#i love the 'big spectacle that actually gives you an uneasy feeling'

[4giorno]

okay at first i was honestly so underwhelmed but then the silhouette part came and she posed for the pictures and suddenly it was iconic

#like the whole rest of the demo from the silhouette part onwards was amazing #bc like first it was giving 4 star demo graphics and basic music #but then THAT part started and it had unique style and the music switched up and i was fully in finally #and omg this is why i dont want much singing in gi. like 1st of all it wouldnt fit but 2nd of all it effects you harder at times like this #bc everything in the end felt so wrong and the performance was so elaborate and the singing rlly added to the 'overwhelming' feel of it #(oops affects* not effects) #however. even tho i KNOW that the point of the demo is to be staged and a performance. i think some of the messaging is getting so mixed #like just with all the imagery of her controlling all the actors on the stage. #well any way great job hoyo the second half of the demo was rlly great 💖 #i love the 'big spectacle that actually gives you an uneasy feeling'

[buckysgoldenheart]

The B****, The Favorite, His Sister & Her Lover

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is in love with you, but you have been avoiding him for a month and you are forced to face the repercussions of your actions when your brother brings him to family dinner. (Fluffy, sorta smutty)

Words: 4979 (Sorry ☹, but I hope you like it if you decide it’s not too long).

All you wanted, well, not wanted, but all you planned for was a simple, hopefully non-stressful dinner where your mother made her lasagna and your brother eased her not-so-innocent attacks on you with his charming personality. It was a Friday. Friday’s were supposed to be relaxing, and if you could ignore the ‘subtle’ digs at your lack of relationship you might even consider it a win.

You sat at the counter, sipping at wine as your small mother slid her lasagna into the oven with two large, rose-printed oven mitts. What should have been a simple task ended up as your mother spending an entire minute adjusting and readjusting the pan until it was dead center on the rack.

“You’re letting all the heat out, mom.”

Her nearly entirely gray-haired head was practically in the oven when she said, “It has to be perfect or it won’t bake evenly, Y/N. If you ever cooked, you would know that. Men like when a woman can cook, you know.”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of the dark reddish-purple liquid when the doorbell rang. Fucking finally, you thought, Brother dearest to the rescue. You actually loved Johnny almost more than anyone. He was your best friend, and without a doubt, you could show up at his apartment asking for help hiding a body and he would drop everything to google the best place to do it.

Probably a little too eagerly, you set your glass down, jogged to the small foyer, and whipped open the door. “Damn it, Johnny, you’re late. Mom is—”

Your body froze. Johnny was smiling wide, holding up a bottle of gin in his hand and waving it at you like a prize, standing next to the one man you had been trying to avoid for the better half of a month. You closed your parted lips and slid your tongue over them to wet the sudden dryness.

“Where’s mom?” Johnny asked.

You nodded your head in the direction of the kitchen. “Where else?”

You brother slipped by you, disappearing around the corner as he called for your mother. A sharp squeal echoed through the halls a moment later, your mother’s high-pitched tone crying ‘my baby boy,’ over and over.

Looking at the man before you: the blue eyes, the dark brown hair, the plump lips with an uneasy smile, you tried to look welcoming. You were sure you failed miserably, but who could blame you. Avoiding him had been going so well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You swallowed. “Hi…Henry.” Awkwardly, you opened the door a little wider and stepped to the side. He cleared his throat and brushed passed you, the toned chest you had tried to forget rubbing up against your breasts. “Just, um…” You pointed in the direction of the kitchen before you realized it would just be better for him to follow you. “Follow me.”

When you saw Johnny playfully twirling your mother around to music he had turned on at some point, you internally groaned. He really was the perfect son. Perfect enough to make up for your lack of achievements. Johnny paused, large grin still in place when he saw you and Henry.

“Mom,” He said, gesturing a hand your way, “This is Henry, a good friend. We work together.”

Her eyes brightened even more at the sight of him. Tall, broad, sexy; the perfect potential suitor for her pathetic daughter. You just prayed she could keep her mouth shut for a single night.

“Henry,” She said, taking his hand in hers. “So lovely to meet you. Please, take a seat. What would you like to drink? I can get you anything.”

Henry looked anxious at the sudden onslaught of attention. You knew the feeling, though it was often directed your way in a more negative manner. Before Henry could respond, your brother set a glass of bourbon in front of him to which he responded with a nod, a smile, and a ‘thank you.’

The scene in front of you was more and more beginning to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Henry was sitting at the kitchen counter of your childhood home with a drink in his hand, chatting with your mother and brother like it wasn’t weird. He looked misplaced. He was too big for the room. His shoulders were massive, and he was so, so tall, and there was something about it that had you panicking.

“Johnny!” Your brother looked your way. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked to your old bedroom. You shut the door with an annoyed huff once your bother’s body was barely on your side of it. He observed the room as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before then winced when he met your eyes, having run out of places to look. “Oh, don’t give me that.”

You crossed your arms. “What the fuck is he doing here!”

“He said he was going to be alone for the weekend and when I told him I was going home for the night, I offered for him to come.”

Raising an eyebrow, you scoffed. “And why would he accept that thrilling proposal?”

Johnny chucked and rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny thing—”

“Oh, is it?”

“I may have told him you were coming, too…”

“Is that so?” You said a little louder.

Your brother shrugged and sighed. “Look, Y/N, he loves you…a lot. I barely mentioned your name before he started to pack his overnight bag.” He chuckled at the memory. “Personally, I don’t get it. I never really felt like you outgrew that mousy, awkward phase, but I guess he sees passed that.”

Groaning, you grabbed a pillow off your bed and threw it at his head. “Johnny!”

He tossed the pillow back at you and you swatted it away. “He’s a good guy, Y/N. You could do worse. He could probably do better, but he did spend the entire drive here unashamedly asking about you, so he must think otherwise.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m the best and you love me.” Johnny walked to you and threw and arm over your shoulders. “Now, come on. We’ve left him alone with our mother. No one deserves that.”

----------

“Oh, I did see that…” Your mother snapped her fingers. “Oh, what was it? Uncle something, the uncle man, no that’s not it, uncle—”

“The Man from U.N.C.L.E,” Henry finished for her.

“Yes!” She smiled triumphantly as if she had come to answer on her own. “I quite enjoyed that one.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“My son says you’re Superman as well. Is that so?”

“Mom,” Your brother interrupted as he dragged you back in the room. “Leave Henry alone, alright? He gets questioned all the time. He doesn’t need it from us.”

Your mother swatted a hand. “Oh, nonsense. How am I supposed to get to know Henry here if I don’t ask questions?”

“Are you interviewing him for something?”

As she donned the oven mitts again, bent down, and pulled dinner out of the oven, your mother winked. “Maybe…”

You let out a quiet whimper, grabbed your glass, and downed the rest of your wine in half a second. Johnny nodded your way and handed you the bottle. You nodded back in appreciation and refilled your glass a little more than socially acceptable.  

“Ok, now, everyone at the table,” You mother announced.

----------

The lasagna was annoyingly delicious, but the conversation ruined it. You were definitely buzzed by now, trying to scarf down the last of your food. Maybe you could feign illness and dip out before dessert. The two hour drive back to your apartment at nine p.m., tipsy or not, sounded exponentially better than staying the night like you usually did. If only it weren’t illegal and didn’t mean potentially harming yourself or someone else. Johnny watched you sympathetically, so very clearly understanding your discomfort, until your mother drew his attention at the mention of his name.

“John has a girlfriend,” She said to Henry, then looked at her son. “Where is Margaret, Johnny?”

“Business trip,” He replied. When she raised her eyebrows, undoubtedly impressed that her son found a woman important enough to be needed around the world, Johnny elaborated. “Paris this month. She is collaborating with some famous designer out there.”

“She is so smart and beautiful, very driven. It’s extremely impressive. You must be so proud of her.”

Johnny smiled at the thought of his girlfriend. He did love her in a way he’d never loved any other and you knew how hard it was for him when she was gone, so you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I am proud of her. I am, um…I’m actually going to ask her to marry me when she gets back.”

Your mother squealed and practically jumped out of her seat. “Oh, my goodness!” Then, she actually stood and trotted over to her son, wrapped her arms around him and kissed the side of his head. Henry met your eyes as you averted them from the spectacle that was your mother, seeming to be examining every feature of your face with an undetermined expression. You wanted to look away but found yourself unable. His stare reminded you too much of the last time you saw him. The way he had studied you then, it made you melt. It was as if he was trying to figure you out, like he thought you were some kind of otherworldly being with a uniqueness he couldn’t quite find the words to describe.

You watched as his lips slowly parted and your thoughts turned dark. You mother would be ashamed, but she quickly stopped them as she fawned more over your brother. “I’ll have grandchildren in no time!” She placed on last peck on your bother’s cheek before taking her seat again, folding her napkin back over her lap. “Henry, have you met Margaret?”

Henry’s eyes finally left your face. “I have actually.”

“Oh, isn’t she absolutely lovely? Just perfect for my Johnny. I wish Y/N would find someone.”

“Mom,” You and Johnny said at the same time. Here we go. But your mother ignored your protests.

“Someone like you, Henry,” She continued and rested her hand on his forearm. “You would be perfect. You are so charming and sweet and handsome; you’d be good for her. Y/N has a horrible history with men, absolute buffoons. They never treat her right. They never love her.”

“Mom!” Johnny shouted, thankfully trying to protect you, because with each word that passed your mother’s lips, you lost the will to protect yourself.

“But a man like you—”

The sound of your chair skidding across the hardwood drowned out any other noise. You stood, threw your napkin down and, without a word or glance at anyone at the table, left for your room.

Johnny blew out a breath and shook his head. “Mom…”

Her eyebrows rose and she shrugged, her hands out in question like a small child when asked where the last of the cookies went. “What?”

“You need to lay off. Honestly. Give her a break.”

That surprised look on her face quickly shifted. “Oh, please, John. She knows I mean well. When I find her a man, she will thank me.”

“Will she?” Your brother’s lips thinned out. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Henry dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood. “No. I’ll go,” He said, but paused when your mother put her small hand on his arm again.

“Oh, Henry, dear, you don’t have to deal with her.”

“No, mom,” Johnny interjected. “Let Henry go. I’ll stay and help you with the dishes. I think dinner is over.”

----------

The knock at your door had you groaning. You didn’t want to see anyone, not even Johnny. There was nothing he could say to make it better, to make the entire night disappear as if it never happened. All you wanted to do was lay back in your bed and stare at the little glow stars you had stuck on your ceiling when you were five. If you turned off your bedside lamp, they would shine that bright alien-green color that once had you wishing you could live with some wild, extra-terrestrial being instead of your own mother. But then the door pounded again.

“Not now, Johnny.”

You thought your simple, aggravated tone was enough to persuade anyone to leave you alone, until a moment later when the door eased open. “Not Johnny,” Henry said, and your heart skipped a beat. “Can we talk?”

Keeping your eyes on the little ceiling stars, you said, “I swear to god, if this is about my mom—”

“It’s not.”

“If it’s about the other thing, then the answer is still no.”

Henry quietly groaned, shut the door, and stepped to the side of the bed. The room was suddenly warmer as you met his eyes, and he nudged your legs to the side so he could sit. “Why not?”

You took a deep breath and scooted your body up until your back was against the wall. He still looked at you; determined, you realized. He wanted what he wanted, and he clearly had no plans to leave without answers. “That was an accid—”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes,” You said firmly. “It was.”

He rose a perfect eyebrow. “How so? Neither of us were drunk, we both wanted it. You told me—”

“I know what I told you.”

Henry nodded and swallowed, his eyes darting to the floor for a second before back to you. “Were you lying to me then?”

‘No,’ You wanted to say, but somehow, your lips could not form the word. Though even if they could, you weren’t sure any sound would come out.

“Tell me, how does it happen that two people can admit their feelings for one another, sleep together, and then one of those people decides to leave in the middle of the night and start avoiding the other.”

“Didn’t I just say—”

“Yea, well, I want to talk about it,” he interrupted you, and you didn’t miss the irritation starting to seep into that delectably deep voice of his.

The look on his face had you wishing you could rip out your own stomach to avoid the nausea it induced. At least I feel guilty, you thought. You could be one of those people who lies to get in someone pants and then avoids them. You didn’t lie, so there would always be that.

“Why did you leave?” He asked.

You didn’t even know. Was there actually a single reason, or where there so many little reasons that you couldn’t pinpoint one in particular. Either way, you couldn’t explain. You knew what you felt for him. You knew it scared you, and that you didn’t want to hurt him. But how do you make a stupid choice like unwrapping his arms from your body in the middle of the night while he sleeps so you could leave, and then ever be able to look him in the eye again. You weren’t strong enough for that, not when it came to him. He made you feel amazing and beautiful and loved, and you threw it back in his face.

“Y/N—”

“Can we please not do this,” You whispered.

“No, we are doing this,” Henry said, standing sharply. “We are definitely doing this.”

You stood as well, willing yourself to be as tall as him. At least then it would be fair, but he was inches above you, and you didn’t possess the magical abilities to make yourself grow after the age of 15, so… “Henry—”

He stared you down, stepping to you and forcing you back until your spine met the wall. “Just answer the damn question, Y/N. Is what you said to me a lie?”

“I…I’m…I don’t—” You stammered and, though tried to hold your ground, couldn’t stop yourself from looking away and to the tacky, blue carpet flooring. But Henry wasn’t having it. He crooked a finger under your chin and lifted until you had no choice other than to gaze into the ocean blue of his eyes and at the small brown island in the left one.

“Do you love me or not?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You wanted to say something, you had to, he wouldn’t wait forever, but—

“Yes or no, Y/N.”

…He wouldn’t wait forever…

“Yes or--”

“Yes.”

In the same breath, he cupped your cheeks and put his lips on yours. Tasting him again sent shocks through every nerve of your body. It felt like your first sip of water after surviving days without; like the feeling of sunshine on your skin after being trapped so long in the darkness you lost track of time. It felt as if his kiss held inside it everything you needed to finally be free. No more denial, no more loneliness or fear, no more avoiding him because he clearly wasn’t going to let that happen for one more minute.

When you finally gave in and parted your lips for him, Henry groaned. His tongue on yours created a fire that burst inside of you and soothed the chills his touch created, and before you had time to process another thought, you were pushing him back to your bed and straddling his lap. Warm hands traveled up and down your back until the moan you made at the feeling of his hard on pressing to your core had him wrapping his arms tight around your waist. So tight, you were not sure how you could still breathe.

You sneaked your hand between your bodies and worked to unbuckle the belt around his hips, but he pulled back just as you yanked it from the loops and tossed it to the side. You searched his eyes for any reason he may have stopped you, but all you saw was love. He reached up and brushed a stray hair behind your ear, then caressed your cheek and stroked along your cheekbone with his thumb.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows still drawn together in confusion.

Henry smiled to slightest. “I love you.”

“…Still?” You looked away from him in embarrassment. “Even after avoiding you for a month?”

“Yes, still,” He chuckled. “Even after that.”

You let out a little whimper and touched your forehead to his. “I don’t know how you could.”

“Because it’s you, baby.” He put a hand on the back of your neck and pecked your lips once, twice. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

You lifted your head from his and he smiled, glancing at your lips before meeting your eyes. “How long?”

“Since your brother brought you to the Fallout wrap party.”

“Henry…”

“I know. I should’ve told you a long time ago, way before last month.” With one hand, he threaded his fingers through your hair. The other started to rub up and down your thigh.

He nudged his nose against yours and before he could kiss you again, you whispered, “I love you.”

Your words made him contentedly hum from deep in his chest, then he placed his lips on yours again, your bottom one between his two. He sucked on it and softly nibbled, and you slid your hands up his chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck. Grinding your hips down forced a groan from Henry as he went for the button of his jeans.

Your lips separated for a moment so you could hike up your skirt, and before he could, you slipped your fingers inside his pants and pulled out his cock, grasping it in your warm hand. His lips parted at your touch, his eyes staring hard into yours as you lifted up, tugged your panties to the side, and started to ease yourself onto him. His cock parted your folds and stretched you so deliciously wide that the familiar string from his size had you gasping.

“Oh, God,” Henry sucked in a breath, sheathed fully inside you. “So good, sweetheart.”

You nodded, lost for words. Nothing could describe the feeling of him inside you. He filled you the way no man ever could, in more ways than one. Every hollow part of you he sated; your body, your heart, your mind, all brought to peace just by being with him. How you let your fear get in the way of this for an entire month, you couldn’t understand. But as he held you so close nothing could get between your bodies, you pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind and started to rock your hips back and forth on his lap.

----------

“That is a lot of stars,” Henry said as you laid back in the bed and stared up at your ceiling, his arms still wrapped around you. He hadn’t let you go, even for a second. From the moment you said ‘yes’ to his question, his hands remained on your body, his skin always touching yours.

“I like space.”

“I know,” He chuckled, then pulled you on top of him. You overlapped your hands on his chest and rested your chin on them.

“Oh yea?”

“Mhm. I know an awful lot about you. I’ve been paying attention for a while.”

“I know things about you, too.”

“Oh yea?” He asked, mimicking you with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

“I know that you’re obsessed with video games, you like to cook and you’re actually good at it, you want a family, and you love Kal more than anyone.”

“Almost more than anyone.” He smiled at you and brushed a knuckle down your cheek. “Don’t tell him though.”

You giggled but continued. “I know that you are supportive and determined and you always go after what you want--”

“Like I did with you.”

“—And there is no one in the world like you. You make me feel safe…and loved.”

He leaned closer and you rose to meet his lips. “You’re all I want.”

The corners of your mouth crooked up, but a moment later they fell and you sat up in fear. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“We’ve been in here,” You paused to check the small alarm clock on your bedside table, “For an hour.” Standing quickly, you looked around, wildly searching for your underwear that Henry had yanked down your legs at some point and tossed to God knows where.

He hopped up and threw his shirt over his head. When you handed him his belt, he nodded and thanked you with a smile before he began to slip it through the loops.

You sighed in relief when you found the dark blue lacy panties and pulled them up your legs. “My mother is gonna lose it. I bet the only reason she hasn’t barged in here is because of Johnny.” You ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for garments and hurriedly clothing yourself. When you passed in front of Henry, he grabbed your arm.

“Babe,” He said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

----------

You stepped down the stairs and casually rounded the corner into the living room as if you hadn’t just had sex twice, to see Johnny sitting in one of two brown leather armchairs, sipping his gin and tonic. Your brother smirked when he saw your somewhat disheveled appearance, with Henry behind you, one of his large hands on your hip.

“Hey, sis.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start. Where’s mom?”

He nodded his head to the couch you hadn’t bothered to glace at yet, where your mother’s body draped along it like a rag doll, a glint of drool at the corner of her mouth. “What the fuck?”

“Mom still cannot hold her booze.” He stood and watched your mother as she let out a loud snore. “Don’t worry, she didn’t hear you. She was too busy ranting about your lack of love life.” You swallowed and Johnny walked up to you. Raising one eyebrow, he looked between you and Henry, then took a gulp of the clear liquid in his glass. “The irony, huh?”

Before you could say a word, your brother slipped by you and patted Henry a few times on the shoulder. “Oh, and you’re free to go home,” Johnny called from the kitchen. “I have a feeling you’d both rather spend your night…well, not here, and I can look after our dear mother. You can thank me tomorrow.” He chuckled.

Henry looked down at you and smiled softly. “We can stay if you want.”

“Are you kidding?” You snickered. “Just give me a minute, then we can go.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll go wait by the car. Tell Johnny I’ll see him Monday, yea?”

You nodded and as Henry left out the front door, you made your way down the tiled hallway that led to the kitchen. You found your brother sitting at the counter and typing on his phone with a smile.

“Margaret?” You asked.

Johnny placed his phone back on the counter and took a swig of gin straight from the bottle. “Yea.”

“How is she?”

“Good. She’s doing really well out there.” He smiled, though halfheartedly, and went for the fridge to pull out your mother’s devil’s food cake. Grabbing a fork, he walked back to the counter, put the cake in the center and dug right into the side of it. You stared as he devoured bite after bite. If it were you, you would have surely faced the wrath of the small, plump woman passed out in the next room, but Johnny ate without a care in the world. “I fucking miss her.”

You picked at a fingernail as you asked, “Is it awful…to have someone you love hours away from you for weeks at a time?” You hated to see your brother miss his girlfriend so much his insides hurt, and you had no desire to be in the same situation.

“Not as awful as it probably sounds. It would be easier with you and Henry, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He gave you an amused look that only barely masked his own pain.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he and I have to go wherever the production companies take The Witcher, but you can travel freely with your job and, believe me, he’ll take you everywhere he’s filming as long as you say yes. He also might try to superglue you to his side though, so watch out for that.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to not smile as much as your brother’s words were begging you to, then forced it down with a swallow. “Johnny…” He hummed, and when you didn’t continue, he turned his head to look at you. “Thank you. I don’t know that I would’ve talked to him again if you hadn’t brought him here. I would’ve tried to forget about it, and him.”

Johnny smirked as he poked at the cake with his fork. “Nah, Henry wouldn’t have let that happen. He’s, like, an idiot for you, but a very…determined idiot.”

“Really?”

“Oh, baby sister, you have no idea.” He rubbed up and down the side of your arm the way he used to as kids in high school when he thought you were being a little too naïve for your own good. “But I’ll tell you all about the nauseatingly, sappy whining he did over you another time.”

That was a story you were sure Henry would try to keep as far away from you as possible and the thought made you smile. The close friends he probably told, or ‘whined’ to, as your brother said, would undoubtedly have a ball trying to recount every detail just to see how red Henry’s cheeks could get.

You wrapped your arms around Johnny from the side, your head just meeting his shoulder, and squeezed. He wiggled his arm out of your tight hold to tuck you into his side then kissed your forehead.

“I love you,” You said.

“I know.”

-----------

Seeing Henry leaning against your car, patiently waiting for you, made something in your chest lighten. He didn’t seem bored or annoyed or itching to rush you along, but just content to stay in that one spot until you were ready to go. You’d never had that before: a man who didn’t force you to follow every minute of his schedule, who didn’t make you feel like you could never be an inconvenience without consequences, who didn’t hold you down by the boulder on your chest, suffocating you until you complied. It made you appreciate what it meant to be able to inhale and exhale for more than just the need to keep your body from dying. It gave you the chance to see that there are two types of breathing: There’s the breathing that keeps you alive, and there’s the breathing that keeps you sane. Henry allowed you to have both, and it took the smallest of gestures to give you that relief.

He smiled bright when he saw you striding over the front yard grass to him and took your hands in his once you were within reach. “You ready?”

You nodded and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent you memorized a year ago. “Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If we go to yours, we can be having sex sooner. Mine’s an extra fifteen away,” You said and looked up at him.

“Mine it is.” He winked and then kissed you.

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

tags: Perm (let me know if you want on or off the list. Idk who prefers to be on what list anymore now that I have two.) @dugan365​ @moonlightimagination​ @pietrotheavenger​ @marvel-fanfiction​ @hawkeyeharrington​ @dani-si​ @wintersoldier98​ @then-there-was-me-emily​ @prxttybirdz​ @xceafh​ @jazzwoman897​ @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @lowkeysebby​ @quotemeow @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven​ @agniavateira​

#henry #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfics #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #superman #captain syverson #clark kent #august walker #walter marshall #henry au #henry cavill au #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry smut #henry fluff

[lunarreaper-ut]

Care for a Dance?

(You fans of Kingdomverse? all should thank @owlheartt for sufficiently bribing me into writing this! Thank you once again for the lovely fanart, and I hope this is what you were hoping for!) 

          A gala… How annoying. Nightmare looked at the room filled with guests, a look of irritation clear on his face. Nightmare wasn’t fond of galas. They were too loud, too crowded, and there were always too many people watching him. The sight of Dream in the middle of it caught Nightmare’s eye, and he frowned.

          His elder brother was always much more sociable, even in the beginning. Dream loved talking to people, and everyone he talked to loved him. That’s how it always was, Dream enjoying the love and attention from the people, and Nightmare? Well Nightmare was always doing the same thing as well. Staying out of sight if possible, and watching from the side lines. 

          ‘Ridiculous…’ He thought to himself. ‘How pitiful that a King cannot even interact with his own subjects.’ Nightmare glared at the back of his brother’s head. He could feel his magic swirling inside him in response to his own anger. Nightmare sighed and turned away, trying to ease his own inner turmoil. He’d rather not cause a repeat of events if he could.

          Nightmare began scanning the ballroom for Killer, the Guard having disappeared from Nightmare’s side the moment he was given permission to do so. Nightmare sighed in aggravation. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Killer wanted to mingle, but it was still irritating how quickly Killer abandoned him. 

