#or maybe just 'this person likes wearing a mask as a fashion statement and does it up all funky' even

[fox-guardian]

sometimes. on rare occasions. i'll be reading something and someone mentions that a character is like. going to the store, or gathering with some people, or otherwise going outside and i'll have a moment where i'm like "wait did they remember to wear a mask?? are they being safe??" and then i remember this thing im reading wasn't even WRITTEN in this here pandemic era, much less is it set in it.

#ramblings with major #semi-related but i think we should have more characters that wear 'basic' masks #i'm sure there's already plenty that wear like fabric masks or whatever but here me out: what if there were More #like not Oh Spooky Villain Mask or whatever like slashers or superheroes/villains but just like. face mask you buy at the store #and not to show 'oh this person is MYSTERIOUS' but rather to be like 'oh its post-2020 and this person is still masking up' #or 'this person is a germaphobe' or doing what glass onion did with the characters mask situations in this 2020-set movie saying something #about everyone's character #or maybe just 'this person likes wearing a mask as a fashion statement and does it up all funky' even #i just think it would be neat yknow

[themand0lorian]

Behind the Mask // 1 // Unprecedented Times

Summary: The ad seeking personal assistants leaves you with more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: Teen

Words: ~2000 (AO3)

Tags: enemies to lovers, miscommunications, lots of Pandemic talk, Dieters a big douche, reader dishes it back, this is the setup for a multichapter fic!

no movie spoilers (unless unintentional)

Notes: Fell into the Dieter Bravo brainrot hard, folks. Just assume this will all end up AU when the actual movie comes out.

No tags bc I don’t have a good list for him lol

The ad couldn’t have come at a better time.

PERSONAL ASSISTANTS NEEDED ASAP—NO EXPERIENCE PREFERRED CALL 1-800-CLF-BSTS

People were panic buying toilet paper. Hopeful chirpings about flattening curves and getting a few days off from work fell to quiet murmurs. Masks had become the new fashion—and, apparently, political—statement.

And your company had just closed down, the small startup unable to stay afloat after so many months at home.

Though your boss was remorseful, the sudden shift—from “everything is fine” to decidedly not fine—left everyone out of work, no severance, no transferrable skills, no nothing. You had been bored at home for weeks, the welcome reprieve turning stifling as you looked at the same four walls. Speaking of, there were talks of the rent freeze being lifted, and you knew your smarmy landlord would do anything to squeeze a few extra cents on the next payment.

Cents you no longer had.

So you called.

The woman on the phone was polite enough, though she didn’t give much more information than the two-line ad had; she asked the usual screening questions, about arrest history, legality of you working in this country, where you were located. You seemed to pass her test, as she promptly gave you an appointment time for a Zoom interview the next day with one Mr. Dawson.

Unfortunately, being stuck at home while it felt like the zombie apocalypse outside meant you had nothing to do but fret over the appointment; what do you wear? Do you need real pants? Were you somehow unqualified for a job where being unqualified was preferred? What exactly does a personal assistant even do? The woman had been vague on the phone when you asked, telling you that you would do whatever your client needed.

You end up thankful you go with the real pants.

Once you settle at the kitchen table, Zoom meeting queued up, there’s a knock at the door. You dutifully put on your mask and answer—your landlord stands there, breathing his germs into your space, maskless.

“Hi sweetheart,” he coos, and you grimace. “Look at you, all dressed up today.”

“What do you want, Todd.”

“Any movement on the rent this month? And the late fee, of course.” You roll your eyes, so he tacks on. “And the maintenance fee. For the sink repair.”

“Oh, you mean the sink that was leaking because of your shitty repair the first time?” You snark, and Todd bares his teeth.

“You know, maybe if you would spend a little time with me, I could waive some of those—” You cut him off immediately, moving to slam the door in his face.

“Fuck you, Todd!” You slam the door, locking it loudly, grumbling to yourself. “Over my dead fucking body you sleazeball.”

You’re mortified when you return to your computer to see your interviewer sitting patiently, having heard your entire ordeal. He’s a man around your age, a dressed in a suit and shirt a bit too large on his lanky frame, but you take him seriously all the same. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Dawson, I’m so sorry—”

“No worries,” he replies quickly with a smile; even through the screen, you can see something flash before his eyes. “If you’re ready, we can get started.” You nod. “Good. And please—call me Nick.” Nick goes through a few pleasantries, some comments about the current state of the world, and one or two normal interview questions before diving in.

“So, as you know, we’re looking for personal assistants. We have a few things we request; one, you would need to quarantine for 14 days before beginning the job, which will be in-person. Two, because of current restrictions, you will be staying on site for the duration of your employment, or until the virus improves.” You must react subtly, as he clarifies. “We’re willing to pay your rent for the time spent here—probably around six months--if necessary.” Your eyes go wide; you were so behind on payments, and to get Todd off your back—

“We ask that you be comfortable to sign an NDA. You would have your own quarters, and all room and board would be provided; anything you need can be brought on site, but you will need to stay in The Bubble. We’ll provide all PPE and anything related to the virus.” He sighs a bit, but continues. “I won’t lie, the hours will be long, but the pay is very good. Well above minimum wage. Personally, I think you are a perfect fit for our group. Do you have any questions for me?”

Your mind is spinning; everything seems to fall into place neatly, every worry you had addressed. You don’t even realize the interview was more of a formality, no questions even really asked of you aside from a few at the start; you blurt out your only question, trying to mask your desperation.

“When can I start?”

Quarantine was nice, honestly. By the time the contract was mailed to you, signed, and mailed back, Nick had already arranged for a stay in a nice hotel in the city, with complimentary room service and a balcony for 14 days of nothing. No outside contact, no work, no gym—you were left to lounge and watch Netflix and just—chill.

That got old quickly, as this was similar to the last few months you had been out of work anyway. But the food was decent and a payment on the apartment went through, Todd not making his weekly text with too many emojis, and so you thought maybe, this could be your new career. Forget startups—if all PA jobs were like this, you would give it up easily. You were organized, thoughtful, flexible—you could do this.

That resolve was quickly broken when you got on location. Nick had never really told you who, or what, you’d be PA’ing for—but now a nondescript mansion sat in front of you, with security and testing and a fountain out front bigger than your living room at home.

Nick stood at the doorway, wearing a clear face shield, and you donned your mask to greet him. He was just as nice in person as in the interview, giving you a quick rundown of what was what; the entire first floor of the mansion was dedicated to office type tasks. Pencil pushers and phone calls and procuring. You figure the owner of this mansion—probably some old billionaire—must want to keep his business close to his chest. Some people wear masks or face shields, but since everyone was routinely testing and not allowed to see anyone outside The Bubble, some chose not to, as it wasn’t strictly necessary.

Nick led you to an office, knocking lightly; when he heard a grunt from the other side, he opened it, leading you in.

“Mr. Thomas?” The man behind the desk—older, hardened, dressed impeccably in a suit which costs more than your rent, barely looks at him. “I have the new PA here.” He glances up, phone still held to his ear, taking a long moment to take you in. His eyes slither over you, and you suppress a shiver, watching as he seems to dislike what he sees.

“She’ll do.” With that, Nick nods, leading you back out of the office and leaving you with more questions than answers.

“Is Mr. Thomas my new boss?” You ask Nick as he continues to show you around.

“No—Mr. Thomas coordinates all the PAs here.”

“How many does one guy need?” Nick stops in his tracks, looking at you. “What?”

“We—we’re not here for ‘one guy.’” You look at him, urging him to continue, and he looks relieved as he finally spills the beans. “You signed the NDA, right? We’re on a movie set. Cliff Beasts 6.” Your eyes go wide; you had heard of the franchise, one of those that sparks more jokes than acclaim, but hadn’t seen any of them. You didn’t even know they were up to six, but you knew they got increasingly more ridiculous as the number went up, and you sputter a bit.

“So—what, they need help with, like, Craft Services or something?” Nick looks uncomfortable, but as the only person who’s said more than three words to you, he’s all you have, and you follow him down the dim hallway.

“No—not exactly.”  He nods his head toward the door you’ve stopped in front of; a golden star emblazons it, with the word “BRAVO” underneath. “You’re the PA for Dieter Bravo.”

You blink at him in shock. Weren’t there rules about false advertising? You didn’t sign up to follow some stuck up actor around all day. But you did need the money, and this was a safe and well-paying gig…

You had heard enough rumors about Dieter Bravo to know this wouldn’t work. His name was a mainstay in tabloids, mostly due to his cocky attitude; he was quick to sleep with, pay off, or ruin anyone who got in his way, in that order. Singers wrote songs about him breaking their hearts, interviewers swooned to his charm before getting mediocre answers to their questions. There were tons of reports over him walking off sets because his water wasn’t at the perfect temperature or there were green M&Ms in the mixed bowl in his dressing room. The guy was, to put it bluntly, a massive douche.

You don’t have time to say anything to Nick before he throws open the door, pushing you inside before walking in behind you. There’s a small sitting room with mirrors and wardrobe set out, and in one of the chairs, sits the man himself, eyes glued to his phone. He’s in a robe and sweats, a sharp contrast to both you and Nick, who are in your best officewear, and has sunglasses at the end of his nose. An earring brings his look into full douchebaggery, and he doesn’t acknowledge the interruption to, what appears to be, him scrolling his Instagram feed.

“Mr. Bravo? It’s Nick—with the PA agency. We have your new assistant.” Bravo doesn’t look up, scrolling through some more videos as Nick clears his throat. When he finally looks up, acknowledging your presence with an appreciating glare, Nick introduces you by name.

“Hi, sweetheart. Why don’t you take off that mask for me and let me see that pretty little face? We’re all safe here,” He croons, a crooked smile on his lips. You can tell he’s never been told “no” in his life.

“I’m not sure that’s true with you around, Mr. Bravo,” you deadpan. Bravo looks like you’ve slapped him across the face, but Nick has a small, knowing grin on his.

“Kitten has claws,” Bravo remarks plainly, looking back to his phone. “Were all the pretty PAs taken, Nate?”

“It’s Nick,” you correct for him, annoyed at the dig. You certainly weren’t move-star-pretty, but it was unbelievably rude of him to point it out, even after just seeing your eyes. “And this kitten has teeth, too. So watch your mouth.” Bravo looks at you, finally putting the phone down to stand and crowd your space. He’s trying to intimidate you, but you don’t back down; he’s hardly a threat in his $600 robe and sweatpants, but he still growls like he might be; you meet him eye-to-eye, his sunglasses pushed up into his unruly hair.

“Good. I like a fight. Makes it that much more satisfying when I win.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re winning, Mr. Bravo, but I can assure you, I never back down from a challenge.” He flashes a smarmy grin, finally looking at Nick again.

“I think I’ll keep this one.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x y/n #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction

[descendantsramblings]

Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos  and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids 

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white. 

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be. 

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors. 

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual 

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt. 

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay 

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in. 

Still has the beanie,  but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing 

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple) 

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts. 

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns 

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash. 

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid) 

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers. 

Harry 

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it 

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it. 

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy,  he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety 

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver 

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil 

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it. 

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys) 

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it. 

Dizzy 

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans 

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and  statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them) 

Auradon Kids 

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks,  ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest. 

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey 

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it. 

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it. 

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as) 

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it 

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it) 

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue) 

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute 

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section) 

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit. 

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring) 

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces. 

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

#descendants #Descendants 2 #descendants 3 #lonnie #audrey #Jay #Ben #Mal #mal bertha #Carlos De Vil #Harry hook #gil #dizzy descendants #chad charming #clothing #costume team could have done better ngl #Evie #evie grimhilde #Cottage core Jane #Why do I keep making posts that could lead to Harry emo boy edits this is my own hell

[jadedxrealityw]

-Second And Third Chance- Tony Stark x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: favorite dilf- i’m sorry lmao

   Movie/Show: after endgame. but no one is dead because i’m still in denial.

   Summary: (Backstory included) Being the fiancee of Tony Stark was all you could dream of, but not everyone is perfect and Tony is certainly no saint. Even with Thanos being gone, Tony is still obsessing on how to keep you safe from other worldly beings, but due to his own ignorance ends up losing you all by himself. 

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: angst with fluff ending, cursing, Tony being Tony, F.R.I.D.A.Y and Wanda being your besties lmao, 

    ☼-☪-☼

   you wondered how you were ever came across such a man. Narcissistic, arrogant, just completely full of himself in every way possible. You had met the infamous Tony Stark at a shield ball/party so long ago. He was charming, you’ll admit, but you were fully aware of his playboy status. 

   you wore a long black off the shoulder dress that started skin tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, also sporting a slit down the side of the dress. Some said hi and gave you compliments on your outfit. You wanted to find Fury so you could talk to him as he was the only person you really knew. 

   walking along the floor a woman holding a platter of drinks offered you one and you gladly accepted it. You spotted Fury a few tables away, talking amongst Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Once you made it over, you slipped yourself into a empty seat. 

   Fury noticed you first and patted your shoulder “Didn’t think these parties were your scene Agent L/n” he spoke with his usual formality. You hummed into the glass of wine as you took a sip “They are not, but i needed a reason to drink” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Natasha. 

   you then took the time to look at both of them and smile “Natasha Steve. Still doing the whole saving the world thing?” you say. Steve cracks a smile and nods once “The world can’t seem to give us a break” he says. A chuckle bubbled in your throat “Not that you would take it though, right cap?”

   you four spent a good thirty minutes talking about the usual, until Maria Hill showed up then you got to talking about new missions that he Fury only trusted you all with. You were like Fury third in command. Someone Maria had recommended if something would have ever happened to her. 

   not to long Natasha and Steve had left the party earlier then expected, but they were always in the rush. You, Fury, and Maria were now standing next to the table. Maria’s phone rang and she slipped it from her bag and pressed the green button “Yes?...Give me ten minutes” 

   she hung it up and put it back in her bag. Fury looked at her with a questioning stare “I’m going to assume Romanoff or Rogers were on the end of that line. Would the rest of us be needed?” he asked. Maria shook her head “No. Just a minor problem. I’ll call if it escalates”

   Fury nods once and gestures with his head to the exit, dismissing her. They were so loyal to each other. Maria then sends you a polite smile before exiting the ballroom. You placed your cup on the table were you all resided minutes ago “Should we be concerned?” you ask. 

   he shakes his head “They’ll be fine. I like to come in at the end anyway, makes me alluring” he says, making you stifle a bit of laughter. “Right” you agreed not really wanting to dwell in that subject. Only seconds later is when an unfamiliar voice spoke “Nick”

   both you and Fury turn around and see the nice tailored suit belonging to the less nice man of Tony Stark. Fury cracks a small grin and holds his hand out “Stark, fashionably late” he points out. Tony grabs his hand and shakes it “Well if i wasn’t i’d be stuck looking like you losers.”

   did this grown man just call you both losers? Okay then. You folded your arms over your chest, not really paying much attention to there very testosterone filled conversation. Tony eyes removed themselves from Fury and looked at you “and who is this?” he asked. 

   you removed your eyes from the people walking past you and looked towards the billionaire “ This is Agent L/n. works alongside Agent Hill and myself” Fury explains. You give Tony a polite nod “It’s Y/n L/n” you say. Tony grins and went to say something more when Fury coughed. 

   “I’m going to use the bathroom. Tony don’t be weird” he spoke before leaving you both by your lonesome. Great. “May i offer you another drink?” he asked and you shook your head “I already had one and i have to be alert at all times. It’s in the job description. Very fine print”

   “Sounds like you need a vacation or a xanax” he makes a face, earning a small smile from you “Maybe, but i like my job too much” you reply. Tony steps to the side and gestures with his hand for you to walk. You didn’t see much wrong with that, just a friendly stroll. Why not. 

   you step in forward and Tony lifts his arm up a bit for you to link yours. ‘What a charmer’ you thought before slipping your arm through his. YOu both began to walk slowly through the ballroom “So what does your significant other think about how much you work?” he asked. 

   ‘very slick’ “I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. Tried dating on the job, but no one really understands how much working here changes you in a way” you explained, Tony nodding along with your answer. Being an Agent had its perks and downfalls. 

   “Why did you get into this line of work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tony questions. It was strange seeing him be so genuine with his wording, the complete opposite of what Fury, Steve, Natasha, or Maria had to say about him. It was pleasant.  

   you gulp, a few choice memories deciding to flood your mind “I worked CIA with my sister for awhile. Our whole family was worked in some form of Government job. Then the 2012 attack happened and we were told to stand down. Me and my sister were stubborn so we didn’t”

   you inhale deeply and managed to keep your formal smile upon your face despite the urge to down another glass of wine and call it a night “No one knew about aliens back then, but we wanted to help people in any way we could. In hindsight it was very stupid of us”

   your mind began to wander to something else, the smile fading from your face and be replaced with a blank stare. For an expression so neutral it would be hard to tell that you were reliving a terrible memory. Crashing, a blood curdling scream, your pleas, and a then silence.

   Tony looked at you once you had stopped talking abruptly and used his free hand to pat your shoulder. You broke out of whatever horrific trance you were in “Sorry, zoned out- anyway my sister ended up passing, i was charged with treason funny enough, but Fury convinced them to drop the charges”

   Tony chose to ignore the brief daze you were in for your own sake and you two continued your stroll. The night ended with more talking and much needed laughter. He also offered you a ride home and you gladly took him up on that. It was really nice. 

   when you got to your house he asked you on a date to a very nice restaurant near your place. You accepted even though your brain was telling you not to. On the day of the date you ended up being called in and canceled. He said he understood and that you could reschedule anytime. 

   you never did go on that date 

    ☼-☪-☼

   just like most things it only happened once and you figured that was that. Spending a couple magical hours talking to Tony Stark would be any girls dream and just like dreams you awoke to reality. You had a job and had many other important things to do beside fantasize about a billionaire. 

   that was until Hydra took over Shield in 2014, you and Fury faked your deaths. Tony actually went to your funeral, wearing sunglasses and standing away from everybody. It was pretty sad, but you had a job to do. fury actually came back, but you stayed in hiding.

   then in 2015 when Ultron was a the main problem and you were itchy to bash some robots skulls in- wait they don’t have skulls. Whatever, Fury wouldn’t get involved. Then Sokovia became a giant plane and Fury caved. After a year of doing grunt work you could finally fight. 

   all the staff, including you loaded up a helicarrier. You made your way to the command center where Fury and Maria resided “Ah Agent Y/n. Glad that you could join us. Already suited up i see?” Fury points to your all black outfit and mask. 

   shrugging, you walked towards the front “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, cut me some slack for being excited” you say. Fury nods, agreeing with your statement before facing forward. “Set a course to Sokovia and making it fast” Maria announced.

   and with that, you were off

    ☼-☪-☼

  Maria hacked into the Avengers coms and connected Fury’s, your’s, and her own. “Where else am i gonna get a view like this?” a woman said through your earpiece. You instantly recognize it as Nat. You missed her so much, god you couldn’t wait to talk to her again. 

