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avengerscompound · 3 years

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It’s You and Me - Chapter 1

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 2131

Rating: E

Warnings: Action, Canon typical violence, snakes (further warnings on series, if you have triggers please see masterlist for series warnings)

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 1: Now

The lights were out in the lobby. That wasn’t that unusual. The building you lived in was only barely above the level of run-down most people would consider dilapidated. If it was just the lights, you wouldn’t be as on edge as you currently felt. But as not just one, but two of the security doors leading in were unlatched your hackles went up.

You immediately became aware of someone lurking in the shadow of the stairwell, and you relaxed.

Some people gave off a certain energy. It was comfortable and familiar and if they were there you just knew. It was almost like their molecules blended with yours and spoke to each other without needing to be aware it was happening.

“You gonna hide there all night?” You asked, readjusting the paper bag of groceries you were carrying as you started climbing the crooked stairs up to your apartment. The archer stepped out of the shadows soundlessly and began to follow you upstairs.

You hadn’t seen Clint for what was coming up to fifteen years, give or take. Yet you could always tell when he was there. Even now, his presence in the room just felt a certain way. The two of you were connected through a shared past and in the end, it was always the two of you.

He followed you upstairs, not saying a word. You carefully juggled your groceries as you unlocked your door and he followed you inside and closed it behind him. Your apartment was small. Just one room that acted as your bedroom and living room, with a tiny nook on one side that was your kitchen, and a bathroom on the far end that looked out onto the building next door.

Your grey tabby cat, Jasper, met you at the door, meowing loudly. He wound his way between your feet. You put your groceries down and opened a tin of cat food, and emptied it into his dish. You dropped the tin into the sink and turned to Clint.

“So, business or pleasure?” You asked. Instead of answering directly, Clint spun you and crashed his lips into yours, pushing you back against the bench as he kissed you hard. You braced one hand against the bench behind you and ran the other up his chest. Fifteen years had not taken anything from Clint’s physique. He was just as muscular as you remembered him being back when you were both barely even counted as adults. The kiss was just how you remembered too. His lips were familiar and exciting. This was something you’d done hundreds of times, but it had been so long that it was new as well.

Clint pulled back and looked down at you. Those blue eyes that you knew so well were lined at the corners. “So, business then?” You teased.

He pulled away from you and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

You started to unpack your groceries. You had assumed it would be work. For a long time, you and Clint trod the same line between dark and light. Then one day Clint had veered directly into the light. Ever since then, he’d used his contacts up anytime he’d needed information. You’d heard stories, often directly from the source about many getting roughed up by him while he was on some mission for SHIELD and then the Avengers.

He hadn’t come to you yet, but you knew it was a matter of time before he ran out of options.

“What is it?” You asked, putting your milk in the fridge.

Clint began pawing through your groceries pulling things out and scattering them over your benchtop. He found a punnet of blueberries and popped it open and began to eat them. “You can get me into the bar with no name, can’t you?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

He held up his hands. “I swear to god, I’m not going to start anything. I’m supposed to pick something up.”

“What idiot told you they’d meet you there? You. Hawkeye of the Avengers,” you asked.

Clint smirked. “Zelda.”

You shook your head and ran your hands down your face. “It’s a setup, Clint. You know that right?”

“She doesn’t know it’s me,” Clint assured you. “I swear.”

“She knows, just like I would know,” you said. “And it’s moot. You show your face in there, and they’ll kill you and then they’ll kill me for bringing you. You’re hardly incognito anymore.”

Clint put down the blueberries and came over to you, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you close. “Come on, sugar,” he said, using your old stage name. “Do it for old times sake. Don’t you miss me?”

“I miss the stuff you led with,” you huffed. “Why’s it taken you so long to track me down?”

He frowned and his thumbs drew circles on your hips. “I wanted to…”

“But?”

“But… I didn’t want to get to the point where you rejected me. It was always you and me,” he said. “And I changed, but you never told me no.”

You huffed and pulled away from him. “God, you suck.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’d owe you. And imagine what that could do for you. Having an Avenger in your debt.” He came up behind you and pulled you back against him again. “We can continue with what we were doing after if you like?”

You leaned back against him. “Clint…”

“Come on…” he begged. “It’ll be you and me again.”

You huffed. “She definitely doesn’t know it’s you?”

“No, I swear.”

“How about this,” you said, turning to face him. “I go in. Pretend to be someone picking up the … whatever it is… and I’ll bring it to you.”

“How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You smiled at him. “You’re going to have to trust me, aren’t you?”

A few hours later you were dressed head to toe in black Kevlar body armor and your sword strapped to your back. In television and movies bars with a large criminal element always had a no-weapons rule. You’d check them at the door to avoid any incident on site. For the Bar With No Name, it was the opposite. They employed a nuclear deterrent method. Everyone was either armed or enhanced and that way no one would start anything if they wanted to avoid anything getting ugly.

You spotted Zelda sitting at the bar. She sat alone with several empty seats on either side. The patrons closer to her eyed her with a mixture of revulsion and fear due to the large Burmese Python she had casually wrapped around her. You knew the name of the snake even though you’d never seen that one before. They always had the same name.

“Hello, Zelda,” you said. “And how’s Precious?”

She looked at you a little surprised. “Oh my god! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She hugged you and the snake nosed at your side. “I’m here for you.”

She pulled back and looked at you. “No…” she said. “No, you’re not.”

You opened one of the pouches on your belt to show her the wad of cash Clint had supplied you with.

“Well then,” she said, pulling a microdrive out of her pocket. You went to take it from her but just as you started to close your fingers around it, she flicked it back over her knuckles and out of your reach. Precious the snake lifted his head and hissed softly. “But first, tell me, why are you working with Hawkeye.”

As you’d expected, she knew. “I’m not,” you lied.

Zelda put the drive on the bar and the snake slithered off her and began encircling it. “That’s funny,” she said. “Because I’ve been talking to Clint Barton for two months about this drive and yet here you are.”

“You’ve got it wrong. You’ve been talking to one of my people,” you argued.

She laughed loudly and Precious reared her head and bared her fangs. “Honey, you, me, and Clint go way back. You think I wouldn’t recognize that idiot’s voice when I heard it?”

“If you really expected it to be Clint then why would you suggest meeting him in the only place in the city he can’t get into?” You asked.

“Because,” Zeda said, leaning forward a little. “I can’t kill him, but maybe all these people can.”

You looked directly in her eye not moving, aware that Precious had started to sway slightly where she sat. You were burned. No matter what you did now, everyone in here would soon know you were working with the Avengers. Even if it was just this once and just Clint Barton. If you stood up and walked out, Zelda would tell everyone about it after. If you grabbed the disk, chaos would break out and they’d all know now. You didn’t want to hurt her snake, but if you were burned, you were burned. Might as well get what you came for.

You moved quickly. Too quick for Zelda. She wasn’t really a fighter and even back at the circus it was her snakes over fitness. Precious on the other hand was fast. As your fingers closed around the drive, Precious lunged at you, sinking her fangs into your arm. You screamed out and yanked your hand back as you drew your sword.

Everyone in the room drew their weapons as their attention snapped to you.

“She’s working with the Avengers!” Zelda shouted.

“Liar! She is!” You countered and slammed the hilt of your head down on Precious’ head. The snake let go of our arm and you started gushing blood. All around you chaos broke out as people decided which of you was lying. You ran for the door as the snake lunged at you again. This time you were quicker than the snake, ducking to the side so that the large python slammed into the chest of a large man who had come running at you. He screamed and began wrestling with the snake and you launched yourself over his head using four more random people as stepping stones to get to the door as gunfire broke out.

The large security guard blocked your exit. You squared off with your sword, preparing to fight on all sides, when the door blew in suddenly, flattening the guard. Clint stood on the other side grinning. “What are you waiting for?” He said.

“God, you suck,” you laughed and ran out after him, half the bar close on your heels. Clint fired a series of his trick arrows at the group pursuing you. Two got pinned to the wall of the building as they existed, blocking the path for anyone else. Another got clocked on the head with a concussion arrow. And three more were captured in his net arrow. The last arrow he fired exploded into a cloud of smoke and the two of you ducked down a side alley while the remaining pursuers disappeared from view.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“Subway,” Clint said, pointing to the entrance on the other side of the road.

You ducked through the traffic, jumping over the hood of a taxi and sliding down the railing into the subway below. You jumped the barrier as Clint pulled out a ticket and scanned in and the two of you got onto the very first train you saw as its door closed behind you.

“Did you get it?” He asked as the two of you stood panting and leaning against each other. You held out the drive. Blood was still running down your arm but it wasn’t until now that you were aware of how bad it was. You swooned, and Clint caught you. “Woah. Did the snake get you?” He said, pulling off his shirt and wrapping it around your arm.

The other people in the carriage had all started backing away and moving down the train and Clint got you to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs. “Yeah. It’s just a python though. It’ll stop bleeding.”

“I’ll take you back to my place and patch you up. Might be better if you don’t go home tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?” You asked. “You burned me. They’re gonna swarm my place looking to see if I am an Avenger. No one will work with me now.”

Clint shrugged. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Easy for you to say, Mister Avenger,” you snapped.

“Come on,” Clint teased. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

You huffed and nodded, a reluctant smile playing over your lips. “Yeah… I guess it was.”

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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reversecreek · 3 years

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hi it’s me... clicks across the linoleum of the dash wearing high heels w a spray tan like i’m a member of jersey shore suddenly..... best summary of willa is that she got moira rose as her #1 chara on a What Character Are You Most Like personality test out of thousands of options.... says so much. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here 😋 like this or hmu fr plots!!

* ashley moore, cis female + she/her | you know willa deneurve, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to watch me by the pom poms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole sticking gold stars over old polaroids until you can barely see faces, dressing as marie antoinette at your high school prom & delivering fake laughter to a bratz doll you’re pretending is a talkshow host thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 1st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

willa ws born to honestly like….. the perfect family not to honk my own tit bt……………. they were jst rly quite wholesome. her mum celeste was this larger than life person who could never b contained by the four walls of any room she was in. she hd the presence of a gold glitter chess piece on an otherwise mundane wooden board. her dad marlon used to always joke that he had absolutely NO idea how he landed her bc he was just this like. rly average guy by all accounts n purposes….. blended into the sea in high skl……. had a few close friends but was never rly Notable or made a proper impression anywhere…… he always retold it as him coasting thru life until he met her in college. kind of like he’d been half awake before. they just Clicked n no-one cld believe she’d chosen him bt she was jst. completely head over heels n didn’t care what anyone had to say bc that was That

willa always very much took after celeste…… there’s this one quote i remember reading that goes vaguely like “my mom and i would sit and listen to leonard cohen and joni mitchell lyrics together. from a young age i remember her being like "i’m playing this song and when it’s done i want u to tell me what’s happening in it” n she would give me a fake glass of wine when i was 8 and i would listen and b like. i think there was an affair.” which so much summarises their dynamic…… she ws just so like. dramatic n fun n always encouraged that in willa too. her mum was like. everything she aspired to be…… got scouted by a modelling agency in college n shot one campaign before blowing it off simply bc she was bored. starred lead in a play. spent a few weeks travelling asia selling handmade candles shaped like koi fish or curled up foxes or elegantly stretched hands. dated a parisian movie star during a break she and her father took n was featured in tabloids on his arm at the premiere. sm fun n exotic stories willa literally cldn’t get enough. whenever she’d tell them to willa as a kid her dad wld roll his eyes like ohhhhh here she goes again but it’d all b playful n he’d smile bc he honestly cldn’t get enough either. the stuff dreams are made of luv (lizzie mcguire stans rise)

(car accident & death tw) so u know when ur walking down a flight of stairs n then out of nowhere u miss a step n u get that lurch in ur stomach like ur in free fall? yeah. i won’t go into it too much but one night they were driving back from getting frozen yogurt and then suddenly they weren’t. she doesn’t rly remember much about it except for completely ignoring the doctors trying to give her the news and just saying “dad chose pecan. who chooses pecan?” n repeating that over n over n over until it didn’t rly register in her ears as english any more.

willa was uprooted from irving at 11 to go n live w her aunt in NY. this was like. a huge adjustment honestly….. her aunt blanche hd always been a little unconventional bt extremely glamorous. she lived in an old defunct theatre she’d bought out n came from a lot of money. willa’s mum’s side of the family hd always been well off bt celeste opted to live a little more Ordinarily shall we say after settling whereas blanche ws jst balls to the walls dripping w eccentric excess…. wld say she was never naked bc she ws always wearing black opium by yves saint laurent…… probably the living embodiment of la vie boheme….. she’d been admitted a yr early to a rly prestigious parisian design school n is an AMAZING seamstress. a corset she stitched a broadway star into got commissioned fr an actress’ red carpet walk at an indie film festival. rly just lived such a life rich w lots of stories n lots of talent too…… had that star quality essence tht her mum had n that was smthn willa found quite comforting everything considered.