          “Useless…” He muttered under his breath.

          “What’s useless, Your Majesty?” Killer’s voice appeared behind him. Nightmare turned his head calmly, as if unsurprised at Killer’s sudden appearance. It was hard to startle Nightmare. Killer had his usual grin plastered on his face, and Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

          “Nothing. Where have you been?” Nightmare turned towards Killer. “You’re aware you still act as my Guard at these events, right? You’ve been gone for several minutes.” He lectured. Killer chuckled and nodded.

          “Of course, my deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I just thought you would like something to drink while we enjoy this event together?” Killer offered a flute of champagne he’d procured on his little adventure. Nightmare looked at the offered drink, and noticed Killer had grabbed one for himself. He sighed and took the glass, looking at the drink in distaste.

          “I rarely enjoy these events.” Nightmare looked back over the crowd of people. Killer raised his glass to take a drink, looking Nightmare over as he did so. The King looked irritated, even more so than usual. He’d practically hidden himself away from the people. Killer looked out at the gala as well. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, sharing a drink, dancing and laughing. Even Cross seemed to be coming out of his shell as he danced with Dream.

          ‘Dancing…’ Killer thought for a moment before turning towards Nightmare.

          “Would you like to dance?” He asked, with a slight tilt of his head. Nightmare looked at Killer with a frown.

          “No.” He said curtly, finally taking a drink from the glass in his hand. Nightmare again had a look of distaste and set the drink down on a nearby table. ‘He doesn’t like champagne. Noted.’ Killer thought before continuing the conversation.

          “May I ask why not, Your Majesty?” Killer tried to make his smile more genuine. Nightmare’s eyes narrowed slightly again, his frown deepening.

          “I shouldn’t need to give a reason.” He said lowly, side-eyeing Killer now. The Guard knew he was treading on dangerous waters now. If he pushed too much he was sure to actually anger the King, and then the night would be ruined beyond repair. 

          “Of course not, Your Majesty. It’s simple curiosity, as you seem like someone who would be rather good at dancing.” Killer said, silently relieved he came up with something that didn’t seem offensive. Killer found he had to bite his tongue quite a bit when it came to Nightmare. The King of Night wasn’t one to tease more than necessary. Nightmare’s look didn’t change much, but he was no longer glaring at Killer from the corner of his eye.

          Safe! Killer almost sighed in relief. He supposed he could ask again when Nightmare wasn’t as irritated. Though he was a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get any answers right away-

          “I don’t like to be watched by them.” Nightmare said. Killer blinked for a moment, unsure he’d heard properly.

          “Watched…?” Killer followed Nightmare’s line of sight, but he didn’t seem to be looking at anyone in particular. “By who, Your Majesty?” Nightmare gave a general sweeping gesture of his hand.

          “Them. Any time I show my face I am gawked at as if I’m some sort of spectacle. Surely your lack of eye-lights doesn’t make you blind.” Nightmare looked at Killer. Killer chuckled at the rare tease from Nightmare. The corner of the King’s mouth twitched as if he was about to smile, but he turned away again.

          “Dancing has never had an appeal. I don’t want a stranger’s hands on me, nor do I want to be watched by people only waiting for me to slip up.” Nightmare explained. Killer looked out at the crowd again. He supposed that made sense. He’s only been out a handful of times with Nightmare, and each time he could tell people were watching them. Nightmare’s past haunts him even more so than Killer’s.

          Killer didn’t push on the subject, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. People watching was nice regardless, Killer liked seeing what others got up to when they didn’t think anyone was watching. Call him a creep, but entertainment is entertainment. Killer found his eyes often drawn back towards the people dancing though.

          Killer wasn’t much of a dancer himself, but he liked the activity enough. Though he usually used it as a way of getting someone comfortable with him before he… Well Killer got his name for a reason. He looked down slightly at his gloved hands. He was never ashamed of his past, but for some reason, whenever he stands next to Nightmare while thinking of his past deeds, Killer feels dirty. 

          He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought before he felt Nightmare tense up next to him. Killer was at attention in an instant, looking around before seeing what the issue was. Dream was coming over. Nightmare was always a bit tense when it came to his brother. Talking about Dream and Nightmare’s relationship was one of the few things Killer didn’t do. Not yet at least.

          “Brother!” Dream’s voice was cheery as he came up the stairs to where Nightmare and Killer were standing, Cross close behind him. Cross and Killer’s eyes met and Killer grinned nice and big. Cross frowned at his fellow Guard. The two didn’t like each other much.

          “What are you doing all the way over here? You should be enjoying the gala with us!” Dream said, smiling at his brother. Nightmare gave him an indifferent look.

          “Enjoying a gala is something you do. I’ve never been fond of these events.” Nightmare said. Dream’s smile faded a bit, but he persisted.

          “Well… That could change? Maybe we could-”

          “Do what, Brother? Drink, talk to the people? These people are here for you, Brother, not for me.” Nightmare’s voice was cold, and he practically glared down the elder brother. Dream frowned. 

          “That’s nonsense. We’re both their Kings, they’re here for us. Not just me!” Dream argued. Nightmare let out a short laugh.

          “Oh please, here for us? The moment any of them see me they stare as if they’re afraid I’ll strike them down! I don’t understand why you’re so blind to that.” Nightmare said. 

          “That’s not true! I’m sure they just-”

          “If you’re determined to remain oblivious, I’m not going to continue this subject with you. I don’t feel like having the same conversations we had over a millennia ago.” Nightmare cut him off, beginning to walk past Dream. Killer and Cross shared a look before Killer began to follow his King. Dream tried to call after Nightmare, but was ignored. 

          Killer followed Nightmare out into the gardens, the moon providing enough light for them to have walked without the need of the lanterns that lit the place. The gardens were always nice. Both of the Kings were rather fond of them as well. Eventually, Nightmare stopped walking and sat down at one of the benches scattered around the gardens. 

          Killer didn’t sit, and instead stood beside him. Killer would rarely sit with Nightmare unless he was told to. Nightmare sighed heavily, and Killer looked down towards him. He knew better than to ask if the King was alright. That usually only irritated him. Killer looked up at the sky, the stars shining clearly without a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful night. 

          The two sat in silence for a while, before Killer spoke up.

          “Would you like to dance, Your Majesty?” Killer asked, looking towards the King. Nightmare looked at Killer, a mix of confusion and irritation on his face.

          “What?” 

          “I’ve asked if you’d like to dance with me, Your Majesty. You said you weren’t fond of people watching you, but there is no one around.” Killer said. Nightmare gave a cursory glance around them, and Killer continued. “You also expressed distaste for a stranger being your partner, but I am no stranger.” Killer held out his hand towards the King in offering. 

          Nightmare stared at his hand before looking up at Killer’s face, seeming to search for something. Killer waited, his hand still held out towards the King. Nightmare seemed to hesitate for a moment before carefully placing his hand in Killer’s outstretched one. Killer helped the King to his feet, guiding him to the center of the area of the gardens they were in. 

          Despite them being outside, the music from the gala could still be heard filtering into the gardens. Killer lightly placed a hand on Nightmare’s hip, using his other to hold the hand Nightmare had given him. Nightmare seemed uneasy, but didn’t refuse. Killer began to guide Nightmare into a simple waltz, giving Nightmare one of his few genuine smiles. 

          Nightmare stared at Killer’s face, the tension in his body leaving as the two continued to dance together. Nightmare wasn’t an experienced dancer, and may have missed a couple steps, but Killer remained quiet, instead giving the King an encouraging smile. Nightmare had to try not to look at his own feet at times. 

          “I hate that you seem to be better at this than I.” Nightmare huffed, causing Killer to chuckle.

          “It’s natural I’d be better at it, seeing as I’m more familiar with dancing.” Killer said, a slight tone of pride in his voice. Nightmare gave him a deadpan look.

          “You, familiar with dancing? I didn’t peg you as the type.” Nightmare said. Killer shrugged, grinning again.

          “What can I say? Many people have difficulties resisting my charms.” Killer said, causing Nightmare to roll his eyelights. 

          The two danced together for quite some time, until Nightmare began to tire, and decided it was time to turn in for the evening. Despite his distaste for galas, Nightmare had to admit that he didn’t mind this one. He supposed he didn’t mind dancing all that much either… So long as it was with the right person.

#Kingdomverse? #Kingdomverse #Killermare #Luna's writing #KV!Killer #KV!Nightmare #KV!Dream #KV!Cross

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 5

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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

More Chapters

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

Chapter 5

[Ron]

How do people live in Las Vegas? Accustomed to the mild English sun, Ron finds himself wondering why the bloody hell someone would choose to reside in this heat. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he glances back at his phone. He's over halfway to his destination and can surely stand five more minutes of walking in the sun. Wishing he brought water, or even thought to put on sunscreen, he groans and continues on his way.

He's far beyond the flashy streets of the Las Vegas Strip, having ventured into a more run-down and understated part of town. The buildings no longer stand out, but blend together like a colorless mural, and his destination, Erised Elopements, is easy to miss. He's looking for a building marked by the number twelve, and it takes him a few passes down the block before he spots it. It's a skinny building, shoved between numbers eleven and thirteen, almost as if it's trying to be invisible. It gives Ron an eerie feeling, like it's hiding dark secrets inside.

However, any uneasy feelings vanish when he opens the door and steps into a wall of cool crisp air, inhaling a cold and nourishing breath. Thank goodness for air conditioning.

"Hello, sir! Welcome to Erised Elopements!"

Ron locks eyes with the bubbly receptionist beaming at him. He sends her a friendly nod, then scans the room. There's a large refrigerator stocked with bottled water, an indoor forest of tropical plants that look like prisoners in the dry heat, and in the corner of the room sits an elegant gold mirror that he recognizes from the logo behind the front desk.

Then his eyes wander to a pink plush sofa in the mirror's reflection. Sitting stiffly in a light blue sundress with her arms crossed in front of her body is Hermione Granger. Shit.

His heart rate spikes, and a prickling heat begins to rise up his neck as he dodges behind a pillar, sucking in a quick breath. Here he is again, hiding from women behind walls. It's becoming a theme.

"Sir? Are you okay?" The receptionist suddenly looks concerned as she rises to her feet. "You don't look well."

Coughing, Ron tries to obscure his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," he huffs at a lower octave than feels natural.

"Well, there's water in the fridge if you're overheated, and you can have a seat on the sofa; we will be with you in a second."

"Erm, thanks."

Ron wants to leave. He's tempted to turn out the door and run away, right back to the hotel, heat be damned, but his curiosity roots him to the spot.

Why is she here? Does she know?

He takes a deep breath and approaches the pink fluffy sofa with trepidation. Hermione must sense someone nearing because she snaps her head in his direction and meets his gaze.

Her jaw drops, and her cheeks flush crimson. "What are you doing here?" she hisses.

"Hi, Hermione," he splutters. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Ron, seriously, why are you here?" Her eyes flit around the room as if looking for a hidden camera, some kind of confirmation that this is all a prank.

Sighing, Ron shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out their marriage certificate. "I'm here because—"

She interrupts him. "Did you know?"

Ron gapes at her, utterly confused as to how she found out, then nods.

"And you didn't say anything?"

Sighing, Ron shrugs. He meets her icy stare and sends her a look of apology. "I was hoping I could fix it before you found out."

"You could fix it? Without telling me? Don't you think I have a right to know?" She rises to her feet, uncrossing her arms to place them on her hips. Her frizzy hair crackles with static electricity, giving her the appearance of someone deranged. Theoretically, it should scare him into submission, but instead, her confrontational stance ignites a flame from somewhere within him. It gives him an adrenaline rush, and he doesn't hate it.

"I thought you'd prefer not to know, based on how horrified you were this morning," he challenges back, his voice matching hers in strength and volume.

"So how was I supposed to find out we were," she says, her eyes darting vigilantly around the room, "married?"

Even in the frigid air, Ron's palms begin to sweat. He shrugs. "Honestly, I didn't think that far ahead."

She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest again. Like Ron's palms, her forehead glistens with sweat that doesn't belong in the abrasive air conditioning. "That's the attitude that got us into this mess; how did you figure it would get us out?"

Matching her stance, Ron hardens his gaze. "What would you have done?"

"I would have told you," she says with an air of finality.

Ron laughs. "If that's the case, why are you here alone? Why did you ask if I knew?" When she doesn't answer and her eyes narrow, he adds, "You weren't going to say anything either, were you?"

She exhales audibly and stiffens her jaw, tense and trapped without a response.

"That's bullshit, Hermione, acting like I'm the dishonest one here."

"You're infuriating," she says, shifting her gaze out the window.

"You're just as responsible for this! Don't put it all on me!"

"Oh, come on, I never do stuff like this."

Scoffing, Ron says, "Trust me, I know. Spontaneity isn't your thing."

"Impulsivity isn't my thing. I generally think before making big life decisions."

"And I don't? Believe it or not, Hermione, this is the first time I've accidentally gotten married. And I was just as horrified as you to find out."

When she whips her head back to face him, her face is expressionless, and Ron wonders what it's masking. Like the building's secretive facade, it looks forced. "Well, at least we agree that it was a mistake. Let's just straighten it out, then pretend it never happened."

Pretend it never happened. That's what they both want, right?

"Okay. Let's just make it disappear," he says, and they both take a seat on the sofa, separated by a wall of thick, icy air.

x

"Well, hello! Can I help you two?" Ron and Hermione look up to see a short, stout man with circular spectacles and the beginning of a handlebar mustache. He's dressed in black golf pants and a polo shirt that's at least one size too small, and something about him puts Ron on edge. "I'm Dave, the owner and CEO of Erised Elopements."

Hermione is the first to speak. "Yes, actually. We have a problem, sir."

"So do I!" says Dave cheerfully. Ron and Hermione stare blankly at him, confused. He diffuses it with a hearty laugh, color flooding his cheeks. "Just a joke, just a joke. Come on into my office!"

They share a nervous glance as they follow his lead. Dread pools in Ron's stomach. Oddly, he feels like he's approaching the witness stand in a courtroom and makes a note to be careful what he says.

"Go ahead, have a seat! Make yourselves comfortable," says Dave, motioning toward two armchairs in front of his desk. They're upholstered with green velvet, and Ron wonders when they were last cleaned. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, sir—" starts Hermione.

"Dave."

"Sorry?"

"Just call me Dave. 'Sir's' too formal, and here at Erised Elopements, we're all friends." Dave beams, revealing white, unnaturally straight teeth.

"Okay...Dave. Here's the problem. We got married last night." Hermione motions vaguely between herself and Ron.

"Oh, congratulations!" Dave claps his hands together in excitement.

"No sir…I mean Dave—"

"I knew I recognized your faces from somewhere. Hold on one second." Dave silences them with a finger, reaches for a remote control, and points it toward a large black flatscreen monitor on the wall. It lights up, and Dave scrolls through a few photographs, eventually landing on one of Ron and Hermione. Ron's holding her up and pressing his lips to hers, her arms snaking around his neck. Above them are the words "Just Married." Ron is horrified and glances at Hermione, but for some reason, she doesn't seem surprised by the photo. "There! It's Ron and Hermione, right?"

"Yeah," says Ron tentatively, still staring wide-eyed at the photo.

"Well, congratulations again. You two make a lovely couple!"

"Thank you," he mumbles without meaning it. The words feel like they've been extracted from him, and it's unsettling.

Dave leans back and stacks his feet onto the table, paying no attention to the stacks of paper, empty picture frames, and take-away lunch container he's knocked aside in the process. Hermione looks on with wide eyes. "Honestly, sometimes couples waltz into Erised Elopements and have everyone thinking 'oh for fuck sake, these two should not be getting married', so it's incredibly refreshing to see such a happy couple. Really, congratulations again."

"About that. We didn't mean to get married," says Hermione hastily.

"Ahhh."

"Yeah. It was kind of a shock to us this morning, actually," she says, shrugging. She smiles at Ron in a sheepish manner that doesn't match her fiery demeanor.

"How lovely!"

"Sorry? Lovely?"

"Yes! It's perfect!" Dave reaches for a pen and notepad and begins scribbling as if taking notes on their conversation. Ron shifts uneasily. "I just love the idea that the best things in life are surprises. It speaks to how important it is to keep an open heart and let life happen to you."

Ron and Hermione exchange confused looks. "I think you misunderstand."

Ignoring them, Dave continues. "We've been working on a new ad campaign, and that sums up our message perfectly."

"Sir—"

"Sometimes, you don't even know your heart's truest desire until it's on your doorstep—"

"Dave," says Ron firmly.

The pen stops. "Yes?"

"We don't want to be married," says Ron, his tone stiff and forced.

"Sure you do!"

"No," adds Hermione. "This was a huge mistake. We need to undo it, if possible."

"Undo it?"

"Yes, cancel it. The whole thing," she says, gesturing between them again.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's eyes are wide and disbelieving.

Dave removes his feet from the table and sits up straight. Although short, he appears commanding. "What you're asking for is an annulment, and unfortunately, you waived your right to an annulment yesterday when you signed your marriage license." He opens a drawer, shuffling for a piece of paper. "See, here's a copy of our contract; it's all there if you read the fine print."

Hermione snatches the document from his hand. "This can't be legal."

"It's perfectly legal in the state of Nevada," he says, shrugging.

"You don't let anyone get an annulment?"

Dave laughs. "Wouldn't be very good for branding, don't you think? We pride ourselves on marriages that last. For most people, when they see a high annulment rate, they don't exactly think 'Happily Ever After,' you know? In fact, we go beyond that. We promise 'Blissfully Ever After.'"

Ron and Hermione join heads to scan the document. "So, you're saying we're stuck married?" Ron asks finally.

"Well, I wouldn't think of it as stuck, per se. You're starting to sound like my wife."

"You're married too?"

"Sure. Technically," chuckles Dave. "But you're not 'stuck.' With that mindset, your marriage will never work."

"We don't want it to work. It was a mistake," says Hermione, slowly and clearly. Ron feels his stomach clench at her words, but he's unsure why.

"Give it a chance! Even the good things in life require effort!"

"Listen, we barely know each other—"

Dave cuts her off. "Perfect! You have no history, no past that'll keep coming back to screw everything up."

"I'm sorry," says Ron. "I'm not sure what you mean by that—"

Dave gestures toward Hermione, who looks affronted. "Listen to me. This is an opportunity. She hasn't broken your heart yet, so when you see that she has an 'office happy hour' on a Friday night, you're not tempted to show up at the bar just to check on her. Even if you do show up and see her alone with her 'coworker'," his fingers make air quotes as he speaks, "she doesn't know about your 'addiction' to porn, or how much money you lost at the slots. She doesn't know anything about you, and that's a beautiful thing, Ron, because she can't use any of it to justify her affair and make you look like the controlling one. She has nothing on you, at least not yet. Trust me; a blank slate is a beautiful slate. You have a chance to keep it that way, so I'd recommend not fucking it up."

Ron's mouth drops open, and he glances at Hermione, who is also wearing an expression of horror. This is not about them anymore.

"Turn around," demands Dave. "Go on, your chairs swivel."

Reluctantly, they swivel their chairs and turn to face another mirror, identical to the one in the lobby and the one on the logo. Engraved on the golden frame are the words 'heart's desire', over and over again, in fonts that don't seem to match. Ron assumes it's not meant to be stared at too closely.

"What do you see?"

"Us," states Hermione plainly.

"Well, yes, you, but more importantly, this mirror shows your heart's one true desire."

"It's just a mirror," says Ron.

"It's your heart's desire," responds Dave firmly.

Ron stares at their reflection; his face is red and peeling from the sun, new freckles invading his features. Hermione is scowling, hair erupting from her head like a volcano, arms and legs wound tightly into knots. They don't look happy.

"Now, if there's anything else I can help you with, by all means, shoot. But if not, then enjoy your Blissfully Ever After!" Dave motions for them to stand, and they oblige. He moves toward the door, opening it and gesturing them through.

"If it's not working in six months, you're more than welcome to file for divorce," he calls after them. "But give it a chance, don't disrespect love. Honor your heart's true desire."

Speechless, Ron and Hermione stumble out back into the lobby.

"Come again soon!" says the receptionist as they pass her desk.

They press open the door and emerge back outside, once again engulfed by the aggressive heat. Ron glances at Hermione. "That was a disaster."

"I'll say."

"Er, I guess we just should go back to the hotel. Try to enjoy the rest of the day?"

Hermione nods. "I guess. And file for divorce as soon as possible."

Ron sighs. "You read my mind," he says, although it's not entirely true.

"I guess we're just so in tune," she chuckles, and Ron, surprised by her sudden pleasantness, suppresses a smile.

"That's why you're my wifey," he risks, glancing nervously at her to gauge her reaction.

"Please, don't say that," she groans, and her cheeks flush adorably red, most likely a result of the Las Vegas heat.

#Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ronweasley #hermionegranger #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hp fanfic #hpromione #muggle AU #waking up in vegas #romione au

[fedtothenight]

this competition asked to write a short story in the dystopian genre and my entry's below - don't rb!

the sweetest fruit

The boy gasped, straining against the padded frame of the jeep just as the vehicle slowly came to a halt. ‘Look!’ he shouted, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet from the group. ‘Look, Mum! That’s so cool!’

Half-instinctively, his mother had already grabbed a fistful of his tank-top, ready to yank him back. She had spent the entirety of the trip sitting as still as possible, facing forward, eyes stubbornly fixed on the self-cooling top of the car in a pointless effort to fight her motion sickness: her patience was already wearing very thin without her eight-year-old personal safety hazard trying to get himself killed.

‘Ethan, for the love of God,’ she snapped. ‘I already told you to stop leaning over the frame! Do you realise how dangerous that is?’

‘No, Mum, you’ve got to look!’

‘Emma, darling,’ her husband whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You should really look at this. It’s magnificent.’

Whatever it was, even her fifteen-year-old daughter - who had spent the last thirty minutes texting her friends back home without so much as a glance at the scenery - was jaw-slacked, so she slowly got up on her wobbly knees and peered over her shoulders.

In the shadow of a tree, protected from the sweltering heat, two lions were feasting on a zebra. Perhaps belatedly, as it’d taken her a second to drink the sight in, she realised that the poor thing was still alive: writhing as blood, red and hot and pulsing, gushed out from where the bigger lion - the male - had bitten into its back.

The smaller one, the female, soundlessly sank its teeth into the dying animal’s neck, and the latter gave one last weak kick, finally falling limp. When the lioness stood again, it was almost impossible, from this distance, to see her eyes amidst the bloodied mess on her face.

‘Oh, my God, Matt,’ Emma said. ‘This is beautiful. Nature truly is beautiful.’

‘You don’t really get to see this kind of show anywhere else today,’ their guide said from the driver’s seat. He sounded proud, as if he’d hunted and fed the zebra to the lions himself.

Alberto wasn’t wrong, Emma reasoned. Given that they were parked in the middle of the privately-owned biggest North American savanna, he - or rather, his employer - was the one effectively feeding the lions. Like feeding mice to cats. She glanced at her children, glad they could have a window on a reality that was long gone. To think it would have taken a trip around the world to watch this spectacle - imagine the motion sickness then! If only, she considered wistfully, there could be a way of replicating glaciers just as accurately.

‘Honestly, it seems a bit unfair that they get to eat real meat,’ Ethan said at the dinner table a few hours later. He was picking at his plate, moving the fried grasshoppers they’d been served for dinner around, but not really eating any. ‘While we are stuck with insects and microprotein or whatever.’

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired and sunburnt, her sensitive pale skin suffering under the blistering sun of the region, so different from the temperate weather back home North. She had a splitting headache, too. She was, yet again, at the so-called end of her tether. ‘Ethan…’

‘You should be glad you get to eat at all,’ her daughter said at the same time. ‘There’s a reason it’s illegal to eat meat. These animals are here for show, anyway. They were originally from Africa.’

‘Shut up, Becca,’ Ethan mumbled. ‘Everybody knows there are no animals in Africa. There’s nothing there.’

Becca’s cheeks were tinted pink, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Of course there were animals. There were animals everywhere before the Climate Crunch.’

‘Both of you, stop it,’ Matt interjected. ‘Ethan, your sister is right. You should be grateful that we are here in the first place. That said…’ He leant forward, voice down to a whisper: ‘I have a surprise for you. Or, well, Richard has a surprise for us. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll bring us real meat. Bovine meat.’

‘But it’s illegal,’ said Becca.

‘It’s technically illegal,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘It’s not if you know how to get some and no one from Animal Conservation finds out. Do you think our president only eats insects? Please, Becca. Use that big brain of yours.’

