the revelers there on fire, so I would appreciate any support in evacuating people. Batman has gone after Bane himself, and I have lost contact.” He then rattles off the roads that have been blocked and how best to maneuver around them to get people out, but Jason’s already off and running.

Red alerts aren’t a fun time to be a crimefighter, but there’s a sense of solidarity in knowing that he’s not the only one leaping across rooftops to get to it. For all that Bruce tends to irritatingly emphasise how much he prefers working alone, the network he’s inadvertently set up of people who both love him and would go too far for him is a solid one. He can almost imagine the convergence; Dick coming up from the south, Damian probably rushing in from the Manor to the north, Tim legging it from the east because it stylistically fits with Jason bolting towards the square from the west.

That’s not even counting the girls. Christ, nights like these you couldn’t look up without seeing a terrifying phantasm flying across the sky.

Jason comes up to the main thoroughfare leading to the square first; it’s barely a ten-minute parkour sprint from the Opera House, after all, and he’s still falling when he shoots down a handful of Bane’s goons who have set up a barricade blocking people from leaving.

His timing’s gorgeous; they haven’t lit anyone on fire yet, and while a lot of the civilians are screaming at him and the downed men, that core of Gotham steel shines on through as women in neat dresses and men in business slacks slosh through a bit of blood to help him tear down concrete blocks to make enough space for them to wriggle through. Some sort of concert had been planned for Cathedral Square, and there’s enough panicked people that a few dozen climbing out quietly wouldn’t rouse much attention.

Urgh, a massive shiny red full-face helmet is pretty eye-catching for this, but with this many people around Jason can’t exactly take it off and hope to blend into the crowd as he goes hunting. He snags an absolutely loathsome fedora off the top of a loathsome-looking man, and rams it onto his helmet. Jason hopes no one will be around to take a picture of this indignity, but as long as he slouches, he’s not an obvious target from afar, and this is as good as it’s going to get for now.

A wave of whispers emanate from his makeshift exit, everyone letting the person next to them know before they disappear away, and it’s deeply inefficient as a manner of escape but Jason’s got to hold back from large-scale destruction until he can figure out how Bane planned to set all these people on fire. No point saving everyone close to this exit and having everyone else die because he tripped a trigger.

Look at him, he’s so goddamn tactical.

As he stoops and slouches and slinks in the shadows to get to the next inlet that he can crack open enough to let people escape, people seem to understand what he’s there for, and some even seem eager to contribute to his disguise.

He drew the line at a young woman whispering to him that she had some foundation in her bag and it could stick to anything, honest to God, do you want me to make your disguise more flesh-toned, Mister Red Hood?

He did accept her very pretty scarf that is much nicer than a douchey fedora. Some incomprehensible out-of-towner handed him earmuffs, even though the last time it snowed in Gotham was last week and the locals were already starting to move into summerwear, but it’s the thought that counts. He takes out three more goons close to a tiny side-alley that would lead out to a main street, has someone donate a wig right off of their heads, and when he takes out the mini-squadron protecting the back of the Gotham Central Library and its massive double-doors, he gets an oversized wooly cardigan and what looks like a faux-fur stole draped over him without his permission.

Jason can’t look at himself, of course, but he suspects at this point he probably wouldn’t be mistaken for the Red Hood until somebody was literally maybe four inches away from him. Through it all, though, he still doesn’t see where Bane’s secreted the equipment for mass murder. Hell, even the barricades weren’t difficult to disassemble enough to let people sneak out. He can imagine batty figures high up on the roofs of all the august buildings that butt up to the square running life-saving errands, but Alfred’s regular updates make it clear that everyone’s drawing a blank as to where the weapons actually are. Priority is on getting everyone out without causing enough of a stir that the bulk of Bane’s men up by the stage notice something and start opening fire, but everything feels a couple of inches off centre, and Jason can’t help the feeling of wrongness.

“Hey, PennyOne. What’s the update on B?”

Here Alfred’s smooth delivery of information stutters a little. “Still no contact from him, I’m afraid. Does anyone have eyes on Batman?”

Nobody does, and nobody can see Bane either. Given that Bane on his best day is a spine-snapping motherfucker, Jason’s not exactly happy with current events. Holding the wig tightly to his head, Jason abandons the plan of liberating the next passageway along, and heads straight towards the stage. Staging a large-scale attack is the best way to get Batman to come after you quickly, and if you’re dramatic enough, he’ll get there before he waits for back-up, because not even years of suffering have taught Bruce that he’s not solely responsible for every miserable thing that happens in Gotham.

Do it on a Third Thursday, and if you’ve been watching closely you might know that the Bat’ll come for you with less kit than usual. You might not catch him unawares because a soft British voice is always in his head, but you might find him significantly more vulnerable than literally any other night.

Jason tries not to scream, because he’s already dressed like a walking sartorial nightmare who’s a solid 5’11 even hunched over, and he doesn’t need to contribute further to anybody’s trauma. That’s one of the things that B always used to harp on; don’t get into a routine, don’t become predictable, never allow yourself to get comfortable while on duty.

All Jason had wanted was to make things a little easier, a little more pleasant for Bruce, and this is how karma decides to show him up. After all these years, how is he still surprised that fate is a whole-ass bitch? God literal damn.

All wrapped up in 8 different people’s outfits and a strong sense of self-loathing, Jason draws to a halt close to the stagefront, and surveys the henchmen there. A litle over a dozen or so, armed to the teeth because Bane has an aesthetic that he keeps close to, and all wearing that bored-and-disengaged haze in their eyes. It’s not a definite thing, but it sure would imply that Bane’s not asked them to do anything more intense than appear menacing and keep people in the square. That’s another strike against the big-time arson theory, but Jason takes note of how more than half of them are clustered around the backstage tent. Something important is clearly being kept there, and Bane’s got a less clear cut MO than most of the rogues’ gallery. Jason’s first thought is that it must be munitions, because Bane sure does love him some straight-up physical violence, but when Alfred’s voice starts to stutter and fade in and out, things connect together like the final jigsaw piece finally saw the light.

There’s a signal jammer, it’s got to be some sort of powerful signal jammer, and if Alfred can’t trace Bruce’s location or get in touch with him, then Bruce must be close by. Jason surreptitiously looks around for a Bat or a Bird that could double up with him to storm the tents, but maybe they’re too civic-minded to abandon the cause of evacuating civilians, because Jason’s reading the pattern and whirls of people movement and can’t spot anyone sneaking towards the front.

It makes sense to get people out of the way first before lunging into the heart of a battle: less collateral, it’ll just be bad men versus bat men (and women). Jason’s really only here because he believes in the average Gothamite’s ability to worm their way out of trouble given a little helping hand, and something about Bruce’s absence sits so badly with him that it’s unbearable.

The thought, when it finally hits, smashes into him like a bat to the back of the head. No clear signs of weapons to be used on a huge number of people, elite guards that don’t look too interested in guarding, no alarm being raised that dozens of henchmen have been felled at various checkpoints, comms jammer.

Jesus. Bane wants them to wear themselves out spiriting away innocents, be unable to communicate and coordinate, and have all of them herd themselves closer to whatever the hell else he’s got stored in the white tent. Minimum civilian casualty, but it’s a surefire way to take a sizable chunk of the vigilante community out in one night.

In a high panic, it’s not a terrible plan; all of their training always, always puts priority on saving the vulnerable, and with all hands on deck a full-frontal assault would favour the team that has more experience working together in creative and terrifying ways. It’s also enormously flawed, because while Dick might be the type to vault off a cornice and tuck-and-roll into a perfect landing on stage to demand a fair fight, there are also enough sufficiently suspicious bastards in their little pack that someone will inexplicably go off on their own and inadvertently execute a pincer attack.

No, if you want everyone to come together quickly and mindlessly, you’d need more motivation than a dozen gunmen. Hostages are a good idea, but even Red Robin can disarm someone with breathtaking accuracy given one batarang and about a hundred paces, so that’s also not guaranteed.

No, no, if you really want all of them to converge at the speed of instinct, you take a hostage, and the hostage just has to be B-

Oh, man. Oh man, oh man, he’s going to need to put down Bane, he swears he will, after this.

Jason’s first thought is to do away with the subterfuge and just go in all guns a-blazing, tear the tent to pieces to find Bruce and whatever Bane’s plan is all in one go. Jason’s read on the situation isn’t 100% guaranteed to be right, but the pieces all fit, and among the things you pick up during an apprenticeship with the world’s greatest detective is the skill to believe your hindbrain when it makes connections too smart for the rest of you.

He could take out 4 men easily from where he is; he probably wouldn’t be found out until he breaks cover to take out the other two patrolling on stage, and then it’ll be open-season with the rest of the men hovering by the white tent. He could take them, Jason’s pretty sure. He wants to take them, is the thing.

A thought is the only thing that stays his hand; it’s the memory of Bruce’s gentle grip on his arm, the night of his confession. It’s the serious face and the serious voice asking him, “Do you need help?”

Right now, Jason wants to say no, he doesn’t, he’s more than able to tackle this alone. It’s even the Batman-y thing to do, to take everything on by himself, but….

Ah, fuck. It’s the Batman thing to do, but Jason’s going to end up being a hypocritical son of a bitch if he’s angling to get Bruce to open up and accept that he should listen to other people sometimes when he refuses to do it himself. Jason feels a headache coming on; Bruce had taken on a heavy, weird confession about feelings and desires that even Jason hasn’t figured out the extent of.

Jason can at least take his head out of his ass, back down from a one-man Rambo show, and do this right.

It takes an effort of will to pivot on his heel and sneak back further afield until he’s free of the jammer and can communicate what he’s found out and what he’s inferred; Jason spends the entirety of their planning phase feeling a little irritated that Bruce has somehow made Jason actually cooperative and team-spirited without ever saying a word about it.

The bastard better appreciate the lengths Jason is willing to go to just to keep him safe, fuck.

It comes to a head with a flaccid little whump . Under the combined forces of the assembled and very angry Bat family, Bane’s operation is taken out at the knees. Tim and Babs jam the jammer, Cass and Damian handle the armed guards near the front, Steph and Dick demolish the biggest barricades to let the remaining crowd of thousands leg it to safety, and Jason bumrushes the tent because they’d all come to a quick consensus that if Bane’s pulled any sort of back-breaking bullshit, the definition of ‘unnecessary force’ is going to get a bit hazy for everyone involved so long as 1. Bruce never finds out, and 2. Jason tries to stop before actual death. The rest of the group will be along as soon as they’ve done their part, but Jason gets to lead the charge.

He rolls in with most of his costume still intact, because Tim and Dick have already taken a combined 300 pictures of him in his full Gotham Look and he has become unable to feel shame. Instead of a bitter fight to the almost-death, though, he finds Bruce lying on an operating table, and Bane crumpled in a heap on the floor, desiccated and unconscious.

“Uhm.” This isn’t exactly what he’d signed up for.

The sound of his confusion rouses a response from Bruce, a slight clench and unclenching of his fists. Jason’s by his side in seconds, feet slipping and sliding a little in the leaking Venom. He nudges Bane a little further away from the metal table with his foot, and feels proud of himself for not breaking a nose under his heel instead.

Priorities, priorities. He looks down at Bruce’s prone form, and breathes a little easier to see the cowl still intact. Bruce’s eyes are open, but they’re hazy and unfocused. Jason checks his pulse, and ignores the little signs of numerous brutalities that Bruce has endured just from tonight in the Batsuit Lite ™, fuck, it isn’t even the Batsuit Mild ™ that has been the go-to armour the past few Third Thursdays.

“You with us, big guy? The rest of the gang’s going to roll in in a sec,” Jason tells B with forced levity, even as his hands start assessing the damage and addressing the myriad tiny cuts and bruises before he moves on to the more serious hurts.

Bruce blinks like it takes all his energy, and then smiles. “Glad. Came with….. gang,” he forces out through a bruised throat.

“All your harping about togetherness finally got through to me, I guess.” Jason pulls off his scarf and breaks a donated pair of sunglasses to fashion mini-splints for two fingers on Bruce’s left hand. He can’t do anything about the wrist right now except for basic compression, and he is not going to think about how the actual patrol suit could have prevented a lot of this damage. “Mind telling me how you took down Mister Big Bad over here? To be honest, I was looking forward to mounting a hell of a cool rescue.”

“Cool enough.” The noise Bruce makes is half a laugh and half a wheeze from injured ribs. “Bane wanted to lure…. All of you. Kill in front of me.” A deep, shaky breath. “Nicked pipe with batarang….. Mid-gloat.” A derisive snort. “Not even…..titanium-plated.”

It’s beneath Bruce to say dumbass, but the implication is pretty damn clear. Jason just laughs. “Don’t give him any ideas, B.” He’s stabilised Bruce to the best of his abilities, and decides that he’d rather Bruce get some medical attention as quickly as he can manage it. He pulls Bruce to sit up, and gives him time for the motion blur to settle. “I know you’re drugged up, but is it anything to be worried about?”

He’s greeted with the littlest shake of the head. “Just standard HS-342. Excuse me.” With surprising speed for a man so thoroughly out of it, Bruce leans over the other side of the table and throws up. When he sits back up, he seems more present. “It isn’t Bane’s usual style to try poisons, and this suit’s filter isn’t the best, so he took me by surprise when I cornered him here.” Bruce rubs at his mouth with a bloodied hand, and he makes everything look about 200 times worse.

Jason’s offering a wet wipe before his brain even digests the sight; Bruce just accepts it without comment, now looking down at the unconscious Bane. “Lucky he was in the mood for a long and slow torture session; think he was too excited at the prospect of catching all of you and gloating about it to kill me when he had he chance. Had more aerosolised paralytics prepped for all of you, too.” Bruce nods his head at massive gas canisters tucked into the corner of the tent, all with skulls and crossbones on them. They’re pretty hard to see, on account of being hidden behind crates that held enough firepower to down the average sovereign nation, wow.

“Taking you hostage was pretty bright, but it’s kinda amazing how no one’s figured out that it’s always a crapshoot for me, the demon spawn, and Black Bat with all this drug stuff.” Even if they had just barged in, even if Bruce hadn’t worked his way out of this mostly himself, it might not have gone totally tits-up then, which is good to know.

They don’t talk about the concept of how torture counts as good luck, because Bruce isn’t exactly wrong, is he? “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

More from force of will than any actual motor control, Bruce heaves himself onto his feet and stays standing. “The weapons and gas-”

“Clean-up team’s on the way in. PennyOne was very explicit about getting you back to base ASAP, B, and it’s way more than I’m paid to question our highest power.” Jason tucks an arm around Bruce’s waist, and pulls Bruce’s arm over his shoulder. “C’mon. I’ve got you.”

“Yes,” Bruce says, sounding a little awed. “Yes, I think you do.”

Jason sees neither hide nor hair of Bruce until the next Third Thursday, but word on the street is that Alfred’s wrath and Dick pulling double-shifts meant that Bruce got some enforced time-off; a whole two weeks of downtime, wonder of wonders. He had texted to say that he had some business going on and would need to take a rain check on dinner, but it’s mostly to stop Bruce from showing up all battered and bruised.

Jason has actually been busy, though. Having an assault mounted on a Third Thursday’s a pretty grievous insult, and goes against the entire point of having it, so Jason’s been doing some housekeeping. A better shift rotation of patrolling criminals that keep a cap on how much evil can manifest on this off day, a shakedown of a couple of crime families that had helped Bane smuggle his weapons and his mercs in, a bit of a rampage in Crime Alley that reminded the people that the Red Hood’s not the sort to be ignored. He intensely injures a large number of people who really deserve it, but he keeps everyone alive because it’s supposed to be recovery time for Batman.

He does still come by the Opera House with his usual order from the taquería, because his circadian cycle is three weeks long and he had subconsciously worked to have the night free the way he’s done consciously for well over a year now. Besides, missing this would have María José worry, and she’s had plenty to worry about after the brush with Bane’s terrorism the last TT. Jason’s sat on the lip of the massive, ostentatious golden dome, enjoying the breeze in his hair when a shadow alights in his periphery.

It’s a strange thing, but all of them have a different texture to the darkness they shroud themselves in. It’s all to do with costume material and gait and build and posture, some indeterminable mixture of all these things, but with enough time of figuring out who’s who just from a patch of not-quite-pitch-black, it becomes as bright and loud a signature as them just shouting their names.

Bruce’s shadows fall around him like a hedge growing over a statue; a mix of organic and not, and the quick terror that manifests when they fall away and all of a sudden it’s just a not-quite-man that’s all sharp edges and shades of darkness.

Jeeze. B gets roughed around a little bit, and Jason’s gone all dramatic in his head. He doesn’t betray his thoughts, just leans back to scowl as dramatically as he can muster. “Could’ve sworn I said not to come, B. Bane’s magic gas did a number on your reading comprehension too?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything in response, just plods over with a paper bag in hand. “Here,” he says, dropping it on Jason’s lap before taking a seat next to him, posture still tense. “I was on my way to pick up Korean fried chicken from a truck close by the library when we caught wind of Bane’s plans, and I ended up missing our prior engagement.”