(grief tw) u would think maybe a situation like this (one involving so much sudden change) wld cause a kid of tht age to withdraw into her shell bt willa only came out of her shell MORE. she coped w her situation by spinning it into a celebrity origin story inside her head. the tear jerker tale someone tells during their x factor audition to get the judges rooting for them. mentally streamlining things. repackaging all that hurt as a surefire ticket to success bc it had to be useful for something right? there had to b a point to it right? willa decided the point was she’s a star. KFHSGKFHGFKHGKJSFHG. get it girl….. she ws literally just like ok well clearly i’m destined to be famous n i’m the main character of this story. this story called earth. it’s all about me.

rly heavily immersed herself in her high skl theatre scene……. loved experimenting w fashion n literally wore the most outlandish things like. she treated the hallways like her milan f/w debut every new school yr…… a lot of the things she wore were actual like. costumes frm her aunt’s collection…… she has a multi-story closet u have to climb ladders to reach things in like a very rustic library…. it rly wasn’t uncommon for willa to turn up one day corsetted like a pirate with billowing sleeves or sporting the baby blue gingham of a swedish milk maid. it’s like she literally jst…… became a role. always. every day. the world ws her stage. the cameras were always rolling. her aunt only encouraged this tbh n honestly? icon. we love to see it. willa partied a bunch n rly lived a lax lifestyle where responsibility was concerned…. her aunt ws her best friend…… made rly gd friends with performers in the drag club scene n loved the glitz of that….. lots of wild nights turned grossly bright mornings

snagged an agent fresh into her first yr of college (she gt accepted to a pretty competitive theatre program at [redacted] in NY bc i haven’t looked into what that wld be yet <3 i’m merely a helpless british lass <3) n booked a few commercials n things….. when i say willa wld enter audition rooms like she owned the place i’m rly not exaggerating…. once she turned up to a casting call for MEN n just walked right to the front of the line scraping a random chair along the way n then took a seat w her legs crossed popping a bubble in her gum as they all glared at her like wtf is literally going on who are u. she received several complaints n she was just like “ur all acting so jealous of me….”

i feel like she got a pretty big role in a theatre production in her last yr at school. haven’t decided what yet. maybe smthn rocky horror or even mimi in rent. this was meant to b some like huge moment for willa like yes girl finally making it ur on ur way this is what u wanted n she WAS happy abt it but once it was wrapped she jst had this strange like Huh feeling in her chest……. n a la celeste w all her exciting stories was just like well i’ve done that so what’s next? i think she’d graduate n then jst suddenly decide to move to irving in a fit of impulse. to all her college friends she’d be like “ugh a beach retreat is so necessary honestly the city is sooooooooo toxic this place cld literally enlarge my pores if i wasn’t so rigorous with my skincare routine” bt like 🤔 what u seeking girl? results pending.

SO basically i feel like she finally moved back to irving little over a yr ago. she hd a brief stint starring on a reality tv show tht filmed in one of the larger beach houses where her dog gained a handful of fan accounts dedicated to him……. u maybe will see why in the first bullet point of her personality section………… FKGHKSHFGGKFSHKHG. honestly she ws received pretty well too (mostly bc she’s so fking dramatic n like a caricature of a person) bt it wasn’t anything to warrant actual Fame (despite what willa herself might think). she’s mostly jst like. chilling honestly. accepting scripts n flying out fr auditions still. she’ll nab the occasional part bt she’s looking for that One Thing that rly feels like her big moment….. otherwise i cn just imagine her treating irving like a little dollhouse compared to the roaring mansion of NYC n having fun playing around in it. strikes a pose w a hand on my hip…. and now to personality.

PERSONALITY:

got a very large n lithe greyhound n named him marlene dietrich bc she was a black n white hollywood starlet famously known for her affairs n “bedroom eyes”. willa was like ugh. icon status instantly. didn’t rly foresee the responsibilities tht came w owning a dog tht loves exercise n complains abt him being like “ugh he wants to run soooooooooo much 🙄 like where are u literally going”. having said tht loves him dearly n he can often be seen wearing little clothes. a baby’s bonnet. a quilted leather waistcoat. a custom dog boa. he’s very glamorous. willa calls him a gay icon despite no evidence to support this theory. she also says he can sniff out evil in ppl so she brings him sometimes when she’s first introduced to a friend’s new bf n if his nose quivers a certain way she’s like “marlene has spoken. it’s done”. her friends r like omg? what’s done? willa gets up n walks away without elaborating. marlene’s little paws clicking along the floor w attitude.

literally dressed as marie antoinette for her high skl prom even tho there was no theme pertaining to this. jst loves the spotlight. can fake cry and WILL to get out of a parking ticket or teach someone to watch their tone or even simply for the theatrics of it all. the Most dramatic………….. rly fits being an actress like when people find out what she does it’s very like oh that makes sense.

says she doesn’t get hangovers. she’s just like “i revoked that it doesn’t happen to me”. alludes tht this is bc she’s an all powerful deity that was Chosen to be Blessed bt really she’s jst great at bouncing back n acting fine even w a blistering headache. it’s about believing the performance so much that u even convince urself.

has an extremely elevated sense of self importance bc this is kind of the equivalent of several layers of bubble wrap to cushion her frm the world. strives to b extraordinary bc ordinary honestly feels like a death sentence n there’s nothing she’d want to b seen as less. despite this weight she puts on that she rly doesn’t tend to let ppl’s opinions affect fr the most part like she’s quite firmly set in this I’m Literally The Most Gorgeous And Beautiful Angel Star Creature To Walk This Narsty Little Earth view

probably an incredibly big fan of dramatic short lived love affairs. she wants the glamour of it all. the scandal. the randomly breaking up w someone in a public place n sliding on sunglasses after delivering the words over a freshly ordered coffee (tht she’ll leave without drinking bc that’s star power babey she waits fr no man or no hot beverage)…….. has no preference gets w any n all regardless of gender……… romanticises things so they hv a better spin or story in her head n doesn’t rly take things seriously like jst has fun in her fantasy world…. she’s like ugh chuck i know u wanted to marry me but i’m a beautiful bird in a cage n u literally need to undo the latch n set me free……. the guy’s like……. my name’s chase n we’ve only been on two dates….. willa’s like…… please don’t take this so hard i can tell ur besides urself but people r starting to stare……. gets up n leaves. no-one was staring. chase is confused n honestly probably semi concerned fr her welfare.

always has to b the hottest n most glamorous person in a grocery store…. probably goes to them when she doesn’t even need anything jst holding a basket nonchalantly over her forearm glancing over at a cashier in her wizard of oz corset seamed interpretation on a dorothy dress thinking he wants me soooo bad it’s not even funny….. seduces him over the check out counter jst for him to ask her to come back to his so she can lean back scandalised n cry “IS THAT THE KIND OF WOMAN U THINK I AM, PAUL?! YOU’RE A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, YOU ARE….” with all the gusto of a telenovela. attracts the shocked glances of all surrounding elderly.

speaks fluent french. probably on her brief stint on tht reality show i mentioned earlier was like “ugh can you believe Deneurve of this guy?” n in her head was like this catchphrase is sensational it’ll catch on fast the twittersphere is abt to implode but it didn’t become a thing except for in a small isolated community. despite this she’s like “yeah it went viral….. go figure. just another day in the life.”

honestly like a lot of fun bt also a huge handful at the same time. keeps her real Serious emotions in a locked box bt is always overflowing w melodramatics n rly giving her all at the drop of a hat where Performing is concerned. probably Loves parties n sees them as another form of production in which she wants to b the lead. rly just. loves herself. except does she? 🤔 lifts my hand up like rihanna n winks. find out next time. lucky by britney plays as i slowly disintegrate in spiderman rp…..

WANTED CONNECTIONS

unrequited flame: willa burns thru people like matches. bright n fast. honestly i feel like she struggles to take romance seriously so it cld be fun to play around with someone who’s been singed by that in the past…. mayb they hd actual feelings whereas willa was just messing around n having fun…. living la vida loca so to speak…….. we can discuss a time frame or specifics to expand upon this but. sexy angst perhaps.

those she knew from childhood: willa moved to NY at 11 n i feel like it was very sudden n soon after the accident. maybe she didn’t even say goodbye. maybe they were rly close n all of a sudden she didn’t show up to school the next day n when they rode past her house on their bike the sign said sold and that was that. honestly very dramatic of her even at a young age. we love a disappearing act. houdini who?

acting rival: honestly jst feel like this cld be funny. willa’s so dramatic she’d be like i literally want them dead they’re a despicable little gremlin fr trying to steal my spotlight. cld be as simple as having auditioned a few times fr the same parts or something.

childhood sweetheart: i think it cld be rly cute n sad if there was someone that kind of echoed the dynamic her mum n dad had except she was the celeste n they were the marlon…. (open to any gender)…….. so like. willa was always very larger than life commanding attention in a room n they were more to the sidelines but they just kind of got each other n brought out the best in one another. added angst to the fact tht willa wld maybe want to avoid them as much as possible now bc it dredges up feelings she doesn’t want to confront where her parents r concerned n also in a way any possibility of them winding up together feels like sellotaping an expiration date to both of their foreheads in willa’s brain

someone who was either a fan of or also on the reality show willa was: i imagine it like a reinvention of the hills honestly except based in these irving beach houses…. probably didn’t run that long bt there was a bunch of drama on it mostly staged…… maybe they were willa’s love interest bt it was all fake fr the cameras…… it wasn’t like. a huge deal n didn’t rly catch flight so much where popularity’s concerned bt. cld be fun to play with <3

patti frands: jogs in high knees to translate that into party friends as i adjust my spectacles. willa’s very sociable bt she’s also like kind of full of herself n obnoxious so do with that what u will. KFHGKSHGKGHFSKG. she knows hw to have a gd time tho like growing up she was rly into the gay club scene n the drag scene in NY so like. let’s hear it fr the gays who know how to do it right <3

someone equally over the top: i luv the idea of willa having someone who just like runs with made up scenarios n roles she makes up on the spot n them hanging out is like a 24/7 improv session tht they reel random surrounding strangers just fr the fun thrill

the other woman: willa is quite detached n selfish so she wld easily be the other woman in a relationship n not care about it n this cld make for good spice <3

#irvingintro #death tw #car accident tw #grief tw #i think tht's all of them #smiles at u all w hand on hip #this intro's so beefy bt wht else is new truly just can't control myself apparently... shocked. aghast. shaken.

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jkl-fff · 3 years

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Dipper and Norman, #50

Thanks for the prompt!

Comedy Golem

It was a rest stop like any other in the Northeast. Just a gas station with some picnic tables, surrounded by deciduous woodlands. But the car pulled into it all the same. Two young men—partners in work, partners in life, and partners not infrequently in actions of questionable legality (although “crime” was such a strong word)—then set themselves up at one of the picnic tables, producing sodas and sandwiches from a cooler.