‘Yes,’ Ethan snickered. ‘Use your brain, Becca.’

‘That is too generous,’ Emma said. ‘Inviting us here in the first place was, when even he hasn’t gotten here yet. Now this. I wouldn’t know how to repay him.’

Truly, all she felt was jealousy. Her guts twisted with the sheer force of it. Yes, she had known that Richard was comfortable. The gated, heavily guarded estate spanned for thousands of acres, comprised the 5000sqt villa they were staying at (five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a cinema, marble floors and solar panels on the rooftop), an indoor swimming pool inspired by vintage photos of Amalfi, two indoor tennis courts, and the savanna they’d explored earlier in the day. ‘The biggest conservation area in North America since they repurposed the Midwest,’ he’d bragged in a video call, two weeks before. ‘You will love it. The holiday you deserve. Make yourselves at home.’

But meat? He could get meat?

Matt’s family had designed DeNuketify, which was basically the only effective way of purifying ocean water from whatever nuclear waste Japan kept spewing so that it could be used and, most importantly, drunk. They had managed to flee the continent with the last handful of greencards about the time her family did, too, taking their precious Queen’s accent with them to found Nova London. She was the governor of Nova London now, for God’s sake. The bloody queen herself was long dead but she was alive, and yet, yet - they had never had meat.

‘We don’t have to, Emma,’ Matt said. ‘We just need to remember how lucky we are to enjoy this meal, this house, this holiday. Look at that,’ and he nodded towards the TV screen again. ‘Actually, Alexa!, volume up!, I think the Italians have finally surrendered.’

The war correspondent’s voice grew louder. She - they, Emma reminded herself: Becca always told her not to assume anyone’s gender - was wearing a dust mask and reading from a bundle of documents. ‘The last military hospital in the island of Palermo was destroyed four days ago by a Canadian airstrike,’ they were saying. ‘The rebels surrendered soon after, followed by the group of extremists in the Nebrodi island. Etna had already surrendered last year.’

‘It’s important to remember that these actions were necessary to finally put a rest on the instability of the region,’ they added. ‘Canada will fund a complete restoration of the Southern archipelago. The remaining civilians will be provided with a shelter and then, when the time comes, a suitable job. Nova Italia will be the sixteenth Canadian state, the fourth offshore. There are also hopes to extract petroleum from the seabed of the sunken city of Gela.’

‘Watch them make it into a holiday hotspot,’ Matt commented. ‘The weather is still nice there.’

‘Ooh, I heard about this.’ Becca picked her phone back up and started furiously typing away. ‘There’s this journal entry soldiers found over there, under the rubble, that’s gone viral. It was translated into English. Wait, I’ll pull it up. Alexa, volume down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it,’ Emma said, uneasy. ‘We’re on holiday. Should we not watch a movie? Something funny?’

Becca waved her away, as if she was an annoying fly. ‘It’ll be good practice for my drama class.’

Matt didn’t help—he simply shrugged, half-apologetic, as if to say: Let her do her thing.

Becca made a show of clearing her throat, too, before she started reading from her phone—her high voice now grave, studied, as if she were speaking to a larger audience: ‘I wonder what peas taste like.’

Right then, the scene on screen changed to footage of what looked like a destroyed village, something out of an apocalyptic movie. Emma found herself unable to look away.

‘Nonna used to say that her own great-grandmother grew them in her garden. Figs, too,’ Becca read. ‘They say they were the sweetest fruit.’

Emma wondered if this journal was actually written by a child or a teenager. It didn’t sound like an adult at all. She couldn’t help but picture a girl, a brunette, not much older than Becca, perhaps a rebel, or a trainee nurse on the sweet cusp of adulthood, holding this journal of hers, or perhaps a gun. It violently reminded her that her own daughter, too, would have to serve her time in the Forces in three years.

On screen, the Canadian soldiers walked among the ruins, zigzagging between torn up clothes and discarded weapons, surely looking for surviving rebels under the rubbles.

‘Isn’t it silly that we can hear the fighters overhead and that all I can do is think about food?’ said Becca. ‘I wish we could also eat figs and be happy.’

On screen, the camera zoomed in on a long-forgotten man's shoe, some crumpled photographs, on a pile of bodies in black bin bags.

‘Grandma - I miss her - left me a poetry book, too, from T.S. Eliot. I hope the book is with me when I die, so I can give it back to her when we meet again, afterwards. So I can tell her that T.S. Eliot was wrong.’

On screen, one of the soldiers approached and showed a little trinket to the camera: a bloody, heart-shaped locket that must’ve once been golden, hiding the miniature pictures of two brunette children that would never have a name.

‘That’s enough,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ‘Stop reading.’

‘The world may have not ended with a bang, but it didn’t end with a whimper, either: the world didn’t end at all. Sometimes,’ Becca finished reading, ‘I wish it had.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Matt scoffed. ‘Everyone should feel lucky to be alive. I bet this journal is a fake. Alexa, turn the TV off.’

As the screen faded to black, Ethan finally popped a grasshopper in his mouth. ‘I can’t wait to have meat tomorrow.’

#my writing #honestly dystopia is not a genre i'm interested in #lol #this was lazy and i wrote it in one morning while i was hungover on negroni

[rogersradio]

1970 | queen (part 1)

Summary: After working at a record store and discovering a record player that can transport you back in time, you find yourself in London of 1970. After scrambling to get back, you realize that something has gone terribly wrong with an infamous band, and you are the only one who can fix it.

Author’s Note: The beginning is very rushed (this whole chapter) only because I have big plans for the next couple of chapters. Please give feedback if you want this series to continue - it’s my first Queen work.

“They always say that time changes things, but actually you have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol (1975)

You worked at a record store in an old London strip, sandwiched between an ice cream shop and a children’s boutique. The building had been there for more then fifty years, according to the owner, and anyone who got close enough to look at it could tell. The concrete outside was stained with age, and the paint on the inside was beginning to peel. The man who ran the store knew of these things since you and your co-worker had begun to more frequently make remarks about the damages, but he would only shake his head with a smile and remark, “It makes it more authentic - a little more magical, don’t you think?”

With its dingy carpet floors and flickering sign, you didn’t understand how he could find anything magical about that store. It smelled of old paper and coffee, occasionally hosting the scent of a Bath and Body Works candle if you remembered to bring it. The cases for the vinyls were ridden with dust, and there was always Queen playing from a record player in the back corner of the store. It always played the same album: A Night At The Opera. You didn’t mind, since you had been a fan of Queen since you were little. Growing up, your dad would play it almost 24/7, and you grew to love the band and their music. No one dare change the album, and it’s been rumored that the same record has been playing for years straight; which, you must point out, is highly illogical. No vinyl record could play for that long without becoming damaged and scratched, especially if nobody has tried to take care of it.

It was a rainy Saturday when the owner, Mr. Jay as you called him, decided to stop by. He leaned against the register counter and cleaned his glasses with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. “How’s everything going?” He asked, smiling. He was a short man with a semi-full figure. He had thick salt and pepper hair that dragged down into stubble along his jaw. He wore jeans, a plain white t-shirt and an olive green bomber jacket that stored a variety of items in its pockets: altoids, kleenex, money, you name it.

“Slow,” You said honestly. You were making your rounds of all the records, checking to be sure they were all in the right place: sorted by date. Your co-worker, Gabriel, let out a breathy laugh and kept scrolling on his phone.

Mr. Jay looked over to him with a sad smile, and then focused back down to his glasses. You began to feel guilty; you knew how much this shop meant to him. Who were you to talk about this man’s possessions like you were? You were a college student in need of a summer job that paid well so you could get your car radio fixed. Before you could speak up to apologize, or atleast end on a happier note, he spoke up, “It always is.”

He lifted his glasses up to the dim light to check for smudges and squinted. Dull thunder rolled in the background as a gentle shower of rain began to fall, hitting the tin roof above and echoing throughout the store. He slipped the clear-rimmed spectacles back on and sighed, strolling towards the isles of records. He dragged his finger tips along the top of them, stopping under the “1960’s” section. He pulled out a Beatles’ album and examined it. “Did you know there’s a conspiracy that Paul McCartney is dead?” He asked. You shook your head and he laughed, “It’s silly, it really is. Many believe that this,” He turned the revord to show the popular Sgt. Pepper’s Lonley Hearts Club Band album cover. “Depicts his funeral. There’s a left handed guitar made of flowers down in the corner, but It really could be a right handed one flipped the other way.” He continued to mumble on about the theory for a few more moments until he stopped and looked up at the two of you, who were both staring at him awkwardly. He slipped the album back into its slot and took a deep breath, “Well I guess it’s my time to leave.”

He took several large strides and picked up his hat and phone off of the counter. “Have a good one,” He called out as he slipped out the door. You both stood silent as you watched him pull out of his parking space and drive out of eyesight. It was always a weird, somewhat sympathetic, feeling after he left. Neither of you didn’t really know what to do. You stood and fiddled with the belt loop on your jeans.

“He’s an odd man,” Gabriel spoke quietly. You nodded. “Gives me weird vibes; like he’s seen way too many things. Did you see the way he spoke about that conspiracy? It was like he was genuinely amused, like he was the one who created it or something.”

“He’s just different,” You said, “I don’t think he means any harm.”

Gabriel shook his head with wide eyes. “I don’t know Y/N. Something isn’t right about that guy. He came in here to do what? Be a spokesman for the “Paul McCarney Is Dead” club?” He shuddered.

You didn’t say anything. Brushing off any questions you had about Mr. Jay, you continued to do your album sweep. By the time you had reached the 1970’s, the song playing from the record player began to skip. You waited a moment for the skip to pass, but it just kept going. Already agitated from the creeping day, you stormed over to the old machine and stared at it for a moment. The spinning Queen logo made you dizzy. The player was covered in dust, and it was clear to you that nobody had touched it for a long while. You blew on it first, and then reached for the tonearm to fix it.

As soon as your fingertips touched the arm, you felt yourself being thrown from the record player. It was as if you were in a plane during takeoff: insane amounts of pressure were building on you, squeezing your body and twisting it in jerking motions. Your head felt as though it would crack and explode in any moment, and you squeezed your eyes tighter than they ever had been before to avoid seeing your insides being blown out. Before you could fully slip out of consciousness, you felt your feet firmly on the ground again. You stood still as your hearing began to come back, keeping your eyes still closed tightly shut. It wasn’t before you heard the commotion of voices that you decided to open them.

You were standing in the same place you had been: next to the record player that was sitting on the wooden stool. Except for this time, the player was brand new, and the music that was playing wasn’t queen; it was “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. You took a few moments to stand there, trying to calm the pounding headache in your head and figure out what in the world had just happened. Maybe I blacked out, you thought, or maybe I’m dead. Is this Heaven? Kind of dissapointing. You shook the thoughts out of your head and tried to stable your shaking body. It took a few moments for you to realize that you weren’t alone, so you slowly turned around and caught your breath. There was atleast thirty people in the record shop, browsing through the albums and talking amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear much since you were standing right next to the speaker, but something wasn’t right. The shop was lively and colorful, and Gabriel was nowhere to be found. Okay, this has to be Heaven, you convinced yourself, Where else would there be this many people in here? This has to be a dream.

A voice pulled you back into reality. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You jumped and turned to your left to see a girl who looked about your age. Her hair was short and feathered, and she wore a long patterned skirt with a purple blouse. Her teeth were shining white and perfectly straight, and you could tell she wore a thin layer of lip gloss. She resembled Princess Diana when she was alive. “No,” You croaked, “Just looking around.”

“No problem, just let me know if you need anything. My name’s Michelle,” She said as she smiled. She turned to walk away.

“Thanks,” You hesitantly said. Nobody seemed to care that you were there; like you had been there all along. Realizing that you couldn’t stand there and people watch for forever, you took a deep breath and went to walk outside. You needed to figure out what was going on, and where exactly you were.

You wobbled at the first step, and it was more than just uneasy legs. Looking down, you realized you weren’t in your jeans and sweatshirt anymore. You were wearing tight, bell bottomed baby blue pants and a blue ruffled blouse. You wore white boots with a slight heel and quickly realizing something was seriously different, you frantically grabbed for your hair and realized it was long and straight, down below your shoulders. It wasn’t like that before. You were beggining to panic, and rushed out the door as fast as you could. You brushed past employees and young children cradling vinyl records, offering quiet apologizes as you did.

Once you busted through the doors and onto the street, you were taken aback. The streets were full of life. People passed you and offered friendly smiles. The smell of cigarette smoke and burnt rubber filled the air, along with hairspray whenever a girl walked by. Men’s hair was slicked back with gel to resemble Elvis and the women on their arms wore patterned dresses and jumpsuits with their hair up in high ponytails or curled. This definitely wasn’t 2019.

Looking around, you spotted a boy who looked around your age standing by a wooden post. He was fumbling tape on one hand and a small poster in the other, and eventually turned his back to you to apply the poster to the pole. You scurried over to him, still getting used to your shoes, and called out, “Hey!”

He quickly flashed his head around to you and paused what he was doing. He has slightly shaggy blond hair with big blue eyes. Slight bangs were hanging in front of his eyes, but as you got closer he brushed them out of the way. He wore tight pants and Lou Brock Converse, with a long, tan trench coat that was partly buttoned up. “Yes?” He said, lowering his arms.

You eyed the poster in his hands. “Could I have that?” You asked slightly out of breath.

He widened his eyes a little at your question, but gave you a quick look up and down and cautiously handed it to you. “Sure,” He said, biting his lip. “Are you interested in coming?” He asked eagerly.

“Um,” You faltered. Coming to what? You didn’t even know what decade you were in. Quickly scanning the paper, the headline “SMILE - MUSICAL PERFORMANCE” caught your eye. “Yes, actually. I’m new around here, and I was, uh, looking for something to do.”

The blond boy smiled. “Well, I hope we see you there,” He exclaimed. Giving you a smile, he turned and began to walk away. “I play drums, by the way!” He called.

You looked up and laughed a little. He blushed and swiveled around once more, this time not turning back. You immediately looked back down at the paper and searched it for any type of date. The only thing you got was June 2, not any year. Sighing, you slowly began to turn the other way to start heading back. You didn’t look up from the flier in your hand, your mind and heart still rushing from adrenaline, and before you knew it you had run right into somebody. You bounced off of each other quite aggressively, and instant apologies started spewing from both of your mouths. The boy you had ran into reached out for your arm to balance you. “I’m so sorry,” He said.

“No, no, don’t apologize! I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You both chuckled a little bit and looked down at your shoes. He picked at the ends of his long black hair and gave one last apology before walking away. You took a few steps but turned to watch him. He walked up to the wooden telephone pole and scanned the posters taped to it. He definitely was looking for something.

What was happening to you didn’t feel real; everyone you walked past or bumped into you felt like an illusion, even though you could touch them. It was like you were stepping into a movie. How did you get here? Where even were you? It’s like you were in a different dimension - a different chapter with the same setting.

You blinked a few times to get out of your trance and began looking for a new source to get the date. You would look insane if you asked somebody for the year, and Converse boy’s poster didn’t help very much. Slowly spinning around, a newspaper stand a few yards away seemed to glisten. You quickly made your way over, folding up the band flier in quarters as you did. Grabbing The Times off the stack, you read the headline: “D-Day for Europe as Dutch Vote”. You quickly scanned the small writing for any sort of date and by the grace of the Heavens, the year was finally printed before your eyes.

June 2, 1970.

#queen #queen imagine #writing #1970s #1970 writing #1970 fashion #queen fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may #queen fanfic #freddie mercury imagine #roger taylor imagine #brian may imagine #john deacon imagine

[scrapsofsky]

I have once more (and a very long time ago) been challenged by Ian Sales to join him in our un-named war to come up with the best arbitrary list of films within an equally arbitrarily selected category. You can find previous iterations of this absurdity here, here, here, here, and here. We have, alas, not done this in a long while, which we can both blame on being busy with many other things.

But in the interest of rekindling silliness, I have been loosely challenged by Ian to come up with a list of 10 underrated SF/F films from the last 20 years, which is a direct response to this ScreenRant list. Since this list is in response to a link with a remarkably open prompt, I’ve opted to stick to the 10 item list format. Future challenges will go back to our favorite number:  5.

Ian, of course, has already dropped his list. Go check it out!

With that in mind, the following list of 10 films represent my attempt to put together films that I consider to be overrated. My criteria is fairly simple:

It must be a SF/F film released since 1999.

It must be underrated in the sense that it is underappreciated by the SF/F community or has largely been forgotten. Box office numbers may be part of the equation, but mostly I will go on my own interactions with the SF/F community and sadly arbitrary interpretations of what has been “lost” to everyday discourse.

I literally don’t care if the movies I pick are considered “good” by other people, and so I’ve picked films that I think are interesting for some reason or another. This inevitably means that you will hate my list and wish me to fall into a pit of endless fire.

So, without further adieu, here’s my list:

The Place Promised in Our Early Days (2004)(dir. Makoto Shinkai)

One of my first academic essay publications focused on this film, which should tell you how much I enjoy it. Kumo no Mukō, Yakusoku no Basho is, in my opinion, Makoto Shinkai’s magnum opus. A story of friendship, betrayal, and love. A story of the Cold War, imperial control, and out of control technology. Shinkai’s method of storytelling is remarkable:  low key and vibrant, emotionally tense and freeing. In a world where Hayao Miyazaki is considered the King of Japanese Animation, Shinkai’s work has sadly not received the appreciation it deserves — Kumo no Mukō, Yakusoku no Basho especially.

The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)(dir. David Twohy)

I strongly considered putting 2000’s Pitch Black here instead, but I think that film, while perhaps a bit underrated today, has received considerable praise. Its sequel, The Chronicles of Riddick, however, has often been derided for one reason or another. Unfairly, in my opinion. From its Gothic (with a side of emo) aesthetic to its expansion of the Riddick universe into a sprawling space opera to its total commitment to the gritty, morally ambiguous treasure trove of dirty, grungy themes, places, and characters, The Chronicles of Riddick is easily one of my favorite science fiction films of the last 20-ish years. Plus, the cast is fantastic. This is a hill I’m willing to die on. (Also:  I look forward to checking out Furya and Merc City in the near future!)

Night Watch and Day Watch (2004 and 2006)(dir. Timur Bekmambetov)

I’m counting these as one because it’s my list and I can do what I want. This Russian duology is based on Sergey Lukyanenko urban fantasy novels about the conflict between two supernatural factions who monitor the actions of one another as part of an uneasy truce. Part detective thriller and part dark fantasy, the films pack quite a punch. However, outside of the circuit of foreign film lovers within SF/F, they’ve largely flown under the radar, this despite starring well known Russian actor Konstantin Khabensky. If you’ve never seen these films, you owe it to yourself to watch them, even if for no other reason than to watch someone drive a sports car across the face of an apartment complex!

Sunshine (2007)(dir. Danny Boyle)

I considered putting Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later here instead, but I don’t think that film is actually all that underrated even if it doesn’t get as much play today as it did a decade ago. Sunshine, however, has spent most of its existence floating between general praise for its visuals and premise and general dislike for its second act. And, yes, it is a spectacularly gorgeous film, but that second act is, in my opinion, far more interesting than most people are willing to admit. Turning a space thriller into a horror film as a commentary on the paradoxical frailty and strength of the human spirit is, in my opinion, a gutsy move. For me, that move pays off, and it’s one of the reasons I think this film has remained underrated. It doesn’t follow the pattern these stories usually follow. It’s basically Armageddon if that film took itself seriously and Rockhound actually went insane. And that makes it an infinitely more interesting film.

Upgrade (2018)(dir. Leigh Whannell)

If you didn’t get a chance to see Upgrade, you’re missing out. This sleeper scifi action thriller had some of the most compelling fight choreography and shot compositions of 2018, and yet it flew under the radar. I had the good fortune to see the film in theaters; the experience did not disappoint. Much of the fight choreography relied on some impressive camera trickery to follow the lead actor’s movements, giving the entire film a robotic and wonky feel. It’s truly exciting to watch, and I wish more people had had the opportunity to do so in an actual theater. Because it’s gorgeous on the big screen!

Push (2009)(dir. Paul McGuigan)

I will watch almost anything with Djimon Hounsou in it. Push is one of those forgotten little films that takes a less in-your-face approach to the whole super powers concept. In this world, people with powers are test subjects or hidden in plain sight, monitored by a nefarious organization with equally nefarious intents. By comparison to the typical superhero film we have today, Push is quite restrained, relishing in the quirks and trickery of its list of powers and giving actors like Dakota Fanning the space to place (watching her drunkenly stumble around is kinda fun). It’s an imperfect film to be sure, but one that I still love.

Hulk (2003)(dir. Ang Lee)

I’m going to catch hell for this, but Ang Lee’s Hulk is one of my favorite superhero movies to date. I even prefer it to that other Hulk film by a long mile. Lee does give us some of the stuff you expect from a superhero film (big fight scenes and visual spectacle), but I particularly love the softer focus on Banner and his mental state. It feels more like a film that is trying to say something about human nature than a film stuck in an endless action sequence or caught up in villainy for the sake of villainy. For me, that means the film takes more chances with its performance and themes. And I’m always more compelled by the film that tries to do something interesting and failed than I am by the alternative.

Another Earth (2011)(dir. Mike Cahill)

Independent cinema has a tendency to produce some truly introspective and powerful films. Another Earth is no exception. A film about loss, guilty, love, and second chances, Another Earth‘s science fiction premise (a mirror Earth) is really just background, offering an opportunity in the conclusion and lending weight to the central thematic of loss and guilt as the romance between the protagonists comes head-to-head with a secret that threatens to tear them apart. The narrative is at times quite haunting, but it also commands us to think more deeply about what it means to seek forgiveness, to seek second chances, to live with loss, and so on. And if you like this one, Sound of My Voice (2011) is a far creepier film about cults that also stars Brit Marling!

Dredd (2012)(dir. Pete Travis)

We will never get an adaptation of Judge Dredd that is as good as 2012’s Dredd. A vicious, unrelenting and dark film, Dredd is one of those films that desperately deserves more credit than it has thus far received. Karl Urban’s performance is textbook perfection, and Travis’ direction gives this a brutally honest tone. And unlike its predecessor adaptation, Dredd isn’t endlessly mockable; instead, it is a visually arresting satire that makes most action thrillers look tame. There are few films on this list that I would say are perfect. Dredd is one of them.

The Cat Returns (2002)(dir. Hiroyuki Morita)

Studio Ghibli gets a lot of well-deserved love for its many Hayao Miyazaki films (my favorite Miyazaki is actually Mononoke Hime / Princess Mononoke). But one film the studio doesn’t get enough credit for is the utterly delightful Neko no Ongaeshi / The Cat Returns (or The Cat’s Repayment). It’s an Alice in Wonderland type tale (or tail, heh) about a young girl who gets sucked into the secret world of cats. Calling this film delightful is an understatement. It is downright adorable, and it has been sadly overshadowed by Ghibli’s many other exceptional productions. But if you’re looking for a cute (and sometimes hilarious) fantasy adventure involving talking cats, The Cat Returns is the film for you.

And that’s it. That’s my list. I could add many other films here, but I’ve limited myself to ten.

Now for a challenge to Ian and anyone else who wants to take it:  pick your five favorite films featuring talking animals! Go!

It's time for another #FilmChallenge. @ian_sales challenged me to come up with 10 underrated SF/F films released between 1999 and 2019. So here's my list! :D I have once more (and a very long time ago) been challenged by Ian Sales to join him in our un-named war to come up with the best arbitrary list of films within an equally arbitrarily selected category.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Run Devil Run [Chapter Three] Silver Tongue [Karma Akabane]

A/N: Please let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in this story. I’ll gladly do it.

“Do the two of you want to fill me in about what’s going on? Or maybe, you know, I’ve turned invisible and neither of you can hear me.” Yukie sat down her plastic tray rather forcefully onto the cafeteria table and glared at her alleged friends.

They continued to ignore her, something rude they’d been doing all morning. Yukie wasn’t sure why they were doing it, but it was starting to annoy her. She rolled her bright eyes and picked up her fork, attempting not to think about it. Time wouldn’t stop for her problems, and she had more to worry about than them; like her math test. It was next period, but since Yukie came home mentally drained after her brief chat with Karma, she didn’t make an effort to study.

She huffed a deep sigh and poked at her food with uninterest. “I’m going to fail this test, I know I am.”

“Don’t say that. You’re going to do better than the two of us ever will,” Ayame snapped. Once she realized what she had done, she pursed her lips and focused her attention on her lunch.

Yukie smiled impishly. “So you can hear me. That’s a relief. I thought I may have developed Adolescence Syndrome like Mai in Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai.”

