please do consider buying the comics if you like them though

anonymous asked:

Hi! So hapy to know you're doing something special for the Choi boys! Can I request MC deciding to give a cat to Saeyoung for his birthday?

Countdown to the Cake: 4

The Rainbow Code


You feet hurt. You’ve been strolling in the mall for almost 2 hours now, trying to find the perfect birthday gift for your fiancée, it wouldn’t be that hard if it wasn’t for the two whining messes complaining behind you.

“My back hurt.” Yes, Yoosung, we got it when you said the 9 times before.

“Ugh… I’m bored. Can we stop and get some ice cream?”

“No, not yet. Let’s stroll a little more, Saeran. Please… bare with me, guys.”

“MC, we’ve wandered around these shops before,there’s nothing here you haven’t seen before.”

“I know, but what if we passed for the right gift and I didn’t notice?”

“You know you could give him a pair of socks and he would still squeal like an idiot because it’s coming from you, right?” Saeran says, crossing his arms.

“Ugh… but I can’t give him socks, Saeran. I… he really didn’t give you any hint on what he would like?”

“Nope. And I would have noticed since he is not really subtle at hinting, that fool.” You groan in annoyance. “Just… accept you’re not finding anything here, MC.”

“What about some fancy hair products? I saw this shampoo that revitalizes color and…” Saeran shuts down and stops listening, it’s not like you cared as you keep blabbering and walking inside the cosmetic store.

He sits next to Yoosung in the bench and groans in annoyance.

“What’s wrong with her? Why she doesn’t just give up? Ugh… my brother and her are such a match in that sense.”

“But, Saeran… if you don’t like helping her, why are you here?”

“I can’t help it, she… she called the violet code.”

“The what?”

“Violet stands for ‘MC needs help’. It’s a stupidity Saeyoung created, we have these secret codes between us to make sure MC is happy, it’s… it’s so cheesy and stupid!”

“And whatever this is, you’re still following it.”

“Well, yeah! It’s simple, happy MC means happy Saeyoung, and happy couple means less problems for me to deal with. Seriously, you have no idea the hell these two fools make when they fight.”

“Oh, I do. Last time they fought, Saeyoung called me crying because MC apparently hated him and he wanted to rent a zeppelin to win her back.” Saeran rolls his eyes, yeah… he knew everything about the zeppelin ordeal.

“So you know why I follow Saeyoung stupid’s rainbow code.”

“Rainbow? Oh my God, there are 7 codes for this? You gotta tell me which are the other codes!”

“Yoosung, have you found something for him?” you walk out of the store and stop in front of them.

“I did, MC. I bought these comic books I thought he would like while you were seeing those customized sweaters.” Which, thankfully… you didn’t buy.

“Oh… comic books, yeah… that’s so thoughtful and adorable, Yoosung. Ugh… you should be his fiancé instead of me…”

“I’ll pass, but… don’t feel down, MC. I’m sure you’ll think of something meaningful to both of you that expresses your feelings very well.”

“How about cat lingerie, then?”

“He already has cat lingerie…” you sigh. Saeran feels like saying something, but… nah, better pretend he didn’t hear this.  

“Okay, have you ever considered asking him directly what he wants, like you did to me?”

“I did, but… I want to think of this myself, you know? We’re getting married pretty soon, I have to be able to give him what he wants without him telling me.”

“MC… don’t you think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself? You’ve been engaged for less than a year now…”

“Don’t even try, Yoosung. She’s stubborn just like him. And…” he gets up and starts to walk “I have no patience for any of this!”

“But Saeran, the violet code…”

“Fuck the violet code, MC”

“Wait, isn’t the rainbow code a thing just between the twins?”

“Yeah, and there’s the blue code in this.”

“Which means ‘MC is spending too much time with us and learning how to hack, so she knows the codes.’” Saeran explains in total boredom.

“Yeah…I called the violet code, not Saeyoung. So you still have to help me, Saeran!”

“I’m trying to help you, but there’s nothing I can do if you can’t take my help, you know? Ugh… fuck this, I’m gonna get some ice cream.”

“Ugh… what do I do, Yoosung?”

“Right now? Tell me all the codes, I’m so curious,MC!”

Saeran goes all the way to the ice cream shop muttering. How can you and his brother be so alike? It’s almost disturbing! Too bad you’re actually likeable most of the times and now he really feels this need to help you…

He picks the flavor he wants and pays to the girl in the cashier, who… happens to look vaguely familiar. What the hell?

“Have a nice day, sir!”

“You too… Saeyoung.” The girl widens her eyes before lowering her head and chuckling.

“Guess I can’t fool you, brother.”

“I’m not sure if I really want to know, but… what the fuck, Saeyoung?”

“Well, you know those days when you just want to put on a cute dress and infiltrate into the ice cream shop in the mall where your fiancée is buying your birthday gift? It’s… one of those days.”

“So you’re spying on her.”

“I prefer ‘watching her steps attentively’, please.”

“And why are you s… watching her steps attentively?”

“Yes, Saeyoung, why are you spying on me?” holy shit! You and Yoosung are standing next to the balcony.

“Saeyoung? Who is this handsome man named Saeyoung you all keep talking about?” he does this weird high voice, and you cross your arms, glaring at him and making him sigh. “Hi, honey…”

“What are you doing, Saeyoung? I told you before how creepy it is when you do things like that!”

“I know, and I’m trying to stop, but… I couldn’t stay at home knowing you and my brother were trying to get something for me. I… don’t know, MC, I panicked, okay?”

“Why did you panic?”

“Because… it’s… it’s still hard to believe, MC. My fiancée going to the mall with my brother and my best friend to get me a birthday present, is this real? Is this… happiness real? I… can’t really stay home while something like this is happening, I can’t miss all the happiness that is surrounding my life right now, because… what if it ends?”

Yoosung looks at you and Saeran, he’s honestly shocked, he knew how much Saeyoung still struggled with his depressive thoughts from time to time, but he never really saw one of these moments in person. You and Saeran apparently did, though.

“You’re such a moron, Saeyoung.” Whoa… not the reaction he was expecting from Saeran.

“Ugh… I know. And I’m really sorry, bro. I’m sorry, Yoosung. And I’m sorry… MC.”

“I… told you more than once you don’t have to apologize so much, silly. And… I also told you it won’t end, Saeyoung. I’m here, we’re getting married in less than a month, and your brother is here too. This is just your first birthday we’re spending together, the first of many. I’ll be here for you getting older with you every year of our lives. So… don’t worry about missing moments, there are so many important ones to come.” You just feel your own tears when you see his.

“I can’t believe you two are really crying and making a scene in an ice cream shop. Can you believe it, Yoosung?”

“I can…” of course, because he’s crying too.

The four of you finally leave the shop. Saeran still can’t believe he’s the one to apologize for his friends’ weirdness. He, of all people.

He really needs a break from you two, and Yoosung needs to recompose yourself. So now it’s just the two of you sitting in the bench.

“So, uhm… thank you for what you said, MC.I… am sure you’re tired of always repeating the same stuff to me, but I appreciate it, you know, the way you appreciate me. The way you love me.”

“I do love you, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do… and that makes me realize that’s the best gift I could possibly have, and not only for my birthday.” You blush, and he giggles. You don’t really mind getting flustered if he makes him smile like this. “The idea of us being this old couple, sitting on our rocking chairs in the porch, talking about how young people have no respect and… surrounded by cats, and…”

“Wait, what?”

“What what?”

“Surrounded by cats?”

“Well, yeah… I… love cats, and  despite of what Jumin think, I would be a good owner, if you… helped me.” then it hits you, the perfect birthday gift!



“I’m calling the red code.”





“YEEEESS!” he gets up and takes your hand, hugging you. Then he lifts you up before pulling you closer for a kiss. And you two laugh.

“Whew… they’re okay. I thought we would have to call the zepellin guy again…” Yoosung whispers to Saeran. But you and Saeyoung notice their presence again pretty quickly.

“Hey, Saeran, guess what?” you ask him.


“She called the red code!” you two giggle, still hugging each other.





“SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT DOES THE RED CODE MEAN, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” Yoosung almost shouts in confusion.