Laying out a map of the Northeast, Dipper gestured towards a sizeable splotch of green in upper Pennsylvania. It was labeled “Alleghany National Forest”, its shape vaguely reminded Norman of an elephant’s head (with an upraised trunk), and it was clearly the epicenter of a wide swath of red post-its marked with names and some rather recent dates. “As you can see, we’ve got its—his? her? their? whatever—probable location pretty well pinned down.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Norman replied around a bite of sandwich. His tone was deadpan, as it usually was (perhaps an occupational hazard of being a Medium … or of spending most of his time around the Pines family and their own special brand of insanity). “Practically pinpoint accuracy, in fact. Only … 1000 square miles of untamed woodlands for us to search.”

“Pff! Untamed,” Dipper scoffed with the kind of elitist scorn only heard from people who hail from west of the Rockies whenever the subject of Appalachia’s wilderness is broached. “Right. Which means we might get as low as three bars during our investigation. How perilous. Besides, it’s barely even 800 square miles—I checked.”

“Of course you did.”

“But, nah, I think I’ve actually narrowed down the location even further. To riiiiiight … here.”

Norman craned his neck to read the spot his friend tapped (after lifting aside the veritable blanket of red post-its covering it, as it was the center of the epicenter). “… Squirrely Stars Campground. Huh. That why they call this thing ‘the Squirrel Hill Golem’?”

“Nah, that’s because the first sighting was in a neighborhood of Pittsburgh called Squirrel Hill.”

“… You’re yanking my chain. You’ve gotta be.”

“Nope.” Dipper gestured to that segment of the map. “Read it and gape in bewilderment. But, considering Pittsburgh has a massive Jewish population and that’s one of its major sectors, sorta makes sense a Golem would first come outta there. My research suggests it was a Rabbi named Mahara Chelmman who made it back in 1997 (although she wasn’t a Rabbi at the time she made the Golem), but that’s not 100% verified; could’ve been two other people.”

Norman considered that, and it all sounded reasonable enough. For a given value of reasonable, at any rate, since he was dealing with a Pines here. A very negotiable given value of reasonable. “… So did the Golem run off from Pittsburgh a la f-Frankenstein’s Monster upon being rejected by its … Um. How ‘bout we just use a Third-Person, Singular ‘they’ for now?”

“Works for me.”

“Okay. Yada-yada, Frankenstein’s Monster rejected by their creator?”

That got a shrug in response. “Hard to say. Most accounts suggest everyone was cool with them. They might’ve just, like, decided they wanted to live their own life? It was the 90s …”

“So they ran off into the woods of Northern Pennsylvania for the next … twenty-ish years. Sure. Why not? Lots of mud out here—Golems do need m-mud, right?”

“It helps. Makes it easier for them to, like, heal or regenerate and such. Anyway, I’m thinking you will infiltrate the camp and blend in there—”

“Squirrely Stars,” Norman couldn’t help but smirk at the dumb name.

“—to find out what the people there know, maybe interview some Ghosts, too, if there are any. It’s where the highest concentration of sightings are clustered, so someone’s gotta be able to give us something workable.”

Norman nodded his assent. “Makes sense. I’m g-generally better at talking to people—”

“Right? Those were my thoughts exactly!” Dipper hastened to agree.

“—and not like you can communicate with Ghosts 97% of the time, anyway. What about you, though? If I’m doing the people-work at camp, what’re you gonna be doing?”

“Trek around the area out a ways from the camp. See what traces of the Golem I can forestry up. Footprints, magical energies, that sorta thing. Leg-work while you do the people-work. Also makes sense, right, since I’m better at that kinda stuff anyway?” Dipper asked. In a tone of voice that was … almost leading.

Which instantly made Norman a bit suspicious. But there wasn’t anything in that assessment either of them could disagree with, so he had to concede, “… I suppose you’re better at all the, um, stuff out in the woods—”

“Great!” Dipper was already halfway back to the car. “Let’s get moving! I’ll drop you off there.”

***TWO HOURS LATER*** PARKED OUTSIDE THE ENTRANCE TO A DIRT ROAD BENEATH A SIGN READING “SQUIRRELY STARS CAMPGROUND WARNING: NATURIST PROPERTY”

“Okay, but WHY do I have to be NAKED?!” Norman shrilled at the young man he had, until roughly five seconds ago, thought would always be his partner in life. Whereas now he was thinking that young man was about to be his former partner in life. Because he might kill him. Just straight-up murder him with a hefty tree branch or a sharp rock or maybe his bare hands.

Being a Medium meant their relationship wouldn’t have to end at death, true, but you couldn’t exactly call someone your “life partner” if they were dead. Especially if because you killed them by repeatedly smacking their face into the steering wheel or hurling them right into the sun or strangling them with their own seatbelt. That tended to sour most relationships.

“Look, I realize—”

“WHY does ANYONE have to be NAKED?!”

“Because it’s a nudist colony. Or … Well, maybe ‘nudist resort’ is more accurate?” Dipper mused aloud to himself. “Meh. Either way, ‘cause that’s the no-dress code here.”

“But WHY do I have to be NAKED?!”

“How else are you gonna infiltrate and then blend in at a nudist colony and/or resort? C’mon, man, you gotta think logically about this.”

“Yeah, but … WHY does ANYONE who is ME have to be NAKED?!”

“They prob’ly won’t talk to you if you’re not,” Dipper explained, his manner reasonable enough. For a given value of reasonable, at any rate. A very negotiable given value of reasonable. “Like, you’d make them uncomfortable .”

“Oh, well, I c-certainly wouldn’t want them to be uncomfortable!” Norman retorted witheringly.

“It won’t be for long. Just long enough to, y’know, fit in a little and scrounge some info.”

“Never worried about fitting in before,” Norman grumbled. “Don’t see why I should start now. Anyway, if this’s so easy, why aren’t y-you doing it?”

“You said it yourself: You’re better at talking to people, I’m better at ‘all the stuff in the woods’.” And Dipper couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his face as he quoted him.

“… I hate you soo much right now.”

Dipper shrugged. “That’s fair. But, seriously though, it’s safer this way, too, ‘cause I’m Jewish.”

Norman blinked. Then he blinked again. “… What?”

“I’m Jewish, so the Golem won’t try to hurt me if they’re acting, like, confrontational.”

Norman shook his head. “Okay, no, I’m calling bullshit on that.”

“Dude, you know I’m Jew—”

“No, yes, I know you’re Jewish,” Norman snapped impatiently. “I mean I’m calling b-bullshit on that being some sorta, like, pseudo-mystical-religious-ethnic protection from Golems.”

“Golems exist to protect Jewish people,” Dipper countered, a little condescendingly. “They, like, physically can’t hurt us. Everybody knows that—it’s the first thing you learn about Golems.”

“Even assuming that’s true—and I don’t assume it, in fact, I contest it—how in the 79 Hells’re you supposed, like, to prove your Jewishness (especially to a vaguely humanoid shape made outta mud)? You gotta yarmulke on under that stupid cap of yours I don’t know about?”

“First of all: screw you, my cap is iconic.” Dipper even took a moment to admire his reflection in the rearview mirror, straightened his cap ever so slightly, and made fingerguns at himself. “Second of all: I’ll just say a birkhot or something. Ooo! Maybe even one of the secret ones from the Kabballah! Though a regular one’d prob’ly work fine.”

“Oh, please, I c-could do that. Doesn’t prove anyth—”

“No, you could not. You don’t even know what a birkhot is.”

“It’s like … a prayer and magic incantation rolled into one,” Norman replied (albeit hesitantly).

“Pff! No, that’s not what a bir—”

“In fact, I’m 100% certain I’ve heard you describe birkhots exactly that way,” Norman asserted, not hesitant any longer. “Same way you d-describe the other (and I quote) ‘sorta pseudo-mystical-religious-ethnic spells and incantations and stuff’ you’ve got memorized in pre-Catholic Latin and Ancient Greek and Old Nordic for whenever we gotta deal with a … y’know, with a demon-adjacent, supernatural entity.”

Dipper considered that a moment. Then he admitted, “Okay, maybe yeah, that does sound like something I’d say. But the point—”

“HA! Vindication!” And Norman pounded the dashboard in triumph.

“But the point is, I can recite ‘בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱ-לֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הַעוֹלָם, דָיַן הַאֱמֶת׃’ at the drop of a hat—wait! the drop of a freakin’ kippah—with all the additional, apotropaic hand signs … Whereas you can’t even do a basic exorcism or protective spell in any language.”

Norman crossed his arms and sulkily looked out the passenger window. “Well, s-some of us just t-talk to the spirits and such. Like a n-normal, polite person … w-works just fine … ” Eventually, he huffed, “Why in the 79 Hells is a Golem even hanging around a n-nudist colony?!”

“A resort, I think.”

“I will murder you,” Norman stated, as if making a solemn vow. “With … an ice cream scoop.”

“Heh! Love you, too. Soo … does that mean you’ll do it?”

“You haven’t even answered my question.”

“Honestly? No clue. I just kinda assumed the Golem turned out to be, like, a pervert? But maybe they feel more at home among other people who aren’t wearing clothes? But, anyway, will you? … C’mon, Normy-warmy,” Dipper wheedled, his voice taking on a cutesy, coaxing, pleadingly singsong tone. “Pleeeease, Normy-warmy?”

“… That is ch-cheating, and you know it.”

“Pleeeease help me with this Monster Hunt? You just gotta talk to some people (and/or Ghosts). It won’t even take that long. Heck, if the people in there are anything like me, once they see you naked, their brains’ll stop working due to awestruck amazement—”

Norman grumbled, “S-soo much cheating.”

“—and they’ll be soo mesmerized by your sexy body (and beautiful smile)—”

“Why am I dating such an honorless cheater?” But, despite his protests, Norman was blushing.

“—that they’ll be compelled to do whatever you want for, like, the rest of their lives. It’ll be quick and easy. I promise.”

Feebly, Norman made one final attempt. “…But I sunburn so easy—”

Dipper reached over to open the glove compartment. Inside was a bottle of SPF100 sunscreen.

“… Fffffine. But you owe me big.”

“Deal!”

“I’m talking, like, a solid w-week of pampering.”

“Deal!”

“Romantic dates. Fancy cooking. Back rubs on demand—”

“Deal!” And Dipper punctuated that with a kiss to Norman’s cheek. “Now strip! Oh, but you can leave your shoes and socks on (the nudists aren’t idiots, even if they are sorta nuts). And, also, they usually use backpacks for holding onto all their stuff. What with not having pockets.”

Pulling off his shirt, Norman sighed. “Why do I keep letting you talk me into stuff like this?”

#parapines #gravity falls #paranorman #dipper pines #norman babcock #dipper #norman #jewish #writing prompt #writing #magic #golem #comedy #humor #linguistics #language #folklore #arneyblay2

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adenei · 3 years

Text

Fake It Til You Make It - Ch. 3

AO3 || FFN

Harry’s finally introduced in this chapter!

Ginny set off across town after catching her aunt and agreeing to participate in the debutante ball. Unsurprisingly, Aunt Muriel already had a room reserved, as if she knew Ginny would relent. Ginny was set to move into Beauxbatons in two days, and had a lot of work to do to make sure she was prepared. So, she decided to visit the two people she knew would help her with her cockamamie plan: Fred and George.

In addition to owning their wildly successful joke shop, Ginny’s older twin brothers also dabbled in wigs and disguises for local theater productions and Halloween. If anyone could make her look and act like Ron, it was the twins.

“...Let me get this straight; you want us to help you look like Ron for two weeks?” Fred looked completely baffled when she walked into the shop and pulled them into their office.

“Yes.”

“Fred, I think our dear sister here has gone mad. Did you forget that he’s about a foot taller than you?” George chortled.

“Or the fact that he’s a boy?” Fred added.

“Will you two shut up and help me? I only have two days to pull this off, and there’s a lot at stake here!”

“Just one question, little sis. Where’s Ron going to be while you pretend to be him?” George cocked an eyebrow at her.

Ginny sighed deeply. “Will you promise not to say anything? Mum and Dad will literally kill him. And me.”