The bag smells like it’s filled with something divine, and Jason’s diving in and already breaking into a sweat from the expectation of tongue-turning spiciness. He loves fried chicken in all their incarnations, but KFC hits something different, oh. Jason’s downed two wings and half a drumstick before situational awareness comes back in. “On the list of things you’ve done wrong by me, B, not getting me food because you were too busy thwarting a terrorist attack’s pretty low down.”

Bruce just shrugs. “It’s a pretty long list.”

“It’s gotten shorter.”

That gains him a look of curiosity, tinged with doubt. Jason licks his fingers, and realises this is the first time he’s actually eaten something Bruce’s brought for him. There’s probably something there to unpack, but that can wait until after he’s had his fill. He doesn’t say anything else, just waits for the inevitable question.

“How?”

Jason just shrugs, and pushes his tacos over. “I got to know you as an actual person, I guess. You make enough mistakes all by yourself, and I figured that I didn’t need to be angry with you about things that I know you didn’t mean.” Like missing a dinner date to save a city, like coming when he’s supposed to stay away, like looking ready for a fight with Jason over an absence of snacks.

Like Bruce letting the Joker live didn’t mean that he didn’t love Jason in his wholehearted, visceral way. The justice system isn’t built to handle people like Joker; Jason’s come to accept that neither is Bruce, and that’s a fact that he can either take in and accept, or not.

When push comes to shove, it’s no harder than accepting a bag of chicken.

They subside into silence; Bruce is the only human being Jason has ever met who could eat a hard-shell taco while making almost zero sound, and it’s easily the most unacceptable thing about him.

The music coming from down below is a little muted; it’ll probably take another couple of weeks before the stress of Bane’s hot nonsense cools down enough for Gothamites to go back to their wild ways, so tonight all they get is the tinny screech of some fiddles that are occasionally drowned out by one determined elderly woman on an accordion.

“Jason,” Bruce says, and that means it’s time to be serious because they’re still in their suits. Jason has a premonition of what this talk’s going to be about, and settles himself into a state of casual resignation.

“Jason,” Bruce says again, emphasising God knows what. “The…. thing, you previously brought up. Regarding your feelings.”

“Yep, I remember, thanks for bringing it up in the most awkward way possible.”

There’s a squeak of leather as Bruce clenches his fist, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the squidge of a sauce-laden bit of lettuce squishing out. “I’m doing my best.” He sounds calm, even if he doesn’t look it. “Taking you to bed is out of the question, right now. But if there’s a, a better dynamic we could have because parent and child isn’t quite right, well.”

Bruce is clearly biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s a new tic, holy shit.

Determination sets in, and he turns to look Jason full in the face because neither the Bat nor the man have ever been cowards. “You have been so good to me, Jason,” he says with aching softness. “I think I want to try to be good for you.”

Jesus Lord Christ. Jason drops a chicken bone onto his lap in his haste to grapple for Bruce, to get a sticky handhold on the back of the cowl, to press their foreheads together. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, he must’ve died again without noticing and this time instead of seeing an al-Ghul on the other side, it’s just hopeless, unbearable Bruce.

He doesn’t let his thought process come out his mouth, doesn’t press in for a kiss that’s unasked for, but he does close his eyes and take in a deep, shuddering breath.

“We’ll figure it out, B.”

Bruce’s lips tip into a lopsided smile. “Thank you, Jason,” he murmurs right back, and.

Jason’s a goddamned goner.

A/N: Tumblr always swallows up italics which I viciously over use but I do NOT have the emotional capacity to trawl through this fic once again bc I’m more dead than I am alive atm. GOD I think I’ve found my one true calling: domsub stuff but with 4x more faffing about and 0% sex is my writing sweetspot quarantine rlly be out here making you Real Eyes

#brujay #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #red hood #i've been up since 4 trying to meet a deadline #and this was after staying up till 2 to post this monstrosity #i'm so on e #whale writing

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unabashedrebel · 4 years

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Top 10 Characters

In no particular order

1) Lara Croft (Tomb Raider) Can I just say that I love how the reboots, both the movie and the new trilogy of games were phenomenal as a long time fan of this character? They did her right. They focused on her origins, how she came to be this mythic Tomb Raider who delves into the greatest mysteries of the world while fighting against an evil Illuminati type organization.

But she always has tenacity. She always has grit. She’s not always sure of herself, or her abilities, but still continues to do it anyways because it’s the right thing to do. Not to mention I love the whole cultured rich girl who gets her hands dirty literally all the time. I’ve loved everything about her characterization in the last few years.

2) Really the entire FF7 cast but; Tifa Lockhart (FF7) Is anyone actually surprised by this one? Look at my blog. It’s pretty Tifa-rific lately. Honestly I have no good excuse for this, I can’t actually trace back what the reason was that started me on really liking her character. Basically because she’s been my video game wife since I was about 10 years old.

I guess, if I really thought about it, I enjoy her realness. She’s an optimist but not fully in your face about it, she promotes kindness, she’s the mom friend. Always looking out for everyone else at the expense of herself. They’re traits that I really admire in people, and you know what? It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that maybe those feelings were in part brought on by a video game character from my childhood. Not only that but I’ve always loved the story thread with her about the conflict she faces in doing what she believes is the right thing, and the fallout that ensues.

Not only that but she’s a fucking badass.

3) Spider-Man (Peter Parker, Marvel) Shout to to the most relatable super-hero ever created. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Spider-man is a staple of New York, even if he’s fictional. He’s just... boiled down to that essence of a Queens kid. It’s amazing as someone from around this area.

But seriously, I think I like Peter the most because he really is relatable. He really does worry about the same things I find myself worrying about. He really does shoot out quips like that’s his super power. He really does try and do whats right regardless of what others think. He’s conflicted, he’s unsure of himself, he’s been granted this great power and feels the need to go out and help people with it, and again at great personal expense. He’s, to me? What a hero should be.

I guess I like him so much because I see a lot of myself in him. I can relate and put myself in those shoes. I can relate my experiences to his, and i’m not talking about getting bit by a radioactive spider. I’m talking about the human side to Peter Parker. His stresses when he’s out of the tights.

4) Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher, and again I love all the characters Geralts just tops. Ciri was a close second.) Yeah, yeah call me out and say ‘someone just binged’. YOU KNOW WHAT MAYBE I DID FOR THE SECOND TIME YOU CANT STOP ME.

Seriously though. For a character who does not like being social? Geralt is so beautifully written for. Fun fact, I haven’t actually played the games save for the half way through 2 and the intro to 3. But I read the first novel and I’m working my way through the second, and Geralt? He’s a man of few words. But when he does speak? Everybody fucking listens.

5) Kassandra (AC: Odyssey) Uhhhh, first women to win the wrestling Olympics? How could I not.

As a long time fan of Assassins Creed and the wonderfully written characters that I have been lucky enough to get to know as protagonists? Kassandra takes the cake. She was blunt, sassy, smart, and took nobodies shit. Forever has she branded the word Misthios in my head with that Greek twang. To the point where I get excited when I hear it.

Maybe it was a mix of being in the Ancient Greek world with her, another one of my favorites. But there was just something about her character that stuck out to me. Something I haven’t seen in their writing since Ezio.

6) Joel (The Last of Us) How the fuck could I not love the gruff and sad dad?

Dude the characters in this game were so insanely well done. Like you could literally tell that, besides the fact that it was an amazingly fun game? The dev team TRULY cared about the story, the reception, and the buildup.

Lets be real. That first scene with him when everything starts is about as heartbreaking as it comes. It sets you up to really accept that this man has lost everything, that he no longer cares about anything but survival, because he’s already learned that when you care? Those things can be easily taken away.

He’s cold. He’s quick. He’s capable. He’s ignorant to everyone else. Right up until he meets Ellie and that little girl begins to peel back the layers and show that Joel, under it all, is actually a pretty good guy who has been dealing with his trauma by building up walls.

All and all? I would recommend anyone playing this game just to see the transition of Joel. Ellie, as well, by no small measure. But Joel’s growth was one of my favorite things to ever watch unfold in a game.

7) Revan (Star Wars) Okay so I know this ones a bit obscure. He was actually featured as a protagonist of one of Star War, in my opinion, best roleplaying games.

Basically I love this character because I think he actually GETS the whole thing. The cults. He doesn’t really subscribe to either of them, rather he’s used them to further his own goals. Which you know, as an RPG you get to chose, usually I like to chose he did what he did for the right reasons. Because the Jedi were failing the people they had to protect. Because he couldn’t stand by and watch a war be fought while they deliberated what to do. He never fully reasoned with the Sith, and as far as I knew didn’t quite care to share their extremist values. Frankly, he’s by far been the best representation to what I feel is a very opinionated debate in Star Wars: Why chose either side? They both suck in their own ways.

He saw passed all that, started a movement, started a war of ideologies when the universe was still young enough to hear those kinds of debates play out.

His story will forever be one of my absolute favorites in Star Wars.

8) Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars) If you haven’t watched the Clone Wars animated series and you’re a fan of Star Wars? What the fuck are you doing. This character alone is enough to justify the 7 season watch.

The Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. How can that go wrong, right? Actually, Ahsoka is one of the reasons I began to like Anakin in the first place. The whole series shows a different side to characters we love, honestly, you got to see Anakin be the best Jedi general anyone had ever seen. You got to see him train this young woman into an incredible Jedi, and honestly? The younger sister relationship that Ahsoka has with Anakin is just so well done.

But beyond that there’s so much to love about Ahsoka. If you haven’t caught the theme, I really do love strong characters who still have flaws. Who still have a lot to learn. Who make mistakes. But even after she had, never once did Ahsoka give up on what she believed in. Her values, in the end, proving to be stronger to her then the values instilled by the Jedi, even if they aligned.

My favorite thing is that you got to see her journey, literally from a learning padawan to a fully fledged Jedi badass.

If we don’t get an Ahsoka series on Disney+ I’m gonna be pissed.

9) Nathan Drake (Uncharted) Cheeky rogue with a heart of gold that often gets by on sheer luck alone.

Need I say more?

10) Tanjiro Kamado (Demon Slayer) Okay, so don’t really expect many people to know this one.This character is the main protagonist in an anime that has literally taken all my attention. From the animation, to the story, to the undeniable ways in inspires me to write Sori.

Tanjiro, perhaps, is the driving force behind this. I just love this kid okay? He started out as NOTHING. Literally, nothing. He fought against overwhelming odds, knowing full well he would die, to save his sister. And in that moment? The person he was fighting let him go. He then sent him down the path of becoming a demon slayer.

This kid, who as far as I know was part of a large family of commoners gave everything he had to training his body to fight demons. Every time he stumbled, he found the strength to continue. He never gives up. He learns, he thinks, he’s a smart kid with this absolute bottomless well of determination.

I don’t want to ruin the plot of the anime too much because honestly this has been my favorite thing since Dragonball Super. You should go watch it. I promise you will understand right off the bat why I love this character so much.

I was tagged by: @serelia-evensong @safrona-shadowsun

Gonna tag: @draenei-tales @wildname @zeehva @ravensteel @fair-fae @monster-of-master @palaceofthedeadmemes @zariasilverleaf @starforger @asharinhun

I’m also not sorry this is a long post. How dare you ask me to talk about shit I love.

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darlingsdontdie · 4 years

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New Yandere, Whump, and Dark Shipping Blog: Requests FAQ

Hey! So before I start writing and creating, I thought I'd get some common questions answered and out of the way! If you are concerned about your request or are unsure of its content, please first check this post before directly messaging me.

Request Content

Q: What kinds of requests do you fill?

A: I will fill almost any type of request! But here are some specific options with set structures and examples.

Headcanon Requests (bulleted, length depending on ask, ex: "Can I get headcanons for Requested Character with a short girlfriend?")

Scenario Requests (bulleted, LDOA, ex: "Can I get a scenario for if Requested Ship were getting married?")

Drabble Requests (prose, LDOA, ex: "Can I request a drabble about RC being worried when their darling is sick?")

Playlist Requests (list of songs, 1-5 song limit, ex: "Do you have 4 songs for a jealous RC?")

Graphic Requests (edit style, 1-4 images, ex: "Could you make a graphic for yandere RC with this item or quote?")

Aesthetic Requests (moodboard style, image with 6-9 sections, ex: "Can I get an aesthetic for dark!RS?")

Prompt Requests (list of brainstormed dialogue and short sentences, LDOA, ex: "Do you have dialogue prompts for RC kidnapping their darling?")

Plot Bunny Requests (short prose paragraphs or bulleted, LDOA, ex: "I want to write about yandere RC surprising their darling but don't know how or why. Are there are any plot bunnies you can give me?").

New! RP Idea Requests (selection of 1-4 short rp-style bios/plots/starters, LDOA, ex: "Do you have any yandere rp ideas for Requested Fandom ocs?")

New! Fancast Requests (moodboard or edit style, 2-9 images per RC/RS, ex: "Who would you cast as yandere RC(s)?")

New! Faceclaim Recommendation Requests (bulleted list of names with short explanations or reasons, LDOA, ex: "My yandere OC is tall, has dark hair, and soft features. He acts friendly but is the violent type. Can I have a few fcs?")

Requests that don't specify will be answered with a bulleted list or possibly a short paragraph. There may be times I'm willing to fill some requests but not others due to time constraints, but that doesn't mean I won't ever fill them!

Fandom requests involving AUs and crossovers are welcome (ex: "Headcanons of how yandere Naruto in a wild west AU?" or "Headcanons about what would happen if yandere Ten and yandere Crowley fell for the same person?"), as are original requests based on existing media (ex: "Can I get headcanons about a popular girl type who has a Breakfast Club experience and ends up going yandere for the criminal?" or "Can you write a drabble about a yandere whose story is like this music video?").

Q: What characters do you write for?

A: I'll write for any character that I am familiar with, with a few exceptions for characters I'm aware of but uncomfortable with. To get started, here's a list of fandoms that I have a solid handle on!

Anime (Naruto, Ouran High School Host Club, Death Note, Hetalia, etc.)

Western Animation (Archer, Castlevania, She-Ra: Princesses of Power, etc.)

DC and Marvel Comics

Star Wars (no New Trilogy - Originals, Prequels, Clone Wars, & Legends only)

Other Major Film Franchises (Pirates of the Caribbean, the MCU, James Bond, etc.)

Harry Potter and related properties

Percy Jackson and related properties

Hunger Games and related properties

Twilight and related properties

A Song of Ice and Fire (willing to try TV canon but much more familiar with Book canon)

Crime Dramas (Barry, Good Girls, Hannibal, Mr. Robot, Revenge, etc.)

Historical Drama (Vikings, The Tudors, Les Miserables, The Borgias, Downton Abbey, Peaky Blinders, Taboo, etc.)

Science Fiction and Fantasy TV/Lit (Star Trek TOS/AOS; Doctor Who, New Who only; Merlin; Good Omens; Lucifer; Galavant, etc.)

Horror-Thriller TV/Lit (American Horror Story, The Haunting of Hill House, Hemlock Grove, Alias Grace, etc.)

Sitcoms (familiar with Friends, all the Michael Schur products, Community, That 70s Show, Jane the Virgin, Schitt's Creek, Superstore, IASIP, and others)

Teen Dramas (Teen Wolf, Pretty Little Liars, Freaks and Geeks, Glee, etc., but no Riverdale)

Chinese and Korean Dramas (A Korean Odyssey/Hwayugi, Meteor Gardens, A Love So Beautiful, What's Wrong With Secretary Kim, Romance Is a Bonus Book, My First First Love, Black, etc.)

Video Games (Assasain's Creed, Portal 2, Fire Emblem, AFK Arena, Professor Layton, etc.)

Something that's not here can still be requested - I'm familiar with a lot of media and do my best to keep up.

As I implied above, I am also happy to write for original characters. Whether that means you telling me about your own OCs, or me creating my own characters for you down the line, either is great.

I will NOT be writing RPF or RPS. I do not approve of real person shipping and real person fiction makes me uncomfortable - if that's what you're looking for, there are a huge number of other blogs that will cater to your needs directly. Which leads me into...

Prohibited Requests, and Non-Yandere Content

Q: Will you fill every request you get?

A: I'll fill requests that interest me and that I feel comfortable posting, and that will probably be most of them! I am really excited to get started. But I still reserve the right to refuse a prompt - I'm writing for free, so no one is entitled to have their ask filled. If I choose to deny your prompt, I will answer privately and, if the issue is with content, update the blog so it's made clear that the type of prompt is not taken.

Q: What is and isn't allowed to be requested?

A: To be honest, most stuff is allowed and some stuff isn't. There's a lot of ground to cover here, so I've divided it based on the nature of the concern.

Q: Do you accept NSFW/SFW requests?

A: I'll do NS and SFW work, but I've got more experience with SFW content. This doesn't mean I do it exclusively, just that I won't think to go NS unless you mention it. Specify for NS and it'll be included happily!

Q: Do you accept violent requests?

Violence against non-SO characters and dub-con is okay always, as is situational or over-the-top violence, even murder, involving SOs (ex: "the yandere and their darling are soldiers on opposite sides of the war" or "the yandere saws off their darling's legs so they have to carry them everywhere").