“MC WANTS TO ADOPT A CAT!” you and Saeyoung say at the same time.

You can see the other days here!

a-crafty-lass  asked:

I absolutely adore your Greyling AU! I know you've already touched on this a bit, but I'd love to hear more about the kwami in this AU-if their personalities are any different, their relationships with their holders, etc. Thanks for all the art and headcanon posts you've done so far!

Absolutely, friend!! And thank you!


Of the three key Kwami, Tikki’s personality changes the least since she’s got the same holder, but their relationship is still a little different. Tikki cares a lot about Marinette. She’s one of her younger holders and though the situation they find themselves in is not without precedent, Marinette is definitely the youngest hero to find herself pitted against Plagg’s powers. Tikki sees why Master Fu made the decision he did and did not approve of it. Nevertheless she feels a great amount of guilt at not being able to do more for Mari. She does her best to remain a source of positivity for Marinette and offers her unconditional support and advice to the girl, but some of it gets lost along the way since Mari’s job is so much harder in this au. 

Marinette, as anyone might, often took out her frustrations on Tikki in the beginning, but as she came to accept her duty she warmed up to her and apologized for her behavior. Tikki’s pretty hard not to love, especially after a long conversation about regrets and secrets that mean your life to keep as close to yourself as you can.


We haven’t seen much of Nooroo in canon, so a lot of what I can say about him is mostly just me speculating on how his personality might be.

Nooroo comes out of the box with the behavior one might expect from a secretary trying to do damage control after their boss says something incomprehensibly stupid and bigoted on twitter. He’s urgent and stressed. He has so much to teach adrien with so little time! Of the main miraculouses, I think that the butterfly might be the one with the steepest learning curve. Nooroo has often run into the trouble of having too much to teach and it has ended tragically more than once. He takes Adrien’s confinement as a great blessing and is extraordinarily hesitant to allow Greyling out, even when he is quite well prepared. Nooroo is doting and motherly, like a comical helicopter parent. It suits Adrien well to have this kind of attention considering his previous circumstances. Adrien relishes in the fact that there is someone who is always looking out for him, even if a person with a healthy parental relationship would definitely think it was too much.

Nooroo is very proud of Adrien, who is a quick learner and has a natural talent for being the sunshine in the room.

Despite his “mother knows best” attitude, he can actually be pretty submissive and takes time to warm up to people. At first, he calls Adrien “young master”, which upsets Adrien to no end. He doesn’t like being reminded of his status in a very “Please, Mister Agreste is my father” type of way. Adrien’s want for lack of formality throws Nooroo, who is used to finding himself in the hands of people far more interested in flaunting their titles. Nooroo finds it is a welcome change of pace.


Poor dear sweet Plagg. I’m sorry to all you Plagg lovers out there because he really gets the short end of the stick in this au more than anyone else.

Plagg, as I’ve mentioned, has found himself being misused by bad guys before. This isn’t new to him. But Gabriel provides a very strange and unfortunate case because of his exceeding cruelty. Plagg gets it. This guy wants his wife back. But Plagg also is the first to recognize his behavior as completely inexcusable and irredeemable. Gabe, in Plagg’s eyes, passed the point of redemption almost as soon as he put on the ring for the first time. 

At first, Plagg is willing to roll with it. The bad guys mess with some shit, get out their anger, get what they want, and then they’re done. They either get killed or it catches up to them otherwise or they get bored. They recognize his power for the most part and are considerate. Plagg figures that Gabe just really needs some good ol’ destruction therapy and then he’ll be okay. If Plagg gets his cheese, which Gabe can easily provide, then they’re friends by Plagg’s esteem.

Boy, is he wrong. 

Plagg could handle the double duty. He could handle the knowledge of the innumerable sums of money in damages his powers have been used to rack up. He’s even willing to let the hostages slide and maybe a murder or two if the people deserved it.

But Tuxedo Cat steps over the line when he attempts to Cataclysm another person. Especially when that other person is Ladybug, who is merged with his other half. Murder is one thing. Cataclysm is a completely separate thing. Plagg can feel people’s existence dissolving at the hands of his powers. He can’t feel Tuxedo Cat slit an innocent’s throat.

Plagg tries reasoning with Gabriel, to quickly find he is not being listened to. He takes matters into his own paws and makes some modifications to Tux’s tux. 

Plagg makes Tuxedo Cat weak to his own Cataclysm. 

Plagg doesn’t consider himself much of a hero, more of a chaotic neutral, but allowing Gabe to be weak to cataclysm makes him pretty ill, since Plagg is basically allowing himself to be partially destroyed by his own powers. Plagg takes several days to recover, and Gabe usually takes no less than a week. In this way, at great personal cost (because Gabe is not happy to find he can’t transform for a bit, not just the illness thing), Plagg buys Tikki enough time to come up with a plan. (He really is a hero, after all.)

Plagg is a lot less cocky in this au. He’s tired and worn out pretty much all the time and generally doesn’t have enough energy or willpower to sass Gabe. Sassing Gabe generally doesn’t help matters anyway.

One - Tim Drake x Reader

I wasn’t planning on expanding this AU but I guess I was wrong. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Well anyway, I’ve decided to do a step counter soulmate AU for each of the batboys. So keep an eye out for all of those within the next couple of days. As always I’m open for prompts and suggestions. Hope you enjoy! @ incarcenatedangel

Tim Drake x Reader: Imagine a soulmate AU in which your OTP gets a step-counter. For each step they take, the number on the counter goes down, marking the moment they meet their soulmate. (Prompt from @otp-imagination)


You were a normal girl growing up. You had a number just like everyone else; a promise that one day you would meet your soulmate and you would take your first steps together when your numbers simultaneously hit 0. You were born with a fairly low number. Your parents assumed that meant you would meet your soul mate as a child and the two of you would have the opportunity to grow up by each others side. That type of situation happened all the time. Except that’s not what happened to you.

When you were ten your parents were taking you out to a movie when a drunk driver swerved hitting your parents car head on. The car spinned wildly out of control only to be stopped when it wrapped itself around a tree. Your father was killed on impact. Your mother died later in the hospital from the loss of blood and her injuries. Shrapnel severed your spine and you were irreparably paralyzed. You were orphaned, paralyzed, and alone in the world and yet people still fawned over saying how lucky and brave you were. You sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

You were brought to the Gotham City Orphanage as soon as you were released from the hospital. They sent you to a couple of Foster homes but you always ended back up at the orphanage. At least you knew the orphanage was wheelchair accessible.

The only thing that gave you hope during your lonely nights was that the number on your wrist read 1. You didn’t know what that meant but you wanted to believe that it meant that one day you would still meet your soulmate and you would take one more step to meet him. That one small number was your one ray of hope through many dark days. It was a day you looked forward to your entire childhood.

Your life began to turn around when you received notice that you were chosen for a Wayne Foundation Scholarship to Gotham Academy. A handful of kids at the Gotham City Orphanage got scholarships every year and you were one of them one year. You didn’t want to be some crooked corporation’s charity case but your parents always taught you not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You quickly figured out that people at Gotham Academy could be really cruel. It was no secret that scholarship kids were immediately targets for the teenage pettiness of a private school. You were no exception to that natural law of order.

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I was GOING to just loosely translate and summarize most of the chapter, but as I went along I just got more and more into it, so the result is kind of a jumbled mess of summarizing and direct translations! You should probably be able to tell when I’m translating and when I’m improvising though! But I do think I am giving you the full story here, so if you can keep along, then great! PLEASE ENJOY THE GOSH!!!!!

also if you read this, please consider buying the novel!


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I had the honor and horror of explaining/proving today to my local comic book store owner, who is a born-and-raised Jewish dude, that the Black Widow is Jewish. I ended up making a drive home and grabbing my copy of the 83-87 run of her origin story and then going back in person to prove the point today (a week after the original argument)/sit there and watch him repeat, dumbfounded, again and again, “I thought she was Russian Orthodox or something.”

So then I had to explain that Marvel eventually retconned her into having had the Red Room rip out all her memories of life before her parents’ death and thus left her unaware of her heritage. He had a copy of the new version of her origin story. We went over it together in-store, curious, and left mutually disappointed. There’s not one hint of her original origin left other than her very Jewish patronymic still remaining part of her name.