   “Glad you like the view Romanoff. It’s about to get better” Fury spoke, folding his arms behind his back, interlocking his hands. The helicarrier started to raise above Sokovia. Holy shit this is high. As you ascended you were able to see Nat and Steve standing together. Nat cut her hair, it looks pretty.

   rest of the staff began to enter the command room and set up “Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do” he spoke. “Fury you son of a bitch” Steve said right back. Did he just curse? That had to be Ultron. 

   “Woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury said with a fake surprised tone. His comment made you chuckle a bit since he had a foul mouth. Hypocrisy am i right? “Altitude is 18,000 and climbing” Maria spoke, typing away on her keyboard like desk. 

   another guy spoke up from behind you “Lifeboats secure to deploy, disengage in three...two...take them out ” he clicked one final button and sat back. You felt the helicarrier rumble beneath you, which meant the lifeboats were being sent to the ground.

   oh shit. You were supposed to be on one of those. “Shit!” you yell before running out the command room. You raced down the stairs and made your way to the deck. You watched as a lifeboat flew right below. This is such a bad idea. Your doing it anyway.

   taking a couple steps back, you mentally prepare yourself before running as fast as you could. As you touch the edge you jump and launch yourself off the helicarrier. The lifeboat came closer to you until your shoulder collided with it. You hissed and slowly pushed yourself up “Damn- that’s gonna sting”

   “Did you just jump off the helicarrier?” Fury says through the coms

   “Who did?” Steve spoke

   “Oh you know, backup-” Fury replies before Maria cut in “Sir we have multiple bogeys on our starboard flank” she spoke and indeed when you looked up you saw a bunch of Iron man suits flying above. Oh shit. “Show them what he got” he replied back. 

   you reach down and pull both guns out the holsters that were on both of your thighs “It feels good to be back” you said to yourself. You heard something fly above you that wasn’t a Bogey and saw War Machine- Rhodey blasting through a bunch of them. He’s pretty cool.

   just as you were about to bask in the moment a Bogey landed on the lifeboat and came charging at you. It swung and you ducked just in time, lifting your foot to kick it in the chest. As it stumbled back you raised your gun and shot it straight in the head.

   the literal lights behind its glass ‘eyes’ flickered until it shut off and it fell to the ground. “It better not be that easy to kill the actual Iron Man” you spoke. “And your not gonna find out” a voice spoke. You turn around and see Tony in his suit, with his arm raised, ready to attack you. 

   you raise your hands “Woah- What the hell Stark!” you shout. Oh shit- you had a mask. “I’m on your side” you add. Tony tilts his head “Really, prove it” he says. You slowly move your hand. as to not startle him and slowly pull the mas down from your face “Hey Tony”

   he visibly tensed up. His mask retracting back into his face. Still has handsome as ever. He reaches up with both arms and takes off his helmet, dropping it to the side. “So is faking your death a Shield initiation thing or you just really didn’t want to go out with me?” he asked. 

   you cracked a smile and dropped your arms to your sides “I told you work gets in the way” you said. He went to say something when four Bogeys landed on the lifeboat. Damn you couldn’t let any on until you landed. Tony groaned dramatically and shot one in the chest, causing it to fall off the ship.  

   “No. See regular work doesn’t involve faking your death. I went to your funeral you know?” he says. You drop off and push off the seat and onto the Bogey, wrapping your thighs around its head. You push the barrel of the gun against the top of its head and shot “I know. I was there!” you shout.

   “Oh that’s just great. You saw me all vulnerable and teary” he says with a scoff. what was happening right now. You drop to the ground and the Bogey grabs your leg, pulling you back. You shot it in the arm and it lets go “I actually didn’t know you cried. That’s kind of cute though”

   you shoot the Bogey in the head and stand up on your feet. Just as you are about to take a step, a metal arm wraps around your neck, pulling you back. Oh yeah there was four. You went to reach behind as Tony shot through it’s head. The grip around your neck was released and you pushed it’s corpse off.

   “Your welcome” Tony spoke, he still sounded snappy. “Your such a baby Tony. What can i do to make you stop moping?” you ask, putting one of your guns into the holster. You look behind you as the lifeboats pull up next to Sokovia “One date after all this. So i can show you what you missed of course”

   you crack a smile, pulling your hood off your head. You raise your hand and hold up one finger “One date. That’s it” you say and he nods along “That works for me” he replies before picking up his helmet. He puts it on his head “But you’ll come back for more” he says as his face is covered by metal once more.

    ☼-☪-☼

   present

   you ended up did going on that date with Tony and he was right, there would be multiple date and girts until he finally asked you to be in a relationship. It was any big grand gesture that you expected from him, it was simple and sweet. It took him three years for him to propose in 2018.

   but he was always one to wait. 

   the second battle with Thanos, but everyone seemed to be somewhat recovering, but Tony wasn’t himself anymore. You already knew he was a workaholic, but it had never been this bad. He’d stay up all night working on new tech. Security, suit adjustments, anything. 

   when it first started happening you chalked it up to his response to trauma. One night you suggested he’d go to therapist. Just one session and if he thought it would work then he could continue and vise versa. Tony ended up shooting down the idea with a couple harsh words. 

   it was strange to see him yell at you because he had never done before. It was like you were talking to an entirely different person. It scared you to be honest, but you loved him. A whole year after Thanos had gone by and he was just falling deeper and deeper into his work and less into you.

   “Friday, is Tony awake?” you spoke, pouring coffee into a black mug. You place it on the silver tray and grab the light beige cardigan off the counter, slipping it over your white sports bra. “Yes Miss. Would you like me to inform him your coming down to the lab?” Friday asked.

   “No that’s alright. I’d rather surprise him. Thank you Friday” you say and grab the tray off the counter, it had a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. You knew he wouldn’t have eaten already “Just doing my job Miss” she replies. You smile to yourself. You liked listening to her accent. 

       ☼-☪-☼

   you push open the door with the side of your hip since your hands were full “Tony!” you call out, looking around the lab one time. You stop as you see your lovers head pop up behind a machine you were unfamiliar of “Y/n? What’re you doing up? It’s late” he said, putting down a tablet.

   you roll your eyes and walk over to the big table in the middle, placing the tray down “It’s nine in the morning, love” you reply. Was he starting to lose track of time now? This place needed more windows clearly. Tony put on a confused face as he scratched the back of his neck “Really?”

   nodding, you lift up the mug of coffee from the tray and make your way over to Tony. You dodge a few tools laying on the ground and hand him the cup “Drink” you say. He takes it from you and brings it to his lips “Thanks” he says. While he drank you studied his face. He looked so exhausted.

   it broke your heart

   “You look terrible by the way” you comment, causing him to crack a small smile. “You said yes to this face, remember that” he retorts. Well he wasn’t wrong about that one. “That is true, seriously i want you out the lab today and into bed. Tomorrow is an important day”

   Tony goes silent for a moment and you can tell he was trying really hard to think “Tony” you said, your voice sounding like a mom who was getting ready to lecture there child for forgetting to do homework. “I know i know- important day. Can’t wait for that...day”

   you narrowed your eyes “Friday” you called out. “Yes Miss” she replies instantly. “Read me Tony’s schedule that he set for himself for the week” you ask. Tony steps forward, but you take a step back, moving away from him. “There is nothing on Mr. Stark’s schedule this week Miss” 

   wow

   moving away from Tony, you walk over to the table “It’s our anniversary tomorrow you ass” you snap at him. Tony sighs and runs his hand over his face “I’ve been busy-” “You’ve never forgot it before” your tone was unusually calm, which through Tony off. 

   “Thanos is dead Tony” 

   “I know-”

   “Then what are you doing?!” you shout, shocking yourself at the loudness of your own voice. “I’m trying to keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your fist clench. God you loved this man, but you wanted to punch him in the nose “You know i thought that you would get over this, but i can’t take much more”

   your words seem to scare Tony a bit, but you continued to speak “It’s been a year Tony. You don’t sleep next to me, we barely talk unless it’s me making sure you don’t fucking starve to death, we haven’t been intimate in god knows how long. I’m tired of being neglected”

   crying for a man was so pathetic, so you reached up and wiped any forming tears away with your thumb. Tony reached his arms out and wrapped them around you. You wanted to push him away, but he hasn't hugged you in so long, so you gave in. 

   he rubbed the back of your head as you let a few tears fall onto his shirt “I’ll stop okay- look i promise i’ll get some sleep and will have a whole day together okay?” he says. You were mad and you wanted to scream at him, but you also loved him and wanted to give him a second chance.

   “Okay, but i swear Tony. You screw this up and-” you were cut off by him placing his lips on yours. Damn Stark. You smiled lightly into the kiss and pull away a couple seconds later “and you’ll throw me out on my ass i know.” he says. 

   you ended up making Tony go to sleep in your shared room while you cleaned up his lab and such. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   the anniversary, night 

   you were waiting outside a restaurant since Tony wanted to show up in his car to ‘swoon’ you wearing a black jumpsuit, it was his favorite color on you You looked at your phone and noticed he was about ten minutes late, but that didn’t worry you much since he liked to be fashionably late. 

   he’d come. He wouldn’t risk his last chance.

   would he?

    ☼-☪-☼

   after two hours Happy ended up picking you up and taking you back to your home. He apologized for Tony a couple times, but you said it was fine. Once you got home you kicked off your heels at the door. You were kind of running on autopilot just in shock and realization at the same time.

   you knew what you had to do, but at the same time you didn’t want to, but it was over. You gave Tony a chance and he blew it. Nine years down the drain in a flash. You just couldn’t believe it. Walking down the hall, you wipe your face from the warm tears.  

   shutting the door to your shared bedroom, you go over to the closet “Miss you seem to be in distress is there anyway i can help?” Friday spoke. For an AI she was very self aware on feelings. “Is Tony awake Friday?” you ask, going over to your closet. “No Miss, he is asleep in the lab. May i call someone for you?”

   you open the closet and pull out a suitcase you had in there and bring it over to the bed “Call Wanda” you say as you unzip the suitcase, opening it up and throw it on the bed. “Of course Miss, contacting Wanda Maximoff” she replies. After a couple seconds you hear her voice. 

   “Y/n? It’s late, are you alright?” she asked. You had confided in Wanda about your relationship problems with Tony since you were both in a long term relationship. You had also told her about the anniversary thing and Tony’s last chance. she said if it didn’t work out yo could stay at her place.

   “Hey Wanda- uh. Yeah i know it’s late but-” you didn’t get to finish speaking when Wanda cut you off “Are you crying? Tony didn’t come did he? Know what? i’m on way. He better like a car through his window” she threatens, you could hear her moving around and the sound of keys. Well damn-

   you began to grab your clothes from your dresser and stuff them in your suitcase “He’s sleeping, just pull in the front. I’ll send you the gate code okay?” you say, beginning to take off the jumpsuit you were wearing. “Fine, but no promises if i see him in the street. I’ll see you soon Y/n, goodbye”

   Wanda hung up the phone “Friday-” “I sent Wanda the gate code. Before you leave would you like to leave a message for Mr. Stark?” Friday asked. You grab a dark green sweater and jeans from your dresser and throw them on quickly. You didn’t bother to pack the jumpsuit. 

   you wanted Tony to know why you had left so he could see the consequences of his actions and so that he wouldn’t tear the city apart thinking you were kidnapped. “I will, can you record a holographic message?” you ask. “Yes Miss, also Wanda will be arriving in 15 minutes”

   “Okay”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring off into his ear “Shit. Friday shut that off!” he groans, lifting his head from the table “Yes Boss” she replies and the alarm shuts off. “Y/n has left a message for you to listen too. It is very important” she adds.

   “Play it” he says going to lay his head back down on the table “It is a holographic message, Boss” Friday says. Tony begrudgingly lifts his head and leans it on his arm “Play it” he repeats. A second later you appeared sitting on the chair at the table with a blue hue around you. 

   “Hey Tony” you spoke a half smile on your face. tony would have found comfort in it if he doesn’t your puffy eyes and saddened expression. His head lifted on his arm “Remember our anniversary, you know your last chance and all that? Yeah.” you began. Tony sighed mumbling curses under his breath.

    “I care about you, i have since you talked to me at the Shield dance, but i haven’t been your first priority in a while and i get it, but you promised when i left Shield that you would always make time for me. I know that Thanos shook you and you won’t admit it, but you need realize that something bad isn’t lurking around every corner”

   Tony watched as you reached up and rubbed your eyes, the scene tugging on his heartstrings “We need a break from each other Tony, just for a little while. I’m going to stay with some friends. Please try to help yourself, get out the lab, clean yourself up, all of that.”

   you pulled something off your ring finger and placed it on the table. Tony looked down and saw the silver ring with three aquamarine stones. He remembered proposing to you with it. You said the color reminded you of his reactor. Weirdly enough your hologram looked up at him and smiled. 

   “I’ll be waiting” you said and then flickered away “That’s the end of the message, Boss” Friday says. Tony slowly picked up the ring off the table. You had recorded the message in hear, talking to his sleeping body. He wished he had woken up. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   three months later

   staying with Wanda was fun, but after a month or so you decided to get your own place. As much as you loved your big house you shared with Tony you bought small cabin well away from the city. It was quiet, it was outdoors and you loved it. 

   when you and Tony got engaged you ended up retiring from Shield so you could be more at home and help Tony with his work, but now even though you didn’t need a job you also didn’t like the idea of sitting on your ass. In that night of packing you put your old suit in there while on autopilot. 

   It took awhile, but you called up Fury and he was more than happy to let you back in “What does Stark have to say about all this?” he asked and you just sighed quietly “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him” you replied and he didn’t ask any more questions after that. 

   getting back into your old life was pretty easy. All you needed was to get back into your regular exercise regiment that you had been lacking on and you felt more confident than ever. You didn’t feel neglected or forgotten, the complete opposite, you felt badass. 

   one day when you were walking out the store after picking up some groceries you felt eyes on you as you walked along the sidewalk. After years of being an Agent you knew when you were being followed. What was strange was that it felt like someone was watching you from above.

   having a hunch at who it might be you quickly looked up and see a quick blur of red and blue swing away from your vision. Was this kid following you? but why? You duck into an alley way and walk slowly. You hear him drop behind you and follow your steps. 

   “Peter”

   “Hi” he replies in nervous tone. You turn around, placing your free hand on your hip “Why have you been following me all week Peter?” yopu ask. You haven’t talked to Peter in months. Did he need something? Peter lifts his arm and grabs the top of his mask, pulling it off of his head. 

   he was lucky you were in a remote part of the city “Mr. Stark told me you weren’t together at the moment” he starts, looking at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright” he says and flashes a toothy grin. Aw- wait. “Did Tony ask you to check on me?”

   Peter shook his head “No. He’s been busy with setting up the new senteries and therapy- i mean i don’t know. I just missed you and i can tell Mr. Stark is trying to change, but i hate to see you both so sad. I couldn’t imagine not being with Mj” he says. This kid was too adorable. 

   not only that he went out of his way to see how you were doing. Wait- what did he say about Tony “What senteries?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Peter started to fidget a bit “Uh- i really have to get going-” “Peter” you said in a demanding tone. 

   he exhaled deeply, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this “Mr. Stark has a whole line of senteries to sell to the senator so he can finally retire from being Iron Man. Not fully retire just on a long term vacation- that’s what he called it.” he spoke. Holy shit- you hoped he had done this for himself

   and you as well- but mostly himself

   a smile creeped onto your face. The most stubborn man you had ever met changed. “When does he plan on doing this?” you say to Peter “A dinner party this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until it was done. He was going to do some grand gesture to show you he’s changed” 

   you shook your head and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder “Don’t be. For once i’m doing the grand gesture”

    ☼-☪-☼

   saturday 

   after figuring out and planning on when and where you were going to show up you decided to tap into Friday’s systems and watch most of his speech then find Tony when the time was right, preferably when he was alone. Being with Tony for so long you figured out a way to enter your shared home, undetected.

   once you were in the building you hid away in a spare room that was never used “Friday show me the room Tony’s in” you spoke, pulling out your phone “Yes Miss” she spoke and on your screen you saw Tony in the dining room. You lift your phone and flick it so its projected off the screen.

   your eyes latched to Tony as soon as it turned on. He looked so different and healthy. It was pleasing to see that he was doing much better. You were also glad he took your advice. A warmth invaded your chest, it’s like you fell in love with him all over again. 

   gosh how you wanted to run into his arms that very moment. 

   “So Stark, why retire now?” the senator asked, taking a sip of wine from the glass he held. Tony seemed to tense up the question, but no one noticed other then you and Tony himself “If you asked me three months ago i would have told you to go to hell and that i don’t need to retire”

   “and now?”

   “Well back then i had my fiancee and thought i was the king of the world. Then i lost her because of my workaholic nature- also i’m not retiring Iron, Man will still be here for whoever needs him, but i think it’s time i put my future wife first if i want to keep her” he shrugs his shoulders casually.

   most at the table were stunned into silence before the senator lifted his hand for tony to shake “I guess Tony Stark does have a heart” he spoke and Tony shook his hand. You felt something warm come down your face and reached to wipe the tears away.

   god- what a charmer. Always knew just what to say.

   “Well this was fun, but my finacee i’ve been talking about is actually here on the moment” he said. Wait what? You looked at the screen as Tony’s head turned towards the camera, sending you a wink. How the hell did he find out?! Tony grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed the paper.

   “Happy will show you all out” Tony waved them off before walking out the room “If you step out the room you’ll be able to meet Mr. Stark in the hallway” Friday spoke. Oh so she snitched. Betrayal at it’s finest “Thanks Friday” you spoke before stepping out the room. 

   as you turned your head you come face to face with your husband to be, except he seemed nervous? “You look great- well you always look great” Tony says, making you form a smile “I’m proud of you” you say back. Tony reaches up, using this thumb to wipe away a stray tear. 

   “That means a lot coming from you. I can’t believe i let you slip away” his voice got darker, a frown forming. “I’m right here” you open your arms out. tony takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “But seriously Tony i will really leave you next time”

   he nods “I know i know. You can have the whole house if i do” he says, making you chuckle. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, silently making up for lost time. “Oh my god Tony Stark if you don’t kiss me right now-” you didn’t even need to finish before his lips were on yours. 

   the kiss was desperate and starved for a deeper feeling. Who knew one person could miss another so much? After this, you speculated you’d be stuck to his side like glue for a couple weeks before he say something stupid to piss you off. 