“We’re listening,” the twins said in unison.

“He took off to some music competition in Germany. He’ll be gone for two weeks, so I’m going to pretend to be him so I can make the Hogwarts football team, play Beauxbatons, and kick their sorry arses!” Ginny felt her face heating up as the anger threatened to return.

The twins looked at each other, no doubt having a silent conversation. After what seemed like forever, they turned back to Ginny. “We’re in.”

“Yes! Thank you! I knew I could count on—”

“You’ve got loads of work ahead of you, though,” Fred warned. “George, go tell Verity and Leah that they’re covering the floor. Gin, we need some time to get a wig ready for you, and I’m thinking some sideburns and thicker eyebrows, too. So we don’t waste time, go out and study the way guys walk and talk. You’re going to have to do all those things to blend in.”

Ginny snorted. “How hard can it be?”

It turned out it wasn’t as easy as she planned. Blokes walked a lot of different ways. She was out there for at least an hour, trailing behind random men and trying to copy their mannerisms. She only got caught once or twice before Leah waved her back to the shop.

“They’ve got everything ready for you!” Leah said brightly. “How’d the studying go?”

“Not great. Why do guys walk so weird?”

“Not sure, but if you ask me, I think it’s because of the…” Leah gestured below the belt.

“Ah, maybe,” Ginny agreed as Fred and George whisked her away into the office.

The next hour or so consisted of the twins attempting to fit her with various pieces of facial hair. She wasn’t sure who was more interested in what a moustache would add to the disguise, but it beat sitting at home, so she humored them. In the end, they opted for no facial hair and simply stuck with the wig, sideburns, and eyebrows. When they brought a mirror up to Ginny’s face, she almost didn’t believe it.

“Holy shit, I really do look like Ron!” she exclaimed.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Fred agreed.

“For being seventeen months apart, you’d think you were another set of twins,” George commented.

“Before we forget,” Fred reached for something in one of the cabinets, “you’re going to need this.”

It looked like a wide ankle wrap bandage.

“What? Why?”

“Do you really need us to explain that to you?” Fred asked sarcastically.

“You see,” George went on as he gestured to his chest,” you have certain anatomical parts that need to be disguised, too—”

“Alright, alright! I get it!” Ginny stopped him.

“We’ll come by the Burrow for dinner tonight and help you figure out what clothing you can reuse and pass off in your wardrobe,” Fred told her.

“And we’ll do you a favor and get you anything you don’t have tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I owe you both,” Ginny said sincerely.

Her brothers could be a right pain in the arse much of the time, but they always pulled through when she needed help.

The twins stopped the car outside the halls where Ginny would be living for the next couple of weeks. People were milling about everywhere, and for a split second, she was having second thoughts about whether she could pull this off or not.

“Is this too crazy?” she asked them.

“Not at all!” Fred reassured her.

“Seriously, Gin, if anyone can do this, it’s you. Now, get out of the car. There’s no way we’re going to let all our hard work be wasted,” George added.

“But—”

“Out! Don’t make us drag you,” Fred warned.

Ginny adjusted her tie and opened the car door. She stepped out and grabbed her backpack and two duffel bags.

“Now, let’s hear your voice,” George asked.

Ginny cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Yo, I’m Ron. What’s up?” She added in a head nod for good measure.

George nodded approvingly while Fred reminded her not to sound too ‘gangsta.’ “How about your walk?”

“Come on, I can’t do it with all these bags,” Ginny complained, but the twins eyed her expectantly. “Ugh, fine.”

She did her best to show off her walk for a few paces before doubling back to the car like she forgot something.

“Excellent! And last but not least, let’s hear the belch,” Fred asked.

“Ugh, you guys are gross,” Ginny said as she rolled her eyes.

“Ah, but you’re one of us now,” George joked.

Ginny swallowed a bunch of air and did her best to let out a loud burp. It wasn’t easy to manage on command, so the twins would just have to deal.

Both bobbed their heads back and forth as if contemplating whether or not she passed. Not that it mattered, considering she was about to head to Gryffindor hall in a few minutes.

“I think she’s ready, Fred,” George determined.

“I do, too. Now, remember Gin, if you ever have any doubts, remember that there’s a man inside every woman, and you’ll do just fine!” Fred advised.

Both Ginny and George gave him a look. “Ew, Fred, that’s gross,” Ginny said as she made fake retching noises.

“Er, yeah, I don’t think we should be giving her any ideas. Not that you should act on them while posing as a guy,” George agreed.

“You know what I meant!” Fred defended.

“Yeah, yeah, I need to get going. I’m pretty sure trials start today, and I need to get settled first,” Ginny said as she was about to head off.

“Keep in touch!” George told her.

“Yeah, let us know how things are going. We’ll be here if you need anything else. But don’t mess up the wig; it’s the only one we’ve got!” Fred reminded her.

“Noted. Thanks, guys!” Ginny said.

She turned and began walking through campus. Gryffindor Hall was close, but she had to make her way through the commons, and there were people to dodge everywhere. When she finally entered the hall, it was like a madhouse on her floor. That was saying something considering she lived at the Burrow, which was always bustling with excitement.

Various balls and other items were being thrown from room to room, music was blasting, and some idiot thought it’d be a good idea to go skateboard luging down the hall. She almost had her head taken off more than once, but she could handle it. After all, at one point in time, she lived with six older brothers. How hard could this be?

Finally finding room 205, she opened the door to meet her new roommate. If the bags hadn’t been slung over her shoulders, she probably would have dropped them. Standing in front of her was a tall, reasonably well-built guy with messy black hair and piercing green eyes. He was dressed only in a towel, and Ginny knew she was undeniably attracted to him.

“...Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an odd look.

“Uh, yeah, hi,” she said in her normal voice before realizing she needed to sound like Ron. Ginny cleared her throat and began speaking in the deeper voice she’d been practicing. “I’m your roommate. The name’s Ron. Uh, Ron Weasley.”

She held out her hand in an attempt to exchange pleasantries, but the shirtless guy simply laughed at her.

“Yeah, right. How old are you anyway?”

She heard more snickering behind him and realized there were others in the room, too.

“No, really, I am your roommate. I, uh, skipped a couple of grades.” For once, being short and petite was not on her side.

“Um, sure, whatever you say. I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Nice to meet you. D’you happen to know when football trials are?” Ginny asked, changing the subject.

“Er, yeah, they start at noon. You play?” Harry was clearly sizing her up.

“Yeah, I do,” Ginny answered defiantly.

He contemplated her a bit more before saying, “Alright, then. This is Seamus and Dean. They play too, along with Neville and Colin, across the hall. You might want to unpack and get ready if you plan on getting there on time.”

“Uh, yeah, right,” Ginny said as she turned around and set her bags on the bare mattress.

So far, so good, she thought as she began unpacking her things. She’d make the bed later as she pulled out a couple of pairs of shoes and some of her athletic clothes. Ginny didn’t notice when one of her boots fell over, and a box of tampons fell out.

“What the bloody hell is that?!” Seamus shouted.

Oh, shit, Ginny thought. She needed to think fast. What the hell was she going to say?

“Oh, they’re um, they’re for—uh—bloody noses! Yeah, you’ve never used them?” God, she hoped this would work.

All three boys looked at her in horror as they shook their heads. Ginny was sure she was losing her mind as she pulled one out and opened it.

“Yeah! I mean, the purpose is to plug, uh—stuff, so it works the same way. Just up your nose instead,” she said as she shoved one up her nose.

She attempted a smile as they all looked at her as if she were insane. It was almost like a switch flipped as they all got lost in a fit of laughter.

“Er...forget I asked,” Harry said as he turned around and pretended to be busy with something else.

“Yo, man, your roommate’s crazy,” Dean sniggered as he punched Harry in the shoulder.

Well, Ginny thought as she went back to her unpacking, things definitely could have been worse. Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. At least that’s what she forced herself to believe.

#hp muggle au #hinny #ginny weasley #she's the man inspired

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 158 prt 1

158

Lance’s scan went well. Their twins were doing well, better than Lance felt at any rate. He and Keith had gone shopping. Keith had sprung it on him after the scan results were positive. Confused as to where his boyfriend was taking him, as it clearly wasn’t back to the apartment or Garrison, Lance had started crying when Keith’s surprise became clear. He’d been worrying himself over what had been said in the toilets. Worrying that Keith would work it out, and no longer love him. Neither of them had been “gay” before meeting each other. Lance wasn’t sure what to describe his sexuality as. Men were hot. Women were hot. He could appreciate both, but Keith was a whole next level batting out of his league kind of deal. Keith might be tall, broad, grizzled and sexy as all heck, but he was so much more than that. He was funny. He was smart, funny, coffee addicted, and there wasn’t anything he’d change about his boyfriend.

Heading into the store, Lance knew it took a lot of courage on Keith’s behalf. The store’s car park had been pretty full, large signs in the windows declared some kind of sale. Keith grabbed a shopping cart, anything he liked his boyfriend wanted to buy. Lance felt the exact same way... Even if he was the more practical one of the two. The vampire only had a couple of rules for their shopping trip; practicality came first and they didn’t need super duper fancy when something simple would do the job.

Steered away from the cute onesies, Lance once again was clueless. There was so much to look at, his hands resting on his baby bump, trying to take everything in. That’s when he realised. Keith was leading him to maternity clothes and he could have kissed his boyfriend for it. There was absolutely no way to hide his bump now. The clothes Keith had bought him only just covering the roundness of his stomach. Tears rolled down his face, excited as heck for new clothes that’d fit his changing body. Keith misinterpreting his tears, trying to stutter out asking what was wrong as Lance tried to reassure him they were happy tears.

Though feeling self conscious as he looked at all the flowery and flowing materials, Keith urged him to pick whatever he wanted. He’d always dressed himself somewhat neatly, much preferring the fashion of now to short short and jeans that suffocated his testicles. He couldn’t help but blush hard at putting in a couple of maternity bra’s. He didn’t exactly have breasts, but he didn’t not at the same time. Keith seemed to love them. Especially during sex where he’d hold Lance’s breasts instead of his hips. His boyfriend was definitely more okay with the changes in Lance’s body than Lance was, but that was okay because it meant Keith still accepted him for him and not his body.

The next wave of tears hit hard as they looked at cots. Lance wanted a room the twins could grow in. Some place filled with love and comfort, he was hit with wondering if Krolia wanted the same when she was pregnant with Keith. She’d probably had so many hopes and dreams, without the thought of having to abandon him in the future. Noticing Keith staring down into the crib, he moved to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. This had to be hard for Keith. To be wondering the same thing. To have spent years thinking his mother didn’t love him. Nuzzling into Keith, Keith turned his face to kiss Lance on the forehead. The gesture soft and sweet, making Lance smile with the amount of love he felt for his boyfriend. He loved Keith, and he loved being with him, but lately he’d found himself really needing time with his Gremlin. Pidge might not be overly maternal, yet she gave him a level of comfort that he longed for. That his sister would come to his house threw things out of whack. Pidge was more of a sister to him than his own sisters.

“You worried about being a daddy?”

Nosing Keith’s cheek, Lance knew he was. Keith had been acting a little strange in the way he was ignoring Krolia. Shiro mentioned Krolia called because Keith wasn’t picking up his phone. Lance left to wonder if it was because he wanted to go back to the house or if Keith had other things on his mind. He wanted to be able to chalk it all down to this planned surprise but that didn’t feel entirely right. The only logical conclusion he had was that Keith was internally panicking over being a daddy all over again

“I don’t know if I can be a good dad. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to choose a cot... like... what if I choose wrong? What if they die because I chose wrong?”