As a Russian-descended person I find that kind of a fitting metaphor for how the Russian government has treated Russian Jews - Natasha can succeed, can be the best in her field, can be beautiful and praised for her moral fortitude, but only if she has all Jewishness forcibly removed from her. It’s sort of befitting the era in which her character would have grown up, especially if Marvel pushes forward with the idea they’ve hinted at that the Red Room’s treatments have stalled her aging and she might be nearly as old as Steve and Bucky.

Out of universe, though, please never forget that Marvel took out all the women from the Avengers except one for their cinematic adaptation initially, and the one they left, they made either atheist or secular enough to casually refer to Loki and Thor as gods. They had a chance to put the first Jewish superhero to the big screen and didn’t even consider it for a second.

Then they made the Scarlet Witch not only not Jewish but Christian in the sequel. Just to twist the knife a little deeper, they made her non-Rromani and went with a fake nationality to top it all off.

And thus I stood before a man whose job was (in part) to live and breathe Marvel and he had no idea Natasha Romanov was Jewish. This new and improved origin story that has no trace of her Jewish roots (in freaking Novosibirsk where there’s a large Jewish quarter of the city, are you kidding me with this Marvel) comes during the same year Marvel published a storyline headed by writer Nick Spencer where Captain America was a Nazi/HYDRA agent all along, a storyline that only got canceled because the fan protests and outcry was so great that between the petitions, boycotts and actual Marvel actors like Clark Gregg (who is Jewish and who Nick Spencer sent the issue personally) publicly stating disgust with it that Marvel realized they weren’t going to be able to sell overt antisemitism. Covert antisemitism, though, we’re still buying - the Iron Man anti-villain/anti-heroine The Mad Thinker/Rhona Clytemnestra Cohen had her surname changed to have always been Burchill and her backstory retconned into her family being the victims of ‘a criminal car bombing’. Not ‘an antisemitic car bombing motivated by the fact my mother was a brilliant Jewish scientist whose coworkers had it out for her’. Just ‘a criminal car bombing’. I have seen all of three people complain about that even though it takes her motivations as a Jewish woman who hates that superheroes don’t save or stand for people like her and turns her into another generic supervillain.

I see what you’re doing, Marvel. There’s a reason I go out of my way to buy my comics from a place that will let me leaf through comics before purchasing them. If you want to keep going down this path, please just be aware that one day, kids will be shown that Captain America panel of him saying ‘Hail HYDRA’ in history class as they learn about the 2016 antisemitic upswing. You are made of the same stuff videos labeled ‘crazy propaganda cartoons’ on YouTube are.

(And yes I know one person’s rants are another person’s no big deal but I am not merely out of fucks to give, I am deeply, deeply in the red right now.)

Why We Love to Hate Popular Chicks on TV

So I’ve been thinking too hard about Chloe Bourgeois from ‘Miraculous Ladybug,’ and I had to write out why she and her fellow queen bees were so interesting to me. That train of thought led me to writing this meta post about teenage girl bullies in fiction.

 I’m not a fan of the “Alpha Bitch” name for this trope on TvTropes, and queen bee is too cutesy, so I’m using girl-bully instead. It’s not a perfect replacement, but hopefully I’ll be able to make my argument all the same.

Characters mentioned include Chloe Bourgeois, Pacifica Northwest, Gretchen Wieners, Quinn Fabray, Cordelia Chase, Trixie Tang, and Rachel Green. The focus here is Western television.

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anonymous asked:

Hii. So theory that Stiles is bi is now kind of a main topic so i'm wondering what do you think of it. Do you think he is bi??

I absolutely think he’s bi. In fact I’m pretty much of the opinion that it can be considered a “canonical fact” at this point. I realize many might not agree with me since he haven’t shouted out from the roof top at the hospital or told someone explicitly, but it’s a topic that’s been hinted at since the beginning of the show. 

Stiles has never defined his sexuality. Scott has, when coach asked him if he found Danny attractive, responded that yes he thought Danny was an attractive guy, but he liked girls. Danny and Mason are openly gay characters. Caitlin was openly bisexual and it could be argued that Brett is as well, even if it’s not explicitly stated. Other than that none of the characters have stated their sexuality. We only know their dating history, or to be fair part of their dating history.

We can assume that a character like for instance Lydia is straight because we’ve only seen her with boys, but that doesn’t mean she is. Stiles has so far only been linked with girls romantically, but with just one them has he been in a relationship with - Malia. Heather and Caitlin came on to him and kissed him first. And Lydia is someone he’s crushed on for a while, but that never came to anything.

What little information we have about Stiles’ love life before TW starts is comprised of him being obsessed with Lydia since the third grade. 


Stiles: Fine, yes, from Lydia to me. Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I’ve been obsessing over her since the third freakin’ grade.

That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have obsessed over boys during this period. That might just be something he hadn’t shared with anyone. And as the series goes forward we do get a lot of hints that he might swing both ways.

Let me count the ways….. click the link for more :) 

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Evening Mint Tea

Pairing: Amami/Saihara (AmaSai)
Characters: Rantarou Amami, Shuuichi Saihara, Kaede Akamatsu, Kokichi Ouma (mentioned), Miu Iruma (mentioned)
Words: 2,476
AO3 Link: here

Description: “A mint-haired fox whose entire personality is a syrupy disguise… His type are ones that never dare to take the risk with owlish guys.”

A/N: Very loosely based on this prompt. Almost 100% headcanon-based, self-indulgent stuff! I kept a lot of things vague on purpose, since I feel that it works best that way considering the limited info we know about NDRV3. At the time of writing this, I know <5% about the characters’ canon personalities, so if anyone’s reading this in the future for some reason, please keep that in mind. This probably won’t be IC at all when the game actually releases, but it was fun for me to muse about and write up.

With all that said… I hope you enjoy the fic under the cut! Likes/reblogs are extremely appreciated if you do~ ☆

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There is dead silence in my house...

It’s sincerely creepy.  An episode of TV has ended, and no one is getting up to fix it.
No one is putting music on.
No one is talking.
We’re just sitting here, in this silent shroud of outrage and disbelief.  And I am so, so tired.

Like, the thing is…  The thing is… There is no way to avoid the fact that this is exactly what we all know it is.  A cheap ploy to get attention that will, very really, very truly, be gone. Probably soon.  Maybe by the end of this arc.

But that is…  That does not fundamentally alter or reduce…  Anything about why this is a problem.  Not the willingness to do harm.  Not the ugliness of spirit.  Not the obliviousness to the power that popular literature has in people’s lives/the culture.  Not the violent appropriation of Steve as a symbol.  

Not the failure to recognize that we are locked in a progressive cycle of artistic decay centred around the publishing arm’s belief that being ‘shocking’ will boost numbers that are flagging because of a fundamental unwillingness to rise to the challenges of a new era in the existence of a complex medium.  That it’s not working.  At all.  We would not have reached ‘Captain America is a Nazi’ if any of your previous shock tactics had developed you a stable fan base that you actually understood how to produce for, how to motivate. 

 Fundamentally, this hatefulness, in addition to being rooted in all the things that racism and its vile compatriots are rooted in, is rooted in the same blindness that insists that relaunching every six months will address issues of profitability by keeping you constantly in the sweet spot of look-in numbers.  It’s a mind set of short-term profit-seeking with no sense to the long-term building of a fan base, or a universe, or… anything.

Look, this is anecdata, I get that, but I know more lapsed Marvel fans than I know any other sort of used-to-bes.  This doesn’t work.  You can’t drag them in, slap them around (not my language.  I actually would not have brought violence into this conversation.  Why am I not surprised that some people were comfortable with that, though?), and expect them to keep giving you money.  

Look, I get it, mixing commerce and art warps things.  It makes them difficult and dangerous and dirty. It’s right at the core of every tortured creative archetype, it’s in most writer’s nervous breakdowns.  This is a barrel I’m personally staring down.  There are no easy answers and nothing is sacred.  

Except…  Captain America is not a Nazi.  You and I and everybody at Marvel, we all know this.  Captain America was created not to be a Nazi.  Take everything else away and what remains is that Captain America fights Nazis. There is a very natural revulsion and fury that an audience who have known for 75 years that Captain America fights Nazis feels when you don’t just make it so that Captain America is now a Nazi, you employ a retcon to say that it was always true.  75 years ago, Captain America was a Nazi.