However, there is some tricky area with violent fantasies. If I think the content strays too close to serious physical domestic abuse, then I'll likely deny the request. This is partially why I prefer requests that get violent to focus on non-SO targets, so if it doesn't matter to you, that's almost guaranteed to get a response.

Non-con I can mention and discuss in headcanon posts and possibly prompt lists, but I will not be writing drabbles or scenarios for non-con prompts.

Q: Do you accept kink requests?

A: It will depend on the type and whether I feel morally and psychologically comfortable with it. For example, hypnosis, size kink, gender stuffing, BDSM, roleplay, etc., are all currently accepted because they don't seem to affect me in a negative way. I am willing to do ships for cousins and step family, as well. However, I will not under any circumstances deal with r*ceplay, p*dophilia, fetishizing of trans people or people of color, or inc*stplay, and I will not be doing ship work for anyone more closely related than cousins, including but not limited to siblings, parents (blood or adopted), or aunts and uncles. None of this is negotiable. I am willing to consider AUs where two characters aren't family, or non romantic yandere behavior between family, but even then, the request's on thin ice. Anything super unhygienic or illness related is probably something I won't be interested in not as a rule or for moral reasons but just because it can exacerbate my anxiety and OCD. I also do not fill prompts related to minors at all, be it explicit/adult/sexual content or otherwise. Requests for characters who are minors will have them aged up unless otherwise specified - in which case you will promptly be blocked.

Q: Can I request a dark imagine that is not yandere related?

A: Of course! Just make sure to be specific about what you want from it.

Q: Can I request a ship or character imagine that isn't yandere or dark?

A: Yes, though I won't promise it'll be what you're looking for. I fall towards horror, thriller, and angst when I write, regardless of my intentions.

Q: Can I request something that's not ship or character imagine related?

A: Sure, I'd be honored, but again, I don't promise to fulfill every request. This blog is intended to be stress relief, self indulgence.

How to Make a Request

Q: How do I contact you for requests?

A: Asks, messages, replies on my original posts, and even more casual things like tagging me in yandere or writing related posts are all great ways to interact with me!

Q: When do you accept requests?

A: Requests will be opened or closed depending on how busy I am and whether I'm caught up on them.

Currently, requests are closed. However, I've decided that requests are reopened on my days off. The days should be listed in my bio.

Q: Do you accept anonymous requests?

A: Yes, I do! I also will not publish asks from users unless the user specifically clarifies that they are okay with it, just in case the user sent the ask from their blog on accident. User asks that aren't specified as safe to publish will be responded to privately when the request is filled.

Q: How will I know my request is filled?

A: As stated above, anonymous asks and user asks clarified as safe to publish will be published with a response. User asks without any clarification will be responded to privately. Anonymous asks asking for privacy for any reason will not be published. Messages will also get a reply. Users who send requests that are kept private will not be tagged unless you ask me to. Users with published asks will always be tagged in the final post, but it is totally okay to ask me to change or erase the tag! Other than this, checking for posts is up to the requester.

Other Kinds of Interaction

Q: Is there anyone who you don't want interacting with your blog?

A: Anyone complicit in nazism, racism, transphobia, homophobia, misogyny, xenophobia, pedophilia/MAPs, or any other politicized violence against a people is uneqivocally not welcome to engage with my work. I also have a zero tolerance policy for true crime fans who support or absolve serial killers. Please respect this - anyone who doesn't will be blocked. Anyone who pushes the issue will be reported.

Q: What about kink or otherkin blogs?

A: Honestly, I don't know much about either community. As of now, I'm fine with interaction. I'd ask that I not receive any kin related requests, because I am not familiar with the concept, community, and issues accompanying. Kinks can be requested but as stated above, are not guaranteed to be filled. Please don't bring discourse or discourse related requests here. I am not equipped to or interested in getting involved. If that changes, I have a main and other side blogs. This blog will never be a place for it.

Q: Are you okay if we interact with you or send you asks and messages that aren't requests?

A: Absolutely! I would love to talk with you. I am always interested in discussing any of the topics covered on this blog, or anything else for that matter! I pride myself on trying to be not just nice, but kind, and hopefully that comes through in every interaction. However, I'll expect the same courtesy from anyone who'd reach out to me, or use my posts to communicate to others for that matter. Anyone who doesn't will be, you guessed it, blocked. Anyone who pursues it further, yeah, will be reported.

Q: You have a lot of rules about requests and interaction, but you don't seem to post much and you aren't very active. Is this all just awkward and formal overkill, or is there a point?

A: I've explained all of this clearly, in as an accessible way as I can think of, because I want to eliminate the potential for drama, confusion, and other misunderstandings.

Online communities tend to be chock-full of plenty and I do not, nor does anyone who visits, need another reason to be tired. I'm not detailing all of this upfront because I expect to be very popular, or because I like listening to myself talk for paragraphs on end. I don't want a theoretical lack of information to be used to hurt either myself or others, though some of it shouldn't have to be spelled out in the first place.

But considering how ridiculously easy it is to misinterpret each other online, and how much of a disadvantage neuroatypical people like myself are when things are left just implicit rather than made what you could argue as exhaustingly explicit, I figured a crazy FAQ was a small price to pay for a peaceful environment.

TLDR: it certainly might be overkill, but that doesn't mean there is no point to it.

Q: What should requesters and followers call you anyways?

A: I'm fine with my username. If you're going for a different vibe, Red or Darlings sounds nice too. If you can come up with something catchier, feel free to try!

💀💀💀

On that note, I also may be slow going when it comes to requests. All I can do is promise to put a lot of thought into my replies, even though speed is not guaranteed. Any other questions can be asked directly, and I would be more than happy to answer them!

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #naruto imagines #mcu imagines #male yandere #yandere suggestions #yandere aesthetic #darlingsdontdie's content #darlingsdontdie's FAQ

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years

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Never Play With Fire (ACOR, Lena x MC)

Here’s the full fanfic from my preview! I tried to imagine the tone of the conversation Xanthe had with Lena (mentioned in the last chapter if you ask Lena to comfort you)...because in my head there’s no doubt she was so eager to be the one informing our domina about the match. It seems true to the character.

Surprisingly, writing this fanfic led me to explore Xanthe’s reasons and the roots of her angry attitude. To me, she is still a villain (women can be each other’s best allies but also worst enemies especially when they’re competing over men and I think we all know that), but I hope we would get to know more of her and her story. Hope y’all like it! 😄

Word Count: 1461

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @psychopathdreamer21 @bbaba-yagaa @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @bhavf @begging-for-kamilah @melodyofgraves @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood

Lena x MC series Tag: @korrasamixlover @3pawandme @jellymonster @gayestchoices

(Previous episodes of the Lena series: Your Odyssey, Beautiful Curse, News From The Ludus, Down In The Dungeon & The Gift)

______________________

Lena's scholae still showed the signs of Aquila's violence. The domina was doing her best to remove them and make her scholae a safe haven again. At least she was trying to make it look like it for the sake of the girls. "We will work hard to bring our old walls and paintings back not just because cracked tiles and smeared walls are bad for business but because the Roman, the authority must know that they can't do as they please here. We're a phoenix, sweethearts, and we will rise from the ashes where they meant to bury us and make us feel little and worthless. We're doing this for us because we don't deserve to live like this" she said in the speech she gave to the girls when they came back there. All the courtesans were now doing their part -even little Cirta was somehow helping, avoiding to raid the kitchen at any given opportunity- but there was still so much to be done. It takes time to heal wounds, Lena whispered to herself as she walked down the corridor of the sleeping quarters.

As she passed by, she spotted Xanthe choosing a dress in her room. Lena knocked on the wall to announce her presence and poked her head in.

"Xanthe, it's almost time for you to leave. Please, hurry up and don't make Marc Anthony wait"

The young courtesan nodded: she was almost ready, nothing to worry about "but only the best for my patron". Lena was about to take her leave when she added:

"You made a huge mistake choosing her over me, Lena"

Lena groaned in frustration and pinched her nose.

"Not again, Xanthe. I beg you not to test my patience, we already had this conversation"

"I'm just stating facts, domina." Xanthe commented in her practiced mellifluous voice "Lucilla has a pretty face, sure, she is new...but she hasn't what it takes to get to the top. She just gives her patrons her pathetic puppy dog eyes: I bet she tells them how much she suffered in Gaul...oh look at me, the poor Princess of Gaul! I'm not even sure she has slept with Cassius or any other man since her arrival and you tell me she is your premier courtesan? Rome premier courtesan?"

"What Lucilla does or does not it's none of your business, Xanthe" Lena dismissed her.

The young courtesan's face twisted in anger.

"Oh it is! It is because she took everything from me! My role of premier courtesan, my prestige, your attention, my patrons! Who does she think she is? I was raised to be like this, I don't even know why you bought her! She was like a wild cat, I cannot believe she was a princess once! But oh well, it takes little effort, grace and beauty to be a princess among savages"

"Savages?" Lena blurted out, blinking. "Almighty Gods, do you even listen to yourself?"

"What? Everybody knows that's what they are!"

Lena looked Xanthe from head to toes, still in disbelief of what she just heard. Then she said, about to leave the room.

"Fine, go ahead, but I won't tolerate this conversation any longer"

"What? Can't I speak my mind about-" the courtesan raised her voice but then stopped mid-sentence as a malicious thought crossed her mind.

"Oh I see..." She said crossing her arms and giving the other woman a wicked knowing look. "She plays hard to get with the patrons to drive them mad with the desire while she seduces Syphax and the domina. I give her that, she's cunning and she must have been pretty good in the sh-"

Lena cut her short, slapping her in the face.

"I warned you not to test my patience, Xanthe. You know nothing, girl"

Xanthe raised her head, shooting daggers at her domina.

"Or maybe too much" she hissed, her lips curling into a winning grin.

Lena didn't flinch and stood her ground.

"Your arrogance will be your downfall"

"And Lucilla will be yours if you don't snap out of it! She's plotting against Caesar, maybe you are too..."

Lena welcomed Xanthe's threat with a sarcastic laugh.

"That's how you want to play it? Fine, do you have proof?"

Xanthe cocked her head to the side.

"So smart and yet so naive, aren't you Lena? You know that Marc Anthony doesn't need proof, just a little tiny suspect is enough to cause his wrath"

As much as she hated to admit it, Lena knew the girl was right. Xanthe straightened her dress and sauntered back to the mirror. As she added the finishing touches to her makeup, she spoke again.

"Well...at least he's not like you. The most powerful man in Rome didn't get fooled by her. He will give her a taste of her own medicine very soon, exactly what that viper deserves"

Lena's blood ran cold in her veins hearing those ominous words. Marc Anthony was not only the most powerful man in Rome but also the most dangerous and unpredictable.

"What are you talking about?"

Xanthe smiled to her own reflection and continued in a pretended nonchalant tone:

"Haven't you heard that Syphax will fight in the arena tomorrow? Marc Anthony must have taken quite a liking for me as he told me that he set up the match himself. He specifically requested that he will be facing the Conquered King"

Lena's face paled and her shoulders dropped. No, this can't be possible, she thought.

"V-Victus?" she managed to ask.

Xanthe shrugged.

"As if I care to know what the name of that barbarian is! What's matter is that he is the current champion: he never lost, never yielded. I have little sympathy for Gauls but I can already tell that I will cheer for him"

Lena exhaled loudly as a grim expression formed on her face.

"Xanthe, we're all barbarians to them. Live under no illusion to be anything more than some exotic pet for the Roman. You will never be a real gentlewoman"

The girl immediately turned to her.

"I am not barbarian, I am a Roman now. Don't you dare insult me again!" she protested, fury written all over her face.

"You're mistaking, girl...but what about Syphax? He was your bodyguard, aren't you-" the domina said as calmly as she could.

"Yeah, you're right: he was! But she took him away from me too. You took him away from me and gave him to your precious pet. And now I can't wait to see her watch him die!"

Xanthe moved away from where she stood and stopped on the threshold to add:

"Syphax is your friend too, right? Good. May the odds be in the Gallic King's favor, domina"

With her last words, she stormed off the room. Lena was to upset and tired to counter that one: Xanthe wanted to hurt her, she had her reasons for her resentment but even too much pride and stubbornness to understand the precarious situation they all were in. The former courtesan knew that she couldn't let the girl's poison get under her skin but all she had learned over the past few minutes was quite a lot to process. Marc Anthony wanted blood in the arena and her friend was about to face death in a match against her wildflower's father. She still remembered how her love's green eyes gleamed with joy when she told her that Victus, her beloved dad, was in Rome. And now...

She leaned against the wooden wardrobe for support, then slowly took a seat in one of Xanthe's armchairs.

This is a trap. A sick scheme of Marc Anthony for sure: why forcing such a match if not to...

Then the realization hit her. He wants to cash in the favor. He wants to make a deal on his own terms now that he has Lucilla under his thumb.

Lena grabbed her head.

Wildflower, why didn't you listen to me when I warned you about that snake? He will never ask for anything reasonable for his little display of mercy with Syphax, decency is totally foreign to him!

She sighed deeply.

Why, why you didn't come to me, Lucilla? We could have found another way...now there's nothing I can do to prevent him to hurt you because I know for a fact that he will! He chooses the opponents too carefully not to have a plan...he's too smart to challenge you directly and vile enough to use your affections against you as leverage. Gods how much I hate him! And how much I hate being completely powerless and unable to assist you, protect you as you walk in this risky path you choose. Wildflower, Rome is a dangerous place to be...and you should never play with fire.

#acor #a courtesan of rome #acor lena #lena x mc #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices fanfic

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forvalor-blog · 5 years

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The Murphy Orchard has always been one of the most lucrative pieces of land in Huron. Rows upon rows of trees grow all year round, fruit bared like stars as the seasons roll by. With no Winter to kill them, they remain in endless bloom, fruit ready for picking at the drop of a hat. To make things better, the land has blessed them with varied saplings. If a particular fruit doesn’t bloom in Spring, they have other trees to harvest from instead. It’s simultaneously the richest and luckiest place in the world.

Kuro has become accustomed to helping Murr pick the fruit for a small amount of pocket money. All but conjoined, their parents get along well too. When Murr goes over to Kuro’s house and helps cut the wheat, his father rewards him with tractor rides and small bags of candy. Kuro receives coins ( like a grown-up, it makes him feel mature ) and a second home. As attached as they are to their own families, it very much feels like they both have two sets of parents.

At some point, they finish their rounds, tired but satisfied, and Murr dumps his basket unceremoniously in the field and flops down onto the grass. It’s thick and soft, but he still folds his arms behind his head, sighing softly as he stares through a myriad of leaves and up into the early evening sky. His bushy hair spreads around his head like a haphazard mane, and he isn’t surprised when Kuro lays down and copies him.

❛❛ Hope that wasn’t too painful fer ya, ❜❜ Murr says with a grin. Kuro shakes his head in response. He’s always been quiet. It’s never been something that bothered him. He can talk enough for five people, nevermind two. ❛❛ Ya know, ya don’t have ta keep workin’ like this just ‘cause my mama asks. She’ll understand if ya don’t wanna. ❜❜

❛❛ I like helpin’ yer momma, ❜❜ Kuro replies, rolling onto his stomach. Though he’d gone to copy Murr because he thought he looked cool, the late evening sun was steadily beginning to irritate him. Too bright… too loud. ❛❛ Besides, I get t’work with you. ❜❜

❛❛ Aww. Yer like a dog, Kuro. Maybe I should start callin’ ya Ku-roh. ❜❜

He listens as his friend snorts. It’s a sound that doesn’t escape him often. Though he’s a perfectly happy child, he’s also an incredibly stoic one. It’s almost as if he’s too afraid to let others know how he feels. Murr doesn’t understand why he’s so closed off, but at the same time it fills him with joy. After all, he gets to hear him laugh when he tells stupid jokes; he gets to watch his face light up when he lets him tag along with him, wherever he’s going; he gets to see the true Kuro, the one he typically keeps under lock and key. Everybody else can go to Hell. Kuro is my friend.

❛❛ Hey, ❜❜ Murr starts, forcing himself to sit up. His small body aches but he doesn’t mind. ❛❛ Let’s do somethin’ fun. Huh? We’ve been workin’ all day. ❜❜

❛❛ Okay. What d’y’wanna do? ❜❜

❛❛ Hmm... ❜❜ He makes a show of stroking along his chin, eyes rolling skyward as he thinks. ❛❛ I know. Let’s climb the Big Tree. ❜❜

❛❛ The Big Tree…? But it’s so… big. ❜❜ And your momma told us not to.

❛❛ Well duh. ❜❜ He climbs to his feet, stretching his legs before he begins to march forward. ❛❛ C’mon, Kuro, don’t be a chicken. It’ll be fun! ❜❜ Without another word, Murr begins to run, hurtling down the hill. It’s as if the wind carries him along, jacket flapping behind him like a pair of makeshift wings, hair wild, eyes alight. Kuro stands up, chasing after him. He’ll always follow him.