   Tony’s hands traveled lower and lower until they gripped the back of your thighs, causing a familiar feeling to bloom within you. He pulls away from your mouth and his lips attach to your neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses. Zero to one hundred real quick. 

   “Tony” you breathed out. You could feel the smirk against the skin of your neck. Horny bastard “Tony seriously” you say, a laugh bubbling in your throat. He pulls away and looks at you ‘I’m trying to seduce you. Why are you interrupting?” 

   you shake your head and hook your arms around his neck “I love you, you idiot”  you say, trying to catch your breath. A ego filling grin decorated his face as he pecked your lips “I love you too. Now let me get back to work” he says and goes back to kissing your neck and his hands worked off your belt.

   yeah- you were in love 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Click here to join my Taglist!    @sonbelleame @hel-viti @loudbluepancake @vmame

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: Eh this kinda sucks. requests are open and my taglist. Anyways, peace

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[ajeepgirl]

Shut Up and Dance

Summary: Cat Grant is attending an event in Metropolis and insists that Kara Danvers go with her as her assistant. During the gala, Kara is awestruck by the most stunning pair of green eyes she has ever seen. She can't help but want to get to know the woman who's eyes are so alluring.

AKA: a fluffy little one shot based on the song Shut up and dance by Walk the Moon set in/around S1 of Supergirl.

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Kara was staring down into her glass of wine, wishing she was human so it would actually get her drunk. She grumbled to herself, annoyed at everyone in her life at that moment.

Annoyed with her boss Cat Grant for making her come to Metropolis with her for this conference, only to ditch Kara as soon as they arrive at the evening gala.

Annoyed that Clark couldn’t be bothered to make time to meet her for coffee, even in his own city. She thought he would at least make time to see her, but when she told him she would be here for the weekend, all he gave her was a half-ass apology, saying he was busy chasing a story

Annoyed that Alex wasn’t responding to her text messages in this very moment.

Kara sighed. She shouldn’t be mad at her sister. She knows how busy the DEO can get sometimes. She just hopes they don’t have any emergencies or need Supergirl. She can see her boss across the room, doing her thing with people that wouldn’t give Kara, Cat Grant’s personal assistant, the time of day.

But she also knows that Ms. Grant would immediately know if she dipped out of this gala. So instead, Kara sips her wine and tries not to eat all the food she can get her hands on. She takes in the scene around her. It’s like going to the Met Gala in NYC, except instead of being about fashion, this weekend is all about the Fortune 500 companies in the world. More specifically, about their CEO’s and CFO’s and whoever they think is important enough to invite. Of course, what is a party without a little intrigue? So, in addition, for the final event of the weekend, everyone is wearing a masquerade mask to cover their eyes and upper face. It is all very over the top, in Cat Grant’s opinion, since she knows everyone. To Kara, she thought it was adorable and cool, though she didn’t say so to her boss.

The gala is held in a huge ballroom that even has an area with people dancing. It is a gala, after all, Kara thinks to herself. Though what does she know about rich, fancy people? As Kara looks around the room, taking in the other faces, trying to see if she knows any of them, she spots a new arrival to the gala as they enter in a dark green dress, with a matching masquerade mask. Behind the mask are the most piercing green eyes Kara has ever seen. They have a shimmer to them, a pull for Kara, inviting her in. Kara is awestruck by the woman as she takes in the rest of her. Her dark hair is flowing down her back. Kara debates using her powers, but that would require dipping her glasses down a tiny bit, which are precariously placed overtop her own mask. She chews on her lip, intrigued by the woman as she makes her rounds around the ballroom. Kara is surprised to see the woman having difficulty interacting with the other people here.

Kara starts to use her superhearing to get a better sense of what is going on. How could anyone possibly not want to talk to this alluring person. She first picks up the tail end of a conversation with two men.

“You should have known better than to show up here tonight.”

“Exactly. How could you possibly think this would go any different?”

“It isn’t my fault you idiots cannot see me for who I am.”

Kara watches the woman turn and walk away after her statement, leaving the two men speechless. Kara goes on to listen to her next conversation.

“Hello, Bruce.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“We both know I need to be. It’s the event of the year for companies like ours.”

The man pauses at the comment as he takes a drink from his glass. “And is it yours now… the company?”

“Of course. It certainly isn’t his anymore. I’m taking over. I have full control and big plans.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

The woman gives this Bruce fellow a curt nod as he walks away, clearly not wanting to be associated with her.

After hearing a few more people completely tear down this woman, Kara can no longer stand by idly. She finds herself walking intently towards her. She catches her a few feet away from a small group of businesspeople that would surely treat her the same. Kara realizes as she takes the last few steps towards her, that she doesn’t actually have a plan on what to say. Instead, she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“The food is better than the people.”

The woman looks at Kara, head tilted, eyebrow raised, as she takes in Kara’s comment. A smirk slowly appears on her face.  

“You know, that is an interesting theory. Perhaps I should test it myself.”

“Well, I happen to have an entire plate of food back at my table, if you’re interested.”

She looks just past Kara to the group of people she was approaching, and then back to Kara, who is giving her a bright, warming smile.

“Well, I’m never one to turn down food or science.” The woman offers her arm, which Kara gladly takes with her own, guiding her back to her table.

As they walk, Kara says softly, “I’m Kara, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kara. I presume like everyone else here, despite my silly mask, that you know who I am?”

Kara can feel herself blush under her own mask. “Well actually…”

As they sit down, the woman gasps in mock surprise at her. “That would explain your willingness to associate with me.”

Kara shrugs. “What can I say? I saw a beautiful woman who I want to get to know.”

This time, the woman blushes. “Well… Kara. If you must know then, my name is Lena.”

“What a beautiful name.”

The two spend the next hour talking and nibbling on the food and drinking wine, Lena forgetting about her purpose for coming to the gala tonight. It turned out to be a moot point anyway, with no one wanting anything to do with her since her brother tried to kill Superman. She finds Kara endearing and charming, her smile so bright and happy. It’s a change of pace from everything she has been dealing with since taking over the family company. So maybe, for tonight, she can be just Lena. She listens to Kara tell her all about Catco, working for Cat Grant, and living in National City. She talks a little bit about her sister. She talks a lot about Cat and how much she has learned being her assistant.

As the evening goes on, Kara becomes more and more enthralled by Lena. She can tell Lena is holding a lot back. She guesses it has to do with what she overheard earlier, but she can’t ask her about that, considering there is no human way she could have heard that stuff. So instead, she lets Lena tell her what she wants, and shares plenty about herself. After all, Kara knows she herself is also keeping some important stuff a secret considering they only just met this evening.

Knowing all that though, Kara doesn’t want the night to end, so when she can tell that Lena is starting to get a bit antsy and she thinks Lena is about to call it a night, she does the only thing she can think of to keep Lena around longer.

“So… Lena… want to dance?”

Lena’s eyes go wide. “Um… with you?”

Kara’s smile again broadens. “Yes, Lena, with me.”

Lena gives a sly smile as she holds her hand out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

As they made their way to the dance floor, Kara can again feel the eyes of many of the other guests on them. She looked to see Lena’s eyes darting around the room and found herself giving Lena’s hand a gentle squeeze. As Lena looked at her, she gave her a tentative smile. “Don’t you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Lena smirked at Kara’s boldness, ready to give it right back. “Oh, just shut up and dance with me, would you?”

As Lena says it, she wraps her arms around Kara’s shoulders, sending a shiver down Kara’s spine as she stumbled to respond with words, but quickly finding her footing on the dance floor. Her hands touching softly on Lena’s hips as they began to sway to the slow music. Lena could feel the warmth radiating from Kara.

They danced in silence for a few minutes before Lena couldn’t help herself anymore.

“Kara, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but your eyes…”

Kara tilted her head as her forehead crinkled. “What about my eyes?” she asked dejectedly.

“No no,” Lena said putting a hand on Kara’s chest instinctively. “What I mean to say is that they are unlike any shade of blue I have ever seen. They are almost electric the way that they seem to glow. They are beautiful.”

Kara blushes under her mask as her head drops. “Oh… um… Thank you…”

“Sorry… if that was too forward,” Lena offers, not wanting to ruin things with the only person to treat her like a human this evening.

Kara looks back up in her eyes. “I’m glad you told me Lena. Your eyes were one of the first things I noticed about you when you walked in tonight.”

Lena’s eyebrow raised in the air suspiciously. “Really now?” Lena knows she is attractive, but her eyes? That isn’t something she often hears.

Kara smiles brightly. “Oh yes. They pulled me right in. I knew I just had to talk to you.” Kara doesn’t say it, not what she really sees when she looks into Lena’s eyes.

Deep in her eyes. I think I see the future.

Lena hides her own blush as she moves in closer, their bodies touching as she whispers in Kara’s ear. “Well, lucky for me that you rescued me from everyone else tonight then.”

Kara responds before she has time to think. “I will always save you Lena.”

Little did either know just exactly how true that statement would come to be.

Also on my AO3 page: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32377102

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor

[ninjakitty15]

Cold As Death (Loki)

Chapter One: Looks That Could Kill

By all accounts, today should've been like the countless other days before it. Just another day stuck in a glass cell with the occasional "scientist" trying to figure out how to harness something no regular schmuck or mortal could hope to grasp by poking, prodding, and bleeding me. But this was Hydra for you, try to change one idiots mind, and several more idiots tell you you're wrong. German, American, or other, there are evil idiots in every corner of every world, that's for damn sure. At this point I couldn't figure out why they still kept me here, locked away from everything when they couldn't what they wanted from me. They already tried torturing it out of me like pain would make me crumble, I just ended up wincing or laughing depending on what they did as there were times I actually wasn't sure I felt anything, not because they did it often enough or it was that bad, I was just sorta dead inside so some nerve endings didn't always work.

The only thing remotely unusual about today though was it wasn't as busy where they stashed me, hands locked in power dampening shackles and a metal muzzle to boot. At some point earlier they attempted to keep me sedated and unconscious but I woke myself back up once they left me alone thinking I was no longer a problem. Amateurs. As I sat in the middle of the cell, eyes closed but fully alert and coherent, I felt before I ever heard a presence that felt otherworldly to me. They were silent, seeming to observe with caution as I felt it get closer and start to circle the container then pause right where I knew the controls of the cage to be. There was a fifty fifty chance this presence would let me out, the other half being they come in and another round of human pinata would start but instead of candy it would just be blood and a lot of bad puns and jokes falling out of me, maybe drop a few s/m mentions. Serious folks tend to get real uncomfortable when you get sexual on them. If you can't laugh about sex, you don't have a sense of humor.  A button was pressed on the panel and a door formed in front of me where the glass was and I got a stronger feel of who or what was in front of me on the other side. They were definitely not your average Joe, probably not even human and flowing with a lifeforce not even mutants could possibly obtain. An immortal for sure. They took one step toward me and because this wasn't something I'd encountered since my containment, I instinctively tensed which made them pause again.

"You're awake?" A smooth almost british accented voice, noted softly yet curiously.

I opened my eyes then just to confirm that as the muzzle was holding back my usual smartass responses. They was actually one tall man clad in leather and gold metal, watching me carefully with piercing blue/green eyes. Maybe it was seeing the same ugly mugs every day for gods know how long I've been down here and finally seeing a new face, maybe it was the fact he was wearing my two favorite colors and pulled it off better than anyone else I've seen try that. But damn did he look good. It might also be the killer jawline and physique too. His eyes fixated on the muzzle for a moment and a hardened scowl formed for some reason, surprisingly not twisting the dashing look like it does most angry men. And then suddenly I could speak again but opted to gasp like a dying beached fish because damn did it feel good to not have airways being blocked anymore. Vaguely I wondered if my lips were chapped from the damned thing before smiling maniacally.

"Finally, oral freedom!" I cried overdramatically.  "I don't usually offer though unless its returned, all's fair in love and fun stuff."

The man cracked a small smile and ventured a step closer to me. "What are you? And why are you in here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, hun," i quipped. "And seeing as I was here first, you should answer first."

He chuckled and took a more confident step toward me though his lifeforce strengthened like a guard around him. Before he could answer himself though, a booming and somehow familiar voice called out. "Loki, have you found anything down there?!" Which caused the dude now named Loki to cringe at the interruption and sigh.

"No one here but us ghouls," I told him in answer.

"They have a prisoner down here, brother!" replied Loki though his eyes never left me.

"Prisoner's such a harsh word, I prefer forced resident or illegal obtained house guest," I informed him. "You answer his questions, but not mine. It's because I'm black, isn't it?" I was actually what one would describe in terms of skin color as not recently dead pale white.

"I thought he was answer enough, I'm sure you know of Thor, he likes to play the hero of this realm," Loki replied to me, an eyebrow arched.

"The Norse God of shitty weather? Y'all aren't busy with cooler realms?" I asked.

"This wasn't my choice," was his dry response, making me smile more.

I snickered. "Spoken like a true sibling. So you came down here, an alien immortal, because your big brother told you so. My heart bleeds for you really."

He glared at my unabashed sarcasm and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now answer mine before he comes in and makes a great mess of this place."

"More than the people that came with this building already have? That's gotta take talent. But I'll bite. They hunted me down gods know how long ago and attempted to extract something from me that makes me awesome, didn't work obviously or they'd make a mess not even your brother could trump and we wouldn't be here talking. Too valuable to be killed, though they couldn't if they tried, too stubborn to be experimented on. Where'd they go anyway? Are you guys the reason I didn't get my daily prodding?"

"My brothers...friends dealt with the ones they could find, if they're anything like their namesake, I'm sure there's more in hiding waiting for reinforcements or something like that."

Another man leaped down out of nowhere that definitely wasn't Thor as he didn't have long golden locks or a beard, his head and half his face were actually covered by a mask and instead of a hammer was a shield in one arm.

"Thor failed to mention it was a woman," the new dude noted.

"And my gender matters because...?" I wasn't actually offended by this, just messing with him to get a reaction which worked as he genuinely looked bashful, making me cackle. "For all the armor you people wear, it's still surprisingly easy to get under your skin. Maybe I've just been here so long, they're just fashion statements now, if everyone's wearing leather armor count me in!"

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's just us," Loki told me.

"She tell you why they're holding her?" the new man asked him.

"They're trying to steal her powers though I'm not sure what they are yet."

"Only the best kind of course," I told them. "It's all the rage these days, all the Hydra agents gotta have it."

"Well they can find it somewhere else as you're free from them but you can tell us all about the what and why, if you don't mind," the new man said.

"You say that so politely but I'm getting the sense you weren't asking. I'll comply if you give me a hand here, mine are a bit tied up at the moment." I raised my shackled hands as high as able since they were chained to the metal floor beneath me.

The new man was quick to break the chains connecting me to the floor before Loki waved a hand like Jedi Knight and the shackled sprang open, dropping to the floor with a loud clang. I flexed my hands and shook them a bit to get feeling back with them being cramped and slowly got to my feet, staggering a bit as my leg bones cracked from the sudden use and weight. I sighed in sweet relief and relaxed with a slight grin. "Alrighty then!" With my hands free, so was my powers just a bit more and I could collect and stretch it out, testing the waters. That seemed to be enough for Loki to notice being a power person as well and both eyebrows shot up as he probably felt what I was doing. I winked at him before turning to the other guy. "Onward and upward!"

With the new guy leading me out of the building and Loki being my tail, I was on my way to freedom for good before being nearly blinded by that god awful ball of fire in the sky, everyone else calls the sun. I recoiled and refrained from hissing like an angry vampire, stumbling back into Loki in the process who steadied me and smirked at my reaction to daylight. The new guy looked back hearing me cursing at it and raised an eyebrow in question but didn't actually ask anything.

"What? I'm not a morning person," I responded before straightening up but subtly elbowing Loki in the stomach, causing a soft grunt from behind while accidentally hitting my funny bone which wasn't that funny at all as my entire arm went numb and tingly at the same time. "Stupid toned god with your stupid abs of granite."

The new guy stopped walking and pressed a hand against his ear. "We're out, all the agents we could flush out are dealt with. A ride would be nice." Ah he was talking on a com of some kind it seems. How high tech yet old school. Within a few moments, an even more hightech fighter plane of some kind hovered low enough for him to climb in first then offer his hand to pull me up as I was unfortunately not remotely as tall or long legged as either man near me. I looked around the plane curiously to see another man and a redhaired woman at the front as pilots, the woman looking back and landing her eyes on me as well.

"Are you the prisoner Thor spoke of?" she asked.

"I'm the illegally obtained house guest, yes." Loki snickered behind me and I reminded myself not to elbow him again as my arm still hadn't gotten proper feeling back.

The woman smiled as well and nodded. "Buckle up then, we're heading back to base, could get bumpy. All good back there, Steve?" she called after the first new guy who was now Steve.

"Ready when you are," he answered, sitting at the tail end of the machine.

The plane rose up and shot forward at an illegally unsafe speed above the city. Loki had settled across from me, eyes ever studying me but unlike the agents that actually did and more, they weren't malicious or power hungry, just cautious and curious. I decided to test his resolve then and locked my eyes on his in an unwavering staring contest. "First one to blink loses."

"Is that why they muzzled you? Because if you're not under their skin, you're cracking jokes?" he asked.

"If you don't have a sense of humor you don't have much to live for and that's how they win. Also no, it's not how I talked, but who I talked to or when it wasn't them."

"To contain your powers, like they did your hands then. And they didn't get anything from you?"

"What I have can't be drained or pulled out or copied, it's not specifically found in something like DNA or an organ or something physical even. Those guys claim to be scientists but real scientists accept facts as they are when proof is found and I'm living proof they're all frauds with no results. I bet they don't even have a Ph.D."

"They're Hydra, they're funded by power and money, not degrees and universities," Steve spoke up.

"So you're telling me they just pulled a few crazy people with crazyass theories on things from a hat and told them they're scientists now? I should've gone to college there, I wanna have money and be told I have a job with more money. All I got from mine a piece of paper saying I know some things and then years of disappointment from being unemployed. I probably look good in a lab coat too."

"A stark difference from your current attire of all black and hooded," Loki pointed out.

I snorted. "All they let me wear after ruining the one I was caught in from their experimentation, they thought the attire should fit the power, how unimaginative is that? Let's just advertise exactly what I can do to everyone around me, that'll throw them off for sure."

"And what can you do?" he challenged.

"Uh-uh, spoilers sweety. A preview of which will cost you extra."