Captain America was a Nazi plant under the hands of his Jewish creators, who created him to fight Nazis.  Who created him in a country that wanted to refuse to fight Nazis, refuse to stand against their violence and their hatred and their corruptness.  Captain America was an aggressive appropriation of everything that was American (and arguably of everything in American iconology that was and is uncomfortably close to Nazi iconology) for the defense of people who most Americans refused to consider worthy of that ideal and that defense.  And at the same time, so canon now reads, he was a Nazi.

Marvel is counting on outrage as publicity, and it is short sighted.  Because publicity only matters if you have something to sell.  Because you may intend to fix this in six issues, but that’s three months of your comic having no core.  Of it being unmoored from the central fact of its existence.  Because, in the end, even when you “repair” your canon, your continuity, you will still have revealed yourselves as people who do not understand what you are selling.  Who do not understand your power, who do not understand your legacy, your heritage, your relationship to history or your readers.

Think about this, for a moment.  Marvel is counting on people to talk about the book because they’re angry.  Because they’re hurt.  Because they hate it. This is the problem, now, the over-arching problem that ties all the other problems together.  You’re supposed to write what you love.  Hell, you’re supposed to publish what you love (I’m not making this up. A publishing executive told me this.  He said no one goes into this field to make money, they do it because they love books.)  And that love of the content is what’s supposed to sanctify- yes, fine, some things do have to be sacred. I’m a naive idealist and I think it’s an article of faith for Captain America readers that he was not always secretly a Nazi - sanctify the pact between creator and consumer. You are supposed to buy and read and recommend things because you love them.

Somewhere along the the line, cape comics, at least, became about capitalizing on outrage, rather than building on a shared joy in the material*.  And nothing good has come of that.  And nothing good ever will.

I have written so many angry screeds at Marvel over the years.  Most of them never make it past my hard drive.  Because I’m self-conscious, because I’m uncertain I’m right.  Because whatever they’ve done now, they’ll just take it back next year.

Except… Comics in the age of the internet cannot survive the disposability of earlier eras.  Because everybody hears when you make Steve Rogers a Nazi, and nobody reads a retraction.  Nobody.  Except that whatever the plot resolution, this is still a very public act of violence - both to the property, and to the people who have loved and leaned on the property for what it is supposed to be.  Except that cape comics cannot thrive on making their audiences unhappy, and it’s corrosive, disrespectful, and morally reprehensible that they’re trying.  Except I’m through apologizing for loving the stories that come out of this company when it’s working right because of all the times its head is up its ass.  


*Do feel free to bring me back to the corporate nature of the enterprise.  To the fact that a huge amount of the creating and producing of mainstream comics was rooted in crass commercialism.  That’s all true and there’s some very valid arguments to be made about the inherent artistic corruption in the system, but none of it changes the fact that if the joy was not shared, then at least it was understood as a necessary element.  Bad stories used to be told to amuse, to please, to inspire happiness and brand loyalty.  Good stories were told for the same reason good stories are always told.


Prompt from @theravenofwynter : how’s the morning after after Garrus and Shepard’s second time together?

I had a lot of fun writing this. Despite the fact that I happened to get stuck a couple of times, I think it turned out pretty great, and I would really love to tell you about their morning after… Enjoy. ;)

She remembered falling asleep, giggling about something he’d said to her, as he nibbled at her ear gently. Emma couldn’t really remember what it was now, and it upset her a bit. Though the only thing that upset her more was the prospect of having to move from her comfortable, warm spot in bed, right next to him.

After a few moments, she cracked her eyes open, only to be met with the leathery skin of a certain turian boyfriend’s neck. She hummed and stretched forward just an inch or two to lightly place her lips on the skin. Her chest was pressed firmly against his, aware of how different the textures of their bodies were once again and enjoying the sensation it brought. She had one leg hooked around his hollowed hip while the other was seemingly trapped between his at the knee, somehow finding the position comfortable to her, despite the ever-present aching in her back. Her arms and his were wrapped around each other just enough to breathe but not enough to leave without waking the other. Tangled up was not what she would have used to describe this morning. No, it was more like a very intimate embrace between two lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. In their case, it was only a matter of 6 months, give or take.

Keep reading

Ficlet: Wrapped Around Your Finger

Fourteen Days of Ficlets, Day 7

Today’s Featured Prompter: allegoricalrose​, who requested Ten and baby!Rose teething 

Rating: All

Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler

Summary: Rose steps into a machine that temporarily regresses her to her 9 month old self, leaving both Rose and the Doctor confused and scared.

A/N: While I know it’s canon that the Doctor is fluent in Baby, for the humor of this story I’ve decided that this version of Ten isn’t.

“Please don’t wee on my coat. Please don’t wee on my coat. Please, please, please don’t wee on my coat,” the Doctor chanted over and over while dashing back to the TARDIS. “You know Janis Joplin gave me this coat. I can’t launder it very easily. So if you wee on it, it’s going to smell like baby wee for years. I can’t have that,” he panted.

What else was the Doctor to do? Rose had no way of knowing the archway she’d stepped through was meant for the elderly. It certainly did its job of taking twenty years off her life. And though the effects were temporary, the deed was still done. The corporation responsible for creating the machine was none too pleased, however, with his thorough job of destroying it. They sent armed guards after the Doctor and Rose. So just like usual, they were running for their lives back to the TARDIS. There was no time to grab Rose’s clothes. And even if he did, they wouldn’t fit her anyway.

Rose was none too pleased with her plight, and spent the entire time they ran back to the TARDIS wailing at the Doctor’s chest. But if the Doctor thought she was angry, she was ready to throw down the entire TARDIS when he fitted her into a safety seat the ship had fabricated for her for the ride into the Vortex. There was no cutting him any slack for wanting her safe. The moment he clicked her in her squalling doubled in volume, turning her pudgy face bright pink. Funnily enough, the TARDIS’s engines kicking in seemed to soothe her a little, so during the flight at least his ears had a moment’s rest.

“Alright Rose, see? Told you it would only be for a minute,” the Doctor cooed at his baby companion while unbuckling her. His coat that he’d swaddled her in was damp when he brought her to his chest. “Oh, no… no no no… oh Rose, how could you? I told you not to wee on my coat!”

The calm that the TARDIS had worked at began to ripple away from Rose’s face the instant he raised his voice. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it until her chin wrinkle and her mouth turn to a blubbering frown. She already had him with that, just before a flood of tears tore at him. She sniffed a few times before returning to the cry that she’d tortured him with earlier. Only this time it was completely his fault.

“Oh, Rose, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay?” he pleaded, and brought her up for a hug, but she pushed herself off of him and writhed in her swaddle, trying to get out of his arms. “Come on, I’m not that bad. I’ve at least got to get you a nappy and some clean clothes, okay?”

He paused. Had he ever even had a baby aboard the TARDIS? He wouldn’t have a reason for keeping any baby things. Rassilon help him if he had to pop into a store with a naked and nappy-less Rose to buy a whole assortment of baby supplies to last them through however long she remained a baby. The effects were temporary, but the machinery causing Rose’s state was meant for a species that wasn’t strictly human. It would affect her differently. His only hope was the TARDIS considering a passing thought he’d had recently.

Thank Rassilon she did. A monitor trilled on the console and popped up a coordinate on the TARDIS’s schematics. The Doctor kissed the monitor and dashed down a corridor in the direction of the nursery. He couldn’t be certain if the TARDIS was being funny with how fully stocked this nursery was, or if perhaps she was laying on a few hints. Maybe both. But he was all too thankful. And maybe the soft pastel coral walls and the starry ceiling might help calm Rose down, he hoped. The first order of business was getting his tiny companion in a nappy. And it would have been great if she agreed with this assessment. The Doctor was no stranger to the task, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Oh now that’s not fair. I’m trying to help,” the Doctor complained at Rose’s slippery kicking legs that were nearly impossible to catch. And once he did weave her ankles between his fingers in a hold he thought was pretty secure, she flopped over and freed herself. “Where are you going? You realize it’s a three foot drop to the floor.” Rose peered over the edge, almost as if calculating her odds. “Where are you even going to go starkers anyway, hm?” He flopped Rose back over and formed a tighter grip around her ankles. She was none too pleased with this, and made certain that was known. “You’re mad because I outfoxed you. D'you honestly think I’m enjoying this? I didn’t wake up this morning expecting to be wiping your bum, I’ll say that.”