That was being a tad dramatic

“All of them have to conform to a certain safety standard these days. I was looking online a little and you can get cots that convert to toddler beds”

“That sounds like a smart idea. I’m sorry, this was my idea but I don’t even know where to start”

“We start with the basics. Shit, shower and sleep. So, cots, a baby bath, and I don’t think we really need a change table”

Keith snorted with laughter

“I don’t think you have to be so blunt”

“I’m just saying, they’re like the real basics we need”

“We haven’t even picked a theme or a colour for the nursery”

“Maybe we can choose it together based on the furniture? The only thing I was going to keep in there was the chest of drawers”

That made sense, right? Like repainting a wall to highlight a certain picture... Then again, decoration wasn’t Keith’s strong point. Red on black, with more black was how his boyfriend rolled

“But... like... bedding? How do we pick bedding?”

As long as it wasn’t black, Lance wasn’t fussy

“That’s easy. If it’s soft and nice it comes home with us”

“I don’t think it works that way”

“It does now. You’re going to be the greatest daddy to our twins. I know you don’t believe it, but I firmly do”

“I feel... out of my depth”

If only Keith could peek inside his mind and see how unalone he was with those thoughts. Keith was blissfully ignorant to his internal struggles with his boyfriend being labeled by an idiot. Shiro had been right. Each time he’d started to feel shitty about Keith being slandered, all he had to do was think about everything good inside Keith and how that idiot had no clue about his boyfriend

“So do I. I had a bit of practice growing up, before Luis became a dick. We’ll work everything out together”

And they did. Keith found a convertible bed he like while Lance found a change table he absolutely loved. There were drawers. Drawers and an inbuilt bin. The second he saw it he knew it was a game changer. Fluttering his eyelashes at his boyfriend, Keith snatched up to of the paper slips for the cots before jogging over to him. Lance hadn’t meant to wander away. The change table completely to blame as it lured him over.

Looking the piece of furniture up and down, Keith frowned at him

“I thought you didn’t want a change table”

That frown wasn’t bring down Lance’s excitement. If anything he was more determined to show Keith how fucking cool it was

“I didn’t know I needed a change table. Look at this beast! Look at it. There’s drawers. Drawers! They didn’t have this stuff when I was growing up and it has a bin!”

“What do we need a bin for?”

“Nappies, obviously! And wipes... Babe, I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with a piece of furniture so fast, and it’s white so it matches the beds”

Only in colour. The style was more curved, but with the right accessories it’d blend right in. Plus, he needed it. He needed it more than he needed blood. Every molecule of his being seemed to be vibrating with excitement over how much of game changer this really was. He loved his old drawer, but this... It was more a case of “Drawers? What drawers?”

Keith sighed at him in an overly exaggerated way, he was winning. Keith was caving

“If that’s what you want...”

Lance nearly squealed, yet as much as he wanted it... needed it, he wasn’t going to disregard Keith’s opinion

“Only if it’s what you want”

“They said online something about “Push Presents”. Do you want a push present?”

Lance knew he’d done plenty of research, and he knew Keith was the same, yet it still thrilled him Keith was researching all things baby. He didn’t really need a push present. Their twins were enough. Them alive and breathing, that was it

“I don’t need a push present, but I think I need this change table. No. I know we need this... I mean, look how practical it is! Babe, look at it!”

Keith laughed softly, Lance stepping back so his boyfriend could inspect the change table as he gestured wildly towards it. Keith’s eyes widening at the amount of space in the drawers as he checked the depth of the top two

“Seeeeeee. Think of all the supplies we could fit in there”

“We have to buy the supplies first”

Pffft. At this stage Lance was happy enough to buy it simply to look at it

“Good thing we’re at a baby super store...”

Keith tried to hide his smile, coughing to clear his throat, before giving up with a shake of his

“Alright. We’re doing it. Cross change table off the list. We’re getting one of these bad boys... Holy heck, the bin bit has a latch. Kosmo’s going to have a hard time getting past that”

Keith was hooked! Lance knew it! That squeal escaping out his nose, Keith raising an eyebrow at the weird sound. Pfft. Keith already knew he was dating a weirdo, a very excited weirdo

“I know! Whoever designed this needs a medal. So if we get this, then the bedding, and the supplies we need most when I pop, that’s like almost everything”

If he popped tomorrow they’d be basically prepared. Not that he intended to. He wanted these two to bake as a long as they could

“What else do you want to get?”

“A rug, and a bookcase... oh, and a chair. I definitely want a chair in there for nursing”

For nursing and “sleeping” in on sleepless nights. In his mind he could see Keith sitting in the chair, reading their twins their bedtime stories, or holding one of their twins for a bottle feed

“That sounds smart. Okay. Done. Where do we buy a chair from?”

Lance smiled at his boyfriend as Keith looked over the display of cots and bedding. With how large the store was, he wouldn’t be surprised if they did have rugs, bookcases and chairs, probably with a high price tag...

“From a furniture store. They’re not hugely necessary items, and we’re not going to have room in the back of the my baby once we get the boxes for the cots and the change table”

“Do you think they’ll deliver?”

The cots, or the chair? Either way, Garrison was outside of almost every free delivery zone. He knew from experience, but happy to spend the money if he really needed to

“If you want to pay a $250 delivery fee”

“Fuck that. I could probably ask Hunk if we can use his dad’s Ute”

Lance loved Hunk’s dad. He was as easy going as Hunk, but he didn’t want to ask for a favour without being there in person

“Or we could save it for the next time we’re in Platt, it’s only two weeks, and by then we should have an idea of colours to match with”

“That’s like super smart. Okay, so we need bedding next?”

“Mattresses too...”

“They don’t come with a mattress?”

“Some do, some don’t. I want to try and find one with a removable cover”

“They have removable covers?”

Keith seemed extremely shocked by this. Lance could only hang his head. It was like the first time Keith discovered the waterproof mattress protector on their bed. He’d been so confused until Lance had gently pointed out wet spots happened and he’d rather them not happen to his mattress. That and when Blue brought him presents he didn’t want squashed entrails on his mattress either.

Kissing Keith’s cheek, Lance then nodded

“Yep. Trust me, you’ll thank me the first time you have to clean shart sheets”

“Our twins are going to be perfect”

“Babies poop, babe. Fact of life”

“But they’re only small”

Boy was Keith in for a surprise. Good thing Lance hadn’t mentioned projectile vomiting and sometimes stuff came out both ends at once

“And sometimes they make a huge mess. I’ll save the first one just for you”

Wrinkling his nose, Keith looked as if the spell of excitement over their twins had been broken

“You don’t have to”

“Nope. You insisted”

“Well don’t let me do it again”

“I make no promises”

Garrison. Keith was grateful to be home again. Lance had been texting on the drive home, Keith finding out who when Hunk and Pidge had been waiting for them at the house. Volunteering Hunk to help unload, Lance was whisked away by Pidge. Keith somewhat glad Lance hadn’t insisted on helping with the heavy lifting. His boyfriend had loudly proclaimed he was beached this morning, while laying on his back with his belly out. The scan might have gone well, but Coran had done a lot of “ahhing” and “ohhhhing” and telling Lance to get plenty of rest, while not explaining anything to the pair of them. Though Keith had planned to take Lance shopping, he’d upped the schedule to distract his boyfriend from whatever Coran could possibly mean.

Opening up the back of the Bronco, Hunk’s eyes widened at the game of Tetris Keith had played in the back to fit everything in. Each cot had two boxes, the change table had three, then there were two mattresses, three tins of paint, a fly screen door Keith had no idea what for, plus the baby clothes, bedding, Lance’s clothes, the small amount of shopping they’d done for home, as well as nappies and wipes. Both of them had spent a fair chunk today, without buying the chair, bookcase, or rug Lance wanted for the room. Keith understood how Hunk was speechless, the hunter also somewhat speechless at the pile of shopping to be brought in and sorted.

Explaining the pile, Keith pointed as he talked

“The big boxes are for the nursery and the bags need to go to into the living room. Lance wants to wash everything before he puts things away. If it’s food, well, you know...”

Hunk cutting him off as he eyed the very top of the pile

“Is that a door?”

Yep. The stupid thing kept sliding forward to smack him in the back of the head every damn time he braked. Lance wouldn’t explain, saying it’d become obvious if he was patient

“Lance wanted it. He got distracted at the hardware store”

“I’m not going to ask...”

“You know he probably heard you ask”

Hunk groaned

“That’s not fair, man. And how dare you guys decide you’re staying in Platt without telling us about your date”

Lance had mentioned in passing that he missed his Gremlin. Unloading the bronco would leave Pidge and Lance to have some sibling time together. Keith knew he’d been thinking a lot about Lance’s sister showing up, which meant Lance had to be thinking about it at least twice as much

“I bet that’s what Lance is telling Pidge all about. Seeing you haven’t been to Platt, Lance brought home papers for Shay to sign. Basically the usual “she’s not going to tell anyone he’s pregnant””

“That’s usual?”

Okay, maybe not the usual... Lance said he’d sit down with Shay and explain things, and that the conversation was well over due. Hunk had dropped it on them so semi casually that old Keith would have flipped

“Nope. If you want to grab that top box, I’ll grab the one next to it”

Hunk looked the pile of shopping up and down

“That door’s gotta come out first. Did you guys just buy everything?”

“Not quite everything. Lance did get caught up looking at kitchen sinks”

Hunk didn’t laugh. Keith secretly quite proud of the joke. Lance would have laughed. He would have teased him about about understanding universal jokes better than he had when they met. Maybe even made a joke about “Who needs a kitchen sink when I can tap you?”. He missed Lance.

Talking as they unloaded, Keith found out he’d missed nothing much happening at the garage, other than Hunk’s dad looking for him when he hadn’t come in. Spending time with Hunk was pretty cool. Hunk knew enough to be a hell of a mechanic if he’d wanted to, so it’d been easy to discuss bike specs with him over Keith’s baby. The new exhaust pipe he’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, the shipment delayed, but from the way Hunk filled him in he could tell the big guy had missed having him around. It was nice to feel missed, even if it twinged at him that Matt had gotten the job he’d hoped to apply for. Lance was right, he was made for being hands on.

There was a certain feeling of accomplishment that came with fixing each part of his bike up. According to Coran’s schedule he’d be starting back as a hunter in March. Coran hoped to have everything in place for summoning the demon out of Curtis by then, then he’d be a trio with Shiro and Curtis, instead of simply partners with his brother. Lance had asked Coran about what went into summoning out a demon, and Keith promptly became lost when it came to things that needed to be brewed.

He’d tried to pay attention for Shiro’s sake since it was his future brother-in-law’s life at stake, yet Lance seemed to have a better grip on how it’d all go down. He’d meant to ask Shiro and Curtis to come stay a few days before the summoning, yet forgot thanks to “baby brain”. The store had been pretty intimidating. As was the three missed calls from Krolia on his phone. Keith knew he couldn’t keep ignoring Krolia, but Krolia seemed to think he wanted to rush into proposing to Lance, leaving him agitated that she was meddling again.

Speaking of proposing, he’d also had a kind of crazy idea. Miriam’s rings were where they should be, but part of him wished he’d had them for when the time felt right to propose to his boyfriend. While Lance had slept, Keith had worked. He’d found every photo he had of Miriam, cropping things down until he had a clear mental picture of how her ring had been designed. His intention now was to save back up and find a jeweller in Platt able to recreate Miriam’s wedding ring, with his own tiny twist in it. Instead of three diamonds, he wanted 5 stones. 2 amethysts and two sapphires, with a diamond in the middle. Lance would realise the significance the moment he saw the ring. Or, at least, that was Keith’s hope. Never had anyone managed to reassure him about the unique colouration of his eyes like Lance did. Amethyst the closest stone he was probably going to be able to get, while he hoped he’d be able to find sapphires close to Lance’s own eye colour.

“Earth to Keith, you in there, Bud?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Keith nodded as he straightened up. Having Hunk cut down on the number of trips up and down the stairs, but damn if he didn’t feel weaker than he had been

“Sorry, I was off thinking about the future”

“Was it interesting?”

“Mildly. What’s up?”