They dash through a low-cut field of weeds, small yellow flowers turned high towards the open sky. It’s like running through a tunnel of sunshine, and by the time they begin to charge up the hill where the Big Tree stands, Kuro starts to feel exhilarated. He isn’t scared of much in truth, but this tree is something he holds a healthy level of cynicism towards. It’s abnormally large, branches spanning over the length of the hill like a collection of gangly arms reaching desperately towards the heavens, and from where they stand beneath it, it’s so tall it seems to disappear into the sky.

From their places below, they think about how best to proceed. Its trunk is thick but gnarled with age. Plenty of footholes, Murr thinks. Ever the after-thinker, the eldest of the boys jams his foot into one of these spaces and begins his desperate shimmy up the weathered bark. He slips and slides several times ( at one point he even ends up falling down, landing on his rear with a disgruntled cry ) but eventually he reaches the branches. From here, it only gets easier to scale.

❛❛ Aha! ❜❜ Murr cries victoriously, arms extended high over his head. He wobbles, teetering on the wide branch he’s found purchase atop, and he cautiously throws his arms around the trunk to steady himself. When he’s sure he won’t fall, he continues, one shoulder raising in the form of a lofty shrug. ❛❛ See? Piece’a cake! ❜❜

❛❛ Y’fell though, ❜❜ Kuro points out.

❛❛ ONLY ONCE-- ❜❜ Murr huffs indignantly. ❛❛ Yeesh… ya really gotta critique my every move? Just get up here, dummy. ❜❜

He watches as Kuro stares up into the sea of bark, clearly wondering whether he should. He’s a small boy. Trying to tackle something so big might just be a bad idea. Nevertheless, he wants to seem cool to his best friend. Murr is effortlessly so, and he wants to emulate that. Murr doesn’t think too much, so neither should I.

The ascent is difficult. However, after a lot of determined wriggling and a hand up from his companion, Kuro stands atop the same branch he does. Heights have never bothered him really. Even though they’re a short ways off of the ground, a decent few feet between them and the grass below, he feels decidedly neutral about it. What if I fall? is not a question that exists in his head. Instead, he tilts his head up as Murr begins to climb higher.

❛❛ C’mon! ❜❜ he calls from a branch or two above. ❛❛ Hard part’s over now! ❜❜

The dedication with which they scramble upwards is admirable but wasted. With nobody around to witness their bravehearted efforts, it becomes an odyssey fit only for two. However, the ascent in itself is rewarding. As they scale branches as easily as they do stairs, the sun beginning to peek through as less and less obscures it from view, excitement begins to pool in their stomachs. Just one more branch is an incredibly addictive mindset once you’ve already committed to the climb.

At some point they begin to slow down-- not out of fear but out of necessity. The branches are getting thinner and thinner, more resembling twigs than safe places to stand on, and it begins to hinder their expedition. Murr stops incredibly close to the top, trying to lean his body upwards so that he can attempt to break the surface of the leaves. When he hears part of the branch crack under the strain, he hurriedly resets his stance, begrudgingly accepting that this is as high as he can go.

❛❛ So! What do ya think? ❜❜ A glance is cast down to where they started. All the way up here, locked away in a cocoon of wood and blossom, they feel untouchable; as if they’ve found a small slice of another world tucked safely in the trees. ❛❛ Not so bad when ya conquer it head-on, right? Hey, we could set up a base here! Nobody’d find us up here. ❜❜

❛❛ Yer momma might get mad-- ❜❜

❛❛ What she don’t know won’t kill her, ❜❜ Murr replies, shuffling down a short ways to be level with his friend. The branch he stands atop isn’t thick, but it doesn’t groan under his weight either. He thinks that means it’s fine. ❛❛ Besides, she’s been lost ta the government already! We’re out fer ourselves! ❜❜

Kuro will be the first to admit that he doesn’t really understand the games that Murr plays with him sometimes. They’re always ‘’running from the government’’ or ‘’hiding their thoughts from aliens’’; making silly hats made of foil in barns and building ‘bunkers’ out of hay in fields. They hide from what Murr insists are spaceships whenever they see lights in the sky and build multitudes of small houses in bushes so that they’re ‘never in one place for too long’. He goes along with it because it seems to make Murr happy. He doesn’t mind playing with him, even if it can be difficult for his brain to keep up. It’s fun. It gives him a thrill, even if none of it is real.

❛❛ What would the Government want yer momma fer? ❜❜

❛❛ Probably fer her cookin’, ❜❜ Murr replies idly as he begins to snake his way back down. ❛❛ Secret agents get hungry too. ❜❜

❛❛ That makes sense. ❜❜

He makes a comment about the High Court using her for her Wednesday Hot-Pot and Murr snorts with laughter. That’s the best feeling in the world: making Murr laugh.

❛❛ Now yer gettin’ it, ❜❜ Murr tells him through a snicker, the footfalls beneath him starting to get bigger as they make their way back down to the bottom. ❛❛ ‘s like yer in my brain. ❜❜ There’s a pause then, an accusatory glance thrown over his shoulder. ❛❛ Yer not in my brain, right? ❜❜

❛❛ No. ❜❜ There’s a pause as Kuro threads his body between two branches before he continues with: ❛❛ But if I was, I wouldn’t tell y’. ❜❜

❛❛ … yer good. ❜❜

They’re about halfway down when Murr begins to play the fool. He starts pretending that he’s going to slip, kicking his feet up, throwing an arm back whenever he doesn’t need to hold on as much, and every time Kuro feels his heart leap into his throat. They’re nowhere near as high as they were, closer to the ground than the sky, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to see him get hurt. At one point he yells at him for being reckless - and that’s when he himself loses his footing. It’s a minor blip in his concentration, but he feels his boot slip on the mossy finish of a branch he’s stood on and his sense of equilibrium is thrown sideways. For just a moment, Murr thinks he’s joking, opening his mouth to make some smart comment, but all that escapes him is a cry of Kuro’s name as he realises that his friend is for real.

His small body goes hurtling towards the ground, and when he lands in the grass he isn’t sure how to feel. A flash of searing pain burns through his right side, hot and heavy before it dissipates into alarming numbness. Stunned, Kuro doesn’t move. His breathing is shallow, afraid to upset the temporary reverie he’s found in the blissful static that has consumed his arm. For a short while, he hears nothing but the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears, elevated heartbeat seeming to hammer in his temples.

Am I dying? How high did I fall from? I wasn’t even paying attention to myself--

❛❛ Hey! HEY!! ❜❜

The sound of Murr’s voice brings him back. At some point, the boy had struggled his way down the tree, dropping safely into the grass below before dashing to his fallen friend. When Kuro makes hazy eye contact with him, he realises that Murr’s are full of tears.

❛❛ … yer cryin’... ❜❜ It’s all he has to say.

He watches his friend’s face, first a picture of horror and fear, dissolve into one of great relief. There’s no blood… no gruesome wound he’s going to have to heroically seal shut with his favourite hoodie; just a dazed Kuro laying in the grass, bleary-eyed and blank. Murr uses the sleeves of his jacket to wipe his eyes, a laugh full of both mirth and derision escaping him as he hovers over the other. It’s the first time Kuro has seen him cry. Though he knows that Murr is a softie beneath it all, he’s never let himself shed a tear in front of him. It’s just part of his cool-guy routine.

❛❛ Screw off... ❜❜ he mutters fondly, reaching down to pat at his friend’s body, checking for damages. When he reaches his arm, Kuro hisses, writhing in pain. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since he fell, and Murr can’t help but be thankful for it. His friend sometimes comes off as a robot. He’s happy with his life yet unable to show it clearly, and Murr can’t for the life of him understand why. Every day that he spends by his friend’s side is a day he wants to scream about from the rooftops. ❛❛ A-Are yer legs okay? ❜❜ He watches as his friend bends them slightly, then nods. His jeans are slightly ripped down one side, having caught a branch on his way down, but aside from a superficial scratch there doesn’t seem to be anything of note. ❛❛ Yer made of steel, I swear ta Raku, ❜❜ Murr jokes with a feeble laugh, eyes shining with comfort as he watches his friend weakly smile back at him. Kuro has such a quirky smile, barely there but full of warmth regardless.

He slinks around to his friend’s other side, beginning to help him to his feet. Kuro stumbles a little, ankles clicking under the weight of his unbalanced body, but no strain on his right arm renders him able to at least walk the short distance home. Small fingers clutch at the broken appendage as if it’s going to drop off, and every so often as they descend the hill he stops and hisses, the decline in terrain sending small shocks of pain through his injured limb.

When they get back to Murr’s house, they both receive an earful about listening to Murr’s mother. However, both parents are quick to relent, walking Kuro home and explaining to his folks what happened. His mother is quick to coddle him, arms thrown around him before she realises she’s hurting him. His father tuts at him, but in the fond way he always has. ❛❛ Dumbass, ❜❜ he says, lightly ruffling his hair before guiding him out of the house. Perhaps there’d have been more commotion had their son been visibly distressed, but his impassive disposition lends them all a pang of reassurance.

As much as they try to get Murr to go home, to convince him that once Kuro sees a doctor he’ll be fine, the boy refuses to stay behind, accompanying his friend to the local office. They sit in the waiting area together while his father requests assistance from the receptionist. So quaint and peaceful a place, Huron’s emergency services are never that pushed for space. The majority of the time, it’s possible to simply walk in and request aid, especially if it’s for something dire. Though Kuro doesn’t appear to be in much pain on the surface, a broken bone is still something of discernible gravity.

❛❛ … ya didn’t cry at all, ❜❜ Murr says quietly, nudging Kuro’s foot with his own. ❛❛ Are ya sure yer not a drone from outer-space? ❜❜

❛❛ I’m quite sure, ❜❜ Kuro replies, head bobbing once in vague affirmation. It’s quiet for a few seconds before he carries on. ❛❛ … I was okay ‘cause y’came t’get me. It hurts a lot, but just havin’ y’here with me makes me feel better. ❜❜

His friend scoffs at him gently, his elbow knocking against his ( thankfully ) good arm. With a warm smile: ❛❛ Of course I came t’get ya. I’ll always come fer ya, Kuro. ❜❜

❛❛ Always? ❜❜ ❛❛ Always. ❜❜

They both straighten up slightly as Kuro’s father emerges with a doctor by his side. He wears a friendly smile that goes nicely with his pale coat. He asks if Kuro is ready to see him and the boy nods his head, stopped only by Murr getting up and defensively standing between them.

❛❛ ‘n’ how do I know yer a real doctor, huh? Ya could be a voodoo practitioner. ❜❜ He listens as the older man chuckles gently, pointing to his uniform, then to the official Huron embellishment sewn into his breast pocket. Only licensed professionals have those. He’s seen police officers that have the same emblem faithfully stitched into their sleeves, too. This guy’s the real deal. ❛❛ Hm… okay, but ya’d better be nice ta him. ❜❜

❛❛ I assure you that I will be, ❜❜ he replies, a gentle hand placed on Kuro’s uninjured arm, beginning to guide the boy into his office. Despite his hardy exterior, Murr feels worried. The anxiety he feels when they’re apart is intense, even with his young age. His friend’s father’s hand lands gently on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as he moves to sit down again. It’s alright, he tells him. He’ll be alright. It ain’t yer fault.

It might be, Murr thinks to himself. It very well might be.

_____ 【 🞮 】 _____

It feels like forever goes by before Kuro finally re-emerges from the room he entered. Murr had fallen asleep in his seat without realising, waking up to the gentle nudge from his friend’s father. When he sees his friend standing in front of him, sporting plaster and a somewhat dreamy expression, he can’t help but leap up, checking extensively for wounds that he didn’t enter with. After feeling certain that he’s fine, he flicks lightly at the cast.

❛❛ Y’know, when I said we should get matchin’ sleeves when we got older, this ain’t quite what I had in mind. ❜❜

Kuro laughs. ❛❛ Damn… I kinda like this thing. ❜❜ ❛❛ Yer crazy. Kooky Kuro has entered the stadium. ❜❜

Kuro immediately whistles the beginning of the Passcode theme in response. That gets Murr going, a boisterous bout of laughter escaping him as he re-enacts some of the song’s greatest dance segments in full right there in the waiting area. That makes Kuro laugh too, though shorter, and his giddy display is interrupted by his friend thrusting a pen and a lollipop at him.

❛❛ The doc said that friends should sign the cast. ❜❜ As an after-thought: ❛❛ I also convinced him t’give me two candies so you could have one. ❜❜

❛❛ Yer the best, ❜❜ Murr chants, plucking the pen from Kuro’s fingers and signing his name in big bold letters across the length of the cast. Perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want to see anybody else’s name on this short expanse of pot. He’ll draw all over it if he has to. In fact… ❛❛ Hey! I’ll draw ya a sleeve on the other side! Then ya’ll look cool! ❜❜ He pouts, though only playfully. ❛❛ Can’t believe ya’ll have a ‘tattoo’ before me though... ❜❜

❛❛ If y’go break yer arm as well, I’ll draw a sleeve fer you too. ❜❜

Murr snatches his lollipop from him then, sniggering to himself. ❛❛ Screw off, Kuro. ❜❜

#🞮 ┋ ʜᴇ's ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ❜ ( kuro // main. )#🞮 ┋ ɢᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ 'ᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇxɪsᴛᴇᴅ. ❜ ( kuro // ic. )#drabbles *#/ IM GAAAAAAAAAY #NGL I LOVE EVERY SECOND OF THIS DRABBLE

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uglypastels · 6 years

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Writing Challenge!!

Writing challenges are always so fun to do, so I decided to make one myself for a change. It’s also almost (not really) my birthday and I want to celebrate!!

It’s that time of the year again where it is cold outside, the leaves are falling off the trees, you just want to curl up under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate and watch a movie... Or is that just me?

Anyway, I love watching a good movie, or even a bad one sometimes.

This is why in this challenge, all prompts are quotes from movies!

Rules are pretty basic, I’m not fussy about anything. (prompts > “Keep Reading”)

You don’t have to be following me, but it would be nice of you, of course, if you did

Reblog this post to join and/or spread the word

Send me an ask wherein you choose a prompt

Make sure you have a possible back-up if the said prompt is already taken

Preferably, I would like to have one story per prompt, but just in case anyone is really set on a prompt that has already been chosen, or if somehow by miracle every prompt is picked and more people want to join, each prompt will have two slots. (so one regular, one “emergency” slot)

All prompts are movie quotes, but your story doesn’t have to be based on the movie itself or have anything to do with the movie. Interpret the quote any way you want.

BE ORIGINAL!

BE CREATIVE!

HAVE FUN!

I would like to call myself a multifandom blog, but who am I kidding. I’m MARVEL’s bitch.

Write about any MARVEL character/ actor (+ the Hollands/Harrison) you want but

if you want to do a different fandom, you are more than welcome!

Just don’t forget to tell me in your prompt request who you will be writing for.

Fluff, angst, smut ... everything is allowed - just make sure to tag it.

NO UNDERAGE SMUT! Just don’t be gross, in general

No, first person, but other perspectives are good to go

Any length of writing is good, but if it is longer than 500 words, make sure to use the “Keep Reading” option.

so the story can be a one-shot, two shot, a series < including a part of a series you already have going on.

When you post it, make sure to tag me and use the tag:

#Z’s Movie Night Challenge

FOR AN EXTRA CHALLENGE (or if you just can’t pick): hmu with an ask telling me and I will pick for you! But do still mention who you will be writing for then.

Deadline is my birthday - December 18th!

I will be making a masterlist of all the submissions

I think that’s it. Any more question? DM me or ask

(way too many) Prompts, but at least nobody can complain there is nothing to chose from:

“I love you.” // “I know.” Star Wars, Episode V: Empire Strikes Back (@andwhatdostarsdobest w/ Tom Holland)

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Gone With the Wind ( @procrastinatingparker w/ Tom Holland)

“After all, tomorrow is another day!” Gone With the Wind

“Go ahead, make my day.” Sudden Impact

“Here’s looking at you, kid,” Casablanca

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” Casablanca

“Of all the (gin joints) in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” Casablanca ( @butwhyduh w/ Avengers cast)

“We’ll always have Paris.” Casablanca

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.” the Godfather

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” the Godfather: Part II ( @sunsetspidey w/ Tom Holland)

“Just when I thought I was out, (they) pull me back in.” Godfather: Part III ( @sleepwalkingdragon w/ Harrison Osterfield on hold)

“You talkin’ to me?” Taxi Driver

“Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” All About Eve

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Love Story ( @rainbow-marvel w/ Tom Holland)

“Forget everything you think you know.” Doctor Strange

“Pain is an old friend.” Doctor Strange ( @theamazingspiderlingg w/ Tom Holland)

“What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.” Cool Hand Luke ( @scholarlyspidey )

“What is it?” // “The stuff that dreams are made off.΅ the Maltese Falcon

“Alright, (Mr. DeMille), I’m ready for my close-up.” Sunset Boulevard

“There is no place like home.” Wizard of Oz ( @peterrrparkour w/ Tom Holland)

“I love the smell of (napalm) in the morning.” Apocalypse Now

“Show me the money!” Jerry Maguire

“You had me at ‘hello’.” Jerry Maguire ( @anxiety-in-a-getaway-car w/ Sebastian Stan)

“You complete me.” Jerry Maguire

“Why don’t you come up sometime and see me?” She Done Him Wrong

“Hey, I’m walking here!” Midnight Cowboy

“I want to be alone.” Grand Hotel ( @aw-hawkeye w/ Tom Holland)

“You can’t handle the truth!” A Few Good Men

“I’ll have what she’s having.” When Harry Met Sally ( @sleepwalkingdragon w/ Harrison Osterfield)

"When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." When Harry Met Sally (@somethingtoavenge w/ Bucky Barnes)

“I’ll be back.” Terminator

“Hasta la vista, baby.” Terminator 2: Judgement Day.

“Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” The Pride of the Yankees

“We rob banks.” Bonnie and Clyde

“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Some Like it Hot

“Houston, we have a problem.” Apollo 13

“I could do this all day.” Captain America: The First Avenger/ Civil War

“We’re still friends, right?” Captain America: Civil War ( @starksparker w/ Tom Holland)

“Have you been playing Space Invaders? Because you’re invading my space!” Pixels ( @cas-backwards-tie w/ Peter Parker)

“Well, a boy’s best friend is his mother.” Psycho

“Well here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into!” Sons of the Desert

“Say hello to my little friend.” Scarface

“(Mrs. Robinson) You’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?” the Graduate

“What a dump.” Beyond the Forest

“Is it safe?” Marathon Man

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain't heard nothin' yet!" the Jazz Singer

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” A Streetcar Named Desire

“Hello, gorgeous.” Funny Girl

“Surely you can’t be serious?” // “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.” Airplane!

“My precious.” Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

"Listen to me, mister. You're my knight in shining armor. Don't you forget it? You're going to get back on that horse, and I'm going to be right behind you, holding on tight, and away we're gonna go, go, go!" On Golden Pond ( @musiclover1263 w/ Peter Parker)

"Carpe diem. Seize the day(, boys). Make your live(s) extraordinary." Dead Poet Society.

“I’m the king of the world!” Titanic

“I’ll never let go, (Jack).” Titanic ( @spider-puck w/ Spideychelle)

“You make me want to be a better man.” As Good as it Gets ( @thewackywriter w/ mob!Tom Holland)

“As if!” Clueless ( @fratboievans w/ Peter Parker)

“They’re here!” Poltergeist

“We know each other. He’s a friend from work.” Thor: Ragnarok

“Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! (This is the War Room.)” Dr. Strangelove

“I wish I knew how to quit you!” Brokeback Mountain ( @petersshirts w/ Tom Holland)

“I’m not bad. I’m just (drawn) that way.” Who Framed Roger Rabbit (@lovelymalira w/ Bucky Barnes)

“Why so serious?” the Dark Knight

“Magic Mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all.” Snow White and the Seven Dwarves ( @thequeensardine w/ Harrison Osterfield)

“.... I dare you. I double dare you.” Pulp Fiction ( @hollandofthefree w/ Tom Holland)

“Look I probably should have told you this before but you see... well... insanity runs in my family... It practically gallops.” Arsenic and Old Lace

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Monty Python and the Holy Grail ( @sarahwritesfiction w/ Steve Rogers)

“He might be okay….Well, no, probably not now.” Groundhog Day

“Life’s a bitch; now so am I.” Batman Returns ( @idontknowhowtowritesosorry w/ Shawn Mendes)

“That rug really tied to room together, did it not?” The Big Lebowski

“No, it’s a cardigan, but thanks for noticing.” Dumb and Dumber

“Is that all he said?” Lost in Translation

“Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler.” Office Space ( @totallytomholland w/ Peter Parker)

“You wanna come over?” // “No, thanks. I don’t want you fucking up my life, too.” Office Space (@mobtomsgirl w/ Tom Holland)

“Okay, sounds like a case of the Mondays.” Office Space

“And suddenly, I felt nothing.” Fight Club ( @brokennccrown w/ Steve Rogers)

“You can tell a lot about a person by what’s on their playlist.” Begin Again

“(Veronica), you look like hell.” // “Yeah, I just got back.” Heathers ( @peter-is-the-best-avenger w/ Peter Parker or Tom Holland)

“Lick it up, baby. Lick it up.” Heathers

“But… I guess if I love you, I should let you move on.” 17 Again

“I want my life to be like an 80’s movie.” Easy A

“What makes life so hard?” // “People.” An Affair to Remember

“Have you ever been in love?” // “I think so.” Love, Simon (@fandomscombine w/ Peter Parker)

“I don’t wanna go.” Avengers: Infinity War (@fantasyizlife w/ Tom Holland)

“I don’t want another single pop culture reference out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?” Avengers: Infinity War

“I am going to die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy.” Guardians of the Galaxy ( @fantasyizlife w/ Shawn Mendes)

“You actually were telling the truth?” // “I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised.” Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest ( @fantasyizlife w/ Harrison Osterfield)

“I have what they call an unattractive face.” Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life

“Oh, somebody, stop me!” The Mask

“I didn’t come here to tell you I can’t live without you. I can live without you. I just don’t want to.” Rumor Has It ( @marcymakemagic w/ Peter Parker)

“Are you always this cocky?” // “Only on Tuesdays… and whenever beautiful women are involved.” // “So, you think I’m beautiful?” // “Actually… it’s Tuesday.” the Three Musketeers ( @tomhollanders2013 w/ Tom Holland)

“I’m going to be a lady if it kills me.” Dinner at Eight

“Prove it…” Shane

“I’m sorry, (Dave). I’m afraid I can’t do that.” 2001: A Space Odyssey

“Kiss my hot lips.” M*A*S*H*

“You have my sympathies.” Alien

“Get away from her, (you bitch)!” Aliens

“You can be my wingman anytime.” Top Gun

“Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?” Batman

“Love your suit.” The silence of the Lambs

“Quid pro quo.” (= A favor for a favor) The Silence of the Lambs

“Always.” Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II ( @peter-parker-life w/ Tom Holland)

Good luck, have fun!

Tagging some peeps to spread the word because this is one thing I don’t want to die:

@tomhiddleston-is-myboo @tonyintexas @andwhatdostarsdobest @tomsfireheart @spinneret-holland @rainbow-marvel @lovelyh0lland @de-lir-i-ous @peter-parker-life @tomhollanders2013 @tomhollandthirst @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @darlingtholland @sweet-pea-imagines @anxiety-in-a-getaway-car @manhoeparker @h-osterfield @positiveparker @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @justmesadgirl @fandomscombine @tom-holland-and-textposts @my-current-obsessions-hehe (Sorry to bother anyone.)

#Z's Movie Night Challenge #writing challenge #my challenge #uglypastels #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #smut #fanfic #fanfics #writing #tom holland fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #any fanfiction really

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ncumenia-archived · 5 years

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📱MOBILE-FRIENDLY RULES📱

OTHER LINKS:

lore

bio

headcanons

exclusive ship list

Since English is not my mother language, I apologize in advance if there are some grammatical errors or I use wrong words to describe an action. If something is not clear to you, just let me know, I’ll fix it as soon as I can.

Roleplay Rules:

TAG DUMP HERE!; (NSFW too)

Mun&Muse are both 21+. This blog is selective, 18+ exclusive, canon divergent, duplicates crossover, AU, fandomless, etc… friendly!

Besides the obvious fact I won't rp smut or ship with minor muns/muses whatsoever, do not follow me if you're underage. This because I feel uncomfortable interacting with minor muns due to the huge age gap that might be between us. (Mun is currently 25 as I write this) Please, don't take it too personally, it's just for my own comfort. Furthermore, if your rules and age (mun is 18+, mun is 23, mun is of age and so on...) are not present on your blog I won’t rp with you at all. Lying about your age will result into a permablock and reported. The same applies if you're underage or your age is not stated and you dare to interact in any kind of NSFW way with me (This also includes liking/commenting my nsfw posts or sending me nsfw asks)

I refuse to ship/interact with: aged up muses (Nunu, Annie, Zoe etc…) and only smut-oriented blogs since they both make me uncomfortable. So, please, if you’re one of these blogs do not follow me.

No godmodding. If our muses are fighting, I’d like to discuss first with the other mun, in order to avoid it as much as possible;

I don’t like “follow for following me back, and if you don’t follow me I’ll unfollow you“ philosophy because I find this kinda disrespectful. I’m also available to interact with you even if we’re not mutuals! Usually, the reasons why I unfollow you are these: spamming too much without using a proper tag, talking shit about other people here on tumblr, spreading useless drama or rumors, posting stuff that makes me uncomfortable or if I somehow assume you’re not interested to interact with me.DMS are always open for plotting!

Currently available verses: Canon, Odyssey, Modern/Academy, Bloodmoon, Deity Please, before interacting with my muse in one of these verses make sure to read the lore and, if something is not clear to you, dm me anytime!;

I’ll try to match length more or less, so don’t worry about that. And please, TAKE YOUR TIME to reply. I have a life too, so don’t worry I’m not the one who runs after others! I tend to easily forget threads, so if I didn’t reply to our thread for like a couple of days dm me!;

I do believe in reblog karma, it’s your choice to send me a meme, but please reblog it from the source and not from me if you don’t want to send me one. If you reblog a meme from me without sending me one for more than once, I’ll block you. I’m sorry about this rule, but after some time this becomes quite annoying;

Any kind of hate toward a nationality/gender/sexual orientation and so on will result in a report and permablock. I believe everyone should respect a person, regardless of their gender/ethnicity/sexual orientation. If you don’t, you’ll get permablocked. Period. The same goes for every kind of insult or anon hate toward me, a ship or a friend: not only you’ll be ignored, but, if it is necessary, I’ll report and permablock you.

This blog is against any kind of fake/unfounded rumors and drama. I'll only reblog callouts that provide evidence about the problematic individual, and mostly about extremely serious topics (like minor hunters, abusers or if someone who is seriously in danger) I'm not afraid to callout people if they have a problematic/gross behavior or if they support/justify problematic/disturbing/traumatic topics.

I won’t rp and tolerate extremely disturbing topics like incest, rape (non-con/dub-con as well), pedophilia, child/animal abuse, and similar. The same goes for every kind of ship where these themes are involved. Mentioning these topics during a thread is okay (For example if you’re talking about your muse’s past), but I’d rather talk with the mun first so we can plot things properly.

Any jokes about child death, rape, racism, disability, sexism and so on are not allowed here. If I see one of them, I may go to your dms and telling you that’s not okay writing these things because they’re harmful, and to stop with that stuff. If you’ll ignore/insult/make fun of me you’ll be permablocked. [Added: 09/07/2019]

This blog may contain triggers such as blood, angst, smoke, drugs, gore, mental health etc. I’ll tag everything and I’ll use “read more”. (I’ll tag my triggers using, for example, “tw: blood” without air quotes) Before rping this stuff with you, I’ll always ask you if you’re okay with it, so do please tell me if you have any triggers or I should tag something specific in my blog! For example, my muse, when she’s overwhelmed by certain feelings or recalls what happened to her kin, she bleeds from her mouth and sternal scar. Please, if this makes you feel uncomfortable don’t be afraid to tell me it; Regarding sexual content, it will also be present, especially during Sinday, but I will always tag everything accordingly and put everything under read more.

Please, tag these two topics: needles and stepping on people. I feel extremely uncomfortable regarding the latter because it's heavily connected with animal abuse, and it makes me feel so sick I start to panic. I only ask you to tag these two topics.

I’m a human being, and sometimes I make mistakes too. If I made something that offended you/made you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I want to learn from my mistakes.

Shipping rules:

Even if I’m more than aware of the fact an 18+ mun is legally an adult, I realized I feel more comfortable shipping with both muns/muses who are 20+, especially in the case there will be some nsfw. That’s my personal preference, and this is NOT negotiable and it will NEVER be.[added 06/05/2019]

If you don’t want to keep our ship going on, that’s TOTALLY OKAY. I will NEVER get mad at you, neither asking you the motivation. If you don’t feel comfortable anymore, that’s okay and I respect your decision!

This blog is multiship exclusive, that means I'll only ship with one muse/au of that muse. Furthermore, I'll be highly selective with whom I ship with, and I mostly prioritize people I've been friends with for a long time. [EXCLUSIVE SHIP LIST]

I state in advance I don’t ship my muse with Diana, since she sees her as a mother-like figure. So… This basically would be incest, and I feel very uncomfortable with it. Furthermore, I won’t ship with Taric, Leona, Aurelion, Soraka, Zoe (But this is almost needless to say since she’s a minor, but prevention is always better than the cure), and yordles.

Even if I’m extremely fine with a platonic/non-sexual relationship, I’m also okay with some smut and that may occur with a serious plot, and ONLY if I feel comfortable and I trust my rp partner enough. Unfortunately, I don’t feel very comfortable rping it on Tumblr, and I’d rather rp it on Discord. [Please check the smut rules here] DON’T FORCE IT WITH ME, otherwise the ship will be deleted and probably I’ll block you too.

My muse is a revenant (I’m talking about her canon verse. In Odyssey! and Modern! she’s a living being) and NO, shipping with her is NOT necrophilia (She’s NOT a lifeless, nonsentient, smelly and rotten body who cannot give consent. She has revived thanks to Targon/Moon’s magic, and she’s ABLE to consent and she doesn’t smell bad, she’s not rotting and so on). I’m writing this because I’m kinda sick of this subject because “Shipping with Ernye/Pyke/Thresh/Kalista/Yone is necrophilia1111!!1!!”, and I’m more than sure these people are the first who fall in love with a vampire. If I receive any anon asks about this stuff in which there’s written I cannot ship her with anyone or other offensive things toward me or my muse (both ic and ooc), I’ll ignore and permablock them. No matter who’s the person who sent this. Again: I’m sick and tired of this stuff because basically there’s no problem in shipping with a psycho who can basically kill/abuse you any moment, meanwhile, GOD FORBID a revenant/vampire and stuff like that. So, better safe than sorry. If this bothers you so much you can unfollow me.

Respect my right to say “NO” if I don’t want to ship with your muse. So, don’t force it or I’ll block you.;

About the Mun:

You can call me Silkie, and I’m 25 years old;

Discord for mutuals only;

Pronouns: she/her (They/Them is also fine, if you feel more comfortable with it, no worries);

Chickens, cats, chinchillas, and Castlevania addicted;

I consider myself as a friendly person, so if you wanna know me or rp with me just send me a message! I suffer from diagnosed GAD and depression, so I really need time to open up to people and my activity may be sporadic because of this. And, please: if I make/say something that makes you feel uncomfortable TELL ME ANYTIME since I never mean to hurt anyone here through my words or acts;

Remember Muse ≠ Mun. Ernye’s actions don’t reflect my personality, or what I think about you;

Please DON’T FLIRT WITH ME, it makes me extremely anxious and uncomfortable due to many awful experiences I had in the past, and also because rp is a hobby and I want to have fun, and I’m not looking for a romantic partner. If you ignore my warnings I’ll permablock you. And yes, this also applies to every NSFW question about me. If you dare to do so you’ll get immediately reported, permablocked and the whole chatlog saved. I will also NOT tolerate any kind of NSFW anon ask about me.

The cringy art you see on my profile is made by me unless stated otherwise. Constructive criticism and bits of advice are more than welcome and encouraged ♥

[ If you have read my rules send me “Has the killing moon come for them?” That’s optional, of course, you don’t have to send it to me!]

#mobile friendly rules #the sun is rising (ooc)#oh boy i’m moonstruck again (spamalot)#when I'll make a decent promo post about my blog I'll use this post!

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laniakeabooks · 5 years

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March Wrap-Up

I read books 17 books in March! I did post a few individual reviews and have tagged them here in case you’re interested.

Gemina by Amy Kaufman and Jay Kristoff - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Moving to a space station at the edge of the galaxy was always going to be the death of Hanna’s social life. Nobody said it might actually get her killed

The sci-fi saga that began with the breakout bestseller Illuminae continues on board the Jump Station Heimdall, where two new characters will confront the next wave of the BeiTech assault.

Hanna is the station captain’s pampered daughter; Nik the reluctant member of a notorious crime family. But while the pair are struggling with the realities of life aboard the galaxy’s most boring space station, little do they know that Kady Grant and the Hypatia are headed right toward Heimdall, carrying news of the Kerenza invasion.

When an elite BeiTech strike team invades the station, Hanna and Nik are thrown together to defend their home. But alien predators are picking off the station residents one by one, and a malfunction in the station’s wormhole means the space-time continuum might be ripped in two before dinner. Soon Hanna and Nik aren’t just fighting for their own survival; the fate of everyone on the Hypatia—and possibly the known universe—is in their hands.

But relax. They’ve totally got this. They hope.

I just have so much love for this series. When I finally get to Obsidio and finish it (still waiting for the paperback), I’ll write a whole series review!

Asteria: Into the Fray by Adrienne Enfinger - ⭐⭐

It's not every day that your suicide attempt is interrupted by a handsome archangel. But then, nothing remains ordinary for long on the day Asteria meets Micah for the first time.