Rose wasn’t about to make his job easy, and wiggled about the entire time while whining at him. Just when he thought he was in the clear, walking away from the table with a fresh cloth in hand he learned that using it on Rose’s face was tantamount to murder. Getting Rose into some clothes involved chasing her around the room and pulling her out from under a crib, not to mention wrestling the writhing baby into the clothes. He opted for a dress after all the trouble she put him through. Some day he would find all of this rather comical. After a long while. Not long after he’d managed this, Rose returned to her routine of frustrated crying.

“Rose…” the Doctor sighed. “I don’t know how to do all this. Are you hungry? Tired? I’m exhausted and we’ve barely done anything. I’ll give you chips. D'you want chips? Can you even eat chips yet? I’ll mash them up if I need to. Just please stop crying, alright?”

He scooped her up into his arms and sat her on his hip. He wouldn’t deny baby Rose her cuteness. It had to guarantee her survival, with her mother growing Rose up on her own. The Doctor had a much deeper respect for Jackie than he ever did before. Whether he’d ever tell her as much remained to be seen. He could even live with Rose ruining his tie by chewing on it. At least when she had it in her mouth, soaking it in Rose drool, she was marginally quiet. Well, that is until he set her down on the floor in the galley.

“Oh, Rose… I can’t do this with just one hand,” the Doctor reasoned to a pair of teary doe eyes. “Give me just a few minutes, alright? I’ll even make you a bottle. And then I’m all yours.”

Rose wouldn’t be convinced of this, and crawled after him as he fetched things around the galley, making certain he was was aware of her malcontent by whining after him. When he disappeared into the pantry for a moment she burst into tears. Surely the independent Rose that he knew wasn’t really like this as a baby. Jackie would have lost her mind. When he stopped in front of the microwave and bottle warmer (bless his TARDIS), Rose pulled herself up on his pant leg and held herself there, babbling at him in her continual whine of complaint until he looked down at her.

“Oh alright,” the Doctor relented, and picked her up. “I’m not letting you live this one down though, just so you know.” She couldn’t be bothered by this while she found a suitable suit collar to chew on. Evidently his little companion was determined to make her mark on his clothes.

But she wouldn’t eat. No matter how he argued that mashed potatoes were much more edible than his silk tie, Rose refused to let it slip past her mouth. In fact, a good bit of it ended up being pasted onto his clothes (as he fed her from his lap because she refused to sit in a high chair). And no matter how he begged her, it was the same story with the bottle as well. It quickly got cold.

“I don’t understand,” he grumbled and rubbed his face in his palm before messing with his hair as if it might hold the answers. Even as the Doctor held her and cradled her close she still cried. Clearly she wanted to tell him something, but didn’t know how to. “What is it? I don’t even want to try putting you to bed.”

He started down the hall and while he walked he fished his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and sent it whirring over the little pink Rose. The moment Rose saw it light up she squealed and giggled, reaching for it with her stubby, grainy fingers (how was potato so difficult to get off?). He was about to tell her there was no way she was getting his sonic when he saw that she’d already soaked it in drool, and was actively chewing on the light end. Even with her chin and neck soaked, gumming on his precious sonic she was still cute. Her deep chocolate eyes looked very much the same, and evidently could still get him into a lot of trouble. It was a good thing he had backups, he thought with a sigh. He pressed a safety button on the side and smiled at her. He couldn’t tell her no when she had the most vacantly blissful look spreading across her damp, pudgy face. The memory of making her cry was still tugging at his heartstrings. So although his sonic now had tiny teeth marks on it, his Rose was happy.

And then it hit him. The Doctor stopped right in front of Rose’s bedroom door and watched her blissfully chewing away at his sonic. He really was incredibly thick. When she soaked his suit collars it should have hit him. Perhaps when she wouldn’t eat. He held Rose up by her torso and brought her forehead to his lips for a little kiss.

“Your gums hurt, don’t they, eh Rose?” he cooed at her and beamed. He stepped into Rose’s bedroom and headed towards her bed. “I’ve got just the thing.” He beamed at her after setting her down on the mattress and laying next to her. “Much better than this icky metal thing, promise.“

Rose whimpered and pawed at his hands when he took his sonic away from her. She also wasn’t having any of his attempts at cuddling her close. But he ignored her protests and made a nest of his head, arms and chest around her. He stuck his tongue out at her and tickled her feet when she batted at his nose in frustration. He hushed her when he saw her lungs filling up to release a cry. And before she could protest any further, he eased a finger into the corner of her mouth.

"Now, no biting, okay? I’m trusting you on this one.”

The Doctor pressed his fingers to Rose’s gums and worked his way around until he found the culprit. He massaged the spot and watched Rose’s demeanor change in a few heartbeats. Her chubby legs fell to the bed and she leaned in to him. He had to stop what he was doing for a moment so she could crawl on top of him. He’d earned her trust, he surmised. She grabbed his hand and found the forefinger on his other hand. Maybe it tasted a bit different, milder or sweeter. At any rate she found it to her liking and let him resume rubbing her gums. They both relaxed within a few minutes, and a peaceful blanket of exhaustion began to settle over him. Rose seemed to share this sentiment and released the tiniest little yawn. The Doctor wriggled his way under her sheets and covered them both up. Her chest rose and fell in gentle puffs, and within a few minutes she was purring in her sleep like a kitten.

He took a few minutes to clasp her tiny hand in his and soothe her soft skin over his palm. He brought her up to his face so he could nuzzle her caramel down and drink in her mild scent. He sighed it into a kiss and felt his cheeks warming with the thought that she always smelled like Rose, his Rose. It was a sentiment that eased him into a deep sleep snuggled up with her on his chest.

Rose awoke in the morning curled up with the Doctor. The only thing keeping her from smacking him across the face for sneaking into her bed while was naked was finding that he was clothed. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel so right, too. She licked her gums and found her teeth throbbing. The Doctor looked like a complete wreck, and since he wouldn’t free her from his grasp, she nestled her head into the nook under his head and fell right back asleep.

The Letter - Bucky Barnes x Reader

You and bucky have been going out for a long time and you tell him you love him but he doesn’t respond. he goes through a huge internal battle and asks steve and the rest of the avengers what he should do bc he’s afraid he’s hurt your feelings but he also isn’t the same person he used to be after hydra. and end it however you want :)

A/N: Okay so this is probably the greatest thing i’ve written, I’m so proud of it I actually cried though I also blame the fact that I’m listening to really sad classical music.

You were heartbroken, two days ago you’d said to your boyfriend that you loved him. And in return you got silence, he had opened and closed his mouth so many times that he looked like a goldfish and then he stormed out. You suppose it could have been worse, he could have not yelled out a dumb excuse along the lines of, “I think Steve wanted me for an important mission.”

Now you sat in your room with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s in your hands, you knew that it was rather stereotypical of you but it was the only thing that managed to soothe your woes. That is, until an envelope is suddenly shoved from underneath your door, it was the sound of it being slipped through that drew your attention and as soon as you saw it you got up and grabbed it.

You’d always been a curious creature, which is why as soon as it was in your hand you analysed every detail. The envelope was a simple white colour and on the back your name was written on in messy scrawl, you recognised it as Bucky’s and that caused you to practically rip open the envelope. Though you were still careful not to rip the contents. Inside the envelope were three pages and you were swiftly hypnotised by them, the rest of the world disappearing as you concentrated solely on the words written on each page.

Dear Y/N,

I’m not really good with words, I’m not poetic and I’m certainly not the most romantic person in the world. Unlike you, I remember on our first anniversary you prepared this entire afternoon which was probably the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me, it started off with a shared breakfast in bed and of course other activities in said bed. Then we went for a walk through the park and that’s when you revealed you somehow managed to set up a treasure hunt with clues placed everywhere.