“I asked if I should just leave the bag of nappies up here? I grabbed them with the second mattress”

“Oh, yeah. That’d be awesome. You’ve got to see the change table when it’s set up. Lance is love with it. This thing is awesome”

Hunk chuckled at him

“I thought Lance was adamant about not having one. He told me he didn’t want one when we asked”

All their friends had asked what they wanted or needed. Being their firstborns, Keith and Lance both wanted to prove that they could support their growing family without the need of gifting. Keith particularly felt the need to overcompensate as he’d never had any real family experience until Shiro

“He didn’t until today. You should have seen the look on his face. He seemed ready to commit murder if he didn’t get the change table”

“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad”

Maybe not, but I’d been love at first sight for his boyfriend. Lance thinking he’d been turning on the charm to sway Keith, the joke on his boyfriend as Keith was very readily swayed by his lover

“He would have carried the one from the store home if he had to”

Hunk laughed openly as they both imagined that. Lance really would have. He’d probably even say it wasn’t at all heavy

“Is it bad I can see that? That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Keith snorted, smile wide

“Not really. Lance can be very determined”

“Man, don’t even go there. He’s almost as stubborn as you are about not letting us know about this date of yours. I know you took photos. Lance said there were photos”

“Only on my phone. We’re lucky half the zoo didn’t come home with us. Did you know he has no problem with snakes? He’s jus like “Yep, that’s a bit snake. I’m gonna touch it””

“I don’t need to know what you two get up to in private”

Keith was stunned. Slack jaw stunned. Their little Hunk was going there

“Oh man, don’t tell me I broke you”

“I’m not broken. Lance is going to lecture me about corrupting you with all the time we’ve spent together lately”

“You’ll have to talk to Shay about that one. No offence, dude, but she’s the one”

“None taken. If this is everything, we can collapse now, right?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve got some ice tea in the fridge”

Keith hadn’t been an “ice tea person” until he’d met Lance. Lance barely made ice tea, but Hunk... Hunk was their culinary god. Not that he’d tell Lance. Lance’s cooking was so amazing he was sure he was getting fat. Fat and lazy... He liked being mostly a home husband without the whole constantly fearing for his life. He liked having good people to come back to, no matter how far he want, they always welcomed him back

“Hunk, you are a god... You know this right? I don’t know how I can thank you for everything. We keep up and leaving... but... you guys...”

“Aw, man! Bring it in!”

Hugging Hunk, they both wrinkled their noses at how sweaty they were from lugging everything upstairs

“Dude, we need showers”

That they did. A cold shower would be just the thing to wash away the heat in Keith’s cheeks. He and Hunk had hugged before, but this hug had him feeling a little self conscious. The day had been long, shopping wiped him out much more than than thinking about his dwindling bank account

“You can go first. I should check on Lance”

“I don’t mind if I do. The tea’s in the fridge, all you have to do is pour”

“Thanks... and thanks for helping. Lance probably could have done it all in one trip”

“I don’t know. I think even he might have struggled trying to carry everything”

“Well... maybe. He would have tried though”

“This is true. Okay, I’m gonna hit the shower. Don’t forget the tea”

“As if I could”

Being polite Keith grabbed out the serving tray, glasses, and pitcher of tea before carrying them to the living room. Lance was snoring his head off, laying with his head in Pidge’s lap, Pidge shooting him a worried look

“Keith... I think I broke him. He started crying then fell asleep”

Okay. Lance crying wasn’t that unusual. Keith was still learning that tears didn’t mean sadness. Sometimes they just seemed to happen. Lance had cried on the way home because he’d bitten a hole in the straw of his drink... Still, the tray shook slightly in his hands, Keith forcing himself not to rush to put it down on the coffee table and spill everything as he did.

Spilling the tea slightly, the hunter forced down a breath. Pidge was still staring up at him, her hand on Lance’s hair

“I didn’t mean to make him cry. We were talking and he started crying and I didn’t mean to...”

Keith hoped he hadn’t been making a judgemental expression. Pidge adored Lance, she’d never intentionally make Lance cry

“It’s hormones mostly. Should I be worried about what you were talking about?”

“He asked if his sister had been back, then told me how much he’d missed, started crying and fell asleep...”

“Ah...”

Keith mentally groaned. He was terrible at this “comforting people thing” when it wasn’t Lance

“I didn’t mean to”

“It’s not your fault. We’ve had a pretty long day, and this is Lance, he cried a lot even before he fell pregnant”

Pidge snorted before sobering. Keith tried not feel possessive watching Pidge stroke Lance’s hair

“Yeah... I just... didn’t mean to upset him”

“I doubt it was you. Some stuff happened in Platt... Some wanker hurt him for bumping into him and he realised a few things. Trust me when I say it’s really not thanks to anything you’ve done”

“Thanks, Keith. I love him, you know. And did you just say someone hurt him?!”

Lance whined in his sleep, Pidge clamping her free hand over her mouth as they both watched. When it became clear Lance wasn’t about to wake, she slowly moved her hand down, whisper yelling

“Someone hurt him?! What the hell happened?”

“He had a bit of a panic attack, and the guy didn’t appreciate Lance stumbling into him. He’s okay now, but... Actually, I have something to ask you”

Keith was still on the fence about returning to the house. Lance wanted to go. Keith didn’t want to go. He didn’t want Lance committing that place to memory and his nightmares getting worse

“Oh? Actually, I’ve got something to tell you. Lance fell asleep before I could talk to him about it... well, two somethings... You go first”

Pidge had something to tell him? Why did he get the feel he wasn’t going to be happy? She was smiling, but he knew how sharp her teeth could be behind that smile

“You’ve known Lance longer than I have, and I don’t want to fuck this up”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Behind Bars”

WARNING: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Guys This is the beginning of an interesting new mini series that may deal with some pretty heavy stuff since it takes place in a human prison. If you think there is ANY chance you could be bothered or offended by the topics I might cover, than now is a good time not to read this. I am not going to go through and make a list of all the potential things you may not like, so I deffer to your own judgement of yourself to determine what is good for you.

Also another little side note, the way I portray law enforcement in this is in no way how I feel about them. I have close family member in law enforcement and respect the hell out of them, but the way I did it was done to serve the story, so just keep that in mind.

For those of you who choose to read it, I hope it’s interesting :)

“Gah, this place is a dump.”

“Yeah, just be glad you can’t smell it.”

“Why is that?”

“Urine, lots and lots of urine.”

“Ah, lovely.” Krill muttered making his next movements very tender against the dark clattering metal as if he could avoid stepping in anything unsavory. Beside him, a rather scruffy human appeared from the shadows, “scruffy” with an overgrown haircut, five o-clock shadow, eyepatch and an army jacket that had seen better days.

Commander Vir blended in surprisingly well with the grungy understreets of noctropolis. The city was Less of a city, and more like a series of tunnels bridges and rickety buildings built on and into the side of a cavernous rift in the ground. Once upon a time, the Tesraki had begun serious mining operations on the border moon’s surface causing some serious scars in the landscape which was then filled with the teaming underground life that the most unsavory humans bring with them.

Noctopolis was located on the furthest edge of the Milky Way galaxy, and seeing as the GA was based out of Andromeda, it was a very difficult moon to police. The UNSC had attempted to take over operations on the moon but had found only limited success considering their military had only been operating in space for the past few years. They didn’t have enough manpower to undergo such an operation, so the moon itself was left mostly unpoliced. Since then it had become home to the most unsavory of the Tesraki, the Drev, and the humans having enough economically or emotionally in common that they at least tolerated each other.

What understanding they had of the border moon had begun with the banning of interspecies relationships almost a year past. Since Noctopolis wasn’t particularly well policed, may counter culture groups had made their home here. While many of them were decent people attempting a little privacy away from the eyes of the law, other less savory groups had taken an opportunity to stake their claim.

The streets about them were littered with trash and abandoned cardboard and metal scraps. Their greatest source of light leaked down from the lively redlight district above, not only called that because of what it offered, but because it actually did bost a series of bright neon lights that could be seen across the city.

“Wanna tell me why I’m here again. This is kind of a Sunny and Vir thing.”

Commander Vir propped himself casually up against a wall slouching inside his jacket collar turned up against the sour wind blowing up from the cavern vanishing into darkness below, “Sunny had to finish requisitioning our new weapons system, besides, i thought it was about time you and I hung out. We haven't done anything together as friends in a while.”

“Ah yes, just how I prefer social bonding, Loitering through piss covered streets with an eyeless legless hobo.”

“Rude.” The human muttered glancing quickly around a corner.

Krill let the question drop instead moving onto the next topic of conversation, “Wanna tell me why we aren’t working with local law enforcement?”

The human dodged past a leaking pipe and the resulting black puddle, “Well there are a few reasons. If I plan on getting close to this drug ring, or even the suppliers, I can't have the smell of the feds one me, second is that the policing system here is only partially overseen by the UN, mostly they supply their own officers and their own laws. There are serious rumors about law enforcement corruption, but that can be expected considering the kind of people that hang out here. And then there is the issue of ease of access to fingerprinting and DNA systems. Mine have been temporarily removed from the system for this operation because the dealers tend to check before the sell, but if i was working with local law enforcement my identity might be leaked.”

Together they stepped onto one of the rickety bridges spanning the cavern. Krill tried not to look down into the gaping bottomless chasm spanning downwards into darkness tinted with the red haze cast from the neon reflection of the city.

“Why is this such a big deal anyway. Why waste you on a project like this.”

Commander Vir stepped off the edge of the bridge holding it steady for Krill as he followed.

“Because this guys are linked to the human hormone market.” Krill was a bit surprised. He had heard about the issue months ago. Certain species, the Tesraki and the Drev especially had neurotransmitter systems similar to that of a human, though somewhat dampened and were affected by the use of injected dopamine and adrenaline. On the street they had taken names like Dopie, Daddy, Addie, Joy Juice, and some other strange names. The biggest issue with the use of human chemicals as drugs is that even a single dose of the stuff could fry the circuits for any nonhuman taken in any sort of significant dose. In humans it occasionally meant sickness or even mental illness, but in aliens it could mean permanent flat affect or the inability to feel fear. The other issue was how the dealers got it, usually it involved kidnapping and harvesting the chemicals from humans, since many times the analogue drugs humans made for themselves didn't have an effect on aliens.

Krill shivered at the thought, and stepped through a tight alleyway just ahead of the Commander, who had to turn sideways to fit through the narrow space. He didn’t like fieldwork, at all, but having a human with you was one way to make you feel safe. The only creature that a human might not be able to fight off was a Drev, but even then there was still a possibility.

Together they cut across another street and towards their destination. They had managed to squeeze some information from the only informant still alive on the street, and that had been an address. At the back of the property they found a door padlocked shut though it had recently been cut.

Commander Vir held open the door and shoved inwards leading them into a long, dark hallway lined with debris. Krill stayed behind him as they made their way into the darkness jumping at every sound.

Ahead of him, the commander had removed an energy pistol from the band of his pants. Krill didn’t bother to point out to him, that it was difficult to believe he wasn’t law enforcement when he handled a weapon like that.

He held Krill back and then nudged one of the doors inward clearing the room with a quick sweep from corner to corner even stepping out to check behind the door. Krill peered in as the Commander grunted, “Just what we were looking for.”

Krill peered around his legs and then paused, “Uh….” The room was filled from floor to ceiling with strange glowing tanks of liquid a pale greenish in color. The ambient light gave the room a rather eerie glow. A glow that highlighted the strange instruments and free floating tubes with sinister intent. Nothing was currently in the tanks, but Krill shivered knowing what they would have held if they had been filled.

Human bodies.

The tanks cast much of the room into shadow, and Commander Vir took cover crouching behind one of the tank consoles. Krill followed him taking cover behind the human’s back. He didn't see what the man was so worried about there was one here. The human tilted his head listening intently scanning around the room. Krill was just beginning to speak when the man pushed him back hissing, “RUN!”

But before he could even take a step in another direction, he saw a flicker at the side of the room, and commander vir was lit up with at least ten points of green light all trained on his chest.

“GET ON THE GROUND.”

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP.”

“DROP THE GUN.”

“DON’T MOVE.”