Talking her down from the ledge, Micah reveals to Asteria that she is no ordinary young woman. She is the descendant of nephilim - part angel, part human - and her parents did not die in a car crash, they were killed by the fallen angel, Azazel, in the eternal battle of good versus evil.

Asteria finds herself thrust into the middle of that war and discovers that she is part of a prophecy that can finally bring about its end - if Azazel does not kill her first.

She soon joins forces with angels, good and bad, in an epic battle that could save mankind...

...or bring about its demise

Not great… it definitely read like a fanfiction of Supernatural and the quality of writing was… ehhhhhh it was weird like Enfinger was trying too hard.

Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Moral allegory and spiritual autobiography, The Little Prince is the most translated book in the French language. With a timeless charm it tells the story of a little boy who leaves the safety of his own tiny planet to travel the universe, learning the vagaries of adult behaviour through a series of extraordinary encounters. His personal odyssey culminates in a voyage to Earth and further adventures.

Full review soon to follow!

Little Pills by Melody Dodds - ⭐⭐⭐

Seventeen-year-old Charlotte Navarro never asked to be anyone's hero. If you're a hero, your sister isn't supposed to hate you. And you're definitely not supposed to get hooked on Gramma's painkillers. Even so, Charlotte's sister's friend Mia looks at her like she's some sort of hero. As Charlotte starts taking pills more and more, she has to question how it could hurt herself and others, even Mia. Is it a harmless habit or a dangerous addiction?

Review here! Publication – 2nd April 2019

You Do You by Sarah Knight - ⭐⭐⭐

Being yourself should be easy, yet too many of us struggle to live on other people's terms instead of our own. Rather than feeling large and in charge, we feel little and belittled.

Sound familiar? Bestselling "anti-guru" Sarah Knight has three simple words for you:

YOU DO YOU.

It's time to start putting your happiness first--and stop letting other people tell you what to do, how to do it, or why it can't be done. And don't panic! You can do it without losing friends and alienating people. Knight delivers her trademark no-bullsh*t advice about:

The Tyranny of "Just Because"

The social contract and how to amend it

Turning "flaws" into strengths--aka "mental redecorating"

Why it's not your job to be nice

Letting your freak flag fly

How to take risks, silence the doubters, and prove the haters wrong

Review

Beauty Queens by Libba Bray - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The 50 contestants in the Miss Teen Dream pageant thought this was going to be a fun trip to the beach, where they could parade in their state-appropriate costumes and compete in front of the cameras.

But sadly, their airplane had another idea, crashing on a desert island and leaving the survivors stranded with little food, little water, and practically no eyeliner.

What’s a beauty queen to do? Continue to practice for the talent portion of the program - or wrestle snakes to the ground? Get a perfect tan - or learn to run wild? And what should happen when the sexy pirates show up?

Welcome to the heart of non-exfoliated darkness.

BWAHAHAHAHA THIS IS JUST MY TYPE OF HUMOUR!! Granted, my humour is a… specific brand so just beware going into this.

The Center of the Universe by Ria Voros - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Grace Carter's mother --- the celebrity news anchor GG Carter --- is everything Grace is not. GG is a star, with a flawless wardrobe and a following of thousands, while Grace --- an aspiring astrophysicist --- is into stars of another kind. She and her mother have always been in different orbits. Then one day GG is just ... gone. Cameras descend on their house, news shows speculate about what might have happened and Grace's family struggles to find a new rhythm as they wait for answers. While the authorities unravel the mystery behind GG's disappearance, Grace grows closer to her high school's golden boy, Mylo, who has faced a black hole of his own. She also uncovers some secrets from her mother's long-lost past. The more Grace learns, the more she wonders. Did she ever really know her mother? Was GG abducted ... or did she leave? And if she left, why?

Review here! Publication – April 2nd 2019

ReWired by S. R. Johannes - ⭐

Sixteen-year-old Ada Lovelace is never more alive and sure of herself than when she's hacking into a "secure" network as her alter ego, the Dark Angel. In the real world, Ada is broken, reeling from her best friend Simone's recent suicide. But online, the reclusive daughter of Senator Lovelace (champion of the new Online Privacy Bill) is a daring white hat hacker and the only female member of the Orwellians, an elite group responsible for a string of high-profile hacks against major corporations, with a mission to protect the little guy. Ada is swiftly proving she's a force to be reckoned with, when a fellow Orwellian betrays her to the FBI. To protect her father's career, Ada is sent to ReBoot, a technology rehab facility for teens...the same rehab Simone attended right before killing herself.

It's bad enough that the ReBoot facility is creepy in an Overlook-Hotel-meets-Winchester-Mansion way, but when Ada realizes Simone's suicide is just one in an increasingly suspicious string of "accidental" deaths and "suicides" occurring just after kids leave ReBoot, Ada knows she can't leave without figuring out what really happened to her best friend. The massive cyber conspiracy she uncovers will threaten everything she cares about--her dad's career, her new relationship with a wry, handsome, reformed hacker who gets under her skin, and most of all--the version of herself Ada likes best--the Dark Angel.

Uh yeah here’s my rant review. I just... yeah if you want to know what I thought just read the review I can’t be bothered to reiterate.

Zenith by Linday Cummings and Sasha Alsberg - ⭐⭐⭐

Most know Androma Racella as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary whose reign of terror stretches across the Mirabel Galaxy. To those aboard her glass starship, Marauder, however, she's just Andi, their friend and fearless leader.

But when a routine mission goes awry, the Marauder's all-girl crew is tested as they find themselves in a treacherous situation and at the mercy of a sadistic bounty hunter from Andi's past.

Meanwhile, across the galaxy, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows of the planet Xen Ptera, biding her time to exact revenge for the destruction of her people. The pieces of her deadly plan are about to fall into place, unleashing a plot that will tear Mirabel in two.

Andi and her crew embark on a dangerous, soul-testing journey that could restore order to their shipor just as easily start a war that will devour worlds. As the Marauder hurtles toward the unknown, and Mirabel hangs in the balance, the only certainty is that in a galaxy run on lies and illusion, no one can be trusted.

You know what, not as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, it wasn’t anything special and I’m not very attached to the characters, but hey there are only two books so who knows maybe I’ll just finish the series.

The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

In Mary's world there are simple truths. The Sisterhood always knows best. The Guardians will protect and serve. The Unconsecrated will never relent. And you must always mind the fence that surrounds the village; the fence that protects the village from the Forest of Hands and Teeth. But, slowly, Mary’s truths are failing her. She’s learning things she never wanted to know about the Sisterhood and its secrets, and the Guardians and their power, and about the Unconsecrated and their relentlessness. When the fence is breached and her world is thrown into chaos, she must choose between her village and her future—between the one she loves and the one who loves her. And she must face the truth about the Forest of Hands and Teeth. Could there be life outside a world surrounded by so much death?

I knew I had a good feeling about this book. It’s eerie and I was stressing the fuck out the entire book about that dog’s wellbeing. 100% do recommend if you’re into brutal, creepy and dark books. Be forewarned, when I say dark, I mean DARK. Like zombie babies and children that are subsequently decapitated dark.

Losing Adam by Adrienne Clarke - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

What happens when the person you love most in the world suddenly becomes a stranger?

Adam and Jenny’s world is falling apart. Their dream of attending college together away from home quickly becomes a nightmare when Adam begins hearing the voice of the Snow Queen. Adam’s startling transformation from popular drama student into a withdrawn, suspicious stranger leaves Jenny frightened and confused. How can the person she loves most in the world suddenly become someone she doesn’t recognize? As Adam drifts farther and farther away into the Snow Queen’s mysterious world of ice and snow, Jenny believes she must fight to bring him back or risk losing him forever.

Holy fuck. This book probably has the most accurate representation of any mental illness I’ve seen in YA. Adam’s schizophrenia wasn’t watered down in the slightest and it wasn’t romanticized. I would have liked to read more of Adam’s perspective than Jenny’s since Adrienne Clarke writes mental illness so accurately. Does that make sense?

I liked that she gave us a look at how mental illness affects the individual in question, but also their loved ones. Although I would have preferred if we had focused more on Adam as for the reason above.

Whisper by Lynette Noni - ⭐⭐⭐

For two years, six months, fourteen days, eleven hours and sixteen minutes, Subject Six-Eight-Four — ‘Jane Doe’ — has been locked away and experimented on, without uttering a single word.

As Jane’s resolve begins to crack under the influence of her new — and unexpectedly kind — evaluator, she uncovers the truth about Lengard’s mysterious ‘program’, discovering that her own secret is at the heart of a sinister plot … and one wrong move, one wrong word, could change the world.

Review Here!

The Thirteenth Guardian by K.M. Lewis - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Da Vinci’s secret pales. Michelangelo concealed an explosive truth in his famous Creation of Man fresco in the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. Everything we have been taught about Eve is wrong—she didn’t cause the fall of man. Instead, Eve carried a far more devastating secret for millennia; one that will change the world forever.

As the modern-day world suffers the cataclysmic effects of the “Plagues of Egypt”, Avery Fitzgerald, a statuesque Astrophysics major at Stanford, discovers that she is mysteriously bound to five strangers by an extremely rare condition that foremost medical experts cannot explain. Thrust into extraordinary circumstances, they race against time to stay alive as they are pursued by an age-old adversary and the world around them collapses into annihilation. Under sacred oath, The Guardians—a far more archaic and enigmatic secret society than the Freemasons, Templars, and the Priory—protect Avery as she embarks on a daring quest that only legends of old have been on before. Avery must come to terms with the shocking realization that the blood of an ancient queen flows through her veins and that the fate of the world now rests on her shoulders.

Release date – June 7th 2019

Review Here!

Angelfall by Susan Ee - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

It's been six weeks since angels of the apocalypse descended to demolish the modern world. Street gangs rule the day while fear and superstition rule the night. When warrior angels fly away with a helpless little girl, her seventeen-year-old sister Penryn will do anything to get her back.

Anything, including making a deal with an enemy angel.

Raffe is a warrior who lies broken and wingless on the street. After eons of fighting his own battles, he finds himself being rescued from a desperate situation by a half-starved teenage girl.

Traveling through a dark and twisted Northern California, they have only each other to rely on for survival. Together, they journey toward the angels' stronghold in San Francisco where she'll risk everything to rescue her sister and he'll put himself at the mercy of his greatest enemies for the chance to be made whole again.

Yesssssss I like this. I find that many angel stories are overdone or hyper-religious, but this, this seems pretty promising.

Dead of Night by Carlyle Labuschagne – ⭐

In a dark and desolated After Earth, love still does exist, but the cost of bearing such a flaw is death.

World War III has left Earth in utter turmoil. People’s beliefs are said to be the cause of the worldwide destruction. After The Clearing new laws are set about - to show certitude in anything besides the law is weak and chargeable as mutiny. To be illogical and have faith in religion is illegal, to be limitless is dangerous. And Illness is seen as a defect – all flaws that are inexcusable.

But to love is the greatest betrayal of all man kind. It is a fault the world has long forgotten and punishable by death, a fatal risk Aecker and Opel are fully prepared to take - because in love there is freedom. But how far can they push back before it claims their lives and of those they care about?

This is the worst book I’ve read in my entire life.

Oh my god it was just so bad I don’t even know where to start. There is no plot, the characters are flat, every single scene was chaotic (I swear I got [metaphorical] whiplash), and it ends out of fucking nowhere. I thought I was missing part of my copy then ending was so sudden.

The world development was non-existent, and I was just confused all the way through.

I would write an individual review on this since I received it in exchange for an honest review, but honestly, this is all I have to say. I’m not even entirely sure as to what happened.

Unfortunately, 0 stars is not an option on Goodreads, so I had to stick with one even though I don’t think it deserves it.

I Hunt Killers by Barry Lyga – ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Jasper "Jazz" Dent is a likable teenager. A charmer, one might say.

But he's also the son of the world's most infamous serial killer, and for Dear Old Dad, Take Your Son to Work Day was year-round. Jazz has witnessed crime scenes the way cops wish they could—from the criminal's point of view.

And now bodies are piling up in Lobo's Nod.

In an effort to clear his name, Jazz joins the police in a hunt for a new serial killer. But Jazz has a secret—could he be more like his father than anyone knows?

Yessss another thriller. I love the internal conflict Jazz is dealing with and it’s expertly woven in with the plot. Would recommend, and will definitely be continuing on with the series!

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – ⭐⭐

Since its immediate success in 1813, Pride and Prejudice has remained one of the most popular novels in the English language. Jane Austen called this brilliant work "her own darling child" and its vivacious heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, "as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print." The romantic clash between the opinionated Elizabeth and her proud beau, Mr. Darcy, is a splendid performance of civilized sparring. And Jane Austen's radiant wit sparkles as her characters dance a delicate quadrille of flirtation and intrigue, making this book the most superb comedy of manners of Regency England.

You know… it’s a classic. I don’t really like classics. I feel like I need to read them you know? Oh well.

Everyone’s a Aliebn when ur a Aliebn Too by Jomny Sun - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Here is the unforgettable story of Jomny, an alien sent to study Earth. Always feeling apart, even among his species, Jomny feels at home for the first time among the earthlings he meets. There is a bear tired of other creatures running in fear, an egg struggling to decide what to hatch into, a turtle hiding itself by learning camouflage, a puppy struggling to express its true feelings, and many more.

The characters are unique and inventive—bees think long and hard about what love means, birds try to eat the sun, nothingness questions its own existence, a ghost comes to terms with dying, and an introverted hedgehog slowly lets Jomny see its artistic insecurities. At the same time, Jomny’s curious presence allows these characters to open up to him in ways they were never able to before, revealing the power of somebody who is just there to listen.

Oh my god this was just so cute and filled with so many important messages than hit very close to home. New favourite for sure.

Number of books read: 17

Number of pages read: 5806

Average Pages per Book : 341.5

Average rating: 3.4

Favourite book of the month: Gemina by Amy Kaufman and Jay Kristoff. I love love love the Illuminae files! Definitely my favourite sci-fi series to date.

Least favourite book of the month: Dead of Night by Carlyle Labuschange. It’s just so bad, you guys.

#march wrap up #books #booklr #booktube #bookstagram #young adult books #young adult literature

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benfeldman · 6 years

Text

here comes the jackpot question in advance

summary: The one where Dan thought Phil hated him, so he hated Phil right back.

wc: 7.5k

tags: teenager au, new year’s eve, enemies to friends to lovers (in a way)

tws: underaged drinking, swearing (lots of it,,)

a/n: i wrote this lil diddy in the space between christmas and new year’s, aka when time doesnt feel real. my only betas were spellcheck and grammarly so sry if there are mistakes. im a sucker for enemies to lovers and teenager tropes,, what can i say.

read it on ao3 if that’s more your jam

Of all the places in the world, the last place he wants to be seen is McDonald’s. Dan’s exhausted from work and he just wants some chicken nuggets and an iced coffee, some comfort food to get him through the rest of the day. It’s super busy, so the possibility of him seeing someone from school is high, unfortunately, but he’s just come off of work which is killing him slowly so the risk is worth it. While he waits in the queue he mindlessly scrolls through Twitter.

It’s been a pretty fine holiday, as far as things go. Not too exciting, but nothing traumatic or particularly harrowing, either, which in his family is somewhat surprising. And it’s been nice getting to avoid schoolwork and classmates for a while, as the halls of sixth form can be crowded with some right pricks. In fact, there’s one prick in particular he hasn’t missed one bit, and as he sees him on his Twitter feed he’s reminded of how glad he is not to have to be in his presence every day.

The only reason he doesn’t have Phil Lester blocked and muted is because he doesn’t want to seem petty. All of his friends seem to like Phil just fine, but they also know that Dan isn’t exactly his number one fan. However, the last thing Dan wants is to cause drama where there doesn’t need to be, and a single tap of the ‘block’ icon could put him in a world of unnecessary trouble. But that doesn’t change the fact that Dan Howell, from the bottom of his heart, hates Phil Lester.

Though, surprisingly, no one else seems to. It seems like Dan’s the only one who can see past his persona of Mr. Perfectly Quirky and Funny and into who he really is. He’s not that funny, and he acts like he’s the smartest kid in the entire world but surely, he must not know everything, despite his best attempts to make everyone think so. Seriously, he’s always the first to raise his hand in chem, spewing facts left and right, which makes him the worst lab partner in the entire world. Phil always has to double check Dan’s work even though he’s right on all his arithmetic ninety-five percent of the time, he always makes some comment about how Dan’s handwriting is getting messier by the week, and worst of all, he’s never wrong. That’s what sucks about it. Phil Lester is never wrong. He’s perfect.

And he makes Dan feel like an idiot. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going out of his way to purposely paint Dan as this huge moron, which he knows he isn’t, but it’s hard not to feel that way around Phil. Perfect Phil, with the perfect hair and perfect life and the brightest eyes and the best jokes, who always manages to make Dan trip over his words and say the wrong thing, something stupid. He's always quick to point out Dan’s mistakes. Which, obviously, makes him feel great.