"But we just gave you a free ride," chipped the male pilot.

"Hey, you're not part of this conversation, and I don't even know where we're going, this could be a free ride to something worse. Like Shield or the dentist."

"Bad experience? Ate too much candy as a kid, didn't you?" the pilot guessed.

"If you think there's such thing as too much candy, then your childhood sucked and I pity your past."

"Tony's gonna love this one," mused the female pilot. "What's your name?"

"I've been out of custody for like 15 minutes and finally someone asks! It's Noelle, Nell for short. And you pilots are...?"

"About to land for starters," the man said. "I'm Clint, she's Nat, and we're at base so everyone out of my plane."

"That's Tony's plane actually," quipped Loki as the plane landed and everyone unbuckled. "Come along, meet the rest of my brother's friends."

#cold as death #immortal peril #lokifanfiction #lokifanfic #loki x oc #loki x original female character #lokixNell #nellthenecromancer

[swanqiu]

A STUDY IN CHARACTER LAYERS.

——— slight mentions of: drugs, death

LAYER  001 :   THE  OUTSIDE.

NAME.   zhang qiu / “cho chang”.

EYE COLOR.   light brown.

HAIR STYLE / COLOR.  black, although more of a dark brown in most lights. she usually wears it down, if not in a neat bun at the office or a nice plait during matches.

HEIGHT.   5′3″

CLOTHING  STYLE.   black jeans! athletic shorts! small pieces of statement jewelry! turtlenecks! sleeveless tops with lacy straps! rayon blouses with 3/4 sleeves! tapered slim-fit pantsuits! shoes with some height that also pair with many different outfits! muggle hoodies supporting the local rugby and football teams! she “borrows” her partner’s tees and sweaters and casual wear, so lol add those to the list. she’s big on practicality and comfort over flair and height of fashion, but she does like keeping up with trends and coordinating her outfits to reflect that.

BEST  PHYSICAL  FEATURE.   her smile! it’s absolutely very cliche, but when she smiles and her nose does that crinkly thing and her eyes get all starry, it’s very unfair how powerful it is. alternatively, she also has a great ass, so there’s that.

LAYER  002 :   THE  INSIDE.

FEARS.   losing people she loves. having someone d*e during a healing procedure and her mind just shutting down during it.

GUILTY  PLEASURE.   parfaits! going for a late night fly! being on top!!!

BIGGEST  PET  PEEVE.   people who sneeze/cough without covering their mouth and nose. people in the magical community who somehow think muggles are “less developed” or “behind” without magic, when they’re the ones who haven’t even moved beyond printed news and radios to circulate current events and pop culture tbh.

AMBITIONS  FOR  THE  FUTURE.   to successfully campaign for a british seat at the international confederation of wizards (delegate timeline); to patent a line of at-home salves and develop at least one healing spell by the end of her residency (healer timeline); to just be the best mom and partner possible, honestly! (divorced verse)

LAYER  003 :   THOUGHTS.

FIRST  THOUGHTS  WAKING  UP.   huh. 6 AM already?

THINKS  ABOUT  MOST.   how other people are doing.

THINKS  ABOUT  BEFORE  BED.   any of the interactions she might have had that day.

WHAT  THEY  THINK  THEIR  BEST  QUALITY  IS.   her ability to depend on herself. her sociability. her commitment to fight for what’s right.

LAYER  004 :   WHAT’S  BETTER ?

SINGLE  OR  GROUP  DATES.   single (unless you’re harry potter and have to meet up with hermione later in the day). group dates are sometimes useful for gauging potential partners’ ability to crack on with her friends, though.

TO  BE  LOVED  OR  RESPECTED.   loved. respected. both?

BEAUTY  OR  BRAINS.   brains— for herself and for a potential partner. BUT i can’t lie, if we’re being really honest here, i’m absolutely tempted by the idea of cho being with a heart-of-gold jock whose sole purposes in life are to get gains, look good, and love cho. cho x himbo king is canon btw; the muggle she marries is a *checks notes* brickhouse rugby player who rescues animals on the side and doesn’t know the first thing about how getting sick works but will gladly and fondly listen to her explain everything from antibodies to the common cold to why wearing a mask helps.

DOGS  OR  CATS.   both.

LAYER  005 :   DO  THEY…

LIE.   not really, and never with bad intentions. as she gets older, she learns to use it more for self-preservation.

BELIEVE  IN  THEMSELVES.   yes.

BELIEVE  IN  LOVE.   yes. always.

WANT  SOMEONE.   no. in her divorced verse, the answer strays more toward yes.

LAYER  006 :   HAVE  THEY  EVER…

BEEN  ON  STAGE.   yes. ravenclaw common room parties are a whole event. terry boot may or may not have the negatives of the one time she sang karaoke to abba’s “dancing queen” on roger davies’s 17th birthday.

DONE  DRUGS.   yes. her muggle psychiatrist recommended medical mar*juana to cope with the very rare night terrors. she tried it for a little while, and it worked, but she ultimately prefers the calming potions made by healer pye. she used sleeping draughts for a little while after the war (who didn’t), but she hasn’t used them since.

GOTTEN  DRUNK.   lmao yes. me, ess the mun, cupping my hands around my mouth: baby girl’s a light weight, y’all!

CHANGED  WHO  THEY  WERE  TO  FIT  IN.   no. part of the reason we read about her experiencing ostracization at school (through harry’s pov) was because she didn’t waver in her defense of marietta and was quite open with her emotions (although she ended up having to repress a large part of her grief and anger anyway). she’s very firm about sticking to her resolutions and not bending who she is in order to do that. (that might get slightly lost in romantic relationships, though.) in her moved-to-the-muggle-world verse, she definitely changes her external habits and way of living to blend in, but it’s not so much a change of her character or her person.

LAYER  007 :   FAVORITES.

FAVORITE COLOR.   beige. light purples. dark greens.

FAVORITE  ANIMAL.   swans.

FAVORITE  MOVIE.   the princess bride (1986). in the mood for love (2000). miss congeniality (2000). remember the titans (2000). 2000 was clearly a big year for her and movies.

FAVORITE  GAME.   lmao as if it would be anything other than quidditch! i’m not exactly sure how fans keep up with the sport if they’re not watching in-person, but when league cup season rolls around, the television is on, the radio is tuned, the newspaper articles about game highlights and star players are read, the plumpton tutshill jersey is ritualistically worn...

LAYER  008 :   SLEEP.

HEAVY  OR  LIGHT  SLEEPER.   light sleeper.

WHAT  SIDE  OF  THE  BED  DO  THEY  SLEEP  ON.   the right side— when she shares a bed with someone, it’s more comfortable for her to cuddle up to them if they’re on her left. in her divorced verse, she sleeps on whatever part of the bed the kids didn’t claim in the middle of the night.

WHAT  DO  THEY  WEAR  TO  BED.   old quidditch stuff— she has one or two ravenclaw scrimmage jerseys that are so old the house insignia’s already faded away. she also has endless tutshill tornadoes shirseys and tees that she’s worn and washed so often that the fabric’s become so soft now and is definitely susceptible to hem stitches unraveling. her favorite sleepwear combo is a pair of cotton boyshorts and to go braless under one of her oversized tutshill tees. comfortable— and as flattering and as easy access as possible, for those nights.

WEIRD  THINGS  THEY  DO  IN  THEIR  SLEEP.   she mumbles a lot sometimes.

LAYER  009 :   LOVE.

BIG  DECLARATIONS  OR  SMALL.   small, from her end, but she’s extremely appreciative (and only a little embarrassed) of big declarations toward her.

OPEN  OR  CLOSED  OFF.   open, although she wisely exercises caution with some people and thus becomes more closed off.

LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT  OR  SLOW  BURN.   slow burn! this is also me, ess, exposing myself for my love of a good slow burn.

ONE  TRUE  LOVE  OR  A  STRING.   a string, but maybe it leads to comfortably settling into that true love. she definitely doesn’t believe that there is only and exactly one love out there for each person. that myth is a terrible and disheartening way to go about life, frankly.

LAYER  010 :   FINISH  THE  SENTENCE.

I  LOVE.   "...that things do get better. my friends. the people i consider my family. my children (added for divorced verse).”

I  FEEL.   "...insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. content with where i am, usually. but mostly, i tend to feel everything, unfortunately all at once.”

I  HIDE.   “...the parts of my feelings that lead into anger.”

I  MISS.   "...the simpler days. hogwarts days, honestly.”

I  WISH.   "...i could have had more time. to do things. to be with people. to enjoy certain moments. sorry— a bit vague, huh?”

tagged by: @gramenviride​ ( 💕 )​ tagging: lol i’ve already tagged a lot of you in these dash games/character studies and likely blew up your notifications over the last week; this turned out pretty long and might use more brain power than usual, so i’m gonna go with a general call for anyone that sees this and wants to fill this out to please do it! and tag me if you do! 

#indiecho character study #this was just an opportunity for me to hurl all of my headcanons at you; if you read through this whole thing i appreciate you sm #lol this was indeed a lot of things to just blast onto the dash but. i was given a platform and i have many thoughts what can i say!

[madamspeaker]

It’s not a “gate” - The hair/salon thing

I’ve addressed the salon thing in a couple of asks, but I wanted to take a moment to just go through the whole thing separate of those because what this saga has highlighted is a complete failure of journalists to do their work, and the undercurrent of misogyny that perpetuates both journalistic discourse, and how women must present themselves, especially if a public figure.

(This is long, so to spare your dashboards it’s under a cut)

Let’s start with the facts. Nancy’s usual stylist wasn’t available for Monday, so she/he recommended someone else. Nancy’s office contacted him last weekend (Nancy only returned to SF some time on Friday), and asked if it was possible to do her hair. The thing to note at this moment is that the rules governing salons in California started to change from last Friday. The governor had announced limited indoor openings, but to confuse matters some localities were still imposing tighter restrictions. Nancy’s office checked with the stylist, who told them that the rules permitted one person in at a time. He then asked the salon owner who he rented a chair from if he could go into the premises and do the appointment on Monday. The owner agreed to his request on the Saturday. Fast forward to Monday afternoon - Nancy gets her hair done before doing a television interview on MSNBC, and then on Tuesday the owner cries “outrage!!!” to Fox News, bringing along with her a seconds long bit of footage that shows Nancy with her mask around her neck. Naturally the whole thing explodes on Twitter and then across other media (several versions of the story made the top ten shared links on Facebook).

What followed was a failure of journalism to ask follow up questions about the clearly odd parts of the salon owner’s account as relayed by Fox News (a red flag in of itself). In her interview with Fox she admitted she had known about the appointment in advance, but no one thought to ask why she let the appointment go ahead if it so offended and outraged her - she did own the place afterall, it’s not like Nancy had keys or barged in. Likewise, no one thought to ask where the rest of the salon footage was. Why only release seconds worth which rather conveniently showed Nancy with her mask down, and partially hidden under her chin? Could it be that she had worn the mask the rest of the time. No one in the media thought to ask this. It seemed fairly clear to most sensible people on Tuesday night that something with off with the salon owner’s tale of outrage, but the media pretty much took the Fox News version of events at verbatim. Only USA Today raised the points I just did, but alas, they buried them in their write up.

Wednesday saw Nancy fight back, acknowledging that she took responsibilty for trusting the salon (when perhaps she should have had someone else verify what they had been told), but ask yourselves this, would you have verified it elsewhere? She had been to this salon before with a stylist, they were local, she trusted them, and in a situation in which the law was changing, it makes perfect and reasonable sense to ask the professionals in that industry what their status is. On this point there have been plenty of indignant people and bots on Twitter up in arms that Nancy didn’t apparently know the regulations in SF, but a) she didn’t make those regulations (as some seem to think), b) she spends just as much if not more time in D.C., and c) she has about 100 other things on her plate in any given hour, that salon regulations in SF are probably somewhere near 120 on her list after deal with Covid-19, Trump, win the election, save the USPS, try to get a stimulus bill, deal with the federal budget which will need a CR to prevent a shutdown (minutes after I hit publish on this it was announced she had reached a deal with Mnuchin to avoid a shutdown), restore in-person inteligence briefings, file an appeal in the McGahn case (again), Bill sodding Barr,, Russian bounties on US soldiers and so on. She has an insanely stressful job at the moment, her staff too, and it seems more than reasonable for staff/her to ask a professional in the industry about the regulations on salons, when such regulations were pretty confusing to most people last weekend anyway. Nancy’s only apparent “crime” in this instance was to trust the word of the industry pro.

Then of course we have the “she’s not wearing a mask” portion of this debacle. Not one journalist has asked where the rest of the footage is. We see Nancy walk from the bowl to another room, wet hair, phone in hand, and the mask around her neck (slightly hidden by her chin), but we never got the footage of her walking to the bowl, or any other footage from what was definitely more than a 4 second long appointment. Could it possibly be that she had indeed been wearing a mask the rest of the time - that she wasn’t just wearing it around her neck as some sort of foulard meets choker fashion statement. People have asked, “Why did she pull it down?”, and to that I will say, probably any one of three or four reasons. She uses a clip at the back of her neck to secure her masks rather than the ear loops. Maybe it was in the way and the stylist asked her to pull it down. Maybe she had trouble breathing with her face covered and head back. Maybe she didn’t want to get it wet. The point here is that it was around her neck, suggesting that she had been compliant until that fateful video captured moment. The media again though have run with the Fox News narrative that she had no mask. For one, it’s actually visible in the footage, and two, they are blatantly disregarding what they themselves know to be true - that Nancy has been wearing a mask for the last five months. We have the footage and photographs to prove it, not to mention the press also know that she takes down her mask to talk at her pressers etc. The press are playing stupid on this point to satisfy some both sides need in an election that so far has Joe Biden with a good lead. Their wilful obtusity is purely to inject some drama into things on the Dem side for clicks because nothing at present is sticking to Biden. All this leads to me to the misogyny.

I caught part of a radio interview yesterday in which two male hosts had to have it explained to them as to why a woman in the public eye might need a hair stylist more than once a week. One of the men had been perplexed as to why if Nancy needed her hair done she hadn’t just got it taken care of in D.C. were salons are open. It never entered his brain that no amount of hair spray is going to keep a hairstyle in place for at least 3 days (when Nancy was last in D.C.), or that she might need to lie down to sleep, or that hair does actually need washed. Likewise, it never occured to either of them that Nancy turning up to an television interview with anything other than styled hair would be a news story in itself, because here’s the rub, women are damned for makeup and hairstyling and thought vain and shallow, and they’re damned if they don’t put makeup on and get their hair done, especially for television (we all remember the “omg” reactions when Hillary turned up to an event days after the election in 2016 with a bare face). The last couple of days have been full of this crap, with men (looking at you Don Lemon and the SF Chronicle editorial board) especially saying Nancy should apologise for the salon episode. Why should she? She did what any reasonable person would do and asked about the rules. Her error was to take the salon at their word, but by today’s logic the salon’s lie is Nancy’s fault. I have seen more than one man on Twitter admit the facts of the case and still say “she should take the hit”. Would they say this of a man who had been lied to, framed, and the footage sold to a hostile media company? I think not.

And then of course there is the salon owner herself. The stylist released a statement last night backing Nancy’s side of events up. He also revealed that the owner, so “outraged” by Nancy’s appointment, had in fact been opening up illegally since April, had been forgoing masks, and been forcing stylists to work. What also emerged is that the owner had let her licence lapse on the premises back in May (so Nancy had not ended her business as she claimed), and was in the middle of relocating to Fresno -- something the press have gilbly ignored as they report how she has been hounded out of town because of Nancy, and forced to move. Let me say this, not even the IRA at the peak of The Troubles could get people to move that quick, and they had guns. And then there’s the gofundme - which popped up less than 24hrs after she handed the tape to Fox. Naturally the blurb is a sorry tale of woe, of a supposedly single mother forced to move because of the evil Speaker of the House. No mention that she owns three salons, that she’d let the licence lapse on one anyway, is opening one in Fresno, loves her guns (and those ain’t cheap) and took a PPP loan of $12,000 wihilst operating illegally. By the way, at the time of writing this, the gofundme has raised over $80k for her -- which shows you how Trumpers will buy into any bullshit, and how Nancy is a fundraising powerhouse regardless of your party affliation lol.

I appreciate this has been a rather long read, and if you made it this far, thanks! Nancy didn’t do anything wrong other than take the word of a salon in good faith. Should she have known the regulations herself? Maybe, but she has the kind of crazy and stressful life most of us can’t even begin to imagine, and unlike the Presidency, the Office of Speaker doesn’t come with personal maid services thrown in, or a whole West Wing of staff. End of the day, once out of that office, Nancy has to do all that normal life stuff that the rest of us do - shop, go to the post office, buy clothes etc., and now in the Covid era get ready for tv interviews herself rather than a studio stylist do it. Her mistake was to trust someone who has it turns out saw a chance to have a moment of fame, stick one to the woman she ignorantly blamed for the lockdown, and make some money from gullible Trumpers. I don’t know how this story will play out in the coming days. Ice cream lasted a week, spurred on by the far-left and then the far-right. This may have more staying power as Trump desperately seeks some kind of mud to stick to Dems, and with nothing sticking to Biden at present, his 2016 playbook (and the even older GOP one) of blame a woman (in this case Nancy) has been deployed. The problem of course is that Trump isn’t running against Nancy -- but as the press have so depressingly showed, that fact hasn’t stopped them from elevating one trip to a salon above 180k+ dead, Melania using a prvate email server (!!!, I mean come the fuck onnnnnnn, this after 2016!!!?!?!?), or Trump telling people to committ a felony and vote twice.

#nancy pelosi #madam speaker #long reads

[justamixofemoandpunk]

Ok so i have to publish stuff for one of my classes. and I am publishing it to tumblr dot com

Please don't be mean I'm sorry.