I hated it at first, but the smile on your face that grew every time I found a clue was what pushed me to complete the task. I’d be lying if I said that I was happy to find the suit at the end of it all, I was wondering why you’d got me it considering you knew how much I hated getting dressed up and just going out in general.

But then you further surprised me by taking me to a take away, we got so many silly looks because we were both dressed up. It got us free pudding though which was great, I didn’t even know takeaways served pudding. It was probably that moment when I realised that you were the one for me. Now that I’ve said that, you’re probably confused as to why I completely rejected you after you said that you loved me. And at first I was confused too, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but I couldn’t grow to say it and so I left.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, the internal battle I went through once I left almost destroyed me. God, I sound really cheesy I know but hear me out. I may not have told you everything about my past (yet), but from what you know, you can tell that some things are hard for me to deal with. Like love, that’s probably the hardest thing for me to deal with. Not because I’m scared of hurting you like I hurt everything else, not because you’re some sort of weakness for me. But because you are too good for me.

I can’t give you everything I want to give you. If I had my way, I would shower you in peony’s (do I get brownie points for knowing your favourite flower?) and we’d live in some cottage, with two dogs and two kids. A girl and a boy. I want that for us, so badly. I want to be able to go grocery shopping with you, and I want to be able to argue with you over which is the better cheese to buy and I want to just love you in every possible way. And I want to succeed in this, up until the age of eighty when we’re both sitting on some rocking chairs reminiscing about the days when we could actually walk without our backs hurting.

But Y/N, I’ll never be able to give you that. All I can really give you is a life of constantly wondering if I’ll come back home after a mission, a life where I get really angry if you’re late coming back from a mission - especially if you come back hurt - a life where kids are never going to be a planned thing and dogs… well we could probably get a dog actually.

After you said you loved me, I went to Steve. Which probably isn’t a big surprise to you. I told him what happened and I told him my fears, and how I think I have really messed up this time around by not telling you I love you. He told me to be honest which, again, probably isn’t a big surprise to you. So I’m taking his advice, and I’m also taking the rest of the Avengers advice. Well, not all of them, Vision ended up giving me some statistics about the likelihood of relationships succeeding and I’m still not sure whether he was trying to help or not. It’s something like we have a one in sixteen chance of lasting for more than seven years. But we’ve managed two so far, we’re almost halfway there.

Tony told me that I should buy you a large teddy but I don’t think you’d much appreciate that considering how small our room is already, Nat agreed with me on that and told me I should just get you flowers. Clint said that whenever he does something dumb he works to get back in his “wife’s good books” by fixing a room or babysitting the kids and allowing her to go to a spa or something. But as we don’t have kids or a house, I don’t really think his advice is helpful.

Really none of their advice was helpful, except for Steve’s. He was right to tell me that you needed to know the truth because that’s what a relationship is (or at least that’s what all those rom coms you forced me to watch have taught me). And I still want this relationship, more than anything, I want you and me to have a semblance of a future that may or may not include a dog.

I’m not the man I used to be, and I think for a brief moment after you told me you loved me I went back to being him. The man who was lost, who had no memory whatsoever and who wandered a new earth that was totally different from what little memories I had coming through. But I’m not the man I used to be. I’m not.

And the reason I’m not is because I met you, the day you accidentally fell into my arms and spilled boiling hot coffee over my metal arm (I will never forget how adorable it was when you got all panicked and took me to the first aid kit, only to find out my arm was made of adamantium), was the day that I became Bucky. Not the old Bucky, a new one, one with a future again.

God, I wish I could write down how much you mean to me. I wish I could take all these stirring emotions and place them on the paper so you could truly see how much I feel for you.

I’ve killed people, I’ve held people’s lives in the palm of my hand and I’ve taken it away without a second thought. I’ve slept for numerous years, experiencing nothing but darkness because dreams never happened to me. I’ve gone to far away places, and seen the beauty of this planet, as well as it’s horror. I’ve felt the biting cold chill my fingers into clumsy numbness, I’ve felt cold seep into my toes and spread painfully throughout my feet as though they were bare and pressed against some part of the Arctic. I’ve had my lips turn a blueish hue and I’ve had my teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill. I’ve battled myself, strangers, and my friends. I have stood at the edge of a cliff and begged desperately for my body to just fall off into the watery wasteland. I have seeked an end to my turmoil, and I have seeked a euphoria that can never truly be found.

But I found you, and you make all my past problems absolute. You make everything in my past seem like a story fit for a comic book or something. Maybe it’s your smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth always rushes through me. Maybe it’s your laugh, which sounds odd to anyone but like music to me. Maybe it’s the way you walk, like you’re proud to be in your body and to be in this life. Maybe it’s the way you wear your hair, or how many flannels you own, or how you like to tell me stories, or how you love that dumb show I can never remember the name of, maybe it’s the way you sing like no one’s listening, or the way you dance like no one’s watching. Maybe it’s the way you constantly complain about how I’m too warm but then demand that we still cuddle at night, or maybe it’s because of how much you love being the big spoon. All I know, is that I would gladly go through every painful and torturous moment again as long as it meant you were waiting for me at some point.

I’m done making lists now, Y/N. I know I’ve probably made you cringe a lot with my words, but I did prepare you at the beginning of this letter in my defence. Please come to the living room, I’ll be waiting.

Love from your Bucky.

You placed the letter down and wiped away the tears that had involuntarily began to fall midway through the letter; there was really only thing left for you to do. You stood up and made your way to the living room.

Dream a Little Dream

A/N- this, my lovelies, was not requested. I still hope you enjoy:)

He sighed with angst as his boots melted along the sidewalk. He looked around, quickly, before turning into Knockturn Alley. The reason happened to not be malicious at all. In fact, it was utterly caring. Draco Malfoy was going to buy a Valentine’s Day gift. For five years, he had fancied a young girl in his house. She was odd. Quirky. Intimidating. Scary. He couldn’t ask for a more beautiful human being in his life. However, he had a minor problem. She didn’t even know his name. Numerous times, he tried to talk himself up, and try his best to squeeze out any sentence, yet when the time arose, he couldn’t stutter a word. This year, though. This year would be different. He sucked it up and decided he was brave enough to leave a gift. Anonymous, of course, but a gift, none the less. He knew a secret Valentine would make her happy, considering she wasn’t what all would call ‘a babe.’ Yet, to him, she was a fascinating creature who deserved to be loved. Cherished. Worhshipped.
He shook the light snow off his coat as he stepped into Borgin and Burkes. He knew she adored this little shop and all its trinkets; another reason he was drawn to the statuesque female. The little bell alerted his presence as a voice shouted from the back of the store. ‘JUST A SECOND!’ He looked around, admiring the artifacts when a small figure emerged from the shadows. ‘So sorry, I was just finishing up an order. Welcome to Borgin and Burkes, no this is not Florish and Blotts, please leave if you aren’t supposed to be in Knockturn Alley. How may I assist you today?’ He smirked at the obviously repeated speech, still eying the merchandise. ‘Yes, do you have anything that would nice for a gift?’ He heard the being chuckle, his eyes widening when he recognized the ring. He spun around, nearly gasping as he saw her. She laughed at his comical expression. ‘You know, guys don’t usually come here for Valentine’s presents. You’ve snagged yourself a weird one, haven’t you?’ He nodded, slowly, his insides bursting. ‘Keep it together, Draco.’ ‘So, erm, d-do you have anything?’ ‘Nice job, Draco. You managed a whole sentence. Keep up the good work.’ She nodded, sticking out her hand. ‘I’m Y/n, by the way.’ She leaned in close, whispering. ‘If anyone asks, tell them my name and I get a bonus.’ She winked, walking him through the shop. He chuckled, nervously, rubbing his hands together. ‘I-I know who you are.’ She spun around, her bright, e/c eyes examining him. ‘Are you some kind of wizard, or something?’ After a second of silence, she giggled, placing her hands on her hips. ‘Sorry, that’s my joke. It’s not that good, but I like it.’ He joined her laugh, relishing every minute of her smile. ‘Y-Y-You’re in my potions class.’ He looked at his hands, playing with his fingers. ‘You’re rather good.’ She smiled at his blush, ‘Sorry, I don’t recognize you. I don’t really pay attention to the people at school. What’s your house?’ He smirked, ‘We’re Slytherin.’ She rolled her eyes, ‘Should’ve known that. I mean, I wouldn’t expect a Hufflepuff in Knockturn Alley. So, who’s the lucky witch getting some of our premiere merchandise?’ She mimicked a goofy salesman, making him chuckle. ‘Actually, she’s in Slytherin. I don’t think a Hufflepuff would want this skull, would they?’ She giggled, looking at the eery bone. ‘H-Hey, um, I hope you don’t mind me asking, b-but why aren’t you Valentine’s shopping.’ She looked to him, sighing, softly. ‘Well, believe it or not, but Y/n L/n does not have men lining up to snog her. I know, I know, impossible to believe, right?’ She looked to the floor, shuffling her shoes. ‘Besides, I have to work. Not all of us are rich.’ He frowned, watching her become upset. She met his eye contact, brushing off her earlier emotion. ‘Well, anyway, let me show you what we’ve got.’ She pointed to many bracelets and hair pieces, all valued by any dark wizard or witch to enter the store. After seeing her uninterested in all the accessories, he decided to grow a pair and take a chance. ‘W-w-what would you, I-I mean as a girl, want…for Valentine’s?’ She bit her lip, giving him a once-over. ‘What would I want?’ She ushered him to the back desk, pulling out a dark jadeite necklace. ‘Why do you like this?’ She smiled, pulling out a magnifying glass and rotating the charm with her wand. ‘Well, besides it being my favorite color, I am absolutely obsessed with the story.’ ‘Story?’ She gasped, looking at him with wide eyes. ‘You mean, you don’t know the legend of the amulet?’ He shook his head, engrossed by her. ‘Tell me.’ She leant over the table, smiling at she watched the stone twirl.