Yeah, well, out of sight, out of mind. Dan scrolls past and tries not to think about him. Why do people even retweet his stuff, anyways? He’s not that funny, but the whole school seems to think he’s some sort of comedy king or something, which gets old really fast, in Dan’s opinion. He’s a smartass, that’s what he is.

Dan finally gets his order in and moves to the side to wait for his food, when the voice he least expected to hear sounds from behind him.

“Dan?”

Sure enough, Dan turns around, and Phil sort of materializes before him, in a hoodie and skinny jeans and, funnily enough, glasses. Dan’s not a confrontational person. He’s not. Never has been. He tends to internalize his seething rage against Phil. Usually, it works. “Hi there,” Dan replies, and thus continues his long list of dumb things he says in front of Phil.

“Small world, eh?”

Dan shrugs. “I suppose.”

Silence. Then, “You getting food?”

“Yep.” Dan takes a breath. “You?”

“Yeah. But not for me. My brother’s been a bit under the weather since boxing day and he asked that I go get him some extra crappy food to help him feel better.”

Of course Phil’s not getting McDonald’s for himself. He’s way too perfect, way too healthy, for that. When doesn’t he have a pedestal to stand on? “Cool,” Dan says instead. “I mean, not about your brother. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Phil laughs. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. How’s your break been?”

“Alright. A bit dull, I guess. But sometimes it’s better if nothing happens rather than something bad, right?”

“I agree. You never know when loose cannon racist Uncle Joe is gonna ruin Christmas dinner, right?”

“I’ve been there one too many times.”

“Same.”

Could it be true? Could Dan actually be getting through a conversation with Phil Lester without making a fool of himself or wanting to strangle him to death or both? Only time would tell, he reasons, but still. So far, so okay. “Get anything good for Christmas?” Phil asks.

“My brother and I got a Switch for Christmas, and we’ve both been playing it a lot. At least, when I’m not at work.”

Phil gasps. “No way! We did too!”

“That’s awesome,” Dan replies, a grin spreading across his face. “What games do you have?”

“So far we’ve just got Super Mario Odyssey, but we also really wanna get the new Zelda game so my brother can play it before he has to go back to uni.”

“I hear it’s amazing,” says Dan. “We want to get that as well.”

“Maybe if we both play it we can compare notes and stuff.”

“Yeah, maybe.” This is easily one of the longest conversations he’s ever had with Phil, and certainly the only one where he didn’t feel like self-destructing out of pure annoyance at Phil’s stupid face. The longest he’d gone without seeming like a massive idiot. Maybe there’s something about Phil wearing glasses that makes him easier to get on with.

“So, any New Year’s plans?”

“Well, I’m going to my friend Chris’ for New Year’s Eve. Since his birthday is so close, he always has a party then.” Okay, Dan, stop talking. It always really bothered him when people talked about their plans in front of others who weren’t invited. “It’s gonna be super cool, you should totally come, I mean, if you don’t have plans.” What the fuck are you doing? “He’s gonna have alcohol and stuff, too, and it’ll be legal, well, for him at least, and obviously he’ll have, like, real food too.” Are you done now, moron? “Anyways, yeah, I’m sure he’d be happy to have you, if you were interested. I mean, you probably already have stuff planned, I’m sure.” He waits for his dumb tongue to stop betraying him, and eventually, he really does stop talking, exhaling slowly. Dan, one day your mouth is going to get you killed.

Phil raises his eyebrows, but he wears a huge grin. “That sounds like fun, Dan. I’ll totally come.”

Well, Dan was eventually bound to do or say something stupid, right? It wouldn’t be a real conversation with Phil unless it ended with Phil’s superior smirk and Dan’s sinking feeling of inadequacy. “Great, cool, see you then,” Dan says. Oh my god, you fucking idiot.

“Phil!” a guy from the front counter announces.

“Oh, that’ll be my food,” Phil says, still wearing the same stupid grin on his stupid face. He pushes through the small crowd and examines his bag. Dan, in the meantime, stares back at his phone. What did he just do? It’s not as though he has a great track record for getting along with Phil, and the last thing he wants to do is ruin his friend’s party. And besides, since when did he have permission to invite random people from school to any of his friend’s parties, birthday or otherwise? Was it not a teeny bit presumptuous of him to say ‘Oh Chris won’t mind another person in his flat, where he’ll have to accommodate more space for you as well as getting even more food and drinks?’ This was a mistake. Maybe it’s not too late to rescind the invitation, to make up a fake story about how the party isn’t happening anymore. “This yours?” Phil asks, pulling Dan out of his thoughts. He hands him a bag and a coffee.

Dan grimaces. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You must not have heard your name,” he explains. “It was next to mine, so I just picked it up.”

“Cheers,” Dan replies, but all he wants to do is melt into the floor and forget the past five minutes ever happened.

“Well, I’ve gotta run,” says Phil. “But I’ll see you New Year’s Eve, yeah?”

Now or never, Howell. “Uh, yeah. Great.”

“Cool. Bye, then!” He flashes Dan one last friendly smile before leaving. Of course, on top of it all, he gets the last word.

---

Since there’s not a lot Dan can do about it now, the next day he rings Chris to tell him about his grave mistake, to at least attempt to be a better friend.

“What’s up?” greets Chris upon answering. “Still coming to the party tomorrow, right?”

“About that,” Dan replies, biting his nails. “I kinda invited someone yesterday, is that okay? I know space can be tight but I promise I didn’t really mean to, and if you say no it’s fine, I just--”

“Dan, I’m gonna stop you right there.” He can practically hear the smirk in Chris’ voice, and he already feels a bit daft. “You’re totally fine, I promise. The more the merrier. Who’d you invite, if I might ask?”

Deep breaths. There’s no way he can phrase this without sounding like an idiot, so he might as well bite the bullet now. “Uh, you know Phil Lester, right?”

Chris actually laughs, which Dan half expected, because everyone knows they don’t like each other. Although, to be fair, he didn’t think Chris cared. “That’s who you invited?” he manages to choke out between giggles.

“Yeah, I know, shocker. Like I said, I didn’t mean to, I just felt bad because I mentioned you and stuff. It’s okay if you say no.”

“I didn’t, uh.” Chris stops. He releases another little giggle before continuing. “I didn’t mean to laugh, at least, not at you.”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Dan rolls his eyes, though Chris obviously can’t see.

“It’s just kinda funny, because I already invited him, and as far as I know he already said he was coming.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “What the fuck?” he says, before he can stop himself. “I mean, no. Sorry, that’s not what I meant. Why did you invite him?”

“I dunno, we have Lit together and we got to talking about the break and I invited him to my party. Why did you invite him?”

“I already told you, it was a complete accident, and obviously I didn’t know he was already coming, otherwise I wouldn’t have, clearly.” Dear Christ, was he doomed to make a fool of himself every single time he was in front of Phil? Maybe the safest course of action would be to just never say anything to him or in front of him ever again. That still left the possibility of him physically doing something stupid, but at least he could minimize the damage.

“Well, either way, Phil’s already coming, so no need to worry. Anyone else you want to invite who I invited myself? PJ maybe? Or Hazel?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dan responds through gritted teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great! See ya!” Chris hangs up, and Dan can hear him laughing.

It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t Phil say anything yesterday? Did he derive pleasure in seeing Dan make an idiot of himself? How was Dan supposed to know he and Chris were friends? It wasn’t fair, it so wasn’t fair. Can Dan not have just one day where he doesn’t make a complete joke of himself?

No, not where Phil’s involved. As long as Phil is there, Dan isn’t safe from being the laughingstock of the universe.

---

December thirty first comes around, and a big part of Dan wants to just pretend he’s sick and stay home, because he can’t stand to be around Phil or even Chris, frankly, after embarrassing himself so profusely. But that would only make him seem like a coward, and Chris would make some smartass remark to Phil and make Dan seem foolish without him even being there, so he drudges himself over to Chris’ flat, despite his wishes, and hopes for the best. For all the good that’ll do him.

Dan buzzes into Chris’ place (by now he knows the code) and treks up the stairs. Chris answers the door before he can knock and shouts, “Dan! I’m so glad you could make it!” He leads him inside. “Everyone! Dan is here!”

‘Everyone’ shouts a chorus of slurred hoorays. So the drinking has already commenced. He greets a few people, saying hi to Hazel and PJ and Louise who are deep in a very loud conversation about the new Star Wars movie, and Tom and Jack, who are locked in perhaps the most intense game of go fish Dan’s ever seen. He gets some crisps and migrates over to the couch, where he collapses. He’d been working all day long; he’s actually kind of exhausted, and doesn’t feel like socializing, especially considering how sober he is compared to everyone else. He closes his eyes. It’s too much right now.

“Hey, stranger.” Dan opens his eyes and there sits Phil, on the other side of the sofa. Great. Just what he fucking needed right now.

“Hi,” he replies.

“You seem tired.”

“I was working overtime today. I kinda don’t want to be here, if I’m honest.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Phil says, and he smiles, and it’s so genuine, too genuine, just like everything Phil does, so overly thoughtful and perfect. “Get the new Zelda game?”

“Haven’t had time.”

Phil nods. “Me neither.”

Here’s what Dan doesn’t get: Why is Phil being so nice to him all of a sudden? He usually teases Dan for getting answers wrong in class or in the labs or for his messy penmanship or whatever else he chooses after spinning the things-to-make-fun-of-dan-for wheel. He’s the basic definition of a walking dick, though no one else seems to see that, and he has no reason to be nice to Dan. So, what’s changed? Maybe he’s still feeling post-holiday forgiveness or good tidings or whatever else. Maybe he’s planning to lure Dan into a false sense of security before yelling at him for his dumb hair that he didn’t feel like straightening or his old car or the fact that he foolishly invited him to Chris’ house even though he already had every intention of going. Or maybe you think too much.

“Is work going okay?” asks Phil.

“I suppose. It’s not fun but it could be worse, and at the end of the day, a paycheck’s a paycheck. Can’t complain.”

“Right.” Phil smiles. They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the music. At any moment, their truce could come toppling down, Dan realizes. “Thanks for inviting me, by the way.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Chris told me you were already coming, so.”

Phil smiles sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. “He did?”

“Yep. Thanks for the memo, by the way. Would have been nice to know before I, ya know, invited you to a party you were already going to, like a moron.” And just like that, the truce has ended.

“Hey! In my defense, I was really surprised that you did that, and I had no idea what to say, because it was really nice of you.” He shakes his head a little bit. “I just kind of went along with it. You weren’t, I mean, it wasn’t…” he stops. “It wasn’t moronic. Not at all. It was sweet.”

“Oh, that makes me feel loads better,” Dan scoffs. “Look, next time you wanna make a fool out of me, at least have the dignity to tell me to my face that I’m being an idiot.” Christ, he didn’t mean to sound like such an asshole. Why can’t you ever say anything right?

And, what’s worse, Phil actually looks hurt. “You weren’t a fool,” he insists. “You aren’t one, okay? And that wasn’t my intention at all.”

Right, Dan, there’s your cue to shut up now. “Oh, really? Because it feels like every time I talk you, all you want to do is make me feel like I’m nothing, like I’m a fucking idiot. So, excuse me if I thought this was just another one of your secret schemes to turn me into the laughingstock of the century.” He knows he needs to stop talking, but a huge part of him feels good for finally standing up to Phil for once in his life.

“I’ve never purposely tried to make you feel like an idiot, Dan, I promise.” His voice remains surprisingly even. “I’m sorry if you felt that way.”

Dan stares at the floor, hoping if he says nothing he can’t possibly say the wrong thing. “Me, a secret schemer?” Phil continues. “Honestly? You’re the one who doesn’t like me, Dan. I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we met but you don’t want to accept it, for whatever reason. Did you honestly think I was trying to trick you, or something?” Great. Perfect. Dan the Fucking Idiot strikes again. “Okay, whatever, don’t respond to me. But I wish we could be friends, Dan. You make up all these stories in your head about how much I hate you or whatever but they’re not true. They’re so far from the truth.”

“Well, great, I’m still the idiot, then.” Dan sighs and sinks into the cushions. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“No, I’m sorry, Dan,” replies Phil. “I’m sorry for lying to you about the party. Believe me, I was the one who felt like an idiot afterwards. I was way too awkward to tell you the truth so I kind of just didn’t say anything and hoped for the best. Which clearly didn’t work.”

Dan actually smiles at that, just a bit. “No, it did not,” he agrees.

“Can we just, like, start over?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Come on,” Phil prompts, sitting up. “Let’s go get something to drink. You look like you need it.”

Dan rubs his eyes and rises to his feet. “You have no idea.”

---

So it takes Dan vodka and coke to warm up to the idea of maybe being friends with Phil, but who could blame him? Everything’s happening so fast; Phil’s dragging him to the kitchen and talking to him like a pal as if the past ten minutes, or even the past few months, haven’t happened. Phil pours the bottle of vodka into a cup of soda and asks Dan what his favorite TV shows are and it makes no sense.

They’re too different, Dan always thought. That’s why they never got on, because they were so different they had no hope of ever understanding each other. It was a fruitless quest. But maybe they’re not. Phil gets a refill on his drink as well and laughs a bit and remarks that he forgot to ask Dan what he wanted, he just assumed he’d have the same thing Phil was having. Dan assures him that it’s fine and this is probably what he would have made for himself too and, maybe they’re not that different.

They move back to the couch and try to ignore the fact that everyone’s staring at them, and Dan really can’t blame them as they did just kind of have a loud fight a few minutes ago. The first sip of the drink doesn’t go down well, it never does, but it gets easier and easier and pretty soon Dan’s already starting to feel better. He knows this can’t last, because he has to drive home in about four and a half hours but for now he can pretend like the future isn’t coming. Instead of thinking about that, he and Phil just talk, they just sit on the couch and talk and it feels different and nice. That’s what he really can’t get over, most of all. Who knew Phil would actually turn out to be a nice person?

After a while, Chris decides to turn his music up, and Dan and Phil kind of have to shout at each other to be heard. “Okay, so can I just ask,” Phil starts, frowning slightly. “Why, uh, why don’t you like me? Or why didn’t you like me?”

Not really the question Dan wanted to hear, after trying to turn his opinion about Phil around. “I don’t dislike you.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

Dan sighs. “Fine. It’s because you don’t like me.”

“I like you,” he insists. “I’ve always liked you.”

“You don’t really act like it.”

That stops Phil short. “Well, in my defense, you’re pretty easy to tease about stuff.”

“Hey!” Dan exclaims. “That’s not very nice.”

“Trust me, it’s not a bad thing.” Phil smiles a little bit. He’s got a nice smile. He should do that more often. “I only do it because…”

“Because why?”

“Because nothing.” He crosses his arms. “Be serious, why don’t you like me?”

Dan frowns. “Well, okay, it’s just, like…” Don’t mess this up, don’t mess this up. “You’re just so fucking perfect, like all the time. You come here and you’re the new kid but you make friends effortlessly because you’re perfect and you’re smart and always say the right answers in chem which infuriates me because I used to be that kid that always knew everything but you waltzed into class and you were always right and suddenly I knew nothing . Every single day you come to class, you make me feel so stupid because you’re so smart and your hair is perfectly straight and exactly what I wish my hair looked like, and you’re just as tall, if not taller than me but you manage to make it look good, and you’re always up there on your high horse and I feel inadequate around you all the time. And it, like, never made sense to me that other people couldn’t see how too perfect you are.”

It all comes out in a complete rush, before Dan can stop himself. Instantly he knows he’s overshared, as Phil winces when Dan looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “I’m not perfect,” Phil finally says. “I can’t believe you think I’m perfect.”

“Well, can you blame me? I mean, look at yourself. You weren’t even at McDonald’s for you, you were getting food for your brother. Kind, thoughtful, healthy and conscientious Phil.”

Phil just shakes his head. “I can’t believe that’s why you don’t like me, because I’m too ‘perfect.’” He does air quotes around that last word.

“Whatever,” Dan mumbles. “I feel embarrassed even though I also feel like I’m right.”

“I’m furthest thing from perfect,” Phil protests. “I swear.”

“Okay, name one imperfection of yours, I dare you.”

“Fine.” Phil crosses his arms, accepting the challenge. “That day, when I went to McDonald’s. It, I…” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing. “Well, my brother wanted food, but my mom wouldn’t get it for him, and he doesn’t trust me to drive around anymore so he drove the car there, but waited in the parking lot for me to get the food, because he didn’t want to come inside himself.”

“What’s your point?”

“My parents won’t let me drive anymore, because I’ve failed my driving test three times and one time I was driving around and almost got in an accident because I’m literally the shittiest driver in the entire universe.” He sighs, and glances at Dan. “So. Strike one. I’m not perfect.”

“To be fair, no one passes their driving test the first time around. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Okay. Fine. I wear contacts.”

“Yeah, well, I already guessed that. I saw you in glasses, remember?”

Phil’s face turns a brilliant shade of pink. “Oh, right.”

“And you looked cute in glasses, so, whatever, that doesn’t count as an imperfection. Try again.”