“I love that show,” Ayame chirped. She flinched in discomfort as Sayuri elbowed her in the arm.

“Well … now that I know neither of you is mad at me, what’s the reason for this act?”

Sayuri pushed back her tray and sat her arms on the table. She leaned in so that Yukie could hear without her having to raise her voice above a whisper. “We’re not supposed to talk to you.”

“Why is that?”

“Asano made a deal with us,” she answered with a wide smile. “He said that he’d go with us to the parlor for ice cream, if we do him a favor; not talk to you until you’ve sat down and talked to him.”

Yukie scoffed in annoyance. “That’s really immature guys. We’re not in elementary school anymore.”

Ayame agreed with her, nodding her head. “I swear, little miss lovebird is obsessed.” She huffed a sigh and gave Yukie a supportive look. “It’s only one chat, Yuki. If not for you, then do it for us.”

She certainly wouldn’t be doing it for her own sake. Frankly, she had nothing to say to Asano. It was unclear to her why he’d make a deal with her friends, but to satisfy them, Yukie agreed. She knew it would be better to meet with him on lunch break – on his own terms – rather than waiting after school.

Luckily for her, Asano usually ate his lunch in the 3-A classroom with the other members of the Big Five, so she knew where to find him.

Yukie pushed back her chair and stood, glaring at her two friends. “I hope you both know you owe me. It’s not like you had to do this; he doesn’t have a gun to your heads.”

“No … but he has my heart,” Sayuri countered. “And you said not to let him say no. I was just doing as you asked me to.”

“Actually, you said that. Yuki was only giving you inspiration by telling you to go for it,” Ayame clarified.

The desperate, orange haired teen stuck out her tongue, making Yukie laugh. She tossed them a brief wave and left their table, heading towards her homeroom. It was a short walk from the packed out cafeteria, situated down A hall. This is one of the reasons she loved Class A so much; the grade had its own section of the school that none of the other grades had the right to use. It was unethical in theory, but Yukie liked not having to push her way through a crowd of people each day.

She made it quicker than she would have liked to her classroom doorway, which was slightly ajar. All the time she took getting there was intentional; she took it to prepare herself. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she knocked and waited patiently until someone gave her permission to enter. Upon doing so, Yukie was for the most part surprised by the display before her.

The desks on the far side of the room were rearranged, pushed together so that they formed one long table. To the front of them was a single desk, facing the other five. In those five desks were seated the masterminds of Kunugigaoka Junior High.

Yukie frowned, hating to be put on the spot like this. She was under the assumption that she’d be speaking to Asano alone, not going into a job interview. The powers that be had a strange and meticulous way of doing things.

“Have a seat, Sarugaki. We’ve been expecting you.” Asano motioned towards the open seat and smirked once she took it. He stared at the white haired girl and noticed that she was unusually relaxed for someone who was under his scrutiny. This both pleased and insulted him. “Looks like you’ve been expecting us as well.”

“I knew that it would lead to this, but not to the extent of putting me through an interrogation.” Yukie was being honest; she had no reason to hold back.

Ren Sakakibara – a rather attractive teenager with coy eyes – beamed at this. “We just want to gauge you, is all. This meeting isn’t meant to intimidate you.”

“Obviously, we’re not against the idea of making you feel uncomfortable,” Natsuhiko Koyama stated. “It’s necessary, as you can see.”

Yukie nodded in agreement. She couldn’t stop her lips from curling up into a smirk. “Because I might replace one of you.”

Her confidence annoyed Koyama. He bared his crooked teeth and glared at her. “Might is the keyword. Don’t forget that we too are going to be taking the exam. The stakes are high for someone li—

“Koyama … chill out. You’re letting her get the best of you,” Tomoya Seo claimed, setting his hand onto the disgruntled teen’s shoulder.

Asano narrowed his eyes. All this foolish razzing was giving him a headache. Had he known that Yukie would go and make a spectacle out of this, he wouldn’t have brought her in front of the Virtuosos. She obviously knew what she was doing, riling them up. It made him value her more, but he also couldn’t allow this to continue.

“Leave us. I want to speak with Sarugaki alone,” Asano said. He gave a confident look to his four allies, pleased when they got up and left without so much as a word.

Alone with her, Asano sat back in his seat and stared at her; Yukie was an alluring girl, unmistakably, but her attitude was in need of some fine tuning. He understood where it spawned from, though. “You were close friends with Karma Akabane at one time, were you not?”

Yukie frowned and silently nodded. She didn’t understand where this was going.

“How close?”

“If you’re asking if we’ve dated, then no. Karma and I just shared common interests,” she clarified. “Besides, we’ve had a falling out since his suspension.” Yukie opted to mention that she’d been in contact with him a short time ago. Honestly, the student council president didn’t need to be made aware of this information.

Asano smirked, “Then you weren’t aware that his suspension was revoked? He was dropped to E-Class this semester. A waste, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t aware,” she lied. Sure, it was a waste. Karma was extremely smart; even more than Asano gave him credit for. He just slacked for the sake of it. “But honestly … what does this have to do with Karma?”

“Nothing really. I was merely curious,” Asano said. He was lying, of course. Faking a smile, he stood up and made a b-line for the desk Yukie was sitting in.

She suppressed the urge to lean back into him as Asano laid his hands on her shoulders. He was so close, hovering just over the back on her chair.

“Don’t you understand the severity of all this? Being a Virtuoso holds a lot of power in this school; the respect and recognition you’ve been seeking. I don’t want to see you tarnish it because of your mouth – a defensive mechanism you clearly learned from Akabane.” Asano leaned into her, whispering into her ear. “For me, Yukie, buckle down and do your best.”

Yukie was speechless. She felt as if Asano already knew so much about her; her ambitions and her dreams. Something about him terrified her. Like it or not, he was exactly like his father when it came to intimidation tactics. This made her wary of her feelings. Could she trust herself around Asano?

Speaking of Asano, he had moved himself to the front of the desk, staring at her with a content smirk on his face. He knew he had convinced Yukie to push herself beyond her limits. Frankly, he thought she had no chance in hell to become a member of the Big Five, but making her believe that she did benefited his plans.

“It was nice talking to you, and I know you have a lot to ponder over, so take your time and consider my offer. I’ll see the response to that offer after the exam,” Asano recited. He sounded almost like a robot; almost like he’d done this hundreds of times before.

Yukie wanted nothing more than to get away from him. She stood up and bowed, then left the classroom without so much as a peep. Moving hastily down the empty hallway, she felt uneasy and vulnerable. Yukie wanted to vent about it, but her friends were pro Asano, so the biased teen couldn’t trust them to console her. She honestly needed someone who would listen and give her advice if she asked for it.

Karma came to mind. But she didn’t know if he’d agree to meet with her again. His advice was always crystal clear; always expressive, even when she didn’t want to hear it. Yukie, of course, tried to convince herself that Karma was a terrible source of company, but something about him made her feel confident. She figured to hell with it, and fished her cell phone from her pocket.

His contact had been long since removed, but Yukie still remembered it – all those times she called him during his suspension; times he never answered. She wrote out a quick message and hit send, reading over it just in case it sounded too urgent.

It’s Yukie. I was wondering if you’d call me later tonight. You won’t guess the kind of day I had.

Content, she put away her phone and marched back to the cafeteria to finish lunch. All that was left to do was wait.

--

Karma chuckled over the line, making Yukie smile. “Did he now? I’m flattered … had no idea that the big cheese had such a crush on me.”

“He claims it was mere curiosity, but you may be right. Someone like him doesn’t seem the type to concern himself with someone he doesn’t consider at his level,” Yukie retorted. She rather enjoyed hearing Karma razz on Asano – the self-centered teen unquestionably deserved it after being the first to bring Karma up when he had no business being mentioned in the conversation. “Asano is a textbook kamidere. He has a god complex, but he’s also very much in love with you.”

“Or in love with you,” Karma stated.

This made Yukie snort. She was happy that Karma couldn’t see her face; it felt warm. “Don’t try and change this around on me.”

“Hear me out. You said he asked to speak with you alone, then proceeded to ask about me. I agree that he’s not someone who puts himself on the level of those below him, but the fact he spoke to you alone means that he likes you,” Karma mentioned. He honestly loved to rile her up. The fact that she was probably red in the face right now made him smirk in triumph.

“I doubt that,” Yukie huffed. She’d done explained to him that the only reason Asano had any interest in her was because of her rank. It was nothing more than this. Yet, sometimes she hoped for it to be.

“ … earth to Yukie. I asked you a question.”

The annoyed teen glared and laid back on her bed. It was about time for her to call it a night; they had school in the morning. She’d been on the phone with Karma since after dinner, and so far, all he did was crack jokes at her.

“Sorry … miles away.”

“Want my honest opinion?”

She did, but not at the expense of her feelings. “If you answer sincerely, then by all means.”

Karma couldn’t quell his amusement. “Clearly I’m not going to do that without a small act of kindness from you first.”

Yukie was flabbergasted for a second, which was a silly thing, considering she knew Karma would offer his opinion for a price. There was always a motive to his madness. She knew better than to indulge him, but she honestly wanted to know what he thought. Agreeing, she dreaded what he had in mind.

“That’s the spirit,” he chirped. “Meet up with me at Taito Station this Saturday. I have a little game I’ve been wanting to play.”

“Is this a low key way of asking me out on a date?”

Karma laughed again. “Nothing gets passed you does it? In that case, wear something girly for me. It’s essential for what I have planned.”

Her face burned in mortification. Yukie had no idea what he was getting her into, but she agreed regardless. She had just the ensemble in her arsenal – the skirt and blouse that Hiromi gave her. Settling on a time, she ended the call and rolled on to her side with a frustrated huff.

Whether it be Asano or Karma, both had a way of making her feel vulnerable and embarrassed. To each, manipulation was second nature – they used their gift of silver tongue to keep her compelled. It sounded much worse when she thought about it, but honestly Yukie didn’t mind.

She liked having someone covet her. With two possible routes – happiness or devastation – she just hoped that her heart was ready for whatever came next.

#karma akabane #korosensei #assassination classroom #class 3-e #gakushuu asano #teen romance #the big 5

[starlit-scifi]

Chapter 2

First•Next

Ping.

Your headset rings through your dozy state and you realize you’re asleep at the desk in a study room. You pick yourself up and wipe the little bit of drool from the corner of your mouth. You were having such a nice dream...

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Who could be messaging you so urgently? You groggily bring up your mailbox to find five new messages from Lorina. That wakes you up, and you swipe them open.

-Just a reminder, assignment number five is due tomorrow.

-Also, do you have the data from yesterday? I accidentally deleted it.

-(Lorina E. has sent you an invitation to TWELFTH ANNUAL UNITY ACADEMY WELCOME BALL)

-Sorry! That was a mistake, please disregard it.

-Unless you wanted to go, of course.

Your heart is pounding, though that’s probably just because you were startled awake.

-Ice liver to bop

-What?

You cringe and pay more attention to your fingers as you pick out each letter individually.

-I’d love to go. Sorry, I just woke up!

-OK, when you’re more awake we can work out the details.

You have to be dreaming. You just have to. Things like this just don’t happen. You’re going to wake up and have to get back to studying any minute now.

But ten minutes later, when you’re sitting in your room with a steaming cup of inky caffeine-laced liquid that supposedly resembles coffee, the invitation still sits in your inbox, totally (well, virtually) real, fancy letterhead and all. You’re jittery, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the caffeine anymore.

-I’m ready.

It’s more to reassure yourself than to tell her. She pops online almost immediately and sends you her schedule for that evening. You don’t have anything to do then, since it’s a weekend and you’re not really into the whole “watch movies and gossip while under the influence of certain substances” scene that most of the rest of your peers take part in. Everything else you’d need seems in order: you have a dress from your secondary school senior ball that you'd packed on the off-chance that you'd go to another one. The dress certainly fits the occasion; whether it fits your slightly fuller curves is an important question. Otherwise, shoes, makeup, hair... There’s nothing stopping you.

You search around your cluttered desk for that half-finished package of crackers, because it’s definitely all that caffeine on an empty stomach that’s making your heart beat fast and your stomach uneasy. As you munch on a somewhat stale cracker, you confirm to her that you can attend the event.

-Great. So, that data?

---

The night of the ball rolls around. After a brief struggle, you manage to fit into your dress. Your makeup is passable, your hair cooperates for once, and your shoes don’t seem like they're going to completely destroy your feet… even after you spend ten minutes anxiously pacing around your dorm room, waiting for her.

Finally you give in and send her a message.

-Hey, are you ready yet?

-Almost. Sorry, my meeting ran late. Meet me in the main hall?

-Sure.

You spend another few minutes pacing anxiously in the hall, glancing up periodically as people trickle out of the dorms. You’re just about to send off another message when the elevator arrives.

There she is, gorgeous in her dress uniform, everything pressed into place and polished to shining, a scowl on her face that you’re pretty sure isn’t meant for you. She mutters something under her breath as she adjusts her collar.

“Hm?”

“This is not going to be fun,” she says bluntly. You almost want to ask why she offered to go in the first place, but she definitely seems to be in a bad mood.

“Well, there’ll be food, and what more can you ask?”

She exhales a laugh through her nose. “Let’s get going,” she says, and starts walking at a brisk pace. You scurry after her, balancing precariously in your seldom-worn heels. As you enter the central part of the ship, the clusters of mingling people pause their chatter as you walk past, and you’re intensely aware that those typical hushed comments are now also directed at you, and at the spectacle that is the both of you.

So of course you trip on a corner of the hastily-put-down carpet.

And of course she’s right there to catch you easily in one arm, pulling you in towards her. She’s so close you’re sure she can feel how fast your heart is pounding, and she stares at you intensely and says, barely above a breath:

“Fix your dress. It… slipped.”

You look down and turn beet red, and do your best to discreetly shove your boob back where it came from. Only then does she release you, and you stand there, reeling.

“You okay?” She asks softly.

You nod quickly, then reconsider and shake your head. “I’m going to go find a restroom,” you mumble.

There��s a bit of concern in her eyes. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Uh. Yeah.” You clench your fists to stop from shaking, and the feeling of your nails digging into your own flesh starts to bring you back to reality. The nearest restroom is, blessedly, empty, and you dab cool water on your neck and decolletage, because no way in hell are you ruining your makeup. She rests against the wall and fiddles with her watch as you attempt to prod your hair back into place. After a while you notice she’s observing you curiously. You give her a questioning look and she shrugs. “I like what you did with your hair. It’s nice.”

“I can do yours sometime,” you offer impulsively, and you realize you really do wonder what she looks like with her hair down.

She smiles that one-sided smile but shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t go out of your way.”

“You’re already going out of your way for me,” you point out. She shrugs.

“Not really. Besides, you having a chance to improve your networking skills is a good thing. You can do the networking for the both of us.”

“I thought we were mostly here for the food,” you joke back. At least, you think she was joking.

She chuckles. “Well, yes. But I’m almost positive it’s the same stuff from the dining hall, just actually cooked with care and on nicer plates.”

“Shh, you’ll ruin the moment.”

Now she really laughs, and it’s rich and warm and lovely.

“We just can’t miss out on that. Ready?”

You look back at the mirror, take one last poke at your curls, and decide this is the most composed you're going to get tonight. You give her your best attempt at a smile, and she returns her own, thin but genuine.

As you walk down the hall side by side for the second time, she prods you gently in the side with her elbow.

“What?”

“Put your arm in mine. It’s proper. Also, you need me for balance.”

You open your mouth to protest, but realize she’s half-joking and half just being nice. So you do, and as you get closer to the ballroom (well, the temporarily redecorated giant multipurpose room that usually serves as the gym) you notice her straighten her posture, lift her chin, her eyes growing colder and sharper with every glance and murmur from your classmates. You gently squeeze her tense bicep, and when she glances over at you, slightly alarmed, you smile, and mouth “breathe”.

She nods seriously and says in your ear, “I’m trying.”

Inside, soft music plays and most of the people in attendance are sitting around, chatting in tight groups and glancing around distrustfully at the other cliques that have formed. Really, any sort of social function in this place is sort of doomed: The cultures of Irthtu and the seven other human colonies are all too different from each other. Some, like you, who come from more cultured (well, affluent) backgrounds were taught the traditional formal dance styles of Old Earth, but family politics make it really difficult to socialize with the most of the Tusies, no matter how little you try to care about those decades-long feuds. Either way, it seems like Lori is heading straight for the nearest empty pair of chairs, which you gratefully accept. Your shoes aren’t that comfortable.

“Do you like to dance?” she asks, and it doesn't seem like just small talk, there’s genuine interest in her eyes.

You shrug. “Not like this. I’ve taken formal lessons, and I went to a few parties in secondary, but nobody my age actually dances like this.”

She nods. “I never took lessons, but I partied a bit… Actually, more than a bit, but we probably danced in a completely different style from you.”

“Show me?”

She shakes her head, a tiny wry smile on her lips. “This is way too formal. I couldn’t even move that way in these pants,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “How about you?”

"The music isn't really right, but maybe.” She’s watching you expectantly, so you do your best to shove away your insecurity… and to make sure the rest of you is shoved firmly into your dress. You get up and give yourself a little space, and nervously test out a few simple steps. You find yourself turning your feet and pointing your toes out of habit born from years of classes, and you relax a bit. Your hips and shoulders follow as you drop into the beat of the music. It’s a bit too slow, but you know how to move your body more fluidly now than you did at seventeen.

You turn and glance at her, and she smiles. You smile back and hold out a hand. She looks a bit nervous but takes it anyway. You take things slowly, doing your best to guide her. She’s not clumsy by any means, but you can tell that she’s focusing more on moving than just feeling. By the time the song hits the chorus again, though, she relaxes, and just by that measure she's one of the better people you've danced with.

People are starting to take notice. Some whisper and giggle like always, but others actually watch, and soon grab their own partners. Maybe they’re trying to outdo you, maybe they’re actually trying to have fun. You really don’t care, because you’re having fun.

And Lori’s having fun too, glowing under the soft multicolored lights. This is the happiest you’ve seen her, as much as she’s trying to hold up her facade of seriousness. Eventually, she lets it all go, and you’re struck by how pretty her smile is, and how smoothly you move together.

All too soon, the music ends and her hands float up. You follow her almost without thinking, and your fingertips land on hers, in a foreign but sweet gesture.

“Thank you for this dance,” she says with a soft intensity you’d never expected from her. It’s gratitude and joy and you realize this is the most you’ve seen her just be a girl.

“Thank you.” And it’s really just as genuine. You both stare into each other’s eyes, neither of you saying anything, not really knowing what there is to say as the lights come up. Her face is flushed and her hands drop stiffly, any trace of that smile gone. She turns her body and offers her arm again, and you take it as you go find new seats. You try to catch her eye again, but she’s back to being the same unresponsive impenetrable Lorina you’ve always known… Well, really, never known, you realize. Even with everything you’ve heard about her and all the time you spend studying together, you know you’re only scratching the surface of what’s behind those icy grey eyes.

There’s a speech, there’s some food, then everyone starts to dance again, seemingly emboldened by your brazen display of those easy steps from your secondary school graduation ball... and maybe a little wine. But Lori won’t go out on the floor again no matter how much you prod her, so you just leave her be. She’s your stern tall blue-suited shadow for the rest of the night as you force yourself to play good politician’s daughter with everyone who comes up to you.

Eventually you’re tired of socializing, dealing with politics, and the whole being awake thing, too. Lori’s sullen look has started to turn into a straight-up glower, and you decide it’s probably best to call it a night before one of you inadvertently starts some sort of stupid drama.

So she walks you back to your room, stiff and professional, and stands by the door as you unlock it.

You decide to give it one last try.

“Thanks for inviting me,” pause, smile. “I had a great time.”

Maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe you’re just tired, or maybe she is too, because her eyes look a little watery and her voice is rough and low when she says, “So did I.”

The silence between you grows thick. You take a deep breath.

“Goodnight,” You both say, to each other, at the same time. You try to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. She gives a crisp nod and, without another word, turns and walks away.

In the quiet of your empty room you stand by the sink in nothing but your underclothes. You’ve ripped half of the bobby pins out of your hair before you realize you probably should’ve taken a picture while you were still all dressed up.

You probably should’ve taken a picture with her, too.

As if you’ll ever forget how she looked, brass and silver glinting in the light, sandy blonde hair pinned up sleek and perfect, the color of her uniform making the blue in those grey eyes bright and strong…

You take a deep breath and start to clean the makeup off your face.

First•Next

#starlitscifi #chapter #update #original fiction #fun times at space prom

[ronyxfic]

Educating the Victim - Act VI, Chapter XX

Pairing: -

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: none for this chapter!

CHAPTER 20: Reminisce

   A light breeze woke up Rose Quartz. She sat upright from her uncomfortable slumber position in the back of the car, blinking at the open window. The breeze coming in was warm, the sun was shining, and the car radio was quietly playing music.

Rose found that her headache had subsided. “What time is it?” she asked Marigold, who was driving.

   "Four. Ran into some traffic. Nearly there." Marigold turned the music, Abba, off. "How's your head?"

 Rose rubbed her temples. “Much better, actually. I needed that nap.” She stretched; her fingers met with a leathery texture. “Hey, is this a convertible? Do you want to open the roof?”

 "Its overrated, but sure." Marigold rolled her eyes and pressed a button on the front panel of the car, and after a series of clicks and whirrs, it began to pull back.

 Rose leant back, enjoying the breeze.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Do you wanna stop somewhere? I’m getting kind of hungry.” Unsurprising, since she had barely managed to eat anything in the morning. Also, it would give her an excuse to actually get into the front seat.

 Marigold threw her phone in the back seat. "The passcode is a diamond shape, from left to right. Feel free to look for a location nearby."

 Rose stared at the phone, then at Marigold. “Uh... are you sure? I could get my phone out of my... where’s my bag?”

 "Front seat, foot area. I'd chuck it to you but I've got both eyes on the road." Marigold blushed as she looked in the rear view mirror. "You can feel free to reach for it but otherwise I'd suggest waiting until I can pull over and you can move to join me in the front."

 Rose gave a deep sigh, then gingerly took Marigold’s phone. It took her a few tries to unlock it.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the cheesy wallpaper – “live, laugh, love” in yellow – but quickly navigated to maps.

“Ugh. No signal. We’re in the middle of nowhere, aren’t we?”

 "It would appear so." Marigold looked over the rolling fields around them- valleys dyed purple by the rows of grapes they grew, the road in front of them snaking and twisting into the distance. "Azure said I'd get internet access here, but we might need to wait until we get back into civilisation. Would you like me to pull over so you can jump in the front?"

 “Please,” Rose admitted, “I don’t particularly want to feel like I’m in a taxi.”

 "Mhm. Perhaps you could take over driving." Marigold carefully drove the car to the side of the road. "You have a licence, correct?"

 “Yeah, sure.” Rose waited until Marigold stopped and got out of the car. “Mhm, feels nice to stretch my legs. Do you know how far away we are?”

 "The GPS said about two hours before the signal cut out." Marigold clicked her back, stretching it, as she got it out and walked to the other door. "I think I've missed a backroad or two but this direction should get us there."

 “Alright. You’re in charge of navigation, then.” Rose leaned against the car and sighed.

A moment passed and Rose found that it was difficult to look at Marigold. Her chest felt strained.

“I’m... sorry about last night,” she said softly. “Thank you for looking after me. You didn’t have to do that.”

 Marigold softened a little at the apology. "You're forgiven, Rose. Just try not to do it again... at least in a manner that causes such a spectacle of yourself."

She then paused and signed into her hands. "I can't even really judge you for that, even if I wanted to. I've been there. If anything, it was a shock to the system to almost come face to face with a younger self."

 Rose gave a wry smile. “I think Aurora mentioned you had a history with alcoholism. I’m sorry if I brought up unpleasant memories.”

 "No, no. I've... recently learnt it's better to let these things out." Marigold mocked a shudder. "What a concept!"

 Rose sighed. “I suppose that’s probably something I have to learn as well,” she said.

Dark thoughts from the previous night returned. She could only remember flashes of what had happened, and everything was obscured in a dark haze of anger, desperation, grief. Those feelings were still there, but more muted now.

“What sort of relationship did you have with Roxy?” she found herself asking.

 "Oh?" Marigold looked up. It was a fair question. "I've been thinking about that a lot since you last brought it up. Your drunken escapade last night somewhat stirred one of the times we spent time together. She and I... briefly used to get drinks together. After Claire's passing."

 “Oh? Did something happen back then?”

 "I mean... I got blackout drunk once." Marigold chuckled. "In public. I can't imagine what a fool I must've made of myself."