‘Legend says…

Once Upon a Time, there was a beautiful prince. This prince, was like, gorgeous, okay? Like, he was like a Greek god? I mean, hotter than Krum. Anyway, this prince was the richest in all the land. But he was in love. The problem was, he was in love with a peasant girl. This young girl was poor, but tough. She was unlike the prince, who never had to work a day in his life. Yet, he was still fascinated by the girl. He eventually won her heart,after much persuasion, and lavished her with love. He really adored her. However, his parents, the evil king and queen, didn’t want their son associating with someone so poor. They already had a princess picked for him. She was prettier, of course, but the peasant still held his heart. The prince decided to give the peasant girl this amulet to keep, so that when they parted, she would always remember her prince. His parents decided that he would always be blinded by love, so should he be blinded by all. They removed his sight by pricking roses, the symbol of love, in his eyes. They king and queen sent guards to the girl’s house, deciding she should die, for the sake of the kingdom. She locked herself in her bedroom, where she and the prince had spent numerous nights, and swallowed the amulet whole. She died, afterwards, of a broken heart, and vocal cords, I guess, but her soul and magic remained. The prince had her burned, and spread her ashes on the beach they planned to be married on. One day, the amulet washed onto shore, completely untouched. Legend says, if you wear it to sleep, you will see your true love in your dreams.’

Draco’s jaw dropped, completely entranced by the enrapturing witch. He was utterly under her spell. ‘That was an amazing story. I s-see why you love it.’ She waved her wand, dropping the necklace. ‘Its rubbish. I’ve never tried it, I mean, its like four hundred galleons, but still. Its the thought, you know?’ He nodded, pulling a sack of coins from his coat. ‘I’m taking it.’ 

He watched her walk into the dining room, dozens of pink, cloudy hearts falling from the ceiling. When she left for breakfast, he had placed the black, velvet box on her bed, waiting eagerly for her reaction. Throughout the day, she didn’t once return to her dormitory, continuing on as usual. After potions, though, she did wish him a happy Valentines, which he only nodded since his earlier confidence was nowhere to be found. Finally, he saw her come back from class, walking up the stairs to her room, sulking. Not one boy had gotten her anything. No note, no wave. She didn’t even receive a hello from Draco, who she was starting to consider a friend. Lord knows she needed one of those. As she stumbled into her room, she walked to her nightstand, taking off her jewelry and little hair pins. As she turned to her bed, she dropped her bag, covering her mouth at the present. She rushed to the package, prying open the midnight box. Tears filled her eyes as her fingers ghosted over the necklace. A note fluttered from the gift, her blush rising her to her cheeks. In the neatest cursive, she pulled on the amulet, trying her best to sleep.

Dream of me.’

"Marked" RPNAU Omegaverse HiJack Fic - Chapter 6

Okay so I have a lot of free time on my hands and the inclination to write a lot the last couple of days… THEREFORE, SURPRISE! HAVE ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY! ALSO HAVE A HIRO! This is my first time writing Hiro but hopefully I did alright. :D

This one is 100% SFW, no smut at all! XD No worries, I have another fic to post after this that’s porny for you, so you’ll get your NSFW anyway lol.

Warnings: [this whole fic is top!Hic]

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Chapter 6
By Senashenta

“You should have heard everyone talk. It was like a gossip grenade exploded all over the walls of the school. Word shrapnel everywhere, man. Seriously, I think there might have been some actual, legit casualties involved. We’re talking bomb-squad level stuff, here.”

“And thanks for that stunning imagery. Really, Hiro. Thanks so very much.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. If you wanted to avoid rampant rumors you probably shouldn’t have fucked the top alpha in our school in the nurse’s office. Literally everyone in the building could scent it. Every single person.”

Keep reading

Good Morning (johnkat, rated T)

“Good morning!”

It takes you another two steps before you realize it was addressed to you. You stop, frown, and turn to see a lanky guy in an eye-searing blue hoodie grinning at you. “…what?”

His expression falters into amused confusion. Blinks before trying again. “Good morning?”

Seriously, is this douchebag for real? No, no fuck this, you’re not letting some chipper polehumper trot his happy-go-lucky attitude over the wreckage that is your life. That is your wreckage thankyouverymuch; it is off-limits for inappropriately affable wunderwursts.

And what a wreckage it is. Waking up exhausted with a screaming ache in your back and some asshole bird screaming unholy salutations to the sun right outside your goddamn window and then your darling mongrel of a meowbeast had puked up the overpriced gourmet meat in gravy all over your shoes in a moist display of gratitude and left you screaming with impotent ire.

Your only pair of shoes.

So really, you are perfectly content quivering through the seismic aftershocks of your nine-point-zero ragequake just fine, you don’t need some overly friendly pillock telling you otherwise.

“No, no it’s not a good morning, you failure magnet. It’s a fucking awful morning alright? So just re-ingest your lukewarm pleasantries and tenderly inject them up your anus. Who the hell even greets random strangers on the street these days? Did you fall out of a eighties sitcom?”

There. That’ll shut him up.

Keep reading

2. Queen (Part 3)

Originally posted by logan-and-stuff

“He’s the love of your life and you’ll do anything for him. You are his and he is yours. Your King”, your mind races while staring into your reflection in the window. The only good coming out from this is what you’re planning for the crazy bitch. Joker joins you, “won’t you speak to me sweets?” You know what you have to do, this isn’t going to be easy. If you don’t do this, nothing will change for the better. You also have a reputation to uphold. “Yes, let’s talk “sweets”… Firstly you don’t own me, and I’m not just one of your many toys. Us, this, whatever it is, it’s done. I want you out of my house”, you manage to say while revealing your 9mm. It was the cue for your men to come around the corner and point their guns at him. Joker is amazed that you put this set up together. He begins to clap his hands, “bravo baby… bravo.” Before leaving he whispers in your ear, “you will always belong to me… I’ll see you soon,” he threatens. Hoping that you just did the right thing, you felt like someone just stuck a knife through your heart. Josh immediately dismisses everyone out of the room. You can’t bear the pain any longer and tears stream down your cheeks. Josh hesitates at first, but he slowly puts his hand on your shoulder. “I need you to do something for me,” you sigh to him. “Anything (Y/N),” He responds. Wiping away your tears you speak confidentially, “I require an informant for an upcoming assignment. Someone inside of Jokers crew.”