Poetry Portfoilio:

I Come from poem

I come from rainstorms

Softly tapping the windows,

Nourishing the ground

Rainbows are just around the corner,

And yet nobody wants it to end

Soft and comforting

I come from rainstorms

With howling winds,

Beating at the doors,

flooding ponds and

Spattering against the window

Ripping petals off flowers

Violent and merciless

I come from cool mornings,

With fuzzy sweaters and hot tea

Coffee weak to with sugar and cream

Favorite spices stirred in

Trees are turning bright colors in the distance

Rubbing sleep from your eyes

I com from cool mornings,

With harsh wind biting cheeks and noses

Painfully early

Headaches from trying to remember a forgotten dream

And burning fevers

I come from mist and fog

Warm mornings with honeysuckle perfume

Birds in the far distance chirp

Of a new day

Covered in a fluffy white sweater

I come from mist and fog

Shrouding the distance

“Danger, Danger” whispers the trees

A snake slithers unseen on the forest floor

Mystery itself is fearful

I come from power herself

Spring spots poem

flowers peeking through honeysuckle vines

with bowed heads from the weight of the world

and pink stretch marks from holding it up

they do not care, they know they are strong and beautiful

and yet tired all the same from the thankless work

more flowers appear,

this time with anger that they hold the weight of the world

they have bowed heads too, they are also tired

they do not want to clean up thanklessly after others

just like the previous generation

yet they are tired, because they do it too,

and try to explain they they do not have to be the only ones to help

the first flowers fade, wrinkling and fading

tired out, exhausted

they droop to the ground

without mourning save but from the other flowers

just as they fall

more flowers bloom in their place

not picking up the weight of the world,

they have seen the damage it does

they do not want to hurt

they try to convince the other plants and creatures to help,

telling them that the damage won’t be so great

but the others just laugh

After all, why would they pick up, why would they work when they hadn't before?

they wouldn't be hurt either way

it stings, it hurts

so when the last generation dies

there is a frost

everyone suffers

the other plants are mad at the flowers

for not picking up the weight of the world

the flowers are angry, because the other plants will not listen

only cruelly twist their words against them

so when the next flowers appear

the dying second set of flowers tell them not to pick it up

for the other plants will eventually pick up their share

the new flowers won't pick it up,

and they try to explain that everyone needs to help

but the other plants won’t listen

and the cycle repeats, it looks doomed

When will the other plants learn?

Will the flowers ever get a break?

Sonnet

Sonnet to people who won’t wear a mask

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day

For thou art hasn't even a bit of class

You look like an animal that eats hay

Say, thou art even dressed the part,( donkey)

You killed a baboon and stolen it’s face

you're a murderer and uncunning thief

your mother never gave you an embrace

but a mere peek of your face causes grief

You are steadfast to theories of fraud

you use sources from all except science

At logic you have stridently guffawed

doctors receive only your defiance

To the nearest grocery employee

I say: run! covid is a guarantee

4 word poem

444Early thunder webs porch

I woke up early this morning

Packed my bag, took a quick shower,

Stepped onto the webbed porch

Walked down to the nearest train station

The city was already bustling, but in a tired sort of way

I boarded the metro, and dozens of ghostly eyes glanced up,

Haunted by the lack of sleep, decimated by the stresses

Only one pair of them saw me, I knew.

It was myself at a young age

visiting the art museum with my mother and brother

I still remember that trip.

If only my naive self knew what would happen.

What would become of me

What will happen

These Have I Loved

Cars whizzing past my house, blaring the radio, the sharing their snippets of sound

Raindrops dripping down a window,

The smell of baking bread in the oven, and the sizzle of eggs on the stove,

A book by the crackling fire,

Inky calligraphy, a page of scribbles for warming up the ink

Shooting stars speeding by, a gasp and a hundred thousand silent wishes

The stars and the moon, shining bright,

White roses dyed with split stems

Chalk monsters on driveways

Clouds forming and shifting, butterflies flitting between the bushes

Honeysuckle flowers picked and nectar greedily sipped out

Lumps of moss gently placed in potting soil, caringly watered.

666 this is just to say

This is just to say:

I forgot to text you back

I forgot to write the email

I promise I was thinking of you

I promised I haven’t forgotten

I miss you so much

I promise I love you still

I promise I promise I promise

I am thinking of you

I care, but I can’t write the email

I promise I tried

Forgive me

stretched pantoum( I’m sorry 3 stanzas wasn’t enough)

I’m scared/

Another friend drops/

I do not know their name/

Why does nobody notice everyone is falling//

Another friend drops /

My heart beats faster/

Why does nobody notice everyone is falling/

They’re being murdered by the minute//

My heart beats faster/

Why does nobody else see the blue-grey-green murderer/

They’re being murdered by the minute /

It’s holding a bloody hatchet, //

Why does nobody else see the blue-grey-green murderer/

It’s holding their head under water,/

It’s holding a bloody hatchet/

Why do they answer it’s sick questions //

It’s holding their head underwater,/

I KNEW THAT PERSON/

Why did they answer his sick questions/

They’re gone now, never coming home, never coming home//

I KNEW THAT PERSON/

And they’re gone, gone forever/

They’re gone now, never coming home, never coming home/

They were drowned in the fountain//

And they’re gone, gone forever/

With a hatchet in the back/

They were drowned in the fountain/

They were poisoned//

With a hatchet in the back/

They sank to their knees, eyes up to heaven/

They were poisoned/

They had no choice//

5 different ways of looking at the moon

A one-eyed space cat,

Staring with unwavering attention,

Never bothering to shake the glittering dust off its coat

It keeps a silent sigil

A bitten cookie,

Rudely munched on by ants

They didn’t even notice the silver and gold leaf

In their hunger, it was just more food

The cat is growing sleepy

It has been there for millenia

Ever watching, waiting

Why does it stay? What is going to happen?

A teacup,

Left with only the bitter dregs,

Someone forgot to take the teabag out

The last drops are cold and strong

Maybe the cat drank it

A colourful stamp on paint named ”Satin night”

Spotted and not quite perfect

Maybe from a cork

Slammed so hard the paint spattered

And made stars

I remember poem

I remember sticking my hands and head out the car window as we sped down the highway at sunset, speakers resounding our favorite songs on cassette,

Walking around the city with balloons in hand- we had picked them for the other

I remember laying on the rooftop, and you showed me my star sign, and yours, and your favorite constellations and their stories,

And I remember your face when I gave you a strawberry plant that I grew just for you

I remember making our playlist, with all our favorite songs, and it was fun because you tried to add words to the titles to make them funny because

I remember “It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s A Deathwish, Mom” and “Bring Me to Life, Mom”

And I remember your anger when they called me that word.

I had to hold you back to keep you from hurting them.

You flat ironed my hair, and I remember dyeing yours neon green.

I remember slow dancing in our room, with lit scented candles to spotify playlists and McDonald’s ads.

I remember growing ivy on the staircase with you

I remember your smile

4 word sketch poem

Firstborn, whistle, moonlight, strings

The whistle of the first firework,

it screeches up into the dusk.

The strings it releases explode and crackle,

A chorus of gasps and Oohs and Ahs

As the firstborn child sneaks away, unnoticed.

It’s fine, that was their plan anyways.

Fireflies are twinkling, traffic is clogged and congested.

They round the corner, pacing fast but quietly, the way they learned in 5th grade.

The boots make it difficult, so they tiptoe on the narrow strip of grass that lays next to the sidewalk.

They’ve reached their destination: the pharmacy.

It's hard not to attract attention when you’re the only customer in the store.

A few minutes later, they leave, crinkly plastic bag in hand,

Nearly sprinting towards their family.

They’ve only been gone for five minutes, but

The fireworks and the fact that they’re normally quiet has kept their family from alarm.

They sneak back into the circle,

doling out candy to delighted brothers and sisters,

The parents have no idea.

#tah dah #im not sure if this counts as publishing it but whatever #ppl may or may not see it

[twistedintern]

Kyuu’s Chronicle - Entries #1-6

Entry One

“Everything happens for a reason.”

...That was, up until recently, a favorite adage of mine. Through good times and bad, I would think back to those five little words.

Everything happens for a reason.

Struggle.

Success.

Waking up inside a sealed coffin after an unremarkable night’s rest.

...Hello, Lady Fate? Might I be able to file a tiny complaint? WHAT THE FLYING EVER-LOVING F*CK? 

You don’t just up and isekai a normal adult woman into the middle of some Harry Potter-grade magical college without providing her with purpose, know-how, and a means of returning home! I am NOT the token light novel hero with a personality that screams ‘lovable fish-out-of-water,’ alright? SHEESH. I could’ve been injured, kidnapped, or worse....

Fortunately--yes, there’s always a silver lining, Kyuu. Remember that--while I now know I could’ve ended up as mincemeat at the hands of delinquent students, I was first happened upon… by a cat. That cat was accompanied by a pair of men. Well, I knew one of them was a man. I couldn’t make out his features clearly in the dimly-lit chamber before he left, but he sounded and held himself like a middle-aged man would.

His companion, though? Different story entirely. When he lifted his lamp to get a better look at me, providing me with some much-needed light with which to take in my surroundings…

Feathers. Gaudy shiny things. A suit, tie, cloak, a grand hat.

Two piercing yellow lights shining from a beaked half-mask.

...Mere inches from my face.

I had never fought so hard to suppress a scream in my life.

Entry Two

A bit of time has passed since that, um, eventful night. Because I’m really bad at keeping diaries, I’ll just give a recap:

I have never wanted to go home so badly in all my life.

The individual I met back then--he introduced himself as Dire Crowley, by the way; a fitting name if I do say so myself (I still flinch whenever I see him or hear him call my name. God, he’s so weird)--turned out to be the headmaster of this place. ...Um, what was it called again?

...Right! Night Raven College. He tells me nonstop how prestigious this place is. He’d better not be exaggerating, though that seems to be his general way of talking about things that matter to him.

(I hope he’s telling the truth: if so, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that I don’t belong here. He won’t believe me whenever I tell him I’m from another, altogether separate world.)

In the meantime, Crow Man has me holed up in a rather spacious (and quite homey) tool shed a short hike away from the central plaza of the school.

I wish I knew why he’s always so hellbent on emphasizing how terribly kind he is when it comes to doing things for others. Normally, I’d consider that sort of behavior to be incredibly suspicious. I mean, I know administrative heads of these kinds of institutes have it tough and are largely underappreciated, but it really feels like he’s hiding something...

Entry Three

Crowley invited me to his office today, and for once, he was the least remarkable thing in the room.

I have never been so shocked in all my years. So much so that I fainted as soon as I processed what I was seeing. (I don’t faint.)

Portraits flanking his seat, seven in total, suspended midair by magic forces beyond my understanding.

The no-nonsense Queen of Hearts

Scar, the usurper lion king

Ursula, the sea witch

Jafar, the sultan’s scheming right-hand

The beautiful and vain Evil Queen

Hades, lord of the dead

Maleficent, the preeminent sorceress of all that is wicked

When I recovered consciousness, I nearly shrieked. 

“THEY’RE YOUR ‘MAGNIFICENT SEVEN’?”

Crowley responded with a simple nod of the head. Hadn’t I seen their statues on the main street? He wished to know why I was surprised.

“I… KNOW THEM.”

Crowley blinked before affirming that yes, I ought to. Very few people in the world don’t. Then I reminded him I wasn’t from this world.

Fast-forward, crow man drags me to some grandiose “Hall of Mirrors” and asks the principal spirit what my deal is. (Why didn’t he do that sooner…?) The spirit (which also looks eerily familiar) validates my entire argument: that I’m a magic-less adult from outside their realm.

And Crowley? Crow Man? He and the mirror spirit might as well have been discussing the weather, because he didn’t seem bothered or troubled by the revelation in the slightest!

Entry Four

A few days later, Crowley made a formal announcement that I would be joining the staff of the college. …As an intern of sorts.

Huh? Excuse me? Did a bird man really just make an executive decision to take me on as his servant?!

For some reason… I’m not as pissed about this as I feel I could be. After all, I’m painfully aware of how I have zero business at Night Raven; it was well within his rights to kick me out. The least I could do is make myself useful.

Crowley (I never thought I’d be calling a bird my boss, but here I am!) sat me down later over a light lunch to tell me about the men I’d be assisting in the days ahead:

Mozus Trein, Professor of Magical History

Very serious, highly respected. A good judge of character with zero tolerance for poor work ethics (yikes!)

Divus Crewel, Professor of Alchemy and Magical Sciences

Exacting, charismatic. A celebrated fashion designer (???) whose wrath has earned him admirers and foes alike

Ashton Vargas, Professor of Kinesiology (I guess he’s the PE guy)

Passionate, persistent. Is known for his narcissism, but is a dependable team player when it counts

Sam, Proprietor of “Mr. S’s Mystery Shop”

The go-to man for all your buying needs. Is a bit on the eccentric side, but that’s part of his charm

Maybe this won’t be such a lousy arrangement after all....

Entry Five

Allow me to amend my earlier statement ever so slightly:

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST ARRANGEMENT IMAGINABLE.

My first day on the job has been nothing but one disaster after another. These men are unreasonable, larger-than-life characters with the most obtuse expectations and tendencies I’ve ever met! Why oh why couldn’t I have been made younger in the process of this whole isekai-ing business? A great many students, as I’ve now come to learn, aren’t half bad. (The remarkable ones among them certainly left a lasting impression…) What’s more, they actually seem terrified of these fellows birdbrain assigned me to aid.

Divus Crewel is not my type of person AT ALL. He’s vain, cold, and completely unforgiving. He tore at me from the get-go, his cold grey eyes boring into me as he informed me how drab my sense of style was. The headmaster spoke so highly of me; he thought it fair to assume that I would be a remarkable presence having come from a world apart. I know well his type: petty and shallow. (Bastard thinks he can wear fur like that in his line of work? Tch.)

Ashton Vargas was, unsurprisingly, the textbook definition of a musclehead. He chewed me out for my poor physical constitution and demanded that I join him for early morning jogs around campus followed by intense cardio. Not for nothing, but exercise is not my thing. Naturally, he’s so into himself that he didn’t bother listening to me when I tried to politely turn down his invitation.

Sam… where do I even begin about that piece of work? ‘A bit eccentric’? Only a little? Way to downplay things, boss bird! The guy is a bonafide freak. He’s all about making sales and nothing else, and he’s as sketchy as rotten fish smells. And get this… his shadow? The thing has a mind of its own, and he does nothing to keep a reign on it. I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but as soon as he started talking about his “friends on the other side” with a snicker and a twinkle in his eye, I hightailed it out of there. I am never going back to his place of business ever again, even if it kills me.

I haven’t even met the last person the Headmaster told me about, but if he’s anything like his colleagues--or worse--Crowley might as well throw me to the sharks and put me out of my misery. Going by the information that… crow so generously shared with me, he doubtless feels like someone who’s going to see right through me and utterly crush what little self-worth I have left.

Please, I just want this nightmare to be over already....

Entry Six

So… um, hold on. I need to gather my thoughts. Deep breaths, Kyuu. Deep breaths.

Today was… nice. I can’t believe I’m saying any of this but… I’m kind of happy.

Although I had initially considered skipping my appointed first meeting with Professor Trein, I decided to suck it up at the very last minute and take whatever fate had in store for me head-on. I do not regret my decision in the least.

Where do I begin? I was so damn nervous when I knocked on the door to his office. A voice urged me inside, but the first thing that greeted me wasn’t the voice’s owner… but a cat.

This fluffy black and white feline, its expression demure, ran up to me immediately and took to rubbing against my leg. It was the cat from that fateful night I woke up inside a coffin! He held still and stared at me expectantly before issuing a rawl. I looked up to find a stern man, dressed in antiquated robes, regarding me with an unflinching glower. I was paralyzed with fear--I’d screwed up, hadn’t I?

Then he smiled at me. “It has been a while, Kyuu. I was expecting you.” He was the other person from that night! I just nodded my head dumbly and followed him inside. I could see how one could find him intimidating, what with his piercing visage and strict, commanding aura, but for me there was something almost comforting about his olden mannerisms.

We had a delightful talk over freshly-brewed tea. He asked me about myself, and I was stunned to learn that he and I had many things in common! He was positively amazed how quickly his beloved cat (who’s name is Lucius, by the way) warmed up to me. All the while, I was fondly reminded of my university days where I would spend hours on end talking with one of my favorite history professors after class.

I eventually opened up to him about my catastrophic first day with his colleagues. He expressed sympathy, but at the same time he was quick to point out that perhaps I was taking things too personally, and that I had jumped to conclusions without putting things in perspective. Knowing my tendencies, I conceded that he was probably right.

#twisted wonderland #twisted-wonderland #kyuu's chronicle

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker X Venom!reader

Warnings: none

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He had somehow managed not to completely blow it with her. He knew it was a long shot, after all they’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between them. She was awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked. A blush painted Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him. Peters heart skipped a beat at the opportunity to talk about the girl he was so badly crushing on.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her, man. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to Y/N.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child. This stuff excited him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted. Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up. Tony looked impressed.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows. Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed. Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.” Tony said. Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying. He spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions and training.

I arrived at Peters at 6:07. I was done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on my phone until I was slightly late. I didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. I had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

I knocked on Peters door and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of him waiting for me. Peter must’ve read my mind. He turned red, must be a habit of his, and smiled.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “ Peter said, breaking the ice. At least, he tried to. And kudos to him for trying. But I was drawing a blank on my part. I had no idea what to say. I was a reporter for crying out loud. I don’t get tripped up on my words. But something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered me unable to formulate a thought. All I could do was stand there and smile at him, like a Jackass. I felt like I was standing weirdly and I all the sudden had no idea where to put my hands. Do I leave them at my sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? I was pretty sure every brain cell had left my body at that point.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between us. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. I looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. I had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material. It was bunched in the front and hugged my figure nicely. My hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing my face. Peter took in my appearance with what looked like approval. Then I noticed Peters gaze falling to my feet.

“Converse with a dress. Nice.” He commented. I felt my personality re-enter my body, finally.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” I said sarcastically and attempted to flip my hair, but my dumbass forgot it was in a bun. I still made the hand motion and Peter seemed to get what I was going for. He laughed. I felt myself relax at the magical sound.

“You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.” I said. Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and I regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said. I had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled my ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for! My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.” Peter said. We smiled at each other. Maybe this night wasn’t gonna be so bad after all. He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward.

“Come in. Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like mine, but much more homey. I saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. Then I noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but I didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame. I quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” I heard a woman’s voice. I turned around and saw a young woman in high pants and a yellow tank top. I recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too Mrs. Parker.” I said politely and shook her hand. She smiled at me and fixed her glasses.

“Please. Call me May.” She said.

“May.” I repeated. Hm. If this was Aunt May, where were Peters parents?

Peter and I sat down while May finished preparing dinner. I offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that I am, but May insisted I sat down and waited. A plate of “meatloaf” was placed in front of me soon enough. I use the term “meatloaf” very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with me and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. I nodded and gave him a small smile. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering “it’s way worse.”

I kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water. It’s a shame. I love that sound.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May asked. I took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start at NYU in the fall.” I said. May nodded in approval.

“That’s a very good school. I hadn’t realized you were in college.” She said.

“Y/N used to live in San Francisco.” Peter quipped. He smiled at me , proud of himself for remembering. May looked impressed.