 Rose frowned. “She took me drinking a few times as well. Let me guess, she encouraged you to keep drinking?”

 Marigold blinked and then returned the frown. "Uhm... Yes? How did you... Oh."

 “She probably did it to a lot of people.” Rose’s voice sounded bitter. “Were you just friends at the time?”

 "We never went beyond that." Marigold gave a nervous laugh. "It always did strike me quite fishy how she always kept her composure the morning after."

 “Did she now.” Rose got back in the car, on the driver’s seat. “Shall we keep going?”

 "...Yes?" Marigold swallowed, suddenly uneasy. But she nodded regardless. "I can't wait to get to our final stop."

 Rose started the car. The hum of the engine drowned out her thoughts for just a moment. “Get in, then. Do we know what we’re doing when we get there?”

 "Something about gadgets, according to Azure. We're meeting with one of her people and then we start the search tomorrow."

  Tomorrow.

Rose swallowed. “Do you think we’ll find her quickly?”

 "If the information Azure has is correct, then perhaps. I hope so, anyway. I'd love to return to school before the year is over."

 Rose shot her a look.

“I envy you if that’s your main worry,” she said. “Aren’t you anxious about Roxy?”

 "I don't share the trauma you associate with her." Marigold shrugged, looking away. "She's still... a friend to me, in a way. Even if she's done horrible things. I want to see her make it out of this safely."

 Rose glanced over at her once again, suspicious.

“Yeah, no, I don’t care if she gets killed. She deserves it.”

 "Alright." Marigold seemed oddly detached. "Just don't be the one to kill her."

   Rose drove in silence for a while, not feeling the need to answer. She felt slightly sick again, but just focused on the road.

“You must be just about the only person who didn’t get abused by her,” she then said softly. “Unless there’s something I don’t know about.”

 Marigold looked down; her lips parted for a brief second and then closed.

She shook her head. "No. She didn't do anything to me. I mean... she tried to tarnish Claire a few times, which got on my nerves, but she had a lot of behavioural issues, so I just let it slip. Perhaps we all just babied her too much."

 Rose didn't reply immediately, not sure what to say.

She ended up fixating on a detail. "Who's Claire, then? I feel like I've heard that name before."

 "A person I used to look up to." Marigold's voice sounded ancient, wistful. "My family."

 "And Roxy knew her as well," Rose said. "What happened to her?"

 "She passed away. Cancer."

 “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Rose felt her heart clench. “I know what it’s like to lose family to cancer. My dad died five years ago.”

 "It's painful. At least we can be there for our families when it happens, right?"

 Rose clenched her teeth, didn’t answer straight away.

When she did, she sounded choked up. “I couldn’t be there for him.”

 Marigold bit her lip. Oops.

"Wasn't that around the same time you were dealing with Roxy?"

 Rose let out a short, pained laugh. "Yeah," she said. "And that's definitely not just a funny coincidence."

 "Oh? Care to... tell me more? If it's not too much." Marigold felt like she was walking on thinner and thinner ice.

 "Oh, it's not a big deal." Rose's voice betrayed that it was, in fact, kind of a big deal. "She just manipulated and guilt tripped me anytime I wanted to go see him. Said I was being a bad partner, that I should spend more time with her. Never mind that my dad was literally dying of cancer. I saw him twice. Twice in six months, and she acted like I'd done the worst thing in the world by doing that."

 "Oh." Marigold looked distant for a bit, rubbing at the side of her head. "I mean... Your accounts. They spoke enough. But it's odd because now hearing you say it and really thinking about it? Yes, that's exactly the sort of thing she would do."

 Rose grimaced. "And I thought it was normal, because she was the first proper long-term relationship I had. I thought it was normal to constantly feel guilty in your relationship. I thought it was normal to go out of town for your dad's funeral and then come back to your partner not speaking to you for over a week. Over a week, and she'd isolated me enough by that point that I had no one else to talk to. Nobody to help me through my grief. And I thought it was normal."

 Marigold's mouth felt dry. An uneasy knot in her stomach.

She felt like she had to reply, but wasn't in the right mindset to formulate anything.

 The silence settled for a while. Rose felt like she'd said too much.

She sighed. "I take it that you at least got to look after your Claire before she died."

Her voice wasn't bitter; well, not very. She just sounded tired and sad.

 "Yes. I was able to be her live in carer. She seemed to distance away from her immediate family at that point. I couldn't ever quite tell why."

 "Didn't you say she was your family as well? ... or was it something else?"

 "Yes. My very, very distant relative. She looked after me when I was younger and I returned the favour."

 "I see." Rose stared ahead, keeping her eyes on the road.

Suddenly, her phone pinged. "Oh hey, it looks like we're nearing civilisation again. Can you check how far it is from here?"

 Marigold blinked. Either time had accelerated or Rose being awake had made it go much faster. "Goodness! Looks like we've nearly made it. I think this is west of the town. We want to get to the eastern area."

 "Alright. Can you configure the SatNav?" Rose kept a lookout for any signs as to where they were going. A few side streets and houses indicated that they were indeed getting close to a town.

 "Alright. I'll do my best." Marigold picked it up and fiddled with it. "Truth be told, I'm actually a little bit of a technophobe, I think."

 "Oh. Right. Yeah, you made me set it up earlier." Rose's memories from the morning were hazy, clouded by hungover pain and sickness. "We'll figure it out. If all else fails we'll stop somewhere and I'll set it up again."

 "Alright. As long as you're sure." Marigold offered a tiny smile. "I suppose you're going to learn an awful lot about me through this fiasco."

 "Well, you saw me yesterday more drunk than I've been in years so I guess it's mutual. We're stuck in this together now whether we like it or not. And honestly, so far - it could be worse." Rose returned the small smile.

 Marigold's cheeks tinted as she glanced away. But her smile didn't fade. "I do suppose it could. I am sorry if... it's hurting you to pursue her in this way. I'm beginning to realise just how thoughtless it was of us to make you have to make the choice to go so fast."

 "It's okay. It can't be helped, it was a decision that needed to be made quickly. I doubt I would've found it any easier if I'd had more time." Rose sighed. "And it's going to bring up old trauma either way."

 "I suppose so." Marigold found herself preoccupied by watching rustic houses speed by outside the car window. The car had begun to bump on the ridges of cobbles. The town looked like a painting.

She wondered if someone as cruel as Roxy could really reside in such a beautiful place.

 Rose slowed down the car. “Right, I’m not too sure where to go from here.” She pulled up once the street showed some kind of parking spaces and turned off the engine. “Let’s have a look at this SatNav.”

 "There you are." Marigold passed it over, taking in the surroundings. Even the air here felt different. She found it a little suffocating; or was it the growing anxiety?

She tried to snap herself out of it. She didn't get anxiety.

It didn't stop her from looking at a window of a nearby building and wondering what kind of building Marina had been shot in.

Don't be morbid.

 Rose fussed with the SatNav for a while. “It’s calculating the route,” she then said, fastening it to the holder. “Huh. Pretty out here, isn’t it?”

 "Yes," Marigold swallowed drily. "I'm just taking it in. I hope the place we're staying in is nice, too."

 “I’m sure it is. Azure wouldn’t have us stay in some rundown hut.”

The SatNav beeped: it had found the route. “Oh, it’s really close, just a few minutes!” Rose said, starting the engine again.

 Marigold smiled. The news somewhat lit a little excitement in her belly. "Apparently we're meeting someone to get some things from Azure. She said she had to get some things approved."

 Rose drove, following the instructions. "Ah, we're getting some handy gadgets, huh?" she said. "I kind of wish I hadn't drunk so much last night, I still don't feel too great."

 "I can only imagine." Marigold gave a small chuckle. "There should be some water and aspirin in my handbag."

 "Thanks. I'll have some when we get there." Rose smiled wryly. "I should really find better ways of coping with my feelings."

 "It looked like it's not your usual coping mechanism. No casual drinker goes around mixing that many spirits."

 "I do." Rose gave a short laugh. "But only when I'm feeling really awful."

 "That much? Usually?"

 "Well, I suppose it's not everyday that you learn just how much your ex was cheating on you," Rose said. "I mean - she was poly, and cheating on me with Azure and god knows who else, all while telling me I wasn't allowed to see other people because I was supposed to be loyal to her. That's fucked up. It fucked me up. It still does."

 "I can imagine. It just was unfair." Marigold sighed. "Do you think she was insecure that you'd leave her if you saw what a healthier relationship was like?"

 “Probably. But I don’t really understand... if that’s the case, why was she with me in the first place?” Rose sighed. “Oh, it looks like we’re here.”

She pulled into the car park of a small but fancy-looking hotel.

 "Oh, Azure just seems to be showing off now. Look at it!" Marigold spied the rows of planted roses outside, blending into the cottagelike building. "I wish I knew how to draw. I could sit here for hours."

 "Well, I don't know if we have hours," Rose said. "Do you know when Azure's... um, operatives are going to meet us?"

 "Around six." Marigold checked her wristwatch. 3. "We've got a few hours to unpack and unwind."

 “Oh, I see. I suppose we do have some time.” Rose killed the engine and got out of the car. “I might nap. Oh... and please don’t let me near alcohol again.”

 "I'll do my best. I mean, I did try yesterday."

#steven universe #su fanfic #su yellow diamond #su rose quartz #su human au #educating the victim #etv act 6 #illustrated #animated #sfw

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Do you have any hcs for Keith and Pidge's first romantic date and If so would you like to share it with us?

HHHOOLLLLLYYYY CCCCCCRRRRRROOOOOOWWWWW This got long but I love every piece of this!!! Thank you so much for asking me about this and hopefully you all like this as much as I do! I also snuck Nihaar and Adwru into this as well sorry not sorry!

So, Pidge is the one who takes the plunge and invites Keithout on their first date! She catches him before he leaves on another Blademission and says she really wants to spend some one-on-one time with him whenhe’s free. She refuses to admit it’s a date, though, out of embarrassment.

Keith, oblivious mother fucker that he is, doesn’t realizethat she’s asking him on a date and thinks it’s just some chill hang outsession and says that he’ll let her know when he’s between missions.

While she waits to hear back from him, she starts trying tofigure out what exactly they can do. Like, she wants this to be something nice,something different than usual. She wants this to be something memorable!

She decides that she has to figure out something away fromthe Castle of Lions. If they’re on the Ship, the others would be able tointerrupt them at any point. And the minute Lance catches on to what her actualintent is? Boy is on her like frogs on a fly.

“So… Hanging out with Keith soon, huh?”

“Uh huh…”

“Gonna so some… Gaming, or something?”

“No… I’m planning something, uh… Something a littledifferent…”

“Oh, maybe a more physical game then? Maybe… You know… A rousing game of tonsil hockey?”

*Pidge literally snapsthe wrench she is holding in fucking half at his implication. Lanceimmediately peaces out and goes into hiding for the next three days. Hunkbegrudgingly plays the role of Relocation Marshall.*

Finally, Keith gives her a specific date that he can be backat the Castle by, so she can actually figure out what they’ll be doing on thisdate!

Pidge decides that she needs to find out more about whatkind of stuff Keith might be interested in doing for the date. She alreadyknows her own preference for simple things but she isn’t sure about him. Heseems like he would be on the same page as her, but what if she’s wrong? She’snever been the best at reading people so she could be totally wrong.

Pidge has been running under the assumption that herfeelings are mutual, but she realizes that she could be wrong, given her lackof experience in regards to stuff like this, and that terrifies her. She’dnever admit it to anyone but she thinks ridiculously highly of Keith. Like,he’s a phenomenal fighter, he’s dependable, he’s passionate – which she findsway more attractive than she is comfortable admitting -, he’s adaptable as afast learner, and she even thinks that the fact that he’s stubborn is admirabletoo. She likes that he challenges her to stand up for herself or see thingsfrom another angle when they disagree. She likes how he’ll bare his fangs andtear people down when someone tries to disregard or disrespect her stance whenthey agree. She likes the comfortable atmosphere between them when they’realone, how they can dip in and out of conversations without silences or breaksin the conversation feeling uncomfortable. And she’s terrified that if hedoesn’t feel the same, or that if this date doesn’t go well, she’ll lose all ofthat.

She needs research from an outside source. She needspractical advice she can use. She needs the help of a Keith Specialist™.

She needs a Shiro™.

She finds him on one of their days off, while going throughsome specifications on their next intended operation with Coran.

“Hey, um, Shiro? When you’re free, can I talk to you aboutsomething?”

*Shiro, immediately setting down the tablet, brown knit inconcern.* “Is something wrong, Pidge?”

“Um, not really… It’s kinda… Personal…”

*Coran, also becoming concerned.* “What is bothering you,Pidge? We’re here to help in any way that we can, you know.”

*Pidge continues to be a flustered mess at them bothwatching at her like worried parents/ siblings.*

After about ten minutes of stammering about and both men tryingto convince her to sit down and playing twenty questions, she finally gives upand admits what her problem is.

Immediately Shiro is able to give her a small amount ofpeace by explaining that Keith is less about big, flashy gestures and more of asimple, sweet acts kinda guy. Something that will be casual but also a bitunique should give him enough hint as to what she’s putting out, and if hereciprocates, he’ll make it clear. And if not, he’ll let her know, but Shiroexplains he won’t be malicious about it.

And Coran, whom finds the idea of human courtship ritualsinteresting, starts playing a new round of 20 questions with both Pidge andShiro to see what kind of things human couples normally do one dates.

“Just… Basic things, you know? Things like walks in the park,or going to coffee, or dinner and a movie…” *Shiro trails, letting out a smalllaugh.

“Dinner and a movie?” *Coran, leaning way too close into hispersonal space with a raised eyebrow.*

*Shiro, leaning back with a small scowl.* “Y-Yes?”

*Coran stands upright and flashes Pidge a small smirk,cupping his chin with one hand.* “I may just know a place that will fill thiscriteria for you, Number Five.”

There’s this planet not too far off, he explains, calledKutu-yfr. The planet is well-known due to how it has huge meteor showers onceevery few Earth weeks. Couples often pull up on the planet’s moon to watch thespectacle from their ships, for a small fee. The denizens of the planetKutu-yfr also have a small concession stand that sells popular delicacies fromtheir home world to help add to the effect. So, basically, think of it like agiant space drive-in, of sorts.

Coran checks and, as fate would have it, there’ll be anothershower the same day as Keith’s return! He offers to call ahead and get thingsset up so that they can have a nice night out. Pidge is thrilled by thisprospect and instead starts figuring out the other matters at hand for herself;specifically, her concern becomes whether they should take Green, one of theAltean cruisers, or one of the Blade cruisers. She wants to make sure they’reinconspicuous but also worries about what could happen if there were an attackor something.

Allura, however, finds out about this whole situation. Andshe becomes very passionate about helping Pidge in regards to picking out anoutfit.

“Allura, is this really necessary?” *Pidge, a bit flusteredand uneasy.*

“Of course! I may not understand human courtship rituals aswell as the other Paladins, but surely you would like to wear an outfit to markthe occasion?”

*Pidge, shuffling her feet a bit, because she kind of likesthe idea the more she thinks about it.* “I… I guess… That’d be nice.”

*Allura, bright-eyed and beaming.* “Excellent! Now come withme, I managed to find some spare clothes we can rummage through to findsomething you like!”

“Are you sure that any of them will fit, though?”

“I’m sure we can find something! And if not, we have somesewing machines so that we can make any necessary adjustments for you! Now,have you put any thought into what kind of colors you might like to wear? Oh,and what about your hair and make-up? I have some spare supplies on hand and I’msure we can find something cute to do with your hair, too!”

Meanwhile, back on the Blade base, Keith is still kind ofoblivious about the whole situation. He doesn’t realize what’s going on untilhe’s talking about this whole thing with two younger Blade members he becamefriends with, named Nihaar and Adwru.

“So… You’re hanging out with the Green Paladin soon?”*Nihaar, tail flicking from side to side, kneading dough on Keith’s pillow asshe makes herself comfy on his cot. Settles in and closes her eyes, curling uplike a cat.*

“Her name is Pidge. And yeah.” *Keith, sharpening his luxiteblade.*

*Adwru lifts his head from shifting through a tablet tocheck some readings on a strange mineral he collected on his last mission.* “Wait,so it’s going to be just you and the Green Paladin?”

“Pidge. And yeah.” *Keith, huffing a bit at neither of themusing her name.*

“So… Just you two? All alone? No other Paladins or anyonetagging along?” *Adwru, slowly setting his tablet down and staring at Keith insurprise.*

*Nihaar cracks one eye to stare at Keith, little whiskerstwitching.*

Keith, tilting his head back and groaning.* “Yes! What’s sohard about that to understand?”

“So it’s a date?” *Nihaar chimes, slowly grinning at him.*

*Keith’s eyes slowly widen and suddenly everything clicks.And he McFreaking Loses It.*

Keith is suddenly a floundering, frantic mess because he isNot Good with Feelings™. Much like the mental process for Pidge, Keith issimilarly pining but convinced that’s all he’ll be able to do. After all, Pidgeis one of the smartest creatures in the universe, she’s got a versatile wealthof knowledge, she’s just as passionate as he is, her bark is just as ferociousas her bite, she’s surprisingly humble and, when offering her tutelage, is surprisinglypatient. She has this energy that blends intelligence and optimism in such away that he finds refreshing and charming and just… He’s really smitten withher. He could go on for days about how her laugh reminds him of the soothingpatter of rain on a rooftop, or how much fun he has pulling pranks with her andgetting to indulge in something a little less mature.

Nihaar and Adwru have to calm him down and vow to help him preparefor the date as best as they can. How do they do this, you may ask? By runninga few scenarios with him, of course! Adwru starts preparing lines and responsesfor Keith, while Keith and Nihaar hi-jack one of the spare round tables theyhave on base for when the commanders have their poker nights. Nihaar decks itall out to look like some super ritzy restaurant.

“Okay, so, first you’ll want to compliment her appearance.” *Nihaar,reading off of some cue cards that Adwru prepared.*

“I… This seems really unnecessary, you guys.* *Keith,slumping into his seat as a blush creeps even further along his cheeks.

*Adwru, sitting with a printed out picture of Pidge tiedover his face, voice muffled.* “Are you trying to say that I don’t look pretty,Keith?”

*Nihaar, pressing one of her paw-like hands to her mouth totry not to laugh.* “C-Come on, Keith… You gotta compliment your lady.”

*Keith, about as red as the Lion he used to pilot,completely refusing to humor this insanity any further.*

“I just want you to know that I am batting my eyelashes in avery alluring way underneath, as I feel that adds to the scenario.” *Adwru,ever helpful, the quiet rustling of something brushing the paper accompanyinghis words.*

*Nihaar starts cackling like a bloody hyena and is basicallyin time-out for a good fifteen minutes afterwards.*

When they get to the day in question, Hunk, Lance, and Allura all make a private pact to assurethat, regardless of what happens, they are going to make sure nothinginterrupts the date. They got Pidge and Keith’s backs on this.

Pidge ended up finding a really cute mid-thigh cut dressamong the clothes that Allura had pulled out for them to check out. The dress wasa little big on her, but Lance was actually able to help them take the seam inso that it fit better. The dress is actually a light shade of purple withoutany pattern or design to it; simple, but cute and just Pidge’s style. Hunkfinds a light grey scarf in one of the piles and insists that Pidge add it as acute little accessory, as well as being the one that helps her pick out a cutepair of ankle boots to finish the ensemble off.

Lance forces Pidge into one of his face masks and actuallyhelps her with her make-up.

“Doesn’t this seem a little… I don’t know… Excessive?”*Pidge, starting to remove one of the pseudo-cucumber slices Lance put over hereyes.*

“Hey, hey, hey! No peeking yet! You have to let the masksettle to make sure it gets everything clear and smooth!” *Lance, lightlyswatting her hand away with a click of his tongue, before turning his attentionback to Allura and Hunk.* “Now, I’m thinking nude hues and very light touchesof make-up will be best.”

“Totally. Pidge isn’t a really complicated person so simpleis the best way to go.” *Hunk, bright smile in place, as he uses a cloth toclean her glasses lenses to make them extra shiny.*

“Indeed. Besides, Pidge already has such a natural beauty;all we should do is help to accent it.” *Allura, nodding sagely.*

*Lance hums in agreement.* “Exactly my thought.”

*Pidge blushes like mad at the praise but has a small smileon her lips, grateful at how supportive her friends are.*

Meanwhile, Keith is getting ready to head out as well. Adwrutook him out to a few shops nearby and they scrambled to try and find clothes thatwould work well for him. In the end, of all the things they pick, they end upgetting him put into something really similar to a full fucking suit.

Nihaar immediately steps in because this is… Too Extra. Andfor as much as she likes watching Keith squirm, she’s not going to let him makea total ass of himself. She starts rummaging through the clothes herself andstarts barking at Adwru to go talk to Kolivan and ask him for a jacket and yesthere is a specific one and Kolivan will know what that means just fucking go you useless kit-brainedwaste of fur –

*Nihaar tosses a pair of black jeans at him.* “Seriously,don’t you think that was a little much?”

Keith, blushing and glaring at the back of her head as shekeeps going through the shirts.* “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situationlike this… Never gone out with someone that I liked who… Liked me back.” *Hegrows softer as he speaks, letting his gaze flitter down towards the jeans thathe’s wringing in his hands.*

*Nihaar stops in her rifling and looks over at him, her earsdrooping a bit, before she sighs and approaches him. She reaches out and cupshis cheeks in her paw-hands and turns him to face her while leaning down a bitso that they’re eye to eye.* “Hey, it’s okay to be nervous, you know? I justdon’t want you to think you need to put on some kind of act. I mean, if Pidgereally does mean this as a date, and she really is interested in you like that,isn’t it because she likes who you really are? Underneath all the Blade andPaladin stuff? That’s all you need to be for things to go well. Don’t let theidea or context get you too wrapped up in your own head; she’s not into youbecause of flashy clothes. Just go and be Keith and I know the night will gobeyond wonderful.”

*Keith, getting a little misty-eyed, because he wasn’texpecting a pep talk like that.* “I… Thank you, Nihaar.”

*Nihaar beams and lightly flexes her paw-hands on his cheeksso she’s squishing them a bit, usual playful demeanor back in a heartbeat.* “Shush,my child. Let the toe beans soothe your fears.”

*Keith blinks away the sads and chuckling a bit.*

Keith actually ends up wearing a short-sleeved red button upwith a pure white sweater vest-esque item over it, so that only the shirt coloris really visible, and the black jeans. Keith wears his usual boots with them,though Adwru goes through the kindness of cleaning them up for him. The lastitem is what seems to be a black aviator jacket with a beige fur lining alongthe color and inside. Nihaar explains that she’d seen it before in a collectionof items that Kolivan held on to for Blade members between missions and figuredhe wouldn’t mind if they bothered it, since she thought Keith would like it.

Adwru tried to convince him to slick his hair back but Keithflat out rejected that idea.

So Keith heads out in one of the Blade cruisers to theCastle Ship while the others are helping Pidge get pumped up. Because as theyget closer, her courage is starting to waver.

“What if he misunderstood? What if he shows up and thinksthis was just a regular hangout and he thinks I’m a total weirdo?” *Pidge,sitting on one of Green’s paws and fiddling with a blanket she wanted to bringfor them to sit on.*

*Hunk, perking up as he watches Keith carefully climb out ofthe Blade cruiser on the other side of the hanger.* “Nah, I’m pretty sure hegot the idea. He’s dressed too nice for it to be a regular hangout.”

“Oh, God, I can’t do this!” *Pidge Gunderson, reduced to asqueaky mess, ladies and gentlemen.*

*Lance and Allura exchange A Look before she nods and dartsover to intercept Keith, smiling and waving.* “Yes, you can, Pidge.”

“But what if I make things weird? What if I say something wrong?What if he doesn’t think the meteor shower is interesting? I mean, we spend somuch time out in space, and he spends so much time going from planet to planetfor his missions I’m sure he’s seen plenty of meteor showers on those planetsand they were probably great and this is probably a really dull idea and-!”*Pidge is silenced when Lance flaps his hand in her face and makes a grumblynoise.*

“You’re overthinking it, dude. I mean, he realized it was adate and he’s here, right?” *Lance, setting his hands on his hips while sheglares at him with a little pout over being shushed.*

*Pidge looks from him over to Keith, who seems to be a bitbemused by why Allura is still chatting him up about whatever she’s hooked himwith.*

“Keith isn’t the type to just mess around with yourfeelings, you know? I mean, I don’t know a whole lot about him, but I do knowhe’s a good guy.” *Hunk chimes in helpfully.*

*Lance side-eying Hunk.* “Woah, let’s not get crazy here,Hunk; I wouldn’t use the word ‘good’ to describe anything about Keith. He’smore… Not-as-bad-a-guy-as-previous-actions-would-dictate kind of guy. Butanyway! Main point is that he isn’t scummy enough to lead someone on!”