He thinks for a moment, then, “I dye my hair.”

“What?” Dan gasps.

“Yeah. I’m naturally a ginger but I look horrendous so, I dye it like once a month. It’s kind of embarrassing.” He takes another sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”

“Well, it looks great. I had no idea.”

“I’m only telling you that because I’m not sober, just so you know.”

“I’ll take it.”

Phil smiles. “But speaking of hair, I didn’t know yours was curly.”

“Oh,” Dan replies, cheeks turning red. “I didn’t have time to straighten it before going to work, and then I just couldn’t be bothered, so.” He self consciously brushes his fringe out of his eyes.

“I think it looks great.”

“Thanks.” He takes a sip. “Well, anyways, you get my point, right? You’re frustratingly perfect. It makes me want to strangle you sometimes.”

“You’ve completely misjudged me, Howell. I’m so far from perfect.”

He’s almost finished with his drink so he’s feeling extra brave, and before he knows it, he blurts, “Well, what do you think of me? You know, so I can also prove your misconceptions about me wrong.”

“I dunno. I think you’re really funny, you’ve got a sort of dark sense of humor that I like, and you’re also super passionate about your opinions, which I appreciate. Even when those opinions happen to be regarding your deep hatred of me.”

“Look,” Dan tries to defend, but Phil isn’t hearing any of it.

“No, it’s okay. You wear your heart on your sleeve. And you care an awful lot. That’s not nothing. I admire that about you.”

Dan’s heart stops in its tracks. His stomach churns. “I’m such an idiot,” he mutters to himself.

“Why, Dan?”

“I really thought you hated me,” he says quietly, wishing he could disappear.

“No, I don’t hate you, Dan. I feel like I know you, ya know? Like, I just have this feeling, like, I look at you and I know who you are. I wish I had that ability, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you clearly had me all completely wrong in your head. But I can just see you for you. I know that you’re passionate and loyal and compelling and--”

“Guys!” Chris shouts from behind their place on the couch. “We’re about to play cards against humanity, and you have to play. Also you’re not allowed to say no because it’s my birthday.”

They begrudgingly sit around the dining table, with their friends who are all decidedly at least twice as drunk as Dan and Phil are, which is fine, but maybe a slight bit alienating. Dan’s tipsy, sure, but he’s not flat-out drunk, mostly because he has to drive home but also because he hasn’t eaten anything all day and the last thing he needs is to throw up at his friend’s place. Especially since Phil’s there, and, yeah, he really needs one more reason to feel like an idiot in front of him. But, Phil doesn’t think of him as an idiot, in a strange turn of events. He’s not one hundred percent sure that he believes him, but why would he lie?

“Do you guys need a refill?” Hazel asks them, nodding to their almost empty cups.

“I’m good, thanks,” Dan says. “I’m driving, so.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. Phil?”

“I’m alright.”

“God, do you two even know how to have fun?” She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, more for us fun people.”

Hazel makes her leave to the kitchen to refill her drink and Phil laughs a little. The sight makes Dan’s heart rate speed up a little; Phil sticks his tongue out of his mouth and his eyes crinkle in the perfect way and all of his teeth show and okay, okay, why is he thinking like this right now? What just happened to make him notice something like that, something so trivial and inconsequential? Why has Dan never noticed that Phil’s eyes aren’t actually blue, but they’re blue and green and gold and they kind of look like a kaleidoscope?

He has to turn his mindset back around before it’s too late. “What, Goody Two Shoes Phil doesn’t want to get drunk?” Dan teases.

“Yeah, well, my parents are already mad enough at me as it is. I don’t need another reason to upset them.”

“Why are they upset with you?”

“They’re just…” He sighs. “I guess they’re not mad, they just really didn’t want me to come here, because they’re frustrated that they have to come pick me up and drive me home so late, and I guess I just feel bad, because we usually spend today together, and like, I turn eighteen in a month so it’s gonna be legal for me to drink soon, but they don’t want me to until I’m nineteen, which is bullshit, but they’re my parents, so.”

“Guys!” Chris shouts, interrupting their conversation. “Have either of you played your cards yet?”

“Fuck, sorry,” Dan apologizes. He picks a random card about George Clooney and passes it down. Phil follows suit. Chris begins to read out the cards he has, but Dan is barely listening. “I can take you home,” Dan says quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?” Phil asks.

“Positive.”

“Okay. I’ll text my parents.” The group laughs hysterically at one of the answers, bringing them back to reality.

“Right, I’m picking this one,” Chris announces. “Who played it?” Louise proudly raises her hand, and everyone claps.

Even though the game continues, Dan and Phil don’t really pay attention, lost in conversation with each other. It’s a bit hard to hear over the noise of drunk teens yelling dirty jokes at each other, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Dan feels relaxed around Phil for the first time ever, and maybe it’s the vodka but that’s starting to wear off in all honesty and it more just feels like Phil’s a generally nice person and he’s been missing out on him and his company since September when they met. It takes them about ten minutes to realize no one’s actually playing the game anymore and they’re instead just finding their favorite cards in the pack, trying to make each other laugh. They quietly sneak off back to the couch to continue to talk and no one seems to mind. It’s like he’s been missing Phil his whole life, like the moment they start to just talk he’s picking up from where they left off, even though really they never even started, not really.

Maybe Phil Lester the jerk wasn’t such a jerk after all.

---

Eventually, the group moves to the living room and puts on a movie, crowding the space that was previously just being occupied by Dan and Phil. But Dan doesn’t really mind, and anyways the more he talks to Phil the more he realizes that maybe his feelings of hatred were a bit misguided or maybe they were disguising themselves as hatred because he couldn’t face the truth. Now there’s something he’s really afraid to consider.

Phil gets up from his self-proclaimed spot on the couch to go to the bathroom at around eleven, when people are starting to get either drunker or more sober, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and ring in the new year. PJ takes this opportunity to slide over to press up against Dan, a huge grin on his face.

“What’s up, Daniel?” he asks. He smells overwhelmingly of vodka.

“Not much, excited for the new year, I guess.”

PJ waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You gonna go for it?”

“Go for what?”

“Oh my god, you’re absolutely daft. Everyone knows of the tradition of kissing someone exactly at midnight on New Year’s Day, right?”

Dan freezes. “I… Who…”

“This is your chance, Dan. He likes you, I promise, just go for it.”

“Okay, you keep saying that, but I still don’t know what you’re referring to.” Though, obviously, he does. “Peej, you’re super drunk right now.”

“And you’re not?” He laughs. “You should be!”

“I have to drive myself home.”

He pulls a face. “So?”

“Right, let’s get you some water, you goof.”

He gets up to go to the kitchen and pour him a cup of water from the fridge, and when he comes back to the living room Phil’s back, deep in conversation with Hazel. He tries his best to ignore the pang of jealousy in his gut because Seriously, are you fucking kidding me? One minute you hate him and the next you don’t want anyone else to look his way? Maybe he’s always felt that way, like there’s always been some kind of underlying jealousy. But jealousy of what? His personality? His hair? His ability to make friends with all of Dan’s friends but somehow be better at it?

“Here you go, Peej,” Dan says, handing him the cup.

“I don’t want it,” he whines in response, but Dan practically forces it down his throat. He makes eye contact with Phil as he attempts to shove the cup into PJ’s hand, and Phil smiles at him and his heart explodes a little bit and, yeah, you’re an absolute gonner.

“Do it, Dan,” PJ whispers into his ear. “Do it for me, if nothing else.”

“Drink your water and I’ll think about it, arsehole.”

It works. PJ sits up straight and practically chugs the whole thing in an instant, earning him a satisfied pat on the back from Dan. He doesn’t mind playing the mom friend at parties, in fact, it makes him feel good. If he can save someone from dying of alcohol poisoning, he can justify coming to this party.

“Dan!” Phil gestures for Dan to sit next to him, as Hazel’s gotten up to get snacks.

“Having fun?” Dan asks, eyebrows raised. He’s pretty sober as far as things go but he still feels like his brain is going a bit haywire which is just great, just brilliant, because that confirms everything and why does this have to happen here, at a party in front of all his friends, on the most cliche night of the year, with music from the movie on TV swelling and laughter and drinks and it’s all just so much, it’s way too much for him right now. And seriously, of all people, Phil? Like, why couldn’t it be someone he knew and actually tolerated?

“Did you hear me, Dan?” Phil asks, bringing him back to reality.

Brilliant, fucking brilliant. What was it about Phil that always made him feel like he was one step behind, all the time? “Sorry, no, what did you say?” Seriously, can God just come smite me where I stand already?

“I said I’m having a great time. Your friends are super cool.”

“Glad you think so.” Can this not happen, please? Not now.

“And you aren’t so bad yourself.” Phil winks, and seriously, Dan feels like a year four, like a child in primary school, with a secret crush and a secret diary full of unsent love letters and this cannot be happening.

“Thanks, Phil.”

“So, any resolutions for the new year?” Phil asks.

“No, not really. What’s the point of making them if you can’t stick to them?”

Phil shrugs. “You never know until you try, right?”

“Okay, fine, what’s your resolution then?”

Phil thinks for a moment, then says, “To just be more authentic. To live a more honest version of myself, whatever that means for me. No unrealistic or unattainable goals. Just, not try to hide or fix myself in front of others. However it happens.”

Dan laughs in spite of himself. “A bit too meta for me, but the sentiment is there, I suppose.”

“I think New Year’s resolutions are fun to make, even if you don’t end up sticking to them. It’s the thought that counts, really.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about. Everything you say, it’s perfect. How do you do it?”

“What can I say? I must be born with it.” He does a fake flip of his hair and giggles. Phil needs to stop fucking giggling because it’s driving Dan insane, it’s contagious and it makes Dan laugh right along with him. Phil makes him feel so safe and warm and like he’s Dan’s missing piece and every other cliche the world has to offer him but fuck it, it’s true. And maybe he’s just completely misreading the signals and maybe Phil still secretly hates him and maybe Phil’s straight as a stick (though to be fair Dan used to think he was so that means nothing) but if he can’t say it now, when can he?

“Phil, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Dan.”

His confidence is dwindling by the nanosecond. “You’re not mad at me for being a dick to you for months, right?” Justsayitjustsayitjustsayitjustsayit--

“No, of course not. How could I be mad at you? I’m mad at myself, if anything, for being a dick to you.”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but his words die in his throat and he knows he needs to just say it but nothing is happening.

“I wasn’t doing it with any malicious intent,” Phil continues. “It’s just that being nice to you didn’t seem to work, and it was the only other way I could think to get you to talk to me.”

“And why…” His voice is close to failing him. “Why would you want that?”

“Well, I--”

“Guys!” Chris shouts, interrupting them. “It’s eleven forty-five! Almost midnight! I’m breaking out the champagne! Come help me!”

Phil rolls his eyes and gets up with the rest of the party, which is moving to the kitchen to break out the grand finale of alcohols, the champagne. Dan tries not to feel disappointed, but then again, perhaps this is a sign. Chris pops open the bottle and everyone cheers and PJ brings him glasses. Jack helps to pass them out to everyone and Dan takes his, even though he has no intention of actually drinking it.

Chris changes the channel so they can watch the countdown live with the rest of Britain and Dan’s nerves go completely haywire. Everyone’s crowding around the TV and anticipation buzzes in the air and the guy on TV announces that there’s two minutes left until the new year begins and Phil’s on the other side of the room now and his heart hurts a bit. He puts his cup down on the side table to resist temptation. One minute left. He feels someone brush the back of his hand and it’s Phil and time slows down and the people around him fall away.

The countdown is happening around him. He locks eyes with Phil and he’s pretty sure someone just shoved a party popper into his hand but he really doesn’t care. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen… Phil grabs his hand. Okay, okay, breathe, you need to remember to breathe, don’t fucking pass out for the love of all that is holy. Ten, nine, eight…

Now or never, Dan. Now or never. Now or never.

Five, Phil pulls him closer.

Four, Dan moves his hands to Phil’s waist.

Three, Phil moves his hands to the back of Dan’s head.

Two, Dan leans in. Or maybe Phil does. Or maybe--

One.

Shouts of joy, the mini explosions of party poppers, and choruses of “Happy New Year!” fill the room, and Dan kisses Phil. He feels soft and warm and they fit together so perfectly, and Dan pulls him impossibly close to his body and wow, why didn’t they do this sooner? It feels like fireworks, like the fireworks that are currently going off on TV, and it’s everything he could have imagined only magnified by about a million. It’s perfect. Perfect, just like Phil.

Applause erupts. Dan and Phil finally break away and see that everyone seems to be cheering for them. He completely forgot that there were other people in the room that could see them and now everyone knew. Awesome. Phil giggles and breaks the embrace, squeezing Dan’s hand instead. He’s completely and utterly mortified.

“About bloody time,” Chris remarks, shaking his head.

Dan scoffs. “Mind your own damn business.”

“Stop making out in front of everyone!” retorts Chris.

“What, we weren’t,” Dan stutters, but Phil just smiles and squeezes his hand again. Somehow, it’s not making Dan feel any better.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Louise scoffs at her friends, and soon their attention turns back to the TV, though they don’t stop laughing. Phil peers at Dan from behind his fringe and Dan can’t help but push it back a little and he can’t stop smiling and he knows he’s gone all red from embarrassment but he’s still on cloud nine. He kissed Phil. Or maybe Phil kissed him. Now he can’t really remember. It doesn’t matter, probably.

Party poppers explode and glasses clink and Dan kisses Phil again and nothing has felt more perfect in his whole life. He tastes like vodka and sugar cookies and Dan probably tastes the same and how could he have ever thought a thought as stupid as hating Phil Lester?

Phil laughs a bit, and pulls away. “My phone’s ringing,” he explains apologetically. He pulls it out of his pocket. “Fuck. It’s my mum.”

“Oh.” Dan takes a step back. “You should get that.”

Phil accepts the call while Dan sits back down on the couch. Around him, his friends start to clean up the flat. He hasn’t had a lot of time to process what just happened but now he can. Though, it’s fruitless, as he can barely believe any of this just happened.

Phil curls up next to him. “No… Mum, don’t worry… I don’t… Yes, he’s gonna take me home… I promise… Okay. Love you.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “Bye.”

A ghost of a smile remains on his face, but his eyes have lost their sparkle. “My mom wants me to come home,” he announces. “Do you still want to take me?”

“Yeah. Not like I still need to be here.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay to drive and stuff?”

“I swear.”

“Positive?”

Dan leans in and plants a kiss on Phil’s nose. “Let’s go.”

Phil smiles and blushes. Dan’s never seen him so soft before. He’s still perfect, though. Still perfect. “Okay,” Phil whispers. “Okay.”

On their way out, Dan swears he can hear Chris whisper to PJ, “My work here is done.”

---

“Come on, slowpoke!” Dan shouts from his car, leaning on the horn. No response. Figures, the guy takes about a half hour at least to straighten his hair. And besides, he liked to make Dan wait. Annoying, since it was Dan doing him a favor and Dan asking for nothing in return. But then Phil comes bounding down the stairs and pulls the passenger’s door open.

“Right. Let’s go,” Phil commands, slamming the door shut.

“Yes sir,” replies Dan.

“Alright, alright, lose the attitude.”

“I’m your school chauffeur, I can act however I like.” He backs out of the driveway and speeds down the road to school. “By the way, we’re late. Again.”

“We’ll be fine.” He leans over the dashboard and gives Dan a peck on the cheek. “Better?”

“Marginally.”

“Whatever. You’re no fun.” Phil fake-pouts, crossing his arms and staring out the window.

Dan concentrates on the road in front of him, but a grin appears on the corner of his mouth. “I think what you meant to say was, ‘Thank you, my wonderful, beautiful, attractive boyfriend, for driving me to school every day, how could I ever repay you.’”

“As soon as I get my license, I am never driving in a car with you ever again.”

“Good to know you’ll always ride with me, then.”

Phil scoffs. “I’m telling you, the fourth time’s the charm.”

“Whatever you say, Lester.”

They’re both quiet for a bit, watching blocks and blocks of flats go by. “Thank you, Dan.”

“For what?”

Phil shrugs. “Everything?” Dan glances at him, and God he’s so beautiful, it almost hurts. Even in the early morning sun, it’s like looking into the night sky, into an entire galaxy.

“Ditto,” Dan replies. They’re almost to school, with only five minutes to spare.

“Ugh, don’t get all sappy on me.”

“What can I say? I’m a poet.”

Dan parks the car and turns to face Phil properly. They kiss, a real one this time. It’s warm. Phil pulls away slightly. “We’re actually going to be late, though.” He grabs his backpack and opens the car door.

“Your fault,” Dan replies, doing the same.

“I can live with that.”

“Yeah.” Dan leans across the car to kiss Phil one last time. “Me too.”

#phan #phanfiction #phan au #teen au #new year's eve #this is sooo so so so fluffy and sappy im so sorry #but like.... teen phan is my kryptonite what can i say #hope u enjoy #ngl..... this was alot of fun 2 write nd its not like the best thing ive ever written but..#its cute and its helping me come into my style of fiction writing so

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