“Yea. I grew up here in Queens and moved to San Francisco to live with my fiancée last year. But I just moved back last week.” I said. Peter began choking on his water. May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly. He wipes his mouth after catching his breath.

“Fiancée?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters. Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-fiancée. He broke off the engagement after I got him fired from his internship at a law firm.” I said sheepishly. I overshared, just a tad. Peter and May didn’t seem put off by it though. Peter looked relieved more than anything.

“May I ask how you got him fired?” May asked.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my boyfriend Andy was studying to become a lawyer. Andy had some information pertaining to a case on the man who owned the Life Foundation. I was supposed to interview him about his rocket but he was a terrible, terrible guy, and I knew it. I looked at Andy’s classified files to find out more about him and found some things I wasn’t supposed to. I confronted him about it in our interview and he ended up getting me and Andy fired in one day.” I recalled. It seemed like so long ago. I felt a coldness run through my bones at the memory. Mays eyes widened.

“I knew your name sounded familiar when Peter told me you moved in across the hall. You were the one that took Carlton Drake down, right?” She asked. I merely nodded. I hadn’t heard his name in months. It still sent shivers down my spine. You don’t forget a man who stabbed you after trying to kidnap you and take you to an alien planet.

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” I said, almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago. It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this young girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up. “ May recalled. Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. Taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much. I blushed at his compliment.

“Thank you Peter. How old are you anyway?” I asked.

“17. I’ll be 18 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?” He asked.

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered. I couldn’t even be mad at her. I was thinking the same thing.

“I’m 19.” I said. A smile crept across his face.

“And this fiancée, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor. She could sense his crush and knew he was dying to know more.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at me while he awaited my answer.

“He’s engaged again. Not to me this time though. They’re getting married this summer.” I said. It was the first time I said those words out loud. I didn’t feel sad, like I thought I would. I didn’t know how I felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter said. The last part came out very quietly. I almost didn’t hear him. He looked up at me slowly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ” Peter said honestly. I smiled at him.

“Thanks. It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.” I said. And I meant it too. May smiled.

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. Your heart will whisper ‘it’s you, it’s always been you. You’re the one I’ve been looking for.’ At least, that’s what my heart said when I met Ben. I just knew he was the one for me.” May said with a happy smile. I could see her eyes glistened behind her glasses. I did something rather bold. I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that I had only read about in stories and seen in movies but never felt for myself. May gave me the warmest smile and squeezed my hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” I shrugged. May laughed.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household. Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.” May recalled. Peter didn’t turn red this time. He only rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece. You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.” Peter sassed his Aunt. I laughed at his remark. May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at me for a while with a content smile on her face before saying “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

Tag List 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare @vxidnik @maddie-laufeyson

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spider man: homecoming #spiderman x reader #spiderman: hoco #spiderman: far from home #spiderman #spiderman x you #captain marvel #iron man #venom movie #marvel #venom #eddie brock #tom holland #tom holland x reader #avengers endgame #infinity war #venom!reader

[unleashedart]

How about 2,3,4,7, 12, 18, 19, 20 and 26 for Nox, Joy and Ryan?

Wow first off, thank you! That’s a lot of numbers for three of my character hahaha <3

2. How old are they?

Nox: 30

Joy: 18/19

Ryan: 25/26

Both Ryan and joy have birthdays that take place around the canon time of the game

3. What’s their style like? (Clothing style, hats, gloves, masks, etc.)

Nox: He’s a hot mess. He wears whatever he can find that isn’t dirty. His sense of fashion is kinda uhhh non existent. Drives John crazy to see him wearing the most offensive fashion statements.

Joy: Joy is simple. She likes simple things. Soft and not flashy. Unlike Nox she does have a sense of fashion and can organize her outfits. Plain colors and comfortable clothes is all she needs.

Ryan: Ryan has the most fashion sense of all of them. Doesn’t mean he won’t fuck around and show up in a Hawaiian shirt to save some lives ever once in a while though. He likes his button down shirts, jeans, and boots. He also loves his radio strap, he thinks it’s the coolest part of his uniform.

4. What type of weapons do they prefer?

Nox: he’s up close and personal. He’s a melee fellow. He likes his knife, shovel, bat, and of course he keeps small hand gun close by just in case.

Joy: Joy isn’t very physically strong so stealth is her strength. Give her a silenced weapon and maybe a knife and she’s can become invisible. At first no one was actually sure who was liberating outposts, but it was her.

Ryan: Ryan doesn’t like to kill as it kinda goes against what he’s supposed to be doing and he knows the peggies aren’t all bad. He’s not opposed to a fight but he likes to avoid them. Words are his best weapon. He tried to talk his way out of it first but if that doesn’t work then he’ll go off and snipe. He likes the precision of sniping and tries to maim and not kill. He usually works in a team.

7. What are their thoughts on the cult?

Nox: Nox really hates the cult. He does feel bad that he’s just killing countless people but he hates what they are doing more. After John marked him with envy he’s been a little more spiteful.

Joy: Joy is scared of the cult slightly. She knows that this is her family’s legacy and she doesn’t want it to be her legacy too. But she was personally victimized by Joseph so she really feels for the peggies and wants to help stop Joseph from hurting more people.

Ryan: He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into coming to Hope County. He just wanted to get away from the city and come out West. Suddenly there’s more emergency calls in this middle of nowhere than should be and he realizes pretty fast how dangerous the cult is. While he doesn’t like the cult he can recognize emotionally damaged and vulnerable people when he sees them so he always tries to talk them down first but isn’t opposed to force.

12. What’s the region they feel most connected to? 

Nox: Whitetails

Joy: Joseph’s shitty island with a church on it I mean Joseph’s compound. It’s small and simple like her. Unassuming but the most important events happen there.

Ryan: Holland valley

18. How do they feel about John?

Nox: absolute hate and fury. He doesn’t appreciate the scar and he doesn’t appreciate John lmao

Joy: Joy loves John! He’s her favorite uncle! (Sorry Jacob) She made it her mission to get to know her family better and John seemed appreciative to have someone want to get to know him.

Ryan: Ryan and John are complicated. Ryan knows they are both fucked up and he offered just companionship. Which turned into their therapy walks. At first it was just John complaining about the day but eventually trust grew and they both opened up more about their past. Is it love? They don’t know and they aren’t sure they are ready to find out.

19. How do they feel about Faith?

Nox: He really doesn’t like faith either. He resents the fact that she removes all choice from her victims and then dares claim that they want it.

Joy: She’s nervous about Faith. She almost sees herself in Faith. How easily she could become nothing more than a tool to her father. She’s worried about Faith, but she also doesn’t take shit when Faith uses her past as an excuse.

Ryan: Faith absolutely terrifies the poor boy. He avoids the Henbane as much as possible. Ryan’s stalker was a woman and thus he doesn’t trust women as much anymore. He’s not a misogynist, he just has some PTSD from his woman stalker that kidnapped him. He can’t imagine being held by her and being drugged into liking it. His absolute worst nightmare.

20. How do they feel about Jacob? 

Nox: Everything about Jacob makes Nox wanna scream. Nox has a hobby with wildlife and seeing them used like that absolutely sets his mind on fire. He cries a lot whenever he has to kill a judge.

Joy: Joy is kind of scared of him. She knows he wants to toughen her up but she also knows that she’s not exactly very strong so she’s very scared that he gonna push her too hard or get angry at her and snap. She sees the broken man he is and obviously wants to get to know him and help him, but he does scare her.

Ryan: Ryan is horrified at what Jacob is doing but he also sees the same issues he’s facing. They are at a bit of an impass because Jacob also recognizes himself in Ryan but he’s also determined to stay strong and loyal. Ryan is working on getting him to crack though.

26. What do they feel about Joseph?

Nox: Nox doesn’t care for the bullshit he’s pulling and he just wants to end this cult nightmare already. He think he’s manipulative and dangerous with a dash of mental instability.

Joy: Oh boy, she doesn’t approve of what Joseph is doing and she doesn’t approve of how he tried to murder her and she wants to bring him to justice but he’s also her father and she wants to know him. She wants to help him. But she can only do that once the cult is taken down and he faces justice and take responsibility for what he’s done to her and others.

Ryan: Ryan has worked with crazy people before and Joseph impresses him in an absolutely terrifying way. He managed to build a cult and manipulate his way into growing basically a small army, but at the end of the day Joseph is just another mentally ill person and Ryan wants to help him as much as he wants to help the next person even if he might not deserve it because when it comes to healthcare it doesn’t matter what choices the person has made it’s about giving them the care they need.

#far cry 5 #oc #fc5 #far cry oc #joy seed #far cry deputy #ryan erkhart #equinox #ask #ask game #ask meme

[mediioxumate]

i was listening to mal blum the other night, and got slammed with the urge to write about the night of the assassination. cw for heavy grief, dysphoria, disordered eating, passive self harm, vomiting, the works. ~2k words.

alternatively titled, goro akechi and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night.. 

Your body looks to me A way it never has before And is this what's making you so sad, And what you did this for?

Shooting Akira - no - murdering Akira, does not feel like a victory. It doesn’t feel like a step towards his revenge and salvation.

It feels empty and repulsive. It feels like the burn of the acid in his throat as he dry heaves into the shitty toilet in his tiny bathroom in his cramped apartment. Every space is too small - it’s like he can’t get out of the interrogation room. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Another violent shudder racks his body as he gags again. 

His hair is stringy with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and the fingers white knuckling the porcelain edge don’t bother to pull it away or back, and he isn’t sure they can. This shouldn’t have been this hard, he’s never been this bad - not even after his first mission for Shido. But killing someone in the metaverse, they just… disappear. Palace rulers and Mementos denizens simply evaporate. Just an hour ago, he’d seen Akira- Kurusu’s eyes go dead, saw the blood drip, drip, drip down his face before his head dropped with a wet thud on the table. 

Fuck. Fuck.

Eventually, he can finally stand on wobbly legs, wandering towards his bedroom and stripping everything from his body. He’s already disposed of his gloves on his way home, for the first time finding them itchy and restrictive and claustrophobic. Now, his palms are littered with indents from the way his nails fiercely dug into them, grounding himself with the sting. 

Akechi means to take a shower. But for the time being, he can’t seem to move back to the bathroom, another wave of nausea passing through him just at the thought. Instead, he turns slowly, cautiously towards the mirror in his room. 

Strange. It’s like looking at a picture - maybe some kind of abstract film. He’s looking through his eyes, but he can’t seem to place the boy in the mirror. Their scars match, and the hair is right enough, he supposes. With his make up sweated off, his complexion is uneven, and the bags under his eyes are so intense they could be some kind of weird fashion trend. The boy looking back at him feels so removed from what he’s crafted and built up. It’s the most intense dysphoria and dysmorphia he’s had since he was still being passed foster home to foster home. This body is not his. It looks different - and yet exactly the same. 

The hand in the reflection mirrors the movements of his own, drawing over the pallid skin of his torso, fingers lingering over the scars on his chest. His posture has deteriorated, hunching as he hopes to curl in, in, inward until he swallows himself whole. 

His hip bones and ribs jut out just slightly, just muscles on bone. It’s laughable. Strip away layer after layer, turn them into walls, and this is what’s left. Some sad excuse for a person. 

His eyes scan the frame in the mirror one more time before he resolves to shower. He needs to turn the stream on as hot as it will go, and scrub every inch of skin until it’s raw. It still won’t be enough - he’s never going to feel clean again and he knows it. How had he ever thought the clip of Okumura kicking it on national television prepared him for murdering Aki- no - Kurusu?

Beaten and broken enough, under the stream his thoughts wander to where he’s been avoiding all night. Akira is the only one who’s… gotten through to him, in so long. Of course he had to go and be the fucking leader of the Phantom Thieves. That really is just the way of Goro’s life, huh? He doesn’t want Akira to be dead, and doesn’t want to have it be at his hand. His apartment feels hollow and empty, and the thoughts he’d had, that maybe one day - one day he could bring A- Kurusu here. 

It was a stupid thought, he knew it was a stupid thought, and yet here he is, skin pink and stinging under the water, body racked with sobs bubbling out of his chest. He doesn’t know how to deal with regret, the new wave of nausea. He’s never questioned himself, ever since he saw the pale, lifeless form of his mother, he’s never questioned his drive to get back at the pitiful man that is his father. It’s always been worth it, always about him, damn whoever gets in his way, damn the collateral damage. Then he’d met Kurusu, and then Sakura-chan and Okumura-san and suddenly, his actions became a painful, stark reality. 

Until then, he’d always considered his targets collateral. Stupid elites and researchers who don’t know how to stay out of the way. Each one just another disposable pawn. But, suddenly, he goes from knowing unsettling details about Wakaba Isshiki’s daughter, to seeing her. Seeing her struggling to acclimate still, but also bouncing back because she has a support system - and the Okumura girl too. 

Goro Akechi thinks he might be fucking jealous. 

Jealous! After all he’s done, and all he’s been through, he’s fucking jealous. 

There’s no surface in the world abrasive enough to scrub himself of these feelings. Instead, in some kind of weird absurdity, he shaves every inch of his body from the neck down, leaving countless slips and nicks in the way. Nothing intentional - never intentional - but certainly not being cautious with his movements by any means. He runs the razor over his skin again and again, until there’s nothing else he could possibly scrape away, even if he wanted to. 

At some point, he realizes the water is running cold. And he’s shivering.

The steam against the cold water is a strange sensation. Some kind of awful, mocking poetry about his life he supposes, meshing things that simply should not be together. Hollow, cracking laughter fills his ears, and belatedly it registers that the sound is coming from him. Perhaps it’s him that’s lost it this time. Wouldn’t that be funny? Maybe one of the little thieves have finally caved, maybe that’s why he’s reacting - he’s been bested by his own trick! That must be it, right? That he’s having some kind of mental shutdown. It’s the only explanation. 

Why is that more comforting to him than accepting that he may have been attached to Kurusu? The thought is jarring, out of left field. He doesn’t need to accept that - doesn’t need to accept anything. Damn it- damn it.

He shuts the water off. 

For a moment, he considers sitting right there on the shower floor, considers sitting on the cold, hard ground until he dries off, dries up, shrivels away. Instead, he steps out of the shower, standing on his sorry excuse for a bath mat that’s just a dish towel, feeling the rivulets of water drip from his hair and travel down his raw, oversensitive skin. What’s your secret, Detective Prince? How do you exfoliate, Akechi? How do you stay so slim? How is your skin so clear? You have such a soft, young face! Do you even wear makeup Akechi?

He towels off. 

One more moment as he considers retching into the toilet again, it’s right there after all. His stomach is still churning despite being as empty as it possibly could be. But he’s exhausted, he doesn’t think he has the energy even for that, though he’s fairly certain sleep will not come either. Not that he deserves it. 

Quietly, he moisturizes his raw skin, despite the sting. Tomorrow, he has another TV appearance, where the capture and suicide of the leader of the Phantom Thieves will have just been announced. And he will make a statement against him, call him a coward. He will flaunt his assumptions about the age of the vigilantes, and he will call the death a cowardly tragedy. Desperately, he works to rebuild that walls that have crumbled tonight. The interviewers will rip him apart without his mask. 

All he can manage to put on are some soft, worn boxers before collapsing into the bed in the corner of his room. 

Idly, he wonders, now that Kurusu is out of the way, when Shido will dispose of him. How. It’s bound to happen, he can only simply hope that he gets there first. But even now, the fire is burning low. He’s tired - so, so fucking tired. This is all that’s been powering him for so long, but after tonight, he doesn’t want to do this anymore. Idly, his fingers trace the scars on his chest again. It feels dirty, and wrong, and attached to Shido. Seems he traded dysphoria for complete alienation from his body. But at least his chest is flat, right? At least his jaw is sharper, his voice deeper, his hips slimmer. At least, at least, at least. 

The affirmations are tired. It gets harder, each day to believe them, to justify any of this. He’s so angry at the world, he’s always been angry, and this has always been the only way. But each stumbling, criminal confession sits heavy on his doubt. And now it’s snapped and collapsing under the weight of Kurusu’s head hitting the metal table. 

His mind wanders, now, to the bruises and cuts on every visible inch of skin. The way Akir- Kurusu flinched when he moved, the hazy look in his eyes, no doubt from the drugs. He hadn’t even said a word, simply stared back at… back at Goro. Looked him in the eyes, lips forming a small, surprised ‘o’ as Akechi tried to monologue, to justify, to convince Kurusu and himself that this was the only way. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t moved a muscle, even with a gun to his forehead, he’d simply let it happen. 

That brilliant boy, with so much fight in him, had just sat there. Just fucking sat there.

And Akechi, ever weak, almost thought about shooting the handcuffs off instead, defying Shido, taking him into hiding. They weren’t going to examine the body anyway, he could hide Akira at his apartment maybe, maybe he could still switch sides. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him. But as blood pooled around the guard on the floor, there was no coming back from it. He’s a murderer. Plain, clear as day. So he simply did as he was taught, did as he should have. And he shot the leader of the Phantom Thieves. 

Another laugh leaves him, weaker this time, quieter. And before long, the laughter twists and changes over to sobs. They’re rough, and his face feels gaunt and empty, like he’s taken all of the moisture out of it. 

He’s so worthless. He’s always known it, and now he can’t even muster the strength for his one cause, the one thing he’s dedicated himself to. Pathetic. All because of a stupid boy with messy hair, who was never afraid to disagree with him, who made Akechi believe, fleetingly, that he could have better, that there wasn’t just Akechi inside him, but Goro too. Akira with his stupid plush lips, stupid fake glasses, stupid competitive grin, the way he would bump his foot into Goro’s under the table at the jazz club, the way he danced his way into Goro’s life, attached there like a fucking parasite. The way he still invited Goro out, even after he said he hated him. 

And now, Akira is...gone. 

More laughter bubbles up in his chest, but this time he can’t stop. Hysterical laughter and sobs become one in the same, wracking his entire body until sleep finally, finally wins. 

#;mun writes #muse; goro akechi #jazz hands #the akechi brainworms? strong #wanted to play with his concepts of names and masks #then the impact of grief ?? idk #; character study #shuake //

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers IX (Josh Wheeler xReader)

 A/N: Friendship is cool but it gets you in a lot of trouble. Also, Happy Christmas’ Eve!!!

Words: 4,339

Warnings: Blood, cursing and weird outfits 

Previous chapter // Next chapter

“Y/N, can I ask you a question without making you mad?”

“I don’t know Josh, you’ll have to ask me the question first”

“Why are you still wearing that?”

I look down at my clothes and laugh.