“Exactly!”

“And the rest of what you’re thinking is just first-datejitters. Once you two get out there you’ll feel better and you’ll be fine.Just remember to be yourself. If he doesn’t like you for you, then there’s waymore wrong with him than just the obvious stuff.” *Lance explains, with Hunkrolling his eyes with a small smile.*

“Most of that is true… I trust you to know which parts todisregard, though, Pidge.” *Hunk says, offering Pidge his hand to help her up.*

*Pidge smiles then takes his offer and gets up, dusting herskirt off a bit as she does.*

“Um, excuse me, all of what I said was spot on!” *Lance isOffended.*

Pidge scampers over to where Keith and Allura are, offeringa meek wave as she does, kinda flustered over seeing him in such adifferent outfit. Keith’s eyes widen a bit, just as awe-stricken as she is,before he offers a shy, mumbled “Hello” of his own.

Simultaneous Thought: “Oh no they’re hot.”

They decide to take the Blade cruiser since it’ll be a bitless distracting. Pidge uploads the coordinates to the ship and spends almostthe whole ride to Kutu-yfr asking this and that about the cruiser. Keithrealizes that Pidge has never actually been in one before and is happy to talkabout it, the atmosphere between them becoming more relaxed as they do; bothgrateful to be discussing somewhat familiar territory.

When they arrive, the people of Kutu-yfr, strange, shelledcreatures with thick fur between the portions of their armor. Think Cousin Itfrom The Addams Family tossed in a blender with an armadillo. They are eager tomeet a Paladin of Voltron and gush over Pidge for a bit before letting the duosettle in with the rest of the crowd, though first they are given specialgoggles to wear. The meteors come into very close to the moon and staringdirectly can cause sight problems for outsiders without the safety goggles.They manage to snag a great, spacious spot so that they can see the wholespectacle. Since they arrived pretty early on they get the chance to walkaround and explore.

There are all kinds of little souvenir booths and concessionstands and things set up, and there are some families milling about here andthere. They take a little walk through to see what kind of things there are andend up getting some snacks and stuff. They share this weird caramel-apple thing;and, by share, I mean that the item is pre-cut into slices and they each justkind of take pieces as they see fit. It’s a round-ish shaped fruit that tastesmore like the juice at the bottom of a mixed fruit cup with a sweet coatingthat apparently alters its flavor to match whatever the eater thinks wouldtaste best with it. To Keith, it actually does taste like caramel; for Pidge,it tastes like a strange mix of chocolate and marshmallow.

They stop by a couple of other stands just to look at whatthey have. They get particularly distracted by a Kutu-yfr doing a swordswallowing act. Only the swords are made out of pure electricity and causes thetips of his fur to glow in bright, neon colors.

Not too long after that, an announcement is made about themeteors nearly being in view, so they scamper back to their spot.

Pidge lays the blanket out in front of the cruiser and theysettle in, sitting a comfortable distance from one another, with the littletray with the few remaining fruit slices set between them. They each takeanother piece each and nimble on it just as the meteors beginning raining down.

Now, meteor showers are beautiful on their own, but what theKutu-yfr said about how close the meteors get? That makes the whole experience thatmuch more amazing. They can see every flickering of color in the tail of themeteors, close enough they feel as though they can touch them, so close theythink they can feel the rush of wind from the velocity. It doesn’t last morethan maybe five minutes, but the whole spectacle is just awe-inspiring.

There are still little sparks and smoke lingering after theshow ends. While others start packing it up, Keith and Pidge stay where theyare and just keep staring up at the night sky.

Keith notices that Pidge starts to shiver a bit, but thatshe’s still far too fascinated by looking up at the sky. Even with the tintedshower goggles on, he can see how her eyes are shining just as bright as the meteorsjust a short time ago. Without a word, he shrugs out his jacket and carefullydrapes it over her.

*Pidge jumps a bit in surprise, having not realized that shewas shivering at all, and looks up at him curiously.*

*Keith, averting his gaze a bit and clearing his throat.* “Youlooked like you were a little cold…”

*Pidge, lighting up even brighter than the meteors withaffection and gratitude at his actions, causing him to blush even more.* “Thankyou.”

*Keith lets out a short squawk of a noise that was anattempt at “You’re welcome.” before looking away again. His hand is settled on theblanket between them to help keep him propped up.*

*Feeling a bit emboldened, Pidge shifts closer to him andrests one of her hands on top of his, then cautiously tips her head to restagainst his shoulder. He stares at her with wide eyes for a moment before smilingand turning his hand so that the palm is facing up, gently lacing with hers. Hethen tilts his head to rest his cheek against the top of her head.*

Needless to say, they sit there and just bask in one another’scompany for a good while before turning in for the night with a promise to goon a second date again soon; one of Keith’s choosing this time.

#crumbles grumbles #half baked headcanons #AH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO THINK ABOUT! #Thank you so much for the question! x3 #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas

[alittlesliceofcucumber]

A Vision Of A Wedding

Title: A Vision Of A Wedding For: Katie @whynotcallitvanda Rating: G Word Count: 4,331 Warnings: None Summary: Wedding planning isn't as easy as it seems, as Wanda and Vision found out. A story about the events leading up to their big day.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048253 Fanfiction.net Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13071034/1/

Message for recipient: Hi! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope that you enjoy it! It’s set as if the events of Infinity War never happened, and (realistically) in 2020 but it can be imagined as happening whenever you like. 

Made for the Scarlet Vision Exchange 2018!

A Vision Of A Wedding

It was a beautiful Hungarian summer sunrise.

The sky was layered pink and red, like streaks of paint on a canvas. The sun was emerging from behind the tall trees and shining between the leaves, illuminating the grand, floral arch and the tall figure who stood in front of it.

Vision was nervous to say the least. Not only was he about to marry the woman of his dreams, yet there was an unspoken tension in the gardens.

But their friends were all gathered here for their wedding and nothing else.

“Psst, Vizh! Stop messing with your tie!”

Vision swiftly spun around to face the table where Tony Stark was seated. He had, in fact, been fiddling with his tie for a while now. He wanted it to be proportioned perfectly, and since Wanda had insisted on him wearing a physical suit rather than one he’d phased himself, he found himself constantly adjusting it.

He then turned towards Thor who gave him an encouraging wink and a thumbs up. Although he looked very out of place in his large suit, there was hardly any other competition for the role of best man. In Vision’s eyes, Thor truly was the best man.

Next to catch his gaze was Steve. It was lucky that the super soldier was able to perform weddings; a skill he had been given back in his day. He was glancing at his watch. Steve was eager for the ceremony to take place the around dawn so that he didn’t draw too much attention to himself and his team.

The seating plan was arranged well. Vision and his fiancé had spent hours organising it together, hoping to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Sitting around the table closest to the altar were Tony and Pepper Stark, Bruce Banner, James Rhodes and Peter Parker. Vision believed that they were all somewhat family to him, and insisted that they sat together.

Next was Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, with three places that were reserved for Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. Wanda thought that these people would feel most comfortable with each other. With the one exception of Sam and Bucky, but that couldn’t be helped. They hadn't caused a scene just yet.

The remaining tables were filled by Asgardians (whom Thor insisted on bringing along for “educational purposes”) and another alien who appeared to be made of rocks. Vision knew better than to question it.

His fellow Avengers, however, seemed to glance back at one particular Asgardian. He had been informed that he was Thor’s (adopted) brother, Loki. So Vision had done his research and had soon found the reason for everyone’s uneasiness.

And consequently kept an eye on him too.

The sun had risen quite high when the car finally arrived. It was self-driving, provided by none other than Tony Stark himself.

First to exit was Clint. He looked surprisingly dashing in a suit, something he was presumably used to wearing as a family man. He probably attended many school events for his children and nights out with his...

Vision felt the world around him screech to a halt as Wanda emerged from the car.

She looked absolutely stunning. She wore a loose white dress with scarlet trim which fell down to her ankles. She wore a gold locket encrusted with a circular ruby (one Vision had chosen for her himself). The sleeves of the dress possessed a pink floral print, which Vision recognised as cherry blossom. Her outfit was beautiful whilst also practical, very much like Wanda herself.

She caught his eye, and the pair shared a look of pure joy.

Wanda felt a rush of happiness when she first caught sight of Vision. He wore a fitting suit which contrasted with the colour of his skin. In her eyes, he was the definition of perfection. His mere seemed presence begged her to approach.

As if in a trance, she felt her feet glide towards him. With her arm in Clint’s, she locked eyes with Vision, focusing on nothing but the man she loved. The man she was about to marry.

Once she reached the altar, she smiled at the (obviously quite nervous) Vision.

Upon admiring her once more, he stuttered “Y-you, er, you look…”

“Decent?” She prompted. “Beautiful.” He replied.

She allowed herself a small giggle. “Says the handsome man in front of me.” She said.

He grinned in return, and the pair turned towards Steve, who nodded at their signal to begin.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of two people who deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. They were burdened by our mistakes, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we were too blind by our own goals to even consider your lives. On behalf of everyone here, I’m sorry.”

“If anyone here knows any reason that these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Wanda looked at the guests anxiously, and was relieved to see only smiling faces.

Steve, too, was smiling. “All in favour for this marriage?”

The “Aye”s weren’t in sync, but they were loud enough to portray their point. Or that may actually have been just Thor.

“Great, in that case, are you two ready?”

“Yes.” The pair replied, without looking away from each other.

“Alright then. Wanda Maximoff, do you take Vision to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love and comfort him, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and to be faithful to him at all times?”

She didn’t even register the words that tumbled out of her mouth.

“I do.”

Steve then turned to Vision.

“Vision…”

Steve glanced cautiously at Tony, who nodded back at him. The genius was beaming with pride.

“...Stark, do you take Wanda to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love and comfort her, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and be faithful to her at all times?”

“I do.”

“Now it’s time for the exchanging of vows. Wanda?”

Wanda forced her eyes away from Vision in order to unfold the piece of paper hidden in her sleeve.

“Vision, from the moment I first saw you in that cradle I felt connected to you. At first I thought it was because of the stone in your head, but then I realised it was something more. As I got to know you I felt myself drawn to you. Every day you save the world. But you are my world, Vizh. And I promise to love you for as long as I am alive.”

Suddenly her vision became clouded and she felt the need to bite her bottom lip. Her lover brushed the tears away before they had the chance to fall.

“My darling Wanda.” Vision began, having memorised his vow by heart. “Whenever I used to see my reflection, I saw a servant for humanity. I saw myself bound by duty for this planet. But now, I feel as if I am bound to you. You helped me to accept who I am, and I can only hope I can help you do the same. If I were to look at my reflection now, I would see the luckiest man in the universe. I love you, Wanda.”

The two looked at each other, thinking about how far they had come to reach this point.

It was a very long journey indeed.

9 months earlier...

Paris was known throughout the world for being the city of romance, therefore the sight of lovers walking together on the streets was no spectacle to behold. On that particular evening, however, one couple didn’t quite fit in. To the ordinary eye, they were a normal couple enjoying the sights. But they were so much more.

Two troubled souls desperate to break away from their lives. Desperate to escape the seemingly never-ending conflict in the world. Desperate to be normal.

Wanda Maximoff was burdened with a traumatic past. Her twin brother was murdered by a robot. Her parents were killed by a bomb created by billionaire Tony Stark...

...who also happened to be her boyfriend’s father figure.

It’s funny, how life works its magic like that. If she had been asked if she had any interest in that awkward, purple synthezoid before she gained her powers she would have instantly denied.

But the more she got to know the Vision, the more she slowly felt herself be pulled towards him.

The way he was awed by everyday things. The way he attempted to cook for her. The way he would find activities to do together when she was sad. The way he was ready to sacrifice everything for her in a synthetic heartbeat..

Even then, in his human disguise wearing a casual shirt (which she had handpicked for him) he gazed with wonder at every little nook and cranny of the city. It made Wanda’s heart flutter every time she watched him.

Maybe that was what lead her to her crazy decision.

“Hey Vizh,” she said, dragging him to a corner of the sidewalk.

“Yes, darling?” Vision replied, smiling at Wanda’s enthusiasm.

“Do you know what day it is?” She asked with a cheeky grin.

Vision visibly contemplated the question, assessing whether it was a trick or a joke. It wasn’t everyday that such a trivial question would be asked to a man whose brain was literally made up of the internet.

“Today is Saturday the 29th of February. Leap day.” He answered. Upon seeing Wanda’s mischievous expression, he added “Why do you ask?” with an edge of playful suspicion.

“Do you know what happens today?” “I must admit that I do not. Should I?”

This is it! Thought Wanda, as she carefully planned her next words.

“Traditionally, today is the day that women propose to men. And if the man refuses, he has to buy her 12 pairs of gloves.”

The adorable look of genuine confusion on Vision’s face made Wanda’s heart skip a beat. Her plan was successful thus far.

Without giving him a chance to respond, she fell onto one knee. She felt adrenaline pumping through her veins. It was a pleasant feeling, not unlike her own powers.

Vision looked at her, his face a mixture of messages. She briefly skimmed his mind to try and solve his expression, where she found he was conflicted. He was overjoyed, yet begging her to change her mind. To rethink.

It was not going to happen.

“So Vision, will you marry me?”

“Well, look who finally decided to show up!”

Vision hadn’t even fully entered the lab when he was greeted by Tony. It was almost a routine at this point. Vision would turn off his transponder and Tony wouldn’t inquire about it. Unless there was an emergency, in which case Vision would come back immediately as instructed. That was the unofficial deal between them. Vision was entitled to privacy.

The lab was far messier than it had been when he’d left it. He would often clean up after the scientists when he was in the compound as he had little else to do. Bruce would usually try to keep things organised, but today was an exception.

Judging by the way Tony Stark was frantically typing on his keyboard, Vision could only assume that the pair had made a breakthrough.

“Mr Stark, please may I have a word?” he asked, taking care to phrase the question so that Tony would pick up the hint.

Luckily, he did.

“You’ve had eight, but sure. Bruce, would you give us a minute?”

Dr Banner turned around from where he was working and looked at Tony quizzically, before shrugging and leaving without a word.

“What’s up?” Said Tony, not looking away from his computer screen.

Vision felt his body tremble, but it was in fact as still as ever. This feeling was familiar. Nervousness. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He said

“I’m flattered, but I’m a married man. You’d have to talk it out with Pepper.” Joked Tony. After getting no reaction from Vision, he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “tough crowd” and focused back on his work.

“Mr Stark, do you think of me as human?”

Vision watched as Tony tensed and slowly spun on his chair to face him. He was thankful for the sudden absence of the clicking of the keyboard so that they could have a serious conversation.  They looked at each other for a little while, before the man let out a sigh.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. No I don’t.” Tony said.

Vision’s limbs suddenly felt very heavy, and the world around him seemed to slow down. Was it anger? No, he would feel the urge to destroy something. It was more like... disappointment.

“But that’s only ‘cause I helped make you. I know your circuits and stuff, and you remind me too much of JARVIS. So no, I don’t think you’re human. Then again, I don’t think Thor’s human either. But he is a person, and so are you, that goes without saying.”

Vision found some comfort in his creator’s words.

Tony spun back towards his computer and resumed typing. It was now or never, Vision decided.

“So if I were to marry Wanda…”

This time, the silence was deafening. Tony froze and Vision braced himself for… something. Anger, shame, guilt- anything that would be directed at him.

Wanda had always mentioned wanting to swap powers so that she could phase out of awkward situations. She would literally let the floor swallow her up. Vision suddenly understood why this would come in useful.

“Say what now?”

The pause had been smaller than he had expected, lasting only a few seconds. “I mean, would you give me your blessing if I were to get married?” Vision repeated, suddenly thinking better of mentioning Wanda straight away.

Tony let out a sound akin to a snicker. Which grew into a chuckle. Which evolved into a laughing fit. He began to laugh so hard that Vision was genuinely worried.

It ended far too quickly.

“Wait- you’re serious?”

Vision, who’s expression hadn’t changed since his declaration, simply nodded.

The billionaire let out a sigh, and slowly rose from his chair to face the synthezoid. He placed a hand on his shoulder (Vision bent his knees ever so slightly) and smiled warmly.

“Bruce owes me $10.” “It was that obvious?” “You’re new to all this. And yeah, it was. Come on, turning off your tracker, coming back in a really good mood... Even Bruce could tell.”

Tony grinned up at Vision. Vision smiled briefly in return before his expression melted into a frown, and he stepped backwards.

“You know that you’re supposed to be happy, right?” Said Tony, quickly growing concerned.

“I don’t know.” “Come on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Vision stood still and proceeded to look Tony in the eye. He rarely voiced his thoughts to the billionaire, as that role was reserved for Wanda. But there were some things that he simply couldn’t tell her. Some things that could only his creator could understand.

“It feels wrong. It feels wrong to marry her. You’re right, I’m not human and I never will be. She deserves someone she can love fully, someone she can spend her life with- create a family with. I cannot give her that. She will grow old and I will remain as I am. I don’t want her to have to go through that-”

Tony watched in silence as Vision listed numerous reasons why he shouldn’t marry the woman he loved. It was undeniable that all of his points were true and well thought out, but Tony couldn’t tell him that. They worked in a dangerous business, one where every day was a matter of life and death. It had taken him too long to propose to Pepper Potts, and he was not going to let the Vision make the same mistake.

“If you had this many doubts, then why did you propose to this girl in the first place?” He asked.

“...Actually it was Wanda who proposed to me.”

Tony snorted. He then sighed and outstretched his arms for a hug. Vision had only ever been offered a hug by Wanda, so he awkwardly shuffled into the genius’s arms. Their small embrace seemed to settle his doubts. He should have pulled away sooner, yet somehow he was satiated. Relieved. Soothed.

“You’ll be fine.” Said Tony firmly, stepping back. “You’re growing up, Vizh. It’ll be good for you.”

Without warning the lab door opened and Bruce emerged.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just had to check if it the program synced yet.” He said apologetically.

Tony rubbed his hands together in sudden delight. “Forget it!” He said. “We’ve got a wedding to arrange!”

“Wait, wedding? Who’s wedding?”

Vision immediately turned to Tony to try and stop him from-

“Vision’s marrying the Maximoff girl.”

Telling Bruce.

If Dr Banner’s eyes had widened any further, they would have popped right out of his skull. “Wa-Wanda? Vision is getting married to Wanda? You’re getting married to Wanda?”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair.

“Great, isn’t it?” Tony smirked.

Bruce wasn’t amused.

“Oh no, no no no. Tony, are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked in a hushed voice, as if Vision couldn’t hear him. He could. Every single word. Each word was a stab to his synthetic heart.

Tony gave Bruce a pointed look.

“‘Course it is. Now come on, we’ve got to make some calls. This wedding isn’t gonna plan itself!”

Ring ring! Ring ring!

Wanda looked down at the crumpled bit of paper in her hand and prayed that the number was right. She had already encountered a wrong one and didn’t want to make the day any more awkward than it was going to be.

Her worries increased when a child’s voice answered the phone.

“Hello?”

She knew that Clint had children, so she thought there was no harm in continuing the call.

“Hi there! Please may I speak to your Dad?” “Sure!”

Wanda heard shuffling on the other side. And then the beautiful sound of children’s laughter. She couldn’t help but reminisce on the times she had played with Pietro when they were younger. A time that was ripped away from them far too soon.

She felt relief wash over her as Clint’s voice finally answered the phone.

“Uh, hello?” “Clint! It’s Wanda!” “Wanda? How did you get this number?”

She felt slightly guilty to be the cause of Steve betraying Clint’s trust. But her reason was important. Besides, it had been a long time since she’d talked to Clint and she had begun to miss him quite a lot.

“Steve gave it to me. I just wanted to ask if we could meet.” “Why? Has something happened?!”

His voice was suddenly drowned with concern. Classic Clint. Joking around one second, prepared to fight to the death in the other. He would do anything for his family, not all of which he was related to by blood. Wanda hoped that he would consider this when he answered her question.

“No, no. I just wanted to ask you something.” “If you just wanted to ask me something then you could just do it now, seeing as you went through all the trouble to get this number.” “No… I would rather do it face to face.”

Truthfully, she wanted to be able to skim his mind to see if his reaction was genuine.

“Look, you gotta understand that it’s not that easy for me to just drop everything and leave anymore. My kids are growing up, Nathan’s starting school… I don’t wanna miss out on anything else. I want to be the Dad they deserve.”

“Would you walk me down the aisle?”

“Yeah, eventually. When Lila’s old enough. Still got quite a while to go thou- wait what? Walk you down the aisle?!”

Wanda could hear the faint voice of a woman down the phone.

“What was that, Clint?” “Nothing honey!”

Wanda suppressed a laugh at his sudden change of tone. “I’m planning to married this fall.” She said.

“Wanda, that’s great! Who’s the lucky guy?”

This was the question that Wanda had secretly been dreading. The last time Clint had met Vision had been in battle, and that hadn’t been pleasant for either of them. The rest of the group had been slightly sceptical at first, but had soon warmed up to the identity of Wanda’s fiancé and were eagerly helping to plan the wedding.

But Clint’s approval was the most important one she needed.

“Vision.”

A painful pause.

“Oh uh… you did think this through right?” “Of course.” “And he can’t have s-” “I know.” “And he’s a… uh…” “He’s a what, Clint? A robot?”

She had heard the questions so many times that she was sick of it. She didn’t understand why her friends couldn’t see Vision the way she did. As a person.

“...yeah.”

“Well he’s not, Clint. I love him and he loves me. It’s as simple as that.” “Sure, whatever you say.”

“So?” “So what?” “Will you stand in as my father?”

“Wanda, what sort of question even is that? Of course I will.”

Vision stood at the top of the hill and gazed down at the construction below him. New Asgard was to be a temporary solution to the homeless citizens of Thor’s home planet, and would act as a shelter until a permanent solution was found.

Said Prince was striding up the hill was hailing him.

“Vision! It’s been a while! How are you?” He said, his booming voice stretching out for what seemed like miles.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Vision replied, much more quietly in comparison. “Wanda and I-”

“Ah, Wanda.” Thor interrupted. “She’s the reason you were born, you know.”

It took every single component of Vision’s mind to avoid overthinking that statement.

“...yes. Well, Wanda and I are getting married-” “Oh, congratulations!” “Thank you- and I was wondering if you would be my best man?”

To be entirely honest, when Tony had first mentioned finding a best man, Vision had no idea what the job entailed. So he had done his research, and Thor was the person who immediately popped into his mind.

“I would be honoured to be the best man!”

...Except he doubted that the Asgardian knew what it was either.

“Do I have to do anything, or…?” Asked Thor, confirming Vision’s doubts. “I believe you have to give a speech and protect the wedding rings.”

At least that was what the internet said, and he had quickly learned not to believe everything he read.

“Ah, yes. I knew that.” Thor most certainly didn’t. “Well, how hard can it be?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Vision replied. He felt relieved now that the matter was settled. As more parts of the wedding were gradually sorted out, he would be able to give Thor more details. Things were going smoothly so far.

“Is it alright if I bring a few friends?”

“Friends?” Vision couldn’t help the hint of exasperation that leaked into his voice. Time was running out, they only had a few months until the wedding and though it wouldn’t make a difference, he still wanted to return as quickly as possible.

“Just a few of my closest companions.” Said a beaming Thor. “I don’t see why not.” “Thank you, my Vision!”

Wanda sat in her temporary apartment, gazing in wonder at Vision’s shortlist of wedding rings. They had been at it for hours, because Vision had a very different definition of the word “short”.   

“Vizh, I trust you. You can choose whatever ring you like for me.” She said, after she had almost fallen asleep for the fifth time.

“I know, but I believe all of them would suit you.” Said Vision. “There are 1,742 rings on this list compared to the millions of…”

It was the one time that Wanda felt sympathy for Stark, who had apparently also sat through this list.

“Why don’t you just get all of them? I mean, it’s not like Stark can’t afford it.” Wanda jokingly suggested.

“How is it possible to wear that many rings?” Vision asked innocently.

Wanda let out a chuckle. “No, you can’t- nevermind.” She turned back to the screen.

“Wait, what’s that one?” She said, pointing at one ring in particular.

“That one? That’s a royal ruby. Why, do you like it?”

It was quite a large gold ring, with an oval-shaped red gemstone in the middle.

“It’s perfect.”

“Thor, the rings please.”

“Of course!”

A wet-eyed Thor handed the rings over to Steve, who whispered a quick thanks.