 Weeks fly by and you’re more deranged than ever. No longer did you kill for survival, you killed for the fun of it. Wiping out other big time Gotham gangsters one by one. You want to let Joker think that everything is peaches. After arriving home, there was a stranger sitting on your sofa. Josh found someone that’s been wanting out the business. “You can trust me. No harm will come to you and you will have my protection”, you say to Jokers goon, Steve. “I want my money and I want travel arrangements made for my family and I to a secret location! Please… Joker will kill us…”, he stutters. “Done, now tell me where I can find Harley.“ 

Steve-”…….Oh god I shouldn’t be doing this, I should go…“ He gets up and tries to leave but your guys block him with their machine guns. 

(Y/N)- "Consider yourself a dead man if you walkout that door. Cause if Joker doesn’t kill you, I will.” 

He stops and faces you, he’s terrified. “She’ll be with him tonight at the club. Usually she dances the whole time while he’s distracted with his business. Why do you want Harley anyways?” 

 (Y/N) “Lets just say we have a conflict of interest.” Josh hands Steve the briefcase filled with money and plane tickets. This plan wasn’t going to be something that you carry out with your henchmen. It’s you and Josh only, less conspicuous. “What’s the plan boss? We killing them tonight?” Josh asks unsurely. “I just need you to have my back, leave them to me,” while you slap the magazine into your gun. “I just want you to know that when it comes down to it… I’ll kill him for you if you’re unable to do it,” he adds. Your eyes speak a thousand words but you just simply nod your head. 

When you go into the garage Josh has the motorcycles ready to go. The two of you ride off into the night and cruise along the coastline reaching speeds above 100 mph. Overthinking will be the death of you. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to kill Joker. He would probably kill you in an instant, you just can’t give him the chance. The club has it’s typical security guarding the building in the front, luckily there’s no one in the back. Making your way through the dance floor is difficult because of the overflowing of people. The music is blasting in your ears but not enough to disguise a gun shot. Lights are flashing all around then you see her. There’s silence, you don’t hear a sound. You fixate only on Her. Joker was dealing with business associates when he notices you from the corner of his eye. He sees you beaming at Harley while pulling out your gun. Joker watches with admiration. Harley looks up from dancing only to see the gun barrel pointing directly at her. She’s gasps when you pull the trigger. She’s bleeding out fast when you shoot her two more times. Crowds of people run to the exits, others drop to the ground to shield themselves. 

A sinister laugh bursts out from Joker while gun shots are firing off behind you. Josh pushes you out of the way making the bullets miss by inches. He grabs your hand and leads back outside to the bikes. After taking off it seems like you made it until you see HID headlights coming up fast. Joker’s chasing you down in the purple Lamborghini and driving dangerously while shooting at you. 

Josh cries out in pain before wrecking his bike. You stopped and ran to him, he’s badly injured from the gun shot wound and crash. He’s still breathing when you see Joker jumping out of his car. “Mmmm now what do we have here….? He says maliciously. You realize that you’re defenseless with no weapon. "Just get it over and done with already. Kill me!” you shout. He points his gun at you… Just to turn and shoot Josh again. You’re remorseful, this man gave his life to you and now he’s gone. “Oh (Y/N) set her sights to kill Harley…. Not bad doll, not bad at all. I have to say that I didn’t see that one coming,” Joker laughs. (Y/N)- “Aren’t you going to kill me? 

Joker- "Do you wish to die?” 

(Y/N)- “I wish to be free…” He looks deep into your eyes, “you’re mine, just let things go back to how they were. You’ve missed me dearly, I can tell..” Joker smiles ear to ear. Your heart feels like it’s actually beginning to beat again. You try something new, something you’ve never said to anyone and meant it. 

 (Y/N) “I love you….” Joker slowly pulls your face towards his and kisses you.

 Joker-“I know you do..” “Now come…. Let’s go home.” 

 He held the door for you as you get in. You felt whole, complete. You finally told him you loved him and even though he didn’t say it back, he at least knows how you feel. It crosses your mind that maybe someone like him can’t fall in love. He’s too “damaged.” Joker being in your bed again drove you crazier. The sex was wilder than before. All of the tension and frustration was being taken out on each other repeatedly. It was days before either of you came out of the room. It’s different now, he’s more passionate than rough. The past is gone and you’re anxious to see what the future holds. You have your King back, that’s all that matters. 

Originally posted by infiniitywars


 Soon after, your body starts to feel different. Waking up is a challenge or even after you eat because you’re running to throw up. You know there’s no way you can be….. the word you can never say. “Maybe it’s just a virus or something”, you assume. While Joker was out with his goons, you sneak out to buy a pregnancy test just to be sure. The anticipation of waiting and waiting is dreadful until you see it. On the little stick, the word “Pregnant” emerges.

fictional-sailor  asked:

Hi there, Ming! I love your artwork! So, in my Business of Art class, we were discussing women in comics. Most of the guys in my class said that women only get jobs from editors because they're attractive or cute. I'm the only girl in my class, so I stayed out of it to avoid trouble. As a woman trying to break into comics myself, this worries me. I'm far from what most would consider attractive, but for all the other girls out there trying to get work, what would you say to that? Thank you!

The short, practical answer: Most business is conducted entirely over email. Your editors may hire you, work with you for years, and if you don’t post selfies or attend conventions, they may never know what you look like. Even if they do know what you look like, editors care more about your quality of work, your timeliness and your professionalism, than any selfie. Be fearless, do the work, make connections online, and of course you can flourish!

The long, twisted answer: Yes. We’re women, it’s inevitable that we’ll be judged, coveted, and derided purely on the basis of our looks, our age, our perceived sexual availability. These judgments crash against us at every turn in life. They’re inescapable, and yes, explicitly or implicitly, from men and from women, you will confront these judgments and many more during your professional career. 

If you choose to make your gender public knowledge, some readers will be cruel to you. They’ll seem to single your art out more loudly and consistently than any equivalently accomplished male counterpart’s for pillorying. They’ll call your lines ugly, and in the comments section they will call you ugly. Or, they’ll be too kind to you. It won’t matter how unattractive you may think you are, they’ll speak to you too long at conventions, they’ll stare and say you’re even prettier than your art, and that will be worse, because if you can be the target of such bombastic, lecherous praise, then maybe your art is actually just as bad as you’ve been made to feel.

If you choose to make your gender public knowledge, some readers will support you. They’ll support you unfailingly, they’ll class you as a “woman creator” and they’ll ask you to provide sound bites that speak for all women, though of course that’s impossible. They’ll put you on a “Women in Comics” panel at every show, and often that will be the only panel you’re ever on. They’ll buy your work because you’re a woman, just because you’re a woman.

Have I gotten more or less work because of the way I look? Like you, I bear all the lifelong mental wounds of growing up in this society and consider myself “far from what most would consider attractive.” I think a lot of women do. But when I was first breaking in, I encountered my fair share of sexually charged interest and dismissal, in equal turns. I’ve escaped from gross situations with professionals and never worked with them, but also never spoken publically about those intimidating experiences. I’ve been hired to be in multiple woman-themed anthologies exclusively because I was a woman. I’ve been in an Asian-themed anthology because I’m Asian. Almost any review of my work from the first five years of my career begins, “Drawn by the lovely/beautiful/hot/exotic and talented Ming Doyle…”

Whatever you are in this life, however you look or identify or are identified, it’s going to impact you professionally and personally. Attractive, unattractive, majority, minority, there’s no getting out untouched. And if that sounds grossly generalizing and invasive, that’s because that’s what a lot of these experiences are like.

But remember what I said way back up there in the short answer, about being fearless? Do that. Yes, there’s a host of adversities attached to embarking upon any endeavor as a woman, and comics come with their own unique and prickly set. But if you love what you do, if you’re good at it and you can persevere, if you can access the core of who you are as a person and align that with what you want to accomplish as an artist and hold that knowledge as a shield in front of everything you do, you can make it! And I hope you will, because I want to see you here. For all the awful people who may make the journey rough or unpleasant for you, there is a large number of people who want to employ you and want to stand with you professionally.

Thank you. And please, even after I’ve said all that, GO FOR IT! It’s not going to be easy, but it was never going to be. The secret is that it’s not easy for anyone, and in the end that’s what’s going to make you a goddamn warrior.