“I forgot,” I look at my reflection on the closest glass and examine the torn shirt that covers my body.

“So it wasn’t a fashion statement?” Asks Josh with a smirk.

“Sadly no,” I stand up and stretch my arms, yawning, “I think it’s time I get a new outfit.”

“You’re finally changing your resident evil cosplay?” Wesley walks by me, eyeing me up, Josh laughs.

“Don’t be mean,” I stick out my tongue, “I’d rock a resident evil cosplay”

“I don’t doubt it,” He raises his hands, “go nuts”

Wesley points towards the stores and I happily comply.

“You want us to go with you?” Josh raises his voice, following me with his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, you guys stay”

As I’m walking away I hear Wesley talking to Josh.

“We should practice our sword skills”

“Dude, yes!” Josh answers.

I chuckle lowly and head straight into my favorite store. 

It’s been a while since I got new clothes for myself; being alone is okay I guess, but it’s nice to be able to calmly pick an outfit without worrying about being attacked. 

I also get to pick something that will match my skates no matter what. You know when you have a specific favorite outfit that you wanna wear all the time but is not socially acceptable to do so cause then people will think you don’t shower? Well, now those rules don’t apply anymore cause everyone wears the same clothes all the time and it’s a known fact that we don’t shower. 

With that in mind, I pick the stuff that makes me the happiest and put them on. When I look in the mirror I feel amazing, and I take it as a sign that I have finally found my outfit.

“Y/N, we prepared a whole obstacle course, come see it!” 

“You wanna see my new outfit?” I ask excitedly from the changing rooms.

“Sure!” Josh replies, walking in, “Where are you?”

“Turn around and I’ll come out!” I drag the curtain and walk out towards him, I’m pleased to see he followed my instructions and is facing the entrance, “You can look now!”

He turns around and I show my outfit with my arms extended.

“So?”

“That’s a... are those short overalls?” He examines them carefully.

“Yes!” I smile wildly, “and a lime-green shirt. With fun socks,” I raise my eyebrows, “get it? so I can match the skates you gave me”

“That’s, uh...”

“You don’t like it,” I lowered my arms, frowning, “Why?”

“It’s not that!” He quickly counters, “it’s just... well, your arms and legs are exposed and we live surrounded by things that bite.”

“Yes, but I have a hammer,” I say sternly.

Josh stares at me.

“A hammer won’t protect you from a horde.”

“Fair,” I agree, “but it’s not just my hammer. I have two samurais on my side, right? Either way, Ghoulie bites aren’t that dangerous.”

“They are if they rip your arms off”

“You’re exaggerating. I’ll be fine,” I walk past him, “you gonna train with Wesley or no?”

“Yeah but-”

“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” Wesley screams from the main hall.

“Going!” I scream back.

I found a bunch of tables with a small piñata, a watermelon and god knows what else spread around the place in order to make training harder. Wesley lets out an exclamation of approval when he sees me.

“Now, that’s a hundred percent Y/N-brand. You look good, girl!”

“Thanks! I feel good,” I smile at him, then look over at Josh, “See? Wesley gets it”

“I never said I didn’t like it...” He grumbles.

“We can talk about our fashion sense later. First, we train,” Demands our friend.

“Who’s first?” I ask, leaning against a column far from the obstacle course.

“Let me show you how real warriors do it...” 

Josh and I look at each other wondering what will Wesley do to try to impress us. When he kneels on the floor and bows to his sword, we have to look away so we don’t start laughing.

But don’t worry, our laughter dies as soon as he does the wildest moves ever, totally not humiliating us in every possible way. 

When he fixes his posture and takes off his mask, he vaguely points towards the mess and then to Josh.

“So, clean this shit up and, uh, your turn,” He smiles. 

“What?” Josh asks in pure outraged. I laugh and he looks at me with a bitter smile, “oh, don’t get so amused. You’re helping me.”

“What?” Now is my time to be scandalized, “Why?”

He shows me his injured hand and smirks.

“Cause I'm a disabled person in recovery.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how this works,” I frown, “but I’ll help you anyway, cause I don’t want you to cut another of your little fingers by accident”

“How nice of you,” He mocks.

It takes us about ten minutes to replace and arrange everything. When we’re done I sit next Wesley, arms crossed and a knowing smile on my face.

“Just do your best, Wheeler. Try not to fall over innocent people, please.” 

“Very funny, L/N,” Josh sneers.

When it’s his turn to train, Josh does... his best. I managed to remain silent for most of it until he hits the mannequin and the only thing he cuts it’s the finger. 

“Oh my god,” I cover my mouth and stifle most of my laughter. Wesley stands up and looks at the result.

“Wow, that is... ironic.”

“It’s...” I say between laughs, “it’s so sad...”

“Dude, I’m a terrible swordsman. Especially with only one good hand,” Josh replies.

“You are in good company,” Wesley retorts in an attempt to calm him down, “Skywalker, Furiosa... Jaime Lannister, if you can get past the child-killing, incest, rape.”

“Meh,” I squint my eyes, “I think you should stick to Skywalker.”

Wesley shakes his head and mouths something that looks like ‘not now’, so I stay silent as he continues his speech.

“Hands gives us identity. Chefs cut, artist paint, warriors... warrior.”

That’s definitely not how you call it, but uh, that’s not the point, right?

“All good Jedi lose a hand.”

“I couldn’t even get that right!” Josh replies with annoyance, holding his hand up.

He leans against the column and falls slowly to the ground, it’s quite a miserable sight. I stand up and walk over to sit next Josh, I pat his back softly as a way of comfort.

“You know what I love about right now?” Asks Wesley, “we are free. We can do anything!”

Josh looks at me and I know he’s thinking about the story I told him yesterday. 

“I couldn’t pull off those pants,” He offers, discretely changing the subject, “you and Y/N could wear anything and still look good. I can’t, so I’m not that free.”

Wesley looks down at his clothes.

“No. No, you cannot. But is not about having cool shit, it’s about being cool as shit,” He slowly makes his way to us, “you define yourself. Who are you?”

This is getting real way too fast. 

Who am I? Besides the weirdo with a fixation for the lime-green. I told you this before, there’s a reason why I never joined any tribe. I clearly don’t have a thing. If I don’t have a thing, then why am I still here? What am I supposed to be doing?

“I’m oni samurai, when I get done with my quest and find redemption, they will write songs about me.”

“Who?” I ask, bewildered, “the fairies in your head?”

Josh stands up suddenly, getting face to face with Wesley.

“Look, I couldn’t save Sam’s life. I have to avenge her death,” I stand up as well, hearing attentively, “those scratches on her body were made with a butcher’s knife. I’ve only seen one douche with a weapon like that.”

And before he says it, I already know what he’s planning to do.

“I’m gonna kill Baron Triumph,” He leans over and speaks on Wesley’s ear, “I’m gonna kill Jayden Hoyles.”

Oh, poor stupid, love-sick Josh.

I know, judging by Wesley’s face, that this took an unexpected turn for him. For me? Well, I can’t say I knew exactly what Josh had in mind, but I figured he wouldn’t just stay here and cry for the rest of his life. He’s got hero-complex. Which, unfortunately, is gonna get him killed.

But it’s good to know that I’m not the only one looking for redemption now, whatever it was Wesley did and Josh’s burden are now on the line. Maybe that could be our thing? The tribe of regrets. The redemption circle. The I-can’t-stop-fucking-things-up club. No? Meh, I’ll find the right name eventually.

I follow Josh towards one of the stores. He’s in a bad mood.

“Josh-”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” He interrupts me, “I need to do this.” 

“I wasn’t going to stop you,” I reply.

“You weren’t?” He stops, turning completely this time, “Why?”

“You want me to stop you?” I raise a brow, “Cause I can do that too if you want.”

“No, I mean... I don’t know, I thought you’d be upset about this. See it as a way of holding on to something that won’t bring anything good.”

“I do think that you’re closer to get killed with this plan and I do believe that killing Hoyles won’t make you feel better. The difference is that I don’t follow any samurai rules, so I don’t think it’ll bring you bad karma or whatever. It’s your life, you decide.”

“Okay,” He has an odd expression. I can’t tell if he’s suspicious or curious, either way, it makes me feel nervous, “then you could help me?”

“To kill him?” I tense, “What, just because I killed once it means I can do it again?”

“No,” He rolls his eyes, “I’ve killed Ghoulies too, and I don’t judge you for what happened with your sister. You did what you had to do.”

“So..?”

“I was going to ask if you could help me find a new weapon... or hand”

“What?” I giggle, then I see him ready to get all defensive and I stop, “Sorry, what do you have in mind?”

And he pulls a list out of his pocket, like the dork he is.

“I have a few ideas...”

“We can try them,” I nod, “I’ll put on my skates so I can help you get the stuff faster.”

“Sure, I’ll be here, analyzing my list,” He lowers his eyes towards the paper, excitedly reading all he wrote.

I snort, walking away.

“You’re too cute, Wheeler.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I? 

Well, now I can’t turn around to see if he heard me, god I hope he didn’t. If he did that means he’ll start to get suspicious and I don’t wanna ruin another friendship. Besides, I don’t like Josh that way. I don’t.

We’re friends. I just gained a friend (several, actually), I won’t ruin it just cause I think he has pretty eyes. I told Angelica that I won’t be playing her games and I’m too stubborn to admit she may have a point. Also, am I forgetting that Sam just died? This isn’t exactly what I would call perfect timing.

Josh is focused on his work when I go back and I’m too nervous to talk to him, still thinking about how he might have heard my not so subtle compliment.

What is wrong with me? I never had this issue with Alex, he was easy. I mean, we also knew each other since we were six so I guess that’d have influenced the way I perceived my behavior around him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh, yes?” I jump, “sorry, what did you say?”

“You spaced out,” He says with a small smile, “you didn’t listen a thing did you?”

“No,” I give him an awkward smile, “I got lost in my own head. I’m here now though, tell me what you need.”

“What do you think?” He points to every item on the table, “You see something that fits my... uh, whatever Wesley said I should have?”

I slide closer, examining all the stuff.

“You understood what Wesley was saying?”

“Yes... no. I don’t know. I get that he’s trying to convince me that life can be better without revenge, I guess?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know what he was trying to say,” I mumble, “all I know is that I have no clue of who I am. The apocalypse kind of fucked up my identity.”

“Well, who were you before?” He steps closer, carefully grabbing the glove with blades and trying it on.

“The artsy girl, according to my friend Maya,” I reply, a bit self-conscious, “I wasn’t that good if I’m honest but you know, if my friends ever needed to draw something for their projects or if they were looking for some new not-so-famous band to listen to, they’d give me a call.”

“So you were the ‘not-like-the-other-girls’ girl?” He smirks.

“Ugh, that is misconceiving,” I scoff, “every girl is their own person, we’re all the same. Just like the guys, and humans in general. We just have different likings, I really liked all kinds of art before, that’s all”

“Okay,” He takes a minute to think about it, “you’re right, there’s no tribe for that.”

“And it’s not like I could use my drawings to defend myself,” I grin.

“Well, the disciples of the Kardashian aren’t exactly trained warriors.”

“Maybe,” I help him take off the glove, “but there’s more than one, they share one specific trait. The jocks protect them of course, they don’t need to know how to defend themselves, I do. I have no one.”

“You have me now,” He replies promptly, “Uh, I mean us. You have us. We can protect you and you can go back to being the artsy girl.”

“To be honest, going back to that would be dull,” I squint, “I know I said I wanted my old life but that’d only work in the old world. I can’t be who I was, so I have to find a way to be a new version of myself, meaning I’ll have to use my creative instincts in something else.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Josh answers, grabbing a knife and weighing it, “your thing and mine. We have time.”

“That, if you survive to Hoyles,” I say subtly, “cause if not then we don’t have time at all. Or... if you wait a bit longer before going after Triumph, maybe we’ll have it...”

“Ah, there it is,” Josh has a smug smile when he leans towards me, “that is how you’re trying to convince me about not doing this?”

“Is it working?” I get closer as well, grinning.

“Almost,” He sighs, “but not enough, I’m still going. The only thing that could stop me from going is if I don’t find something to help me with my bad hand, which seems more likely than not.”

“I tried my best,” My foot accidentally kicks a mannequin’s hand and something comes to my mind, “hey, we have one more item (not listed) that you can try on for your new look. Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring you good luck.”

“What is it?” He curiously looks around the table.

“Here,” I pick up the hand and show it to him.

“Y/N,” He gives me a stern look, “tell me you’re joking.”

“What? We don't have functional prosthetics laying around, that is the closest thing you can get,” I put a hand on my hip, “you know is your best choice. You’ll get used to it. Adapt and survive, man.”

“Fine,” He sighs, “but I’m not obligated to use it if I don’t like how it looks.”

“Sure,” I agree, “it’s your body.”

I sit next to the table while he goes to a changing room. I hear him break the hand and I hope he didn’t screw up the fingers. Not that we can’t get more if that’s the case, but you know, time is not something we have to spare.

Wesley enters and sees the bunch of weird things we’ve come up with.

“Okay,” He nods, “yeah, hell yeah! This is what I’m talking about, brother! You define yourself. Come out here and show me your new killer digits.”

Josh pulls the curtain and walks out from the changing room with the white, plastic finger tied to his hand. Wesley and I laugh.

“Nice figure, Kim Cattrall,” He notices neither Josh or I get the joke, and he continues, “because she was a mannequin.”

We stay quiet.

“In the movie mannequin?” I shake my head without saying a word, “about a mannequin who comes to life? They made a sequel with Kristy Swanson, the orig Buffy the vampire slayer...”

Josh walks out of the store, showing Wesley his middle finger.

“I can’t tell if that means he liked it,” I mention, standing up next to Wesley, “but I take that he won’t waste more time on this?”

“Okay,” Wesley sighs, “let’s go hunt Baron Triumph.”

The sound my skates make against the gravel is like music to my ears. I had missed this, the outside. As dangerous as it is, it gives me the liberty that no safe haven ever could. I know these streets like the back of my hand, I got this.

Maybe I enjoy myself a bit too much, skating around and humming an old song I haven’t heard in a while when I realize Josh is staring. I immediately stop what I’m doing.

“Sorry, I should be quiet,” I look away, limiting myself to just skate beside my friends.

“No, it’s okay,” He says, “I wasn’t- I was staring but I... it seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I shouldn’t,” I reply, “this is not a fun trip, I’ll stop.”

“I...” Josh is about to say something when Wesley speaks up.

“Hey, look at this!” He picks up something from the street, “second left molar, nice craftsmanship on the porcelain ceramic filling...”

“Your dad taught you a lot,” says Josh.

“A thing or two.” 

“It was knocked off by Triumph.”

Wesley turns around and looks at Josh with a sly smile.

“You don’t know that.”

“I only know one dude in school with a size fourteen shoe... cause I licked it.”

We look down at the mud and see the footprint that Josh is pointing to us.

“Hoyles,” whispers Wesley.

“He went east, toward San Fernando,” Mentions Josh.

“You’re like a Canadian Wolverine,” Replies Wesley in amazement.

“More like Deadpool,” I correct, “’cause the katana..?”

“Wolverine is a Canadian Wolverine,” Josh shakes his head, “can we focus right now? Look, I hunted elk every summer...”

He starts to walk away, but Wesley keeps talking.

“Your dad taught you a lot.”

Josh stops only to answer.

“A thing or two,” He smirks.

“You can track. But you can’t fight.”

“Here we go,” I roll my eyes, moving away from their discussion to look for more clues.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re saying while I turn my back to them and analyze the footprint. Josh is right, it’s heading towards the industrial section. I know the old Hoyles’ cereal fabric is there, maybe we should take a look and see what we find... 

“Run!” I turn around abruptly, raising the hammer above my head. I see Wesley sprinting towards the other side of the street, Josh gives me one panicky look before looking behind us in confusion.

“What?”

“Run!”

“Okay!” Josh runs after him with me close behind them.

We run around town like maniacs, I have the hammer ready but I don’t actually see any danger, so my fear isn’t growing but I’m not calm either. At some point, a couple of Ghoulies start to chase Josh and for some reason Wesley doesn’t let me help him. We wait until Josh gets rid of them and we go back to the running. My skates are going fast, soon enough I leave them behind and I hear Wesley scream:

“Get under the car!”

I stop harshly and skid without being able to control my movements. I trip falling on one knee and my legs and arms get a few scratches. My hammer flies like four feet away from me.

“Y/N!” Josh tries to go over to me but Wesley grabs his ankle, already under the vehicle.

“They’re coming!”

“Dude, I don’t see anybody!” He complains, obeying against his own will.

In the few seconds that takes me to stand up again, Wesley and Josh are already getting out from under the car.

“Let’s go! Go! Go! Go!”

“Wes, I’mma smash your knees with my- Where’s my hammer?” I look around frantically until Josh touches my shoulder lightly.

“Here,” He gives me the tool and I thank him silently, rushing over so we catch up with Wes.

“Wesley!” I scream after spending five more minutes running, “Stop! I think I hurt my knee when I fell, shit...”

Josh stops immediately after hearing what I said and looks over my shoulder, frowning.

“Dude,” He stops Wesley, “what the hell? Dude, there’s nobody after us. And now Y/N got hurt, look at her knee!”

I look down and I yelp at the sight. My knee is bleeding, swollen, and one of my hands is pulsating in a way that makes me think I might not be fine to continue.

“I think I can fix it,” I groan, gently touching my scratches.

“I had the Baron’s trail and now I’m all lost. Why did you do that?” Josh inquires.

Wesley seems to struggle to find a proper answer when we hear the engine of a car coming closer. Soon the golf team appears, annoying as ever.

“Great,” I grab the hammer from beside me and prepare to fight.

“Remember us, just Josh?”

“I remember there being more of you,” He retorts.

“We’re downsizing”

“Yeah, but not by choice, by circumstance.”

“The circumstance being death.”

“We’re currently taking applications for new membership.”

“Oh,” Replies Josh, “not interested.”

“Not talking to you,” complains Barry, “we’ll deal with you next. Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, Barry,” I sigh tiredly, “how’s your wrist?”

I know them, of course. The golf team was like the lowest of them all, they weren’t so bad, only terribly stupid. During my time with the Jocks, I did some stuff for them as well, small things like collecting their balls and keeping their golf sticks clean and ready to use... I hate talking about golf cause it always sounds like I’m talking about sex.

“Better, thank you. I see you got a bad knee, I can get you an ointment for that.”

“No thanks, I’ll manage”

“What say you Fists?”

“You ready to come home?” Asks the other... is it Larry? They all have similar names, I can’t bring myself to remember, “listen to fate: Gary, Larry, Barry... Wesley”

“It doesn’t fit the line,” mumbles Barry.