The couple had decided to have meaningful words engraved on the inside of their rings. Wanda chose a word for her ring that immediately made her think of Vision. “Humanity”. Vision’s ring was engraved with the phrase that made him first realise his true feelings for Wanda. “Spirits lifted”.

“Now, repeat after me.” Instructed Steve, as he gave the first ring to Vision. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Repeated Vision, gently sliding the ring onto Wanda’s supple finger.

“Wanda?” Prompted Steve, as he gave Wanda the second ring.

“With this ring,” she let out a breath of joy as she slid the ring onto Vision’s finger, “I thee wed.”

Steve smiled warmly at the pair, before announcing the words they had waited too long to hear.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss.”

The roar of applause and cheers were deaf to their ears. Wanda wrapped her arms around Vision’s neck and drew him closer for their first married kiss.

“I love you.” She said, as she pulled back.

Vision just smiled broadly, and stared at his wife, who stroked his cheek lovingly.

Even an android can cry tears of joy.

#scarletvisionexchange2018 #sve2018 #scarlet vision #vision #wanda maximoff #avengers #mcu #tony stark #bruce banner #steve rogers #clint barton

[silent-of-spirit]

First off, love the Roman Au you're writing! Second (for drunk DA), how do you think the romance between Cassandra and Varric happened?

@dadrunkwriting

Ohhhh my godddd this prompt was from 8 months ago and I am SO SORRY.

Okay, story time! So I have shipped Varric and Cassandra super hard since the first time I ever decided to put them in a party together even after getting new companions. I was just HOOKED. But I have never written them despite loving them so much because I felt like I could just never get their voices right.

Well, I am now here to say that I wrote a thing that I am so utterly, hopelessly, RIDICULOUSLY pleased with, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It ended up pretty long, so most of it will be under the cut. Thank you for the prompt!!!

Varric x Cassandra

He hadn’t meant to. Shit, he didn’teven want to, but it was oneof those things that just kind of sneaks up on a man, and he triednot to think about how many times he had written that exact scenario.He couldn’t even really tell when it started.

Itwasn’t some kind of burning revelation, either. There wasn’t aparting of the clouds in his mind and heart - damn poeticbullshit – and there surewasn’t some big momentwhere it just hits you and WHAMyour heart bursts open and there it is. There wasn’t rain or pininglooks or grand declarations. It just kind of… happened.

Hedidn’t realize how unprepared he was until it did.

It wasdifferent from Bianca – not less,just… different. He sat back in his chair, scratching his head ashe tried to figure out the when and how of the whole damn thing.Maker knows they hatedeach other at first. Well, she hatedhim. He didn’t reallyhate anyone, not truly. It was just such a nastyemotion, and he’d seen how it consumed people. Shit, he’d written afew books on that too.

It wasone such book that had her pounding on his door, dragging him fromthe Hanged Man in chains for no reason at all. That book which shethen tossed in his face in that dingy cell, demandingto know where the Champion – where Hawke – had gone. Of coursehe said he didn’t know. As if he would do anything else. It wasn’this fault that his book hadn’t been enough to make her see howdesperately Hawkeneeded to not be found. But – damn it– the woman hadn’t seemed entirelyunreasonable, and he found himself telling her the real story…because maybe – maybe– it would be enough to change her mind. To leave Hawke be and lether heal from all of the hate.

Itwasn’t enough, and so of course she had to drag him to the Divine’sdoorstep so he could tell her too.

“Youwill stand trial,” was what she’d said, even the gentle lilt of heraccent unable to mask how hard the words were.

“Forwhat?” he’d laughed in disbelief, “For telling you I don’tknow where she is? The truth?”

“Aftereverything you’ve just told me, you really expect me to believethat?”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

Butsomewhere down the line she didstart to believe him, and despite their arguments and his jests thatseemed only to further rouse her, when she found out he lied it hurt.Not in the physical way, though that was also the case. Damn,she had an arm on her. That chair didn’t stand a chance– but it tugged at him. He was angry – for Hawke, for Liahra –at the way Cassandra reacted.Yeah, she could be violent, but she snappedand he had no idea why. People lie. It’s a thing they do, especiallywhen trying to protect someone they love. They had been gettingcloser – a sort of uneasy camaraderie – and he had been so sure that she would – well, notunderstand, but notget so damn pissed either.

Itbothered him.

Itbothered him for a long time. He was his usual self with everyoneelse, cracking jokes and telling wild stories about the Hawkes andtheir friends – but with Cassandra he was… cold. Abrupt, even. Itfelt like some kind of perverse justice, but it had gotten to thepoint that even Liahrahad to pull him aside and tell him to knock it off. Liahra. Sunshine.It was enough to make him feel ashamed, but he still didn’t seek herout. So of course Sunshine being, well, Sunshine– sweet, meddling thing that she was – she dragged them both outon missions. Together. At the same time. Together.And then she’d give them that look,the really sweet one that had that brutaledge beneath it. Varric called it her ’You’d better getalong or Creators help me, I am going to chain you together until youdo’ look.

Forall her kindness and patience, she could really be scary if shetried.

And,well, they tried… kind of. The tension was undeniable, but at leastthey were talking again… kind of. And damnwas it uncomfortable, but at least it was enough for Liahra. Somehow,the tiny elf scared both of them more than the prospect of beingfriendly did. They could agree on thatmuch.

“Wheredoes such a small woman find all of this ferocity?” Cassandra askedover the fire one night, looking at the dreaming Inquisitor with afond smile. Varric had looked around, sure she was talking to Dorian,but the mage was fast asleep – silky mask and all. He made a smallnote to remember that for later – oh, Sparkler would hatethat – before clearing his throat and poking at the fireabsentmindedly.

“Idon’t think she really findsit, Seeker. It’s always been there, we just don’t get to see it much.She’s good at hiding,” he said, waving smoke out of his face as thewind picked up. Cassandra was silent for a long moment, and heshuffled uncomfortably on his bedroll as he wondered what he said.

“Youcalled me Seeker,” her voice finally came, softer than he’d everheard it. He briefly met her eyes over the fire. “That is the firsttime since… since we fought.”

Varricsnorted, “Since you threw a chair at me, you mean?”

Sheopened her mouth, that look of outrage on her face that she wore sooften, and he sworeshe was going to yell at him – and then she didn’t. His brows shotinto his hairline at the way she snapped her mouth shut with adisgruntled noise, cheeks coloring as she looked away.

“Y-youlied to me,” she said, the words sounding forced.

“Peoplelie, Seeker, especially to protect the ones they care about,” hegrunted, half-tempted to lay back and fall asleep just to escape theconversation.

Shewas silent for another long moment. “I-I know. I understand why youdid, even if it made me angry. And-” she paused, as if each wordwas just hanging on the edge of toohard to say, “Liahra is a good Inquisitor… better than we couldhave hoped for. She was what we needed, when we needed it.”

Hehuffed in amusement, tugging his blanket up as he laid back. “Well,she’s right over there. Don’t know what you’re telling me for.”

“Iam trying to-” she began, voice rising in frustration. His back wasto her, but he was latched onto every word, brow furrowing. “I am..I… I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “You were right to protectthe Champion. I probably would have done the same.”

Varricrolled over, squinting as if he couldn’t believe she was reallyserious. If theembarrassment flaming on her cheeks was any indication… she was.“Shit,” he saidwith a breathless laugh, dragging out the word, “You’re not justputting on a face for our fearless leader. You really mean it, don’tyou?”

“Youdon’t have to make it sound so shocking,”she said with an insulted huff, crossing her arms. He laughed.

“W-well,Seeker, do you blame me?” he asked between chuckles. Her cheeksflamed brighter, and he struggled to contain his amusement.

“I-Ihave learned it is important to acknowledge your shortcomings andadmit when you are wrong, especially to… to friends,”

Hiseyes widened slightly. She didn’t seem to be a woman of sentiment –or a woman with friendshonestly, not until the Inquisition – and some niggling somethingwas telling him that it had to have been hard for her to admit. Well,especially given her pride?He had the good sense to be flattered.

“Aww,Seeker. I’ve grown on you,” he said with a soft laugh. She wrinkledher nose in distaste, that trademark disgusted noise forcing its wayfrom her lips. But it didn’t sound quite asdisgusted, and he swore there was the shadow of a smile on her face.

“Likefungus,” she huffedwith such utter disdain that it made him laugh all over again as shedropped onto her bedroll and turned over.

Liahradidn’t mention it if she noticed the way things suddenly seemed backto normal. Of course she didnotice, but she noticed everything and Varric was just glad that shedecided to go with it. The second-hand embarrassment he would havegotten for Cassandra would have been too much otherwise. He couldalmost see the way shewould stammer for an explanation, cheeks scarlet. The thought madehim chuckle.

“Andwhat is so funny, dwarf?” the very woman asked with an impressivelyarched eyebrow.

“Nothing,nothing,” he said, though the amusement coloring his words gave himaway in a heartbeat. He held his hands up in mock surrender as shepinned him with a withering glare.

But itwasn’t as witheringand, well, that was something.

Sunshinedidn’t force them to come out with her after that. She never had tosay it, but he knewshe was glad. She cared too damn much about all of them, and itactually pained her when her companions – her friends– wouldn’t get along. It stirred a strange sense of satisfaction inhim, knowing she was pleased. But in honesty, he was glad of it too.

“Youhave a fan,” Liahra said one day, plopping into the chair sheusually took beside him in the hall. Varric huffed in amusement as hecontinued marking some correspondences.

“Ihave a lot of those, apparently.” But when he glanced up, there wasa smirk on the Inquisitor’s face – almost pained in the way itseemed to be holding her amusement back. He straightened in hischair, plucking his spectacles from his nose and placing them on thetable as he prompted her to continue with a cocked brow.

“Cassis quite taken with Swords and Shields.” That smirk tugged harder,and he squinted.

“Youmust have knocked your head, Sunshine,” he dismissed with achuckle, pausing as her face contorted with the effort of holdingback a laugh. He peered at her with disbelief. “You- we’re nottalking about the same Cassandra,are we? Tall, grumpy seeker…” he trailed off as she ducked herhead with a snort, silent laughter shaking her shoulders. His eyeswidened for a moment and then he broke,his laughter booming in the hall enough to prompt strange looks fromthe nobles that always seemed to congregate there. That- it was toogood. “No,”he managed to wheeze, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Mm,”she confirmed with a thoroughlyamused grin. “She is quite sore that there isn’t another additionyet.”

“Andraste’sass,” he said as hecollapsed into laughter all over again. “Don’t you worry, Sunshine.I’ll take care of it.”

“I’mglad that was so easy,” she tossed back as she pushed herself up.“I was afraid I was going to have to order you to do it.” Heshook his head, trying to quell the chuckles.

“Onecondition. I want to be there when you give it to her.”

Shewinked as she walked away.

It wasstrange the way the words just flowedfor a series he had abandoned, but he wasn’t going to question it.The entire situation was just… too muchin the best way. To be able to see the seeker’s reaction was spurringhim on. He had to seeit. Despite needing to frequently leave the pages to laugh at theabsurdity of it all, he finished the book in record time. Hispublisher would have been pleased. He couldn’t even lookat Cassandra during the process for fear of cracking up and ruiningthe surprise.

Heheld the book aloft when the Inquisitor walked by, looking at herover the rims of his spectacles with a smirk. Her eyes lit up and shemade a beeline for him, nearly yanking him out of his seat when shegrabbed his arm. He laughed.

“I’mcoming, Sunshine. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Mortifiedwas never a word he would have thought to use for Cassandra - butthere she stood, the very picture of it all over her face. She shot alook of betrayal at their smirking Inquisitor, seemingly at a lossfor words. Oh, this was soworth it. Who would have thought their stoic, grumpy seeker wouldhave a soft spot? And for romance– badly written, smuttyromance – of all things? The way she snatched the book from him,only to flatten her palm over the cover and gaze at it reverentlywith a rare smile was strangely satisfying.

Butstill, he didn’t expect her to just dropinto a chair next to him in the hall. He cursed softly at the way hisquill dragged across the page in his surprise, leaving a messy lineof ink in its wake. “Seeker,” he greeted with an amused – ifstartled – look. She blushed and looked to speak, but apparentlydecided against it as she flipped open a book and rested the spineagainst the table instead. He chuckled, but returned to his papers.

Thesecond time didn’t surprise him as much, the third even less, andafter a while he had come to expect her presence dropping in out ofnowhere. Somewhere – somehow - they had formed an easy sort offriendship. She would sit with him and read, always trying to hidethe covers of her books from him as if he didn’t know theywere sappy romance. He would write, smirking as he occasionallycaught her trying to peek over the edge of her books at the words onhis pages. And occasionally… they would talk. It was never reallyanything of much substance, but it was… well, it was nice.One day he glanced over at her as he leaned back to stretch and hejust kind of… knew.

He hadn’t meant to. Shit, he didn’teven want to, but it was one of those things that just kind of sneaksup on a man, and he tried not to think about how many times he hadwritten that exact scenario. He couldn’t even really tell when itstarted.

It wasn’t some kind of burningrevelation, either. There wasn’t a parting of the clouds in his mindand heart - damn poetic bullshit – and there sure wasn’t some bigmoment where it just hits you and WHAM your heart bursts open andthere it is. There wasn’t rain or pining looks or grand declarations.It just kind of… happened.

And damn if hehadn’t fallen in love with her without even realizing it.

He leaned back witha groan as he pulled his spectacles off, rubbing his eyes. He hadgotten caught up in his writing, and he realized it had been hourssince he moved if the cracking in his back was any indication. Heguessed the hour was late by how dim and empty the hall was, and hewondered how he never noticed everyone leave. His eyes roved over thehall, the doors to the courtyard that hung slightly ajar, over themosaics and the table and – he started violently.

“Maker,Cassandra,” he wheezed, heart pounding behind his breast. Shelooked up from her book with surprise, eyebrows almost at herhairline. She wasn’t in her usual seat, but tucked into one closer bythe fire – for the light, he supposed – and he hadn’t expectedanyone to still be there.

“What?” sheasked flatly, pursing her lips as if she expected him to tease her.Her features softened a bit at his breathless laugh.

“You scared me,”

“I did not expectyou to be so easily startled,” she said with mild amusement,briefly marking her page as she set the book aside. “I had notnoticed the hour grow so late.”

“Yeah,” hemumbled, rubbing his eyes again. He was tired. He moved hishands as he heard a shuffle of movement, and she appeared to begetting ready to leave. He glanced from her to the pages near hiselbow. “Hey, Seeker,” he began, pausing only until she gave him aquestioning look, “want to see what I have for the next installmentof Swords and Shields so far?” Her eyes widened.

“May I?” sheasked, even as she was already moving to stand with an almost girlishenthusiasm gleaming in her eyes. He laughed and pushed the pages tothe corner of the table she was already waiting at. It was… closerthan he remembered it being. She hovered there as she looked over thewords with greedy eyes, damn near close to being on topof him. She smelled… nice. Not that he expected her to smellbad, really, but he was surprised at how feminine her scentwas.

He cleared histhroat and adjusted slightly in his chair while he waited for her todevour the pages. She was doing a damn good job of it. He wasn’t surehe had ever seen anyone flip through something that fast.

“Varric,”she breathed, startling him from his light dozing. He took a breathand sat up, blinking heavily. Her eyes were wide and fixed on thefinal page in wonder, even with it lying there incomplete. He raiseda brow and waited. “This- this is good,” she said, turningto him with excitement.

They both froze.

Was it warm? Itfelt warm, he decided as her nose almost brushed his when sheturned. Neither of them seemed to know what to do, but they alsodidn’t move away, both with wide eyes and slightly stunnedexpressions. There was a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks, andhe’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel any creeping up his own. Hewas good at many things and he knew it, but this? This was out of hiswheelhouse and he didn’t quite know how to handle it. For probablythe first time in his life, he was drawing a complete blank.

“I-” she beganto say, and he didn’t know why – but he leaned forward andtook her lips with gentle fascination. She kissed him back-

and, well, that wassomething.

#varric #cassandra pentaghast #canon verse #dadrunkwriting #EEP #so super proud of this and I hope you guys like it too! #christophertherobin #Asks #sarah writes

[a-is-love]

AH

Perhaps this will be just another letter, a dream within a dream, a stream among streams of consciousness that flow through our sacred Mother Earth. On the other hand, sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, those one in a million chances… perhaps, once in a lifetime. And they seem to stay open but for a little while awaiting an adventurer, in which case, there is delight. Otherwise, it sews itself up, and a timeline is sealed. 

Interestingly, from inside, there always seems to be a voice that is whispering something ever so softly, that sometimes one wonders whether it is a song from the heart, or if it is the mistaken sound of wishful thinking. Not only that, one knows that although the message might be compassionate, it still is threatening to the current state of affairs. So there is both the incentive to listen and to ignore it at once. Yes, things can become quite uncertain and rather bewildering. 

I haven’t written like this in a little while, but I feel the sirens may have been visiting me a little more as of late. I suppose they have something they want to express.

I think the last time I heard such a voice, I was walking up a mountain at a retreat center. You know what happens at a long retreat, at a certain point you try to convince yourself that you’re at peace and happy, and that things are going to be alright. But deep inside me at the time, a tenderness kept trying to reveal itself… showing some truth about myself that I wasn’t prepared to admit. Nothing was soothing me, and my uneasiness kept gnawing at me. When I listened, the voice asked me to stop… to let go of what I was doing. It said it ever so softly, but quite intently too.

I’m reminded of this scene from a McQueen show titled Voss. He had a tattoo on his right upper arm that read, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” which is taken from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. With his sense of humor, he had all the models walking out into an insane asylum, in a room full of mirrors (they couldn’t see out, but the curious audience of course, could watch the horror show). At the end, there was a rectangular box in the middle of the scene that shattered to reveal a naked, overweight woman in a gas mask hooked up to tubes and surrounded by hundreds of moths. That’s when I imagined a few people gasped! I think the message may have something to do with the quote on his arm. In any case, for me, it seemed to point to an ugliness inside that I hadn’t learned to love, that I was still afraid of. It took a while for me to heed the message… 

Finally, a few years passed before I took the leap. I decided to break from life as I had known it, and head into a one year gap sabbatical. In hindsight it wasn’t a big deal, but it definitely felt disconcerting at the time. It turned out to be a strange year. I was trying to put my finger on something… find something, although I didn’t know what. At that point, I had been inside the machine for a little while, enough that I felt its mechanics quite acutely. Unfortunately, we are born into something that may have been corrupted for quite some time now, and it’s not really anyone’s fault. However honorable our intentions, however noble our heart, it always seemed like inevitably, our actions would slowly be warped to continue to construct this greedy and unfeeling world. At least personally, I couldn’t think clearly anymore. 

With that longing, I decided to revisit my past to try and see if it held any clues. When I was younger, I had the privilege of being a violinist in an orchestra, and it was love. One of the highlights was one year at the Conservatoire, we performed Also Sprach Zarathustra, and our concert-mistress just played the solo to perfection. It was so moving. Another time, in a festival of young musicians, we interpreted Ravel’s Bolero to a grand French audience. I still remember the cheers at the end. I think I inherited this classical sensibility from mother. I have fond memories of her accompanying me to most of my lessons. Or when I was young, she was stay-at-home, and we spent a lot of our time doing arts and crafts together.

During that gap year, I tried to rekindle something with my older brother, the one who is both blessed and cursed with a slight case of art-ism (or is it spelled aut-?). He’s the black sheep of the family, the one who guards the house with our black-and-white cat Daria. We used to love to make music together, but by then, his health didn’t permit it anymore. Fortunately, it never diminished his sense of artistic taste, which has always been a cut above everyone. (In his younger days, he may have seen the eyes of Mona Lisa herself in a long trip, and she apparently initiated him into the sublime). On the surface, he seems to be doing nothing most of the time, which perplexes most people I know. From the inside, I am privy to witness a spectacle of endless colors, shapes, and sounds. I think from him, I inherited something of the other-worldly (although sometimes, even I have a hard time connecting to him when he travels too far out into the conspiratorial.)

The other members of the family are more earthy and pragmatic. My father is the engineer who fixes the water heater when it breaks mid-winter, or like clockwork, reminds us to change the air filter when it’s time. He may have been the one to steer me away from art into medicine, much to my chagrin. I harbored anger about it for quite a while. I think during that year, I finally had the chance to hear stories of the harrowing escape from their country from my aunts. Apparently, father shouldered a lot of that responsibility to make sure they arrived here safely. Knowing these stories helped me to understand and forgive him. I think since he feels my brother can't do it, he sees me as the one carrying forth that ancestral responsibility, some sense of honor from a lost country.

My sister is also a more worldly being than I. Being the youngest one, she has had to fight a little bit more than the rest of us for her fair share. But that feistiness proved itself to be useful that year, when she received news that she had ovarian failure. She would never have children of her own. It really broke her heart, and she was trying everything under the sun to change her fate. I didn’t realize its meaning at the time, but in a trip to New Jersey to visit my cousin, there was a scene I’ll always remember. After a slight rain shower had subsided, she and I walked outside to the most remarkable double rainbow, and the whole sky behind was coloured with violets and reds. My cousin had gone through a miscarriage herself, and understood the pain. So last year, she was the one who volunteered her ovums to my sister. And most unexpectedly, my sister received the news of twins on the first IVF try, and she and her husband finally became parents. So, her will forward against all odds was really amazing.

Me … I continued to be lost that year, even while I was back at our Profound Treasury Retreat in the summer. Some of us retreatants spoke about trying to organize a dathün, and I was enthused, because being on sabbatical might give me the only opportunity I would have in a while. But ideas are so fragile, that sometimes if they reach the wrong ears, the flower wilts before it has a chance to bloom. That was the fate of this idea, or so it seemed. The retreat ended... and it was good, but it was time to go home. (Usually I had B to drive home with me, but that year he was undergoing chemotherapy for prostate cancer, so he hadn't come along. I had met him a few years back at a local Buddhist fundraiser, when my eyes first grazed upon his beautiful photograph entitled Flower Moon, since framed in my shrine room. My brother chose one entitled Flower Demon… Geminis of the same coin, I suppose). 

J and his daughter K had forgotten their unfinished laundry at our campsite before they had headed off to a second retreat. Since it was on my way home, I volunteered to deliver the clothes to them. I didn’t think much of it… I would come in and drop it off and be on my way.  Fate would have it that when I began to head back to my car, at the last possible moment, a voice called ‘’Daniel…! Daniel….!’’ J was out smoking again and he had spotted me. Would I stay behind to practice some more? Well… I told him I had the time. I think at that moment, a small hole in the universe opened, and I remembered the words of a Tibetan Buddhist master:

“If you can visualize it, it will be there in the morning.’’ 

Magically, here was the month-long sit that I had hoped for, suddenly materializing. So I fell upon a choiceless choice, and I was granted the permission to stay and join the group.

It was a really wonderful time. At the retreat center a few years back, the voice from these same mountains had requested me to have the courage to take a pause. So here I was, full circle, and it felt like a gift having more precious time to spend practicing. Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper retreat without major controversy, and the “Current Situation” shook what was supposed to be a peaceful space. (It has reverberated ever since, actually). 

But along the way, we had ice cream on the fourth of July for C’s birthday, and walks and wine at night (yes, we cheated). I think that’s where I met “Ah” for the first time. Her name translates to something like serene childlike beauty, or at least, that’s my take on it. There was such sensibility to her manners, maybe something unresolved as well. At the midway point, we had a long free day with mostly just the four of us together (J, K, Ah and I). Nothing happened, and yet it was the sort of series of nothing happening that was just a perfect coda for me. I think maybe the dralas dictated a poem to remember the day:

Dragon Day Bowing out Public vomit recovery Bambi living Je me souviens de rien de rien (one of Tilopa's 6 nails) Soothing headache ibuprofens Mommy navajo siren Only twin child Dulce elderberry spirit Basketball shots Straight talking Translucent Shakespearean theatre Wounded Earth Protector Great eastern sunburn Holocaust cemetery Flower moonshine Holy bread with dab of butter I'm really sorry—nothing happens Talking to Acharya through a window Talking to Acharya with Ka commanding magic The land before time The call of loons Four kayas Fortnights Tears in the fourth moment Sadjoy

I left midway through, although looking back, I do have regrets about it. A month later, while playing tennis, my right Achilles snapped. The moment I fell to the ground, it was like: “Damn, Daniel! Now the universe will have you sitting for two more months!’’ I would have preferred it at the retreat probably. Anyhow, I must have watched three movies a day that September, it was really indulgent, but I couldn’t do much of anything. But I did feel very grateful to all the kind doctors, nurses, friends and family who each had a hand in my recovery. I think somewhere in the healing, I started to realize a most basic thing about my profession that I had forgotten amidst the hustle and bustle of long days, feelings of inadequacy, and the endless accounting and paperwork. Beyond all that, I realized that maybe I could be helpful. “I can help.” It was a simple, almost naive mantra (if not to the point of being a simpleton), but I found it to be true somehow.