Commander Vir reacted while Krill was still on the floor standing from behind his cover and stepping into the room. The Energy pistol clattered to the floor as he held his hands out to his sides.

“GET ON THE GROUND!”

Lights flashed all around them, and the room was illuminated by a painful burst of light and an eruption of movement. Men appeared from nowhere dressed in black tactical gear, faces and eyes completely obscured. Commander Vir was thrown face first onto the floor with at least three kneeling on his back.

Two came after Krill who squealed, to high pitched to be heard by the humans.

“GIVE US YOUR HAND!”

“GAH! Yes, yes just stop pulling and I will!. Shit…. I’m lying on it, let me up for a- OUCH!” From where he was being pinned to a wall, krill heard the ratcheting of handcuffs momentarily surprised not to hear the initiation of energy restraints.

“Shit, that's really tight…. Ahh… I can’t feel my hands.”

“STOP RESISTING.”

“I'M NOT RESISTING, I HAVE A PROSTHETIC AND YOUR STEPPING ON IT!” That didn’t do him much good as Krill heard the sharp thud, crack of someone being hit over the head. Krill understood what the captain meant about NOT being policed by the UN. Krill had meat peace officers on earth before, and while they could act the same, they generally had reason be reasonable to them and they would probably be polite to you.

Commander Vir was dragged to his feet hands wrenched painfully behind his back and pinned against the wall as they searched him, “Anything on you gonna poke me or stick me.”

“No, no.”

“You got ID?”

Commander Vir paused, “I…. well no.” One of the other officers ran a scanning device over his body, but it beeped negative.

“No implants.” Krill cursed internally…. They should have thought about that when they temporarily cancelled his ID….

“No ID, you know that’s illegal, don’t you.” The one officer said, sticking his hand into another pocket.

“I can explain. I work WITH you guys I-”

“No badge, no ID ... and ah, what is this.” Krill felt his heart sink as he watched the man pull the Adrenaline and dopamine sample from the Commander’s pocket. He held it up in front of the Commander's face, “And what is this.”

“That…. Isn’t mine.” He said lamely

The man pulled down the front of his mask one eyebrow raised, “Ah not yours eh…. Let me guess these are your friends pants, and you’re just borrowing them. You had no idea they were there. Oh oh, I know, you were just delivering them for a friend you don’t know what they actually are.” He reached into another pocket, “Oh and what is this.” Commander Vir groaned and leaned his head against the wall.

The small baggie of white powder was held up before him, “What is this gonna be, Cocaine, Meth, Heroine. You been trading a little Addie for a fix.”

In fact they actually HAD traded the drugs for information, along with a tracking device. Humans can’t use dopamine and adrenaline like other species can, so they traded it for the classic stuff.

“You can test me, I’m not high, I’m not a drug addict, I am also not who you think I am.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Commander Adam Vir with the UNSC. I was sent here to HELP.”

They did not seem in any way convinced, “You have proof of that “Commander”. Look I saw the guy once, and he wasn’t half as fugly as you, also he was taller.”

Commander Vir yelped in indignation as they began patting him down for the second time, “Who you calling fugly you-” He bit his tongue, “I’m sorry OFFICER but I had my implants discontinued for this operation. Just look at me I’m missing an eye and a leg and im 6,2 just like the man you say I’m not, and I also let my hair grow out. GIve me five minutes on the phone and I’ll call my superiors for you.”

“Uh huh, because they’d have the fleet commander down here crawling through the dirt after narcos and tweakers. This is the army officers sit behind their nice shiny desks and let other men die for them.” Commander Vir was pulled away from the wall, “What are you his junki cousin, a brother?”

“I told you who I am.”

“Someone check the bug, see if he has ID.”

Krill stiffened as a wand was run over him, “Nothing sir. That’s strange, usually don’t see their kind around here.”

“I get my phone call, don’t I.”

“What do you think this is the 2000s. The hormone crisis is a level 5 threat, and we are not obligated to provide you with anything.”

“I'm pretty sure I still get a lawyer.”

Commander Vir was hauled to his feet and marched bodily towards the door, “Yeah but you'll have to get one flown in unless you want a Tesraki, and I wouldn't trust one of those bastards as far as I can throw them…. Uh disgusting little bats.” Commander Vir seemed almost irked at the use of the slur. Humans had a habit of that, they had a slur for each of other species weather it be bug, beetle, bat, dino, or just the general use of the word freak.

They were dragged outside, and around to where the vehicles had been hidden. Commander tripped more than once over the cheap prosthetic he had used to augment his look, and every time he was dragged painfully back to his feet. Krill wasn’t treated much better though he only received one of the human officers. Krill were thrown in the back of a cruiser with bars and energy shields over the windows. Commander Vir was thrown against the front of the vehicle, “As of now, you'll be charged with the possession of illegal substance, intent to sell, failure to identify, unlawful possession of a firearm, and resisting arrest.”

“What! I didn’t resist, and I DID identify myself. It’s not my fault you won’t believe me.”

“Someone get a spit shield on him.”

“What, I.” He was pinned even more forcibly against the hood as a female officer secured, a GA issued muzzle over his face. They had developed those after realizing what human spit could do to certain species, and what the human voice could do to others. Once on, The officer flipped the dial, cutting off the Commander mid protest.

Once done, he was thrown into the back with Krill gagged and restrained. Kril felt as if he was going to pass out, or just go right ahead and die. They had been captured by human authorities that even Commander Vir couldn’t talk down, and the ones that weren’t nearly as understanding as they were on earth.

Things could only get worse.

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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is-it-madness · 4 years

Text

My Glorious Purpose | Loki x OC Chapter 6

A/N: I’m so in love with the mood board for this story! Thank you @wowjeena for helping me with it and for being an amazing beta! Love you, darling! 💜😘

Pairing: Loki x OC (Tera Digitalis)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Touching without consent

Chapter 6: Mission

(Tera’s POV)

Three months have passed by. Tony and Pepper rebuilt Stark Tower from the inside. Tony made sure that every Avenger has their own floor if they ever happen to stay over—Nat and Clint already rearranged their rooms to suit their style. They had come back about a week after they had vanished. Everything is back to normal after Loki’s attempted invasion failed. I still have a light mark from where I was cut on my forehead, other than that, everything is great. Tony designed my room, but unlike Clint and Nat, I kept the original layout and decor. I don’t really have that many possessions to decorate with. When Fury had dropped off a backpack that contained all my stuff, Tony freaked.

“Hey! Where’s this bag from kid? It has your name on it.”

I walk over to where Tony is standing. There’s a backpack next to the elevator and sure enough, my name is on it. I pick it up and unzip it.

“Oh! This is my stuff. Fury must’ve finally had time to clear out my room on the ship,” I tell Tony.

He looks at the bag, then at me, then back down to the bag.

“So-o-o, when is he going to bring the rest of your stuff over?”

“This is all my stuff Tony,” I laugh while shaking my head.

He takes the bag from my hands.

“Hey!”

He starts to ruffle around inside.

“Wait, wait. So you’re telling me all you own is three shirts and two pairs of pants?!”

“Not true!” I retaliate.

“Oh excuse me, so rude of me to forget about your toiletries,” he says sarcastically.

“Yeah, so?” I rip my belongings out of his grasp.

“Okay. JARVIS.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Remind me to ask Ms. Potts to take the kid shopping later.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tony! You really don’t need to do that! I’m absolutely fine with what I have!”

“Look kid. You might be okay living like this, but I’m not. You are a teenager! You should have more shoes that you can count! Jeans, shorts, t-shirts, sweaters, dresses, pajamas!. Not some S.H.I.E.L.D. authorized uniforms! And I’m not going to keep arguing with you about this! End of discussion.”

I huff in frustration. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I look into my huge walk-in closet that Tony had built for me. I’ve been able to fill a rack after Ms. Potts had taken me shopping. I honestly don’t mind having a few items. I’ve lived so long with so little, that I’m used to not owning as many things as most girls my age would.

I quickly change into some workout clothes we bought and head down to the training room. Nat is already down there meditating, and I join her. We sit there for about ten minutes before we start to stretch.

“You ready to continue your training?” she asks me.

I nod at her enthusiastically. She had begun to train me in karate before Loki came to Earth.

“Okay, so I decided that today, we are going to start incorporating weapons into your techniques.”

She walks to the cabinet where we store all our practice weapons, and pulls out a staff that’s roughly her height. She reaches in again and pulls out another one that is smaller by several inches and hands it to me.

“Now, when you work with a staff, you need one about your height. That makes it easier to work with. And since you’re so short, you get the smallest staff.”

“Hey! Just because I’m five inches shorter than you does NOT mean I’m short!”

It’s the whole “kid” fiasco all over again.

Nat just laughs. “Yeah, because being 5’2” isn’t short at all. Not in the slightest.”

“Whatever. Can we just start already?”

“Okay, first, we’ll begin with learning how to do a basic spin.”

She begins spinning her staff with both her hands, then switching between hands. I begin to bounce on my heels. I can’t wait; it looks so cool. When she’s done showing off, she stands in front of me.

“Now the first thing you want to do is place your left foot in front of you and extend your left hand while holding your staff. Make sure your hand is in the middle of the staff. Good. Next place your right hand on your chest, just to move it out of your way, for the time being.”

I complied.

“Okay now follow what I do.”

She begins to turn the staff in front of her, then bringing it towards her back.

“See how I’m leading the staff with my thumb? It’s directing the staff where I want it to go.”

We practice that move for a few minutes before turning to use our right hand. After we do that, it starts to get a little tricky. Nat tells me to reverse the way I am turning my staff, so that I start with my palm downward instead of up. It takes me several tries and a few hits to my arm before I finally catch on.

“Not bad. Now let’s try incorporating both hands.”

I watch Nat do it first before I give myself any more bruises. She starts slowly, with her left hand, turning the staff in front of her. When she reaches the right side of her body, she places her right hand behind her left, and turns it back towards the left side of her. She starts speeding up and taking steps as she twirls her staff. It’s a beautifully deadly sight. I start mimicking her movement and soon we were side by side, furiously spinning our staffs in front of us, dancing around each other. Lethal, dangerous, a force to be reckoned with. And I love it.

After practicing for a few hours, I head upstairs to take a shower. Tony had built an en suite in everyone’s rooms. At first, I thought it was a bit much, but I had admittedly grown to love it. When I finish showering and changing into regular clothes, I make my way to the kitchen for food. I take out some ice cream, milk, and frozen strawberries and dump them into a blender. Nat walks in when I’m adding the bananas.

“Mmmm. Make me a cup too.”

“I don’t know if I should,” I respond teasingly. “After all, I seem to recall a certain redhead making fun of my height.”

“Please кроли!” she pouts.

“Okay, fine, fine.”

I blend the smoothie together and pour us each a cup.

We’re making small talk, when her phone buzzes. She picks it up and reads the message. She smiles and looks at me.

“What’s up Nat?”

“Clint and I have another mission tonight.”

“Another one?” I ask nonchalantly, trying to not sound whiny. You just came back from one two days ago! I think to myself.

She must’ve seen the disappointment on my face, however, because she says, “Don’t worry, it’s only for tonight.”

“Good. Otherwise I would have had to practice spinning a staff with Tony.”

Nat laughs at that. When we finish our smoothies, Nat leaves to look for Clint to fill him in on the mission they received. I head out on my own, roaming the tower. I could join Tony and Bruce in the lab, since I’ve been acting as peacemaker since we first settled in. Tony gets a kick out of trying to get Bruce to hulk out. We haven’t had an accident yet, but with Tony around, who knows when Bruce will reach the end of his tether. But I just don’t want to deal with that headache right now. After Tony had finished rebuilding the tower, and whenever Clint and Nat are gone, I go exploring. It’s unbelievable how many rooms the tower has. Lately I stopped exploring because I found a library. It’s magnificent. Rows of shelves that reach the ceiling are stacked with books. The room is circular, so that you can’t see the other end of the room when you enter, just books. It’s kinda like a maze, with all the shelves curving to fit the shape of the room. Someone else could be in here and you would never know. Thankfully Tony took my advice when building this room. He added a mini kitchen, several sofas and armchairs, and a huge fireplace, that I requested. I go to my favorite sofa and grab the book I’ve been reading.