“There’s a ‘y’ at the end” He replies.

“Meh, it’s kind of a stretch,” adds... Gary? I’m pretty sure it’s Gary.

“Close enough for Armageddon. Three is not a team, four can play spades.”

“Just because you have balls, doesn’t make golf a sport.”

It is, though. But I won’t say that right now.

“Gotta start somewhere to earn your way back into his good graces...”

A second car appears, this time on the other side. We’re face to face with Turbo. My wrist is killing me but I lift the hammer again, this time looking at the other side of the alley.

“Not gonna lie,” I say, “I’m starting to regret this”

“Tell me about it,” Whispers Wesley.

Turbo steps out of the car and growls. He does that a lot. As a matter of fact, it’s the only thing he does now. Wesley understands perfectly so he translates all that into a petition to fight to the death, only Josh and him, no weapons.

“You got all that from a look?”

“I speak Turbo.”

“What did I even do?” Asks Josh.

“Besides making all the wrong choices?” I ask.

“He said he doesn’t like to lose.”

“This isn’t Mario Kart! You tried to capture us, we got away”

“Wait, that was all?” I frown, “Turbo is chasing you because you won in a tag-you’re-it game?”

“He’s sensitive about this stuff,” explains Wesley.

“More like a fucking baby,” I reply.

Turbo grunts. Josh steps forward.

“Who cares?! God, this is... there is no your side or my side. Hoyles is out there trying to kill all sides. He’s killed out friends...”

“I’ll be your friend!” A small, mechanical voice replies behind us, “I love you. Let’s be besties!”

“What the fuck...” I mutter.

Larry picks it up and says he knows those bears, something tells me he’s in danger.

“That’s pretty. Put it down,” I urge him.

“They had their names stitched on their butts. What’s your name, guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he can’t answer that,” I insist, “Wesley that’s not a good sign, we need to leave.”

He nods and opens his mouth, but when Larry turns the bear around something catches our eye.

“Larry put the bear down!”

The explosion makes us fly and fall hard on the ground, disoriented and stunned. I hear screams and rushed steps around us, I open my eyes with difficulty and I see Josh’s body a few feet away from mine. 

All I do before passing out is watch as the figure of Baron Triumph walks out of the dusty cloud.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @hollywaterpls​

#twoidiots writing #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #daybreak fanfic #eli cardashyan #angelica green #wesley fists #ms crumble #netflix

[ichigo-daifuku]

Masked Admirer

❅ How does one outwit the slyest of them all? ❅

Modern AU | Partly inspired by the Masquerade Crusade Battle Event we had last October. Two of Ieyasu's lines were based on his chibi's dialogue.

Word Count: ~2k | AO3 Link

“Trick or treat, Takechiyo?”

“Tricks? Go ahead and try, if you think you can.”

She was trying to add humor to their situation, but clearly, he was in a wonderful mood. For the stellar response he gave her, she almost wanted to give him a round of applause; almost, if not for the little things that had begun to bother her: like how the plush seat had begun to feel warm from them sitting on it for too long, or how her shoulders, bared from the style of her dress, already felt a bit chilly in contrast. An exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she reached for her red wine on the table, her manicured nails giving the glass soft clinks as she tapped against it, lost in thought.

Takechiyo sat beside her, his blond hair tinted a shade darker by the golden light of the chandeliers, a frown marring his face. Classical music played in the background so beautifully, but he looked like he was hearing the most unpleasant thing that existed in this world. The mask he wore exuded an air of mystery as the feather attached to it swayed with every movement of his face. His wine remained untouched as he did nothing at the party like he couldn’t wait for the night to be over. 

It all began about a month ago. She had a day-off from the restaurant and woke up at noon, relaxed. When she made her way towards the kitchen to make brunch, an envelope was pinned on the refrigerator door by her little strawberry magnet, waiting for her. She opened it and was greeted by the scent of roses, strong and sweet from the paper. It was an invitation to a black-tie event in a grand hotel in the city: a masquerade ball. There was only one person who knew the passcode to her apartment, so she grabbed her phone and called Takechiyo.

He picked up after a few rings. “What.”

“Hello…” she greeted. “There’s an invitation to a masquerade ball here. Is it from you?”

There was a pause, and the sound of footsteps coupled with the closing of a door was all she heard from the receiver. “I don’t want to attend that boring party alone. You’re coming with me.”

Of course, he had to be as unconventional and evasive as ever, even when he was asking her on a date. It made her want to challenge him sometimes, like at that moment. “What if I don’t want to?”

“You mean you don’t want to?”

“What? I mean, I do... but…”

“Huh. Then, we’re going.”

She shook her head with an amused laugh. He got her there, he really did. If there was one thing about him that she had learned over the time they had spent together, it was that he was as sly as those tanuki in folktales. So much for trying to one-up him. Better luck next time, she thought. She opened the cupboards in search of ingredients for pancakes. “Is it your lunch break? Make sure to eat well, alright?”

“Whatever. You’re getting worse than that hairless oaf,” he complained, but the next thing she heard was a ring of a bell as he opened a door and a greeting from a receptionist of a restaurant.

It made her happy that he was on the way to have lunch after all, and she replied with a laugh, “As long as you eat.”

“Hmph.”

“Okay, have a good meal.”

“I’m coming over later,” he said and hung up.

Breakfast had been wonderful. She couldn’t deny it; she was on cloud nine with excitement for the upcoming event with Takechiyo. One of the first things that came to her mind was that she didn’t have anything appropriate for the occasion. Yes, she had a couple of formal dresses and a mask somewhere in her closet, but none of them were good enough for such a special affair. And so that night, she busied herself with browsing various fashion catalogs in her laptop on the kitchen table, a cup of tea within her reach as she contemplated whether this or that would be better. Takechiyo, who arrived in the evening from work and insisted he was too tired to return to his own home, was staying overnight. He passed by her in the kitchen as he went straight to the refrigerator to get the tub of strawberry-flavored ice cream she bought earlier. She didn’t mind; it was there for him anyway. 

"Gold is a nice color," he mentioned casually as he grabbed a spoon and left.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, distracted, as she happened to scroll over a beautiful dress and clicked for more detailed photos at once, already in love. It was the perfect one. She hit the order button and folded her fingers together, pleased. Later on, she found a suitable mask for the dress and wasted no time in making her purchase, too.

The 31st of October arrived. The moment she stepped out of her apartment building, she knew something was wrong.

Takechiyo stood by the car door. It was the first time she ever saw him in a suit. He looked good—dashing, even—and she gave him a shy smile. His eyes widened as he appraised her approaching form, but then his agape lips shifted into a frown a few seconds later. She wondered what it was, then. Was her makeup too much? Did she spray on too much perfume? Was her dress—

Ah, her dress.

Gold is a nice color, he had said.

Takechiyo held a mask; its base and feather were gold, and so was his tie. He even had a bouquet in his hands, magnolias wrapped in special yellow paper. Through the absolute surprise that he got her flowers, the question rang repeatedly inside her mind: could it be possible that he had wanted to… match?

She stood in front of him, and he thrust the bouquet into her hands and turned away. "Baldy planted them in his backyard and said I should bring them. That's all." 

Despite his statement, she only needed one glance to tell that the yellow petals were cultivated to perfection, the arrangement and wrapper were too fancy, and the ribbon on the stem was too intricate for a homemade bouquet. Takechiyo was silent as he drove away and has given her dry replies since. A few weeks ago in her imagination, the two of them danced the night away in each other’s arms, but of course, this was Takechiyo. Now, at the party, he was being an awful date, if she could call even call this a date.

Trick or treat? How does one outwit the slyest of them all?

“Let’s dance,” she invited him with enthusiasm in hopes of turning the mood of this night around.

He sighed. “Why must I dance, exactly?”

"It's a masquerade ball," she leaned in and said, "Look around you."

Takechiyo did so and took a moment before responding, "Why don’t you dance with that guy, instead. You're matching with him."

He gestured towards the top of the grand staircase where a lone man stood, his arms leaning on the banister as he observed the ball. Sure enough, the man Takechiyo referred to was wearing a deep red mask and tie. Even the color of his hair was the same fiery shade; much like the dress she was wearing. It was difficult to believe at first, but Takechiyo’s words confirmed her suspicion: he really was upset about not being able to match tonight.

The man who wore a red mask caught her gaze and smirked, raising his glass. She smiled back politely and raised her own, half-full with red wine, and took a sip. It tasted exquisite. What a pity; Takechiyo, who has still yet to taste his wine, didn’t know what he was missing out on. But how surprising it was she encountered that man here of all places; Oda Saburou.

Takechiyo didn’t miss her exchange with the stranger. "What was that."

"Hm? Just saying hi."

"You know Oda."

His statement, which was laced with surprise, disbelief, and poison all at once, made her chuckle. She placed her glass down on the table and turned to Takechiyo who looked away at once. "Oda Saburou comes to the restaurant and gets konpeito with his take-out all the time... See his glass? That’s not some fancy cocktail or anything of the sort. That’s melon soda.”

“Tch. Why would you even know such things?”

“Of course, I would. I prepare and serve his food. He tends to avoid the alcohol section on the menu. I’m guessing he can’t handle his alcohol or something like that.”

Takechiyo didn’t respond and glared at the table’s centerpiece. Poor roses… If looks could make them wilt, they would have already done so... thirty minutes ago.

A movement from her peripheral vision caught her interest. Oda Saburou leaned back from the banister and began his descent down the stairs to join the party, the reason only the devil knows; maybe he got bored or hungry, or maybe saw another acquaintance. It wasn’t any of her business. A while ago, she had planned to get some desserts from the buffet table for Takechiyo and herself as a last resort to try to improve his mood when her eyes flickered from her date to Oda Saburou, and an unexpected idea popped inside her mind. 

“Hey, you know what? Maybe I’ll take your advice,” she informed him, grabbing the red lipstick from her clutch, and retouching her still-perfect makeup. She stood up and made a show of brushing her skirt and fixing a lock of her hair as she stole a glance in his direction from the corner of her eye.

Takechiyo was no fool; he knew right away which advice she was talking about. The expression of shock and slight panic was visible across his face, failed to be hidden by the mask he wore, literally and figuratively. That was it. She had pushed his buttons, and she knew they were the correct ones.

“Hold it right there… Damn it.” He let out a string of curses under his breath as he grabbed her hand and led her to the middle of the ballroom. His warm hands slid to her elbows, raised them so her palms landed on his shoulders, and settled on the sides of her waist, pulling her closer.

"Why are we dancing?" she teased, inwardly pleased at the turn of events. She also discovered that Takechiyo possessed a hidden talent no one would expect: he was excellent at dancing. She was impressed.

"It's a masquerade ball,” he leaned in and whispered, "Look around you."

Really now, she thought. They blended well in the sea of couples dancing to the tune of a romantic ballad. Amongst the far end of the crowd, she spotted Oda Saburou indulging on a slice of cake as he occupied a table with some of the men he dropped by the restaurant with. She failed to notice right away, but Takechiyo’s hand moved from her waist to cradle her face and nudge her chin to face his way, connecting his gaze with hers. Speechless, she could only chuckle in response and moved to match his graceful pace, giving her full attention to him once more.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And what in the world is so funny?”

“Nothing.” She smiled, delighted to be in the arms of the one most precious to her. He was always so sly, and though it seemed for a time she couldn’t beat him at his own game, the night proved it otherwise. He would have words about this later when they return to his place or maybe hers, of that she was sure. But the moment of her victory was still fresh, and she would bask in it for as long as she could. “Nothing at all.”

Trick and treat.

3 days until Ieyasu's birthday! ♡◝(⑅•ᴗ•⑅)◜♡

Golden Days | Ieyasu's Birthday Countdown — Masterlist

Ichigo Daifuku's Full Masterlist

#samurai love ballad party #slbp #slbp ieyasu #tokugawa ieyasu #slbp fanfic #slbp fanfiction #slbp fic #golden days #ieyasu's birthday countdown #ichigo bakufu

[ofsage]

is that [MATTHEW DADDARIO]? no, that’s just [SAGE SLATER]. [HE/HIM] is [TWENTY-EIGHT] years old and is a [PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ALMOST HIS ENTIRE LIFE]. on a good day, they’re [ASTUTE & JOCUND]. but watch out! they can also be [RECKLESS & UNRULY]. [LOWLIFE BY NECK DEEP] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill! [sam, 23, est, she/her]

hey there demons! it’s me...sam, and i was here briefly once but i decided it might be time to retire the muse i had brought in, so i’m back with a brand new muse that’s still a lot like the last one so please message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖: sage silvestre slater

𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟: springhill, new jersey

𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙: june 1st, 1991

𝕫𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕔: gemini

𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: bisexual

𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: private investigator

𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪: dr. rosemary slater good ( mother ), professor of psychology at ucla & corwin slater ( father ), retired detective of the springhill police department.

𝕡𝕠𝕤. 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕤: astute, jocund, ebullient, well-meaning.

𝕟𝕖𝕘. 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕤: reckless, unruly, flippant, puerile.

ii. history

sage silvestre slater was born and raised in springhill, new jersey. at the time, his mother had a small practice in town while his father was an officer rising quickly through the ranks at the local police department.

he was a precocious kid, but more often than not his natural intelligence was overshadowed by an ostensible inability to sit still and constant antics. ( a diagnosis of adhd later on would explain some of this behavior. ) his teachers were nonplussed and unsure of what to do with him, but his father had a plan.

sage’s father saw potential in him and decided that he would train his son, honing his raw skills and molding him into the perfect detective. five years old when the lessons and lectures began, sage was too young to question his entire life being planned out for him, which often led to feelings of confusion and dejection when he was scolded for spending his time on the things he had a genuine interest in : games, movies, television, spending time with his friends. typical kid stuff that he wasn’t allowed to enjoying.

he was eleven years old when his parents officially divorced, an event he could have handled well by itself, but it led to his mother accepting a job offer all the way in california. he felt abandoned and his father floundered. he was never the parent who dealt with emotions. he eventually decided that his solution was to simply ignore it. he didn’t even try to talk to sage about the divorce or his mother leaving or any of his problems ever.

fishing trips ( something he’s always hated ), rides in the passenger seat of his cruiser ( dampened by lectures on police procedures that he had no interest in ), regular visits to the shooting range ( where it was quickly discovered that he’s a crack shot but he hated it after trying it once ). his father tried everything except talking and listening.

sage was so frustrated and angry that he started acting out. he was getting constant detentions at school and his perpetually middling grades plummeted. he argued with his father every day and broke curfew every night. he bought a motorcycle at sixteen and at seventeen, he dropped out of school and left town in the middle of the night.

it was the first time in his life that he had ever felt freedom. no teachers, no arguments, no controlling father breathing down his neck. he spent a couple months simply wandering around the country, picking up random odd jobs just for the fun of it ( and for the cash ). he had no permanent residence, no responsibilities and no attachments. it was practically paradise for him except for one thing : he can’t turn it off.

he was working as a cashier at some convenience store in the middle of nowhere when it was robbed by several figures in masks that completely covered their faces. sage solved the case with minutes to spare before the police arrived and he immediately told them who to go arrest. the story generated headlines that went viral, and for once in his life he hated the attention he was receiving...until the offers started pouring in.

he found out that people were willing to pay him to solve their mysteries : everything from people asking him to locate their missing keys to assisting police departments around the country with cases, often ones that were labeled unsolvable until he came along.

maybe he wasn’t a police officer at heart...but he was certainly a detective.

by the time he returned to his hometown, sage felt like he was gone for several lifetimes when it had only been a few months. he started renting a cheap apartment and avoided his dad for as long as possible. ( he found out through the local rumor mill that the man had finally retired while he was gone. ) a steady stream of cases kept him busy until one in particular left him stumped and he didn’t know where else to go for advice, except the person who taught him everything he knows about solving a puzzle.

his father disapproved of the business ( which didn’t surprise sage at all ), but would ultimately begin to offer advice whenever his son approached him with a difficult case. the two are currently working on improving their relationship, but often fall back on their old habit of petty squabbling.

PERSONALITY : the textbook definition of man - child. spends his free time playing video games, watching movies and eating snacks. has a joke or sarcastic remark prepared for every single occasion and he takes almost NOTHING seriously. constant obscure pop culture references mixed with eerily accurate statements about a complete stranger can make him difficult to hold a conversation with, but he’s also affable and witty. he’s an extremely loyal friend who’s always there when it counts, but not the best person to trust with the little things because he will fuck up somehow. does ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING purely for the fun of it. a literal genius who’s borderline ashamed of his intelligence.

iii. extras

sage is hyper - observant and highly skilled at deductive reasoning. he can look at something for all of five seconds and then hours later he’s describing it perfectly, right down to even the tiniest detail. he often learns things about people through his observations rather than through conversation, which he sometimes forgets and so he slips up and says weird things to people about themselves.

he loves movies and television. there’s always something on in the background when he’s working on a case, and most of the time it’s something obscure and / or 80s.

takes adderall for his adhd, but he’s really irresponsible about it so from day to day whether or not he’s on his medication is honestly a toss up.

HUGE COMMITMENTPHOBE. it’s likely part of his abandonment issues. he tries to avoid relationships altogether, but if he gets into one then he’s a total disaster and usually resorts to self - sabotaging when things are going well so that he isn’t abandoned again.

in high school he was captain of the baseball team and he played football and basketball. he had his letters and probably would’ve gotten noticed by scouts if he hadn’t dropped out and run away from home.

he has a sweet tooth, which is obvious due to his diet of nothing but candy, snacks, and junk food. he’s always hungry and usually always eating because he somehow always has food on him.

he was probably born late and has continued the trend by never ever being on time even once in his life.

wears mismatched converse high top sneakers : one green, one blue. a decision made because one day he just could not find either of the other shoe has turned into a fashion statement and is now one of his most distinctive quirks.

drives a norton motorcycle that he basically built from scratch himself and it’s his child. he loves it and he drives it everywhere to the point where’s racked up A LOT of unpaid parking tickets in town.

he’s well known for sticking his nose into the local police department’s cases. he might occasionally provide useful information, but for the most part he’s probably viewed as a nuisance who gets by on his father’s goodwill.

iv. wanted connections

lifelong best friend / watson to his sherlock *wc on the main

cousins ( maternal and paternal, don’t necessarily have to be from springhill so almost anything goes for this )

friends

clients AND people he’s investigated

enemies / people who find him annoying

high school friends

exes / flings / one night stands

( these are just a few base ideas, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here! )

#springhillintro #abandonment tw #crime tw #medication tw #hello everyone!