It was like I had recovered a compass, to which I could attune myself in times of need. As the sabbatical quickly wound down, my previous life awaited me. Nothing changed when I came back to work, at least not on the surface. But something changed as well… I felt with the mantra, I was perhaps able to slowly effect some change, however small. Ever so slowly, I’ve been feeling the sun in my heart again, and I think it feels genuine. It’s been slow-burning and giving. Last year, when everything stopped and the world turned upside down, I couldn’t help but think back… that somehow, I had stopped at the right moment, and had a small time to look inside. Now, it was my turn to give back to the ailing world. Increasingly, I think we all worry that our world is taking the turn for the worse, and it seems to really need us, more than we might know.  

Sometimes, along the way, we meet people that inspire, that move us, and even in a short time, change us. Late last year, old warrior teachers of mine gathered online to present to us their wisdom on the notion of an enlightened society. It was the surprise of the year that Ah could come, even for just the first half of it. (I suppose there was some poetic karma there, after I had left in the middle of dathün back then.) In those moments together, I felt we could begin to plant the seeds of a just and good world. And in our society, it’s okay if one needs time away in the middle of a forest to heal. It might take moments and moments, and then suddenly, a new possibility dawns—one that has been there all along. Maybe, that’s how we cultivate warriors with soft hearts.

In the middle of that winter, these lines came to me:

                           Meet me in the ninth                         Where the sun reaches its peak                          To swallow flames whole

Maybe it’s for these dark times we live in, that sometimes feel impossible, but we know that the only way is through. On the other hand, perhaps we have simply forgotten, but our birthright is goodness, and it infuses everything that we do already.

So although we live a world apart, it’s still nice to know that magic can happen in July, and that just maybe, we are but a call or message away. And sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, to those that are one in a million, perhaps, once in a lifetime… and you know, my heart grows a little fonder. Or, it could be that I’m a bit myopic and that I can’t read the situation from this far a distance. If it’s that, then my humble apologies. 

I’m reminded that I once took a drawing class, and there was a couple serving as models in the middle of the room. The teacher was helping us visualize, asking that our eyes follow the curves of the body to where we couldn’t see them, helping us feel the space from presence to darkness. Then, we were asked to try and glimpse into the soul of the models, how it might reflect in their gaze, or a wrinkle, or in an unkempt strand of hair. I think I’m coming to understand this inner world a little bit more everyday: the mirrors, the moths, and the lady with the mask. And I would say, “I think I like you, and I would love to get to know you more.’’ 

At the very least, I hope it brings a smile.

                                        *              *               *

I feel the sirens might be done their songs for the day.  Thank you for your ears.  They really are most kind.

[frasier-crane-style]

Tomb Raider (2018)

Spoilers.

This is probably the weirdest adaptation I’ve ever watched. It’s not that I’m overly fond of the 2013 game, which struck me as wrong-headed and cack-handed, a bunch of generic “grim and gritty” clichés paired with “origin story” tropes, but there was at least a baseline competence. TR18 adapts maybe fifty percent of that plot—albeit in a much less economical, yet also less complicated way that still manages to offer less spectacle—and then…

Well, that would be telling.

Okay, so we start off with what feels like a ton of backstory. The video game started with everyone already on the Endurance, the player was quickly brought up to speed on what they were doing, and then the shipwreck happened and we’re off to the races.

The movie spends thirty minutes or so on Lara being a hip young millennial with attractive multiethnic friends (hi Dutch from Killjoys!) who never show up again. They’ve apparently decided that Lara being a millionaire heiress is unrelatable, so now she’s a penniless delivery girl, all because she refuses to sign a document stating that her father was dead.

I had no idea that declaring someone dead was entirely up to a relative of theirs. Wouldn’t, I don’t know, the cops or some other authority do that?

You’re really telling me the financial situation is set up so Lara doesn’t get one red cent unless her dad’s declared dead? And it’s not a case of her being frozen out, since she was raised by apparently a high-ranking executive in the company. You’d think there would be a huge trust fund, or that she’d have stock in the company, or even that she’d get some do-nothing position there, since it really seems like bad publicity for the person your company is named after to be basically living on the streets.

Isn’t she still just a slumming rich girl? It’s been seven years. She could be responsibly using all that money to run charities and such, or at least spring for her friends’ groceries, but instead she pleads poverty to actual poor people, when she isn’t cheating them at bets (yeah, I consider her concealing her paint trail in the biking game to be against the spirit of the competition, and thus cheating. Also, why is there a bike race in a Tomb Raider movie?)

But still, so far so good. It’s providing backstory to the basic plot of the TR13 story, it’s taking elements that Rise of the Tomb Raider retconned in and inserting them here from the very beginning—although oddly they take Anna, who in the game was basically a surrogate mother to her, and here make her this bitch Lara seems to outright resent, which makes her betrayal… pointless?

Oh, and for some reason (padding), we’ll effectively get shown the same scene twice. Like, at the very beginning of the movie, we hear about this legend that the plot will revolve around. Makes sense, right? Then, not fifteen minutes later, Lara hears the exact same narration with a few added details. Why? Did they think we forgot?

We also get the standard scene where Lara is sitting on a rooftop, thinking of the last time she saw her dear departed father as a child, him saying he has to go, but he’ll come back, giving her a token to remember him by. Standard stuff, right? Only later, we get pretty much the exact same scene with Lara as a teenager saying goodbye to her dad again. So I guess he came back the first time and then left again and that’s the last time she ever saw him. Okay, why did you need to show us the first scene? Why not combine them into one scene? Did we need the second go-around to establish that she’s a great archer?

(Also, I find the whole “she’s not a superhero! She’s just an average woman!” thing hella amusing when they also establish that, oh, right, she also happens to have found time to exercise herself into an eight-pack, train in kickboxing, and learn to be a champion markswoman. It’s like, I don’t know, a version of Die Hard where Jet Li gets invited to Nakatomi Plaza. Sure, he’s never beaten up a dozen terrorists before, but it’s not like he doesn’t know how. Why not just have her be an outright badass from the get-go and tell the damn story?)

But okay, she finds a clue to her missing father’s whereabouts and goes to Hong Kong, where we meet her supporting cast: Lu Wen. Just… Lu Wen.

This character is like a Lovecraftian pox on my mind, because I cannot understand anything about him. Sure, we can assume the studio wants China Bucks, but surely, that can’t be the only reason he’s there… right?

See, because we get an elaborate introduction to Lu Wen, he and Lara have several lengthy dialogues, so you assume that this character is important, that he’s going to be a big deal. Maybe him and Lara will fall in love, maybe he’ll betray her and turn out to be the bad guy, Who knows? But they set up this character so thoroughly and then he basically disappears from the movie and gets replaced as male lead by Lara’s daddy, who isn’t dead. Until he does die, but this time he gets a big death scene where he tells Lara he’s proud of her, so he’s really dead.

Lu Wen could’ve been killed in the shipwreck, or Lara could’ve sailed to the island herself, and it wouldn’t have changed the movie’s plot one iota. So why is he there? Is it just because they want the movie to have a male lead? Well, they have Daddy Croft, so why do they need him? Are they trying to be socially conscious and have an Asian romantic lead? But he isn’t really in the movie much and he and Lara really don’t fall for each other, since in the part of the movie where they’d usually be developing feelings for each other, she’s with her dad and he’s probably in another studio. So is he just there to show that there isn’t a love story and Lara doesn’t need a man? Like, ‘hey, a man, look how much Lara doesn’t need him and isn’t in love with him!’ That seems pretty thankless.

Plus, for an action movie, they hired Daniel Wu and then never had him bust out the kung-fu. I mean, c’mon. It’s a fucking video game movie. Are they really trying to be high-minded with this “not all Asians know martial arts!” stuff when they hired a guy who does know martial arts and could easily perform an impressive fight scene? It’s like casting Taye Diggs in a musical and then not having him sing.

Also, I thought it was weird that they introduce Lu as this falling-down drunk guy, and then that never comes up again. I guess he’s addicted to alcohol but then he just… stopped? Or maybe it was supposed to set him up as some experienced, world-weary adventurer who would contrast with Lara’s naïve ingénue and he’d be gruff and roguish, she’d be a little prim and serious, they’d have a Han/Leia sort of dynamic… only not really, he’s just kind of a guy for the rest of the movie.

I guess they thought “we need a scene where the heroine meets a boat captain and hires him to take her where she needs to go” and decided to script that scene to be as clichéd as humanly possible for no reason. Seriously, they could’ve introduced this character making wind chimes, it at least would’ve given him a little personality. What does Lara having to sober him up by throwing him into the shower tell us about this character that isn’t immediately contradicted by how he acts from thereon out?

But never mind all that, they finally reach the island, Lara meets the evil Vogel, who works for Trinity, the vaguely defined villainous organization that will provide generic conflict for the next umpteen movies—seriously, say what you will about Quantum of Solace, but at least there was a bit more to QUANTUM than just Judi Dench saying “there’s an organization out to take over the world! Stop them!”

Lara manages to escape and makes her first kill with one of Vogel’s henchman, who is not rapey because art shouldn’t be challenging or provoke negative emotional responses, and then she finds her father, who, as I said, pretty much takes over as male lead with the movie halfway over.

This is also where the adaptation gets bizarre to me, because sometimes it’s almost a shot-for-shot remake of sequences from the game, then it has huge deviations from that plot involving the nature of the villain, the threat, Lara, Lara’s allies—pretty much everything. And then it’ll go and make a big deal of Lara using a climbing pick as a melee weapon.

I’m used to adaptations taking ‘moments’ from the source material and recreating them in original stories, or doing broad strokes adaptations of existing storylines, but this is such an odd Frankensteining of plots, like they squished several stories together to make one refurbished plot. It’s really distracting to me, and it seems like they should’ve just made a wholly original plot instead of bolting a bunch of new stuff onto the TR13 storyline.

This is also where I’m sympathetic to people complaining that they gave a gender-swap to Sam Nishimura, who in the game was an Asian woman of critical importance to the Himiko plotline whose friendship with Lara was widely interpreted as having lesbian subtext. So it looks like they freaked out about having any gay stuff in their shiny new franchise and made it as straight as possible.

Like, there’s no reason this boat captain character couldn’t be Sam. It’s not like Lara and Lu Wen have any real romance except for him kinda sorta making a pass at her and her kinda sorta rejecting him. And if they wanted to avoid the uneasy comparison of even a potential love interest having to be straight, it seems like it would be easy enough to make movie!Himiko into a completely different creature, since all you really need is an exotic and inaccessible location for Lord Croft to go missing in, with an ancient civilization advanced enough to semi-plausibly build a big trappy tomb. So why it has to be Japan and Himiko doesn’t make any sense to me, besides unthinking laziness.

The fact that Sam was so important to the villain’s endgame and, in the game, Lara’s father was long dead of suicide at this point makes a marked difference from the movie, where Lara’s quest to find her dad takes center stage and her ability to enter the tomb makes her pretty much the Chosen One. Again, more generic, more clichéd.

Oh, but they do kinda go back to being a super-faithful adaptation with Lara making extensive use of a bow and arrow instead of picking up one of the numerous guns her enemies drop. Which is weird, since it’s not like Lara is Hawkeye. In the game, she picks up more advanced weapons as she gets them. It’s like they keep that fanservice, but then they don’t really preserve anything else about the source material.

Anyway, Lara and company—pointedly not including Lu Wen, who is pretty much absent from the third act of this big Asian romantic lead movie—enter the tomb. To its credit, the movie now has more tomb raiding than the game ever did (like I said, I was lukewarm on it; give me Angelina Jolie in shorts any day). And we find another story has been smushed into this one, because now there’s a faith versus science plotline where Lara doesn’t believe Himiko is real, and Vogel doesn’t believe she’s real, but Daddy Croft is all about that. Really, this is a theme that’s only coming up now? The movie’s almost over!

Well, this movie’s Himiko turns out to be mundane, but such an exotic variety of mundanity as to pretty much be as implausible as anything supernatural. And, again, more clichéd, as the McGuffin turns out to be a creation kit for rage zombies. I didn’t like when Rise of the Tomb Raider ripped off the Uncharted games that way, and it’s even more embarrassing when the last two Uncharted games have shied away from that trope. Yet the big damn movie can’t think of anything better to do, and gives us one measly rage zombie that’s easily dispatched? Not a horde of eternally undead Nipponese for our heroine to battle through? Not a Japanese Jason Voorhees she has to take out? Just a monster of the week from Supernatural, and not even a good episode at that?

How disappointing. The game had a better final boss. It really speaks to the movie having a low budget, especially when heroes and villains start having gunfights on a dinky set, with their cover seemingly inches away from each other because the place was built so small.

I continue to report on this only because I made a note to myself to mention this stupidity. Lara is tasked with stopping Vogel from getting away with a sample of this zombie apocalypse. She gets into a fistfight with the injured, limping Vogel and seems to be doing well for herself, but midway through she decides to cut the bridge that would’ve allowed either her or him to get out. This despite knowing that Vogel has called for a helicopter to pick him up and that if he kills her, Vogel can just wait for those guys to find him, rig up a way for him to get out, and blah blah rule the world.

So Lara destroying the bridge accomplishes nothing but guaranteeing her demise if she does happen to win.

But, she’s the hero, so she gets a mulligan on that and escapes to reunite with Lu Wen, who then disappears from the movie for the last time. Seriously, they don’t say goodbye, they don’t have a big kiss, he doesn’t show up in the epilogue. What happens to this character? What’s his arc been? Who knows! He was in the movie and now he’s not.

Lara goes back home, declares her father dead, takes over the company and hands it over to Anna, who she has just started to like, but then immediately realizes is evil, so I guess there was no point to that. Stay tuned for when we do Rise of the Tomb Raider and it turns out that the Deathless Ones are all Ewoks, I guess.

#tomb raider

[kookie-vith-suga]

Turning tables

Word count: 2190 // yaas I am proud

Warnings: A lot of swearing

Author’s note: This is just another stereotypical story plot but you can still give it a read if you like :)

–> Masterlist

Recent:  Denial // Anger // Bargaining // Depression // Acceptance

“I will do it.” All heads turned towards him and surprise was written over their faces.

One of them so called “cool” boys dared to speak carefully picking his words: “Are you sure you want to waste your time on this Tae?”, he coughed uneasy, “I mean Jungkook can just do it. Y/N is not really your type of girl.”

“Are you doubting my skills?”

“No, that is not-” Jimin wanted to clarify but Taehyung interrupted him:

“Good. Anyway you want to score off Seokjin with this right?”

They all nodded in synch.

“Then I am all in.”

You were busy cleaning the counter for the fifth time since there was really nothing to do today when you heard the bell that hung over the door rang.

“Welcome to smiles coffee, where the coffee will make everyone’s day brighter”, you said with your cringy cute voice which you instantly regreted. What is he doing here?!  That slogan had never bothered you before but in this very moment you felt so ashamed.

He eyed you with a raised eyebrow but than the corner of his lips curled upwards.

“Is that so? Well then you have to give me one cup of this magical coffee.”

You gulped away the embarassment: “Immediately.” You were more than happy that you could turn away to make the coffee. Normally no one you knew had ever come to this coffee shop which had been a miracle itself. But out of all the people that could have come here you at least expected it to be Kim Taehyung.

“Here you go. That makes 3,50″, you kept your voice monotone although you knew you will get scold for that by your boss. In his opinion the people were more likely to come back if you talk like a small girl to them.

Taehyung handed you a bill. “You can keep the change.”

You looked at the bill and your eyes widen. “Wow that is really generous. Thank you”, you smiled gratefully. You never got a higher tip than a couple of cents so this was really a lot.

“You know that goes without saying for a good friend like you.” He set up an arrogant look. Immediately you were remembered who was standing in front of you so your smile faded. You bit back a comment about your wonder that he called you “friends”. Because you were far from that. He was going to the same school and you even had a couple of classes together. But that was literally everything connecting the two of you.

“Yeah goodbye.” you took some cups and brought them to the kitchen as an excuse to get away. When you came back he sat on a stool next to the counter. His eyes were fixed on you with a awaiting look. You tried to ignore him and continue to look occupied. Out of all the days that were normally packed with work he had to come on the one day where there was hardly something to do.“You are still here? Do you need anything else?”, you asked a little annoyed after you could not bear his staring anymore.

“Rude”, he stated while acting shocked, “But actually yes. I heard you do not have a partner for the photo project yet and since it is the same with me I wanted to offer myself.”

“Wait what are you talking about?! Irene and I will be partners!”

“Really? Well maybe then I was mistaken when Jimin told me he will ask her tomorrow to do it with him.”

“What kind of bullshit?! Irene would never abandon me for that arrogant scumbag!”, you snapped. You were fuming. How dare him to tell such lies about my best friend?! It was no secret to you that Irene had a crush on Jimin ever since middle school. Still she would not betray me like this and also Jimin would never ask her to be her partner anyway.

You could not stand that boy. Neither him nor the rest of his clique. All spoiled boys coming from wealthy families so they acted like they do not need to think about their future. All of them were troublemakers and Taehyung was one of them.

“Hey, hey calm down. Is that how you speak about people?”, Taehyung remarked in a lecturing tone.

“If they deserve it, yes.” You were blowing up your nostrils out of anger.

Taehyung suddenly started laughing. “You are cute.”

You were taken aback by that comment. That was not exactly what you expected to hear when you just insulted his best friend.

“I would love to get to know you better.”

“As I said: I HAVE A PARTNER.”, you empazised every word.

“If you say so”, he shrugged and in a swift move he got up and snatched his coffee off the table, “I wil see you tomorrow then.”

He left the store and you were starring after him. What an idiot.

Taehyung tapped his foot impatiently on the ground. “Come on pick up, you bastard”, he mumbled.

“Hey, what is up?”, Jimin greeted finally.

“I just tried to call you five times in the past hour. Have your hands fall off from jacking off all the time?!”, Taehyung sassed.

“Rather the opposite. I was occupied. Sonja came over and we…you know… had a little fun.”

“Hold up since when are you two back together?”

“We are not”, Taehyung could hear Jimin grinning.

Taehyung’s lips formed a proud smile. “Not bad…Having the hottest girl from school as a fuckbuddy. I assumed you wanted to live in celibate after your latest break up”, he joked.

“Oh you know she cannot survive long without me.”

“Hands-down. But all the fun aside now. You have to do something for me!”

“And that would be what?”

“You know tomorrow you have to sigh in your partner for that photo project. Ask Irene to be your partner!”, Taehyung said in a ordering tone.

“Irene? Who is that?”, Jimin questioned.

“I think she has chemistry with you. A red head. She is always hanging out with Y/N.”

“Ahh I think I got a face. But yet again why should I do that?”

“She happens to have a terrible crush on you and also I need Y/N to be my partner. You know that project is a big thing and she will be forced to spend a lot of time with me. If that is not enough to make her fall for me.”

Jimin groaned: “That is the burden I have to carry for having such charming looks. What can I do?”

“Stop being so narcissistic and do it.”

“Alright but only for the mission! I hope that fucker gets smashed like a bug. Do your best!”

“Stealing his girl will only be the start. He will suffer for what he had done to me. An eye for an eye..”, Taehyung mumbled more to himself than to Jimin.

“To you? Did he also dissed you in that stupid newspaper of his?”

Shit! Taehyung bit down on his lip. “Yeah kinda… I mean if he insults you all than he also insults me.”

“Ah right. That motherfucker”, Jimin growled deeply, “Since you are doing it, I am sure it will be a success.”

What a safe! Taehyung breathed out. I nearly spilled the tea.

“Of course! I really have to go now. Bye.”

“See you tomorrow”, Jimin said goodbye and hung up.

The words of Taehyung did not let go of you and as you entered the school today you could not wait to talk to Irene to get rid of that bad feeling he had left. Unfortunately you had to wait with that till the afternoon because she had a doctor’s appointment in the morning. So you tried to focus all your attention on Macbeth. When the saving bell rang you jumped up and hurried out to your locker.

As you came closer you could see from afar Irene standing on her locker which is next to yours. You wanted to call her out but then you saw she was talking to someone. Jimin was leaning casually against your locker with a strand of her hair rolled around his fingers. Irene’s head was nearly as red as her hair and she was just nodding eagerly. When you reached her side you picked up Jimin bid his goodbye and left.

“What was that?”, you questioned instantly. You looked after him with a suspicious look.

Irene winced and turned around. “OH MY GOD Y/N! I just wanted to go to you. I can’t believe what just happened! Can you pinch me so I know this is not a dream?!” She asked and held her arm towards you.

“First tell me what happened!”, you demanded.

“You know Jimin. He just came up to me and.. oh my god I can’t say it out loud. Pinch me first.” She could not calm down.

You stopped her from jumping around. “Spill it!”

“He asked me if I want to be his partner for the photo project!”, she started squeaking again.

“And you said what?”

“What kind of stupid question is that, Y/N?!” She raised an eyebrow. “Of course I said “yes”!”

You were somehow paralyzed from shock and let go of her. It stayed silent for a little.

“But I thought you and I would be partners. Like we planned it”, you whispered clearly upset.

“But Y/N Park fucking Jimin asked me if I want to be his partner! How could I say “no” to him?!”, she whined.

“Just like this: I will make that project with my best friend together and not with you, you nasty asshole!”

“Are you serious, Y/N?!”, she clicked her tongue, which meant she was mad, “I know you do not like Jimin but still I hoped that my BEST FRIEND would be more supportive when I finally get the chance to be together with him and not act like a selfish kid because she did not get what she wanted for ONCE!”

“You are just blind, Irene. I am here to protect you! Yes, for some kind of strange reason he asked you to be his partner. But this probably only means he wants to play with you. Additionally I am sure you have to do the whole work alone since behind his good looks is really nothing hidden but pure stupidity. Why do you think he fails every class? He is just moving up because his parents are donating a shit tone of money to this go forsaken school! And if you really think he would seriously consider being with you than you are just as stupid as he is!”, you talked yourself into rage.

By now a small group of people had gathered around you to watch the spectacle. Some were yelling something like “Bitch fight!” over and over.

But you just ignored them since your eyes were focussed on Irene. Her eyes were starting to fill themself with tears.“I-I-I”, she was already sobbing, ”I can’t believe you would insult me like this. This friendship is over.”

“Fine. Great. I am sick of playing the protecter for you all the time and all I get is a ungrateful brat!”

“Well then you are welcome! You are now officially left out of duty!”

“Awesome! But don’t you think you can come crawling back to me when he has thrown you away like I predict you that he will!”

“I won’t! I will be very happy with Jimin and withou you. I don’t need you in my life!”

You gulped hardly. You felt like someone was choking you. “Me neither. Good day!” You turned around and pushed yourself through the crow to get away when someone stopped you.

“Y/N”, It was Taehyung, “What happened?”

“Let go of me, Taehyung!”, you had a hard time holding back your tears. Just not start crying here in fron of all those people, Y/N!

“No, come with me!” Before you could protest further, he took your hand and lead you through the hall. You turned a couple of corners and than he opened a door and pulled you into the room.

When you saw the red light you noticed you were in the darkroom. A second after he had let go of your hand and closed the door you had sunken down the wall, buried your face in your knees and started crying heavily. The tears felt like fire on your skin and your breath hitched multiple times.

Only when you felt a hand rubbing over your back in soothing circles, you were able to calm down a little. You looked up with your red and buffed up eyes. Taehyung was crouching in front of you and his hand naturally brushed your hair out of your face. Your lower lip started trembling again and more tears escaped the corner of your eyes once again. He gently wiped over your cheek with his thumb.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.”

Without thinking about it further you slung your arms around his body. All you knew was that you wanted to be hold right now. He lost his balance and fell back so you were now basically straddling him. His arms wrapped around you as well and started drawing the same motion on your back again.

“Let’s do it”, you whispered against his chest to embarrassed to say it out loud let alone look at him.

“What?”

You breathed out before speaking again: “Let’s be partners!”

“Alright”, he agreed with a satisfied smile on his face.

Wow done :D I am willing to continue this if you like me too :) Just tell me so ♥

#bts scenario #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan scenario #bangtan sonyeondan #kpop #kpop scenario #kpop bts #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #angst scenario #fluff scneario #bts v #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #v scenario #bts jin #kim seokjin #seokjin scenario #seokjin fluff #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin scenario #bts rm