I read for several hours before I hear JARVIS speak to me.

“Miss Tera, Miss Romanoff has asked me to inform you that she is looking for you. She is currently in your room.”

“Okay, thanks JARVIS.”

I jog to the elevator and head up to mine and Nat’s floor. I enter my room to see Nat wearing a black cocktail dress with red accents and black heels. Clint is there too and wearing a suit.

“Hey Nat. JARVIS said you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, why aren’t you dressed yet?!”

“For what?”

“Oh shit, did I forget to tell you? You’re coming with us on our mission.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“Yeah, c’mon, get ready. Here’s your dress,” she says, gesturing to my bed.

I take one look at it.

“Wait, what is it that I’ll be doing exactly?” I ask anxiously.

Clint answers, “Don’t worry, you’re backup. Which means you get to sit with me and let Nat do everything.”

“Well if I’m just backup, why do I need this dress?”

“Cause we're going to a party,” Nat tells me.

Nat has to force me out of my hoodie and jeans and into the dress. She threatened to make me workout with Tony. I changed real fast when she said that. When I finish, I slip into the heels that Nat set aside for me. Clint then sat me down in front of my mirror and did my makeup while Nat worked on my hair.

I’m glad when we went to the garage no one saw me in my dress. I manage to avoid everyone. Except for Nat and Clint of course. Now don’t get me wrong. I like the dress. I really like it, in fact. But I struggle with accepting my appearance, not to mention self-esteem. I don’t like anything about any of my features, my insecurities always consume my every waking minute. And this dress is a little revealing. I feel exposed in the lace sleeves, knee length skirt, and low neckline. Plus with the black and gold heels? It’s a nice outfit, just not for me.

As we drive to the hotel, where the party is at, I admire my smokey makeup look Clint did. I never would have guessed that a skilled archer would know how to apply eye shadow.

“So what are we dealing with Nat?”

She turns to face me from the front. Next to her, driving, is Clint.

“We’re dealing with a major illegal arms dealer named James Foyer. He’s made millions selling illegal weapons to the worst kind of people imaginable.”

“I’m guessing you’re gonna flirt with him to get him to tell you who his buyers are?”

She winks. “Exactly.”

I run my hands through my long, brunette hair. “So what’s he celebrating?”

“I don’t think he needs a reason to celebrate. Just wants to show the world he’s got money—and lots of it,” Clint says.

A few minutes later, we pull up in front of a huge hotel. We step out of the Ferrari and Clint gives the keys to the valet.

“Not a scratch.”

Nat and I hold on to Clint’s arm, on either side of him.

“Earpieces in?”

“Check,” we tell him.

“Alright then Nat, off you go.”

She slips away from us and heads through the crowd, keeping an eye out for our target. Clint heads toward the stairs, and I make my way to the back of the party, smiling, keeping watch.

“Target located Nat. He’s coming out of the elevator.”

Of course Clint would see him first, looking for his prey from above.

“Heading that way now,” Nat reports back.

I turn towards the elevator, where a tall, skinny, dark haired man is exiting. He has a cigar dangling from his lips and is wearing an expensive looking suit. As soon as he steps out of the elevator, hordes of women try to come near him, to touch him, to claim him as their own. He gives each of them attention, but he grows bored of them and moves on to the next set of breasts he sees.

“Disgusting,” I want to look away, but I can’t. I’m Nat’s backup. If something happens to her, I have to jump in and take her spot. I see James’ eyes latch on to Nat and her body. I shake my head. No decent man can look at Nat without looking down every few seconds. But she takes it, she starts chatting with him, laughing flirtatiously, placing her hand on his arm. It seems to be working. I figure Nat would get him to crack in the next ten minutes. I start to notice something wrong. Foyer is getting bored of her. I’ve never seen a man become bored so quickly when Natasha Romanoff is around. He begins scanning the crowd, looking for another female to interest him, when his eyes land on me. I’m about to bolt out of the hotel, when I hear Clint.

“Wait! Stay there. Nat’s losing him, so you might have to go in. Act interested in him.”

I do as Clint says and flash a smile at Foyer. He immediately begins to make his way towards me.

Through my clenched smile, I tell Clint, “I don’t think I can do this! Nat hasn’t trained me in this yet!”

“Don’t worry Tera, you can do this. Just make him think you’re into him. Flirt. Laugh. Play dumb.”

“But Clint-”

“This is my sister Savannah. Savannah, this is Mr. James Foyer.”

“There you are Cleo!” I say to Nat. “I’ve been looking for you!” I turn to face the man. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Foyer.”

I extend my hand to shake, but he takes it and brings it to his lips.

“Please, call me James.”

I smile back at him, trying to restrain my look of disgust.

“Cleo, why didn’t you tell me your sister is a doll?”

Nat laughs and says, “You think every new girl you meet is a doll.”

I find myself very relieved that Nat and I came up with fake names for each other. I suddenly notice Nat tapping her thigh. It isn’t out of nervousness, rather, it’s a code—Morse code.

Not me, he wants you.

I groan internally after I decode her message. Of course the only person to ever find me attractive is a sleazeball.

Okay. I tap back. I have to do this, this is why I’m here, for backup. Also because I don’t think Clint would be able to seduce Foyer.

At my response, Nat makes up an excuse to leave, leaving me with Foyer.

“I don’t believe you two are sisters,” he says evenly.

I raise an eyebrow. KEEP CALM!

“Really?”

He takes a step closer to me and takes my face in his hand. It takes all I have to not bite his hand.

“No. You’re much more… appealing,” he says, eyes darting towards my body, lingering in places that make me want to put him in a choke hold.

DON’T SLAP HIM, DO NOT SLAP HIM! THINK OF THE MISSION! THINK. OF. THE. MISSION.

“You’re not like other girls,” he continues.

“How so?” I ask, in what I hope is a seductive voice, batting my lashes at him.

He drops his hand and chuckles. “As soon as I entered the room, they all threw themselves at me. You didn’t. I like women who play hard to get.” He suddenly grabs my waist and pulls me flush against him, now whispering in my ear. “Cause once I get them, they taste the sweetest,” I feel him place a soft kiss on my neck, lingering before pulling away.

I see Clint aiming his gun from the balcony and Nat pulling out her knives. They heard what he said and saw what he did. I place my arms around Foyer’s neck, making a shooing motion with my hand to tell them to stand down. I smile at the man in front of me, an idea forming.

“If we taste the sweetest, what do you taste like?”

He smiles an even larger one and leans forward, attempting to kiss me. I put a finger to his lips and a hand to his chest, holding him back. I might have to seduce him, but I refuse to let my first kiss be with this sexist.

“Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” I whisper, trailing my fingers down his chest, stopping at his belt.

He takes my hand and heads towards the elevator. He pushes the button for the third floor and as soon as the doors close, he tries kissing me again and again I place a finger to his lips.

“I don’t give kisses very easily, so if you want one, you must do as I say. Understand?”

He places both his hands on my waist. Never have I felt so violated in my life, but I hold back all my anger and emotions.

I can’t back out of his iron-like grasp. He bends over to whisper into my ear again. “But you taste divine babe.” He places his lips at the base of my neck and I begin to feel him trail his tongue upward towards my jaw.

“So good,” I hear him whisper, before he catches my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently.

Correction. NOW I have never been more violated. I grab his tie. I momentarily think about how if I choked him here and now, no one would know. Unfortunately though, we need that information from him, otherwise I would have to explain to Fury why the only man that can give us the information is dead. I quickly begin to care less about the mission and more about my own dignity, but before I can tighten the tie and choke the life out of him, the doors open to the third floor. Foyer removes his lips from my skin, takes my hand and leads me to his door. I look at the number, memorizing it for later. Foyer opens the door and pulls me inside. He tries kissing me a third time and again I stop him with a finger.

“You had your fun in the elevator,” I tell him. “Now it's my turn.”

He bits his lower lip and I see the lust in his eyes, but thankfully, he doesn’t argue.

Thank god!

I push him into a chair by the dresser, and I reach inside my clutch that I brought with me and pull out a pair of handcuffs.

I dangle them in front of him.

“You brought cuffs with you?” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt.

I wink, “I thought I might get lucky tonight. Turns out I did.”

I cuff his hands and attach them to the chair, so not only is he cuffed, he also can’t walk around without the chair dragging with him.

I take his tie off.

“Open.”

He opens his mouth immediately and I tie the cloth around his mouth forming a gag.

“Good. Now you wait here, and I’ll be back with a surprise for you.” I whisper in his ear, with a hand on his chest. I turn and head into the bathroom. I wink at him before closing the door.

I whip out my phone and text Nat.

Nat I got him. He’s cuffed and gagged.

Hurry, call Fury quick.

I only have a few minutes before he gets suspicious.

Where are you?

Third floor.

Room 394

This isn't a joke. Please hurry.

There‘s no response and it’s quiet for two minutes before I hear a loud thud. Probably Fury. I hear someone loading a gun.

“Where is she!?!”

I walk out of the bathroom.

“Hey sis,” I say.

I see Clint holding a loaded gun pointed at Foyer’s head, Nat with her widow’s bite charged up and ready to pounce, and the door laying on the ground. Yup. It was Fury.

“Alright boys, tie him up. Nice work you three. You’re done for the night, go and head on home.”

“Thanks, Director.”

“Don’t forget to turn your report into me. Otherwise I’ll put you on desk duty.”

“Yes sir,” we all say.

We turn to leave but I think of something

I walk back to Foyer. “Did you like my surprise?”

He glares and growls through the gag.

I feign shock. “You didn’t?! Well I have some advice for you. Never touch a lady without her consent, otherwise they’ll bring hell down on you.” I smile and walk out of the room with Nat and Clint by my side.

As we walk through the lobby, S.H.I.E.L.D agents run past us, up the stairs and into the elevator.

“You did amazing Tera. I’m so proud of you!”

I smile at the praise. “Thanks Nat.” I pause before asking, “Do you have any wipes? I feel contaminated.”

She smiles at me. “I always have some during my missions. They’re in the car. C’mon.”

When we walk out of the hotel, our Ferrari is parked right up front. We get in and Clint takes off, back towards Stark Tower.

“Here you go.”

Nat passes me a pack of wet wipes. I immediately pull out three and begin scrubbing my hands and neck. I start telling them exactly what happened, not leaving out a single detail. I’m telling them how I was able to gag and cuff him, when Nat gets a call on her phone. She answers and puts it on speaker.

“Hey Tony. What’s up?”

“Sorry Nat, I know you guys are on your mission, but something came up.”

“Don’t worry, we finished. We’re on our way home right now.”

“Good, because I need you three here now.”

“Is that Lady Natasha?” We hear a voice ask in the background. “I wish to speak with her as well!”

The three of us look at each other.

“Tony?” I ask. “Is that Thor?”

“Lady Tera! You are in this device as well? Splendid!”

“No, wait Thor! That button hangs-”

The line goes dead. I laugh at the thought of Thor and Tony wrestling with the phone.

“I wonder why Thor is back?” Clint wonders aloud.

Clint pulls into the garage of the tower and we make our way towards the elevator.

“At least we have another member on the team,” I say as we head up.

Part 7

#loki #lokixoc #My Glorious Purpose #loki odinson #marvel #loki fanfic #Avengers #loki laufeyson

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toongrrl-blog · 3 years

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Perpetua: A Potential Heroine for our times.

Hi everyone we are going to rant about the Bridget Jones series once again and talk about a character, who I feel came too early before our current zeitgeist of bad bitch feminism and the #GirlBoss: Perpetua.

Perpetua is not intended to be likable. She is very posh, snooty, a bit arrogant, and demanding of Bridget and people she works with, greeting Bridget with a slight sneer as she comes into work and Bridget’s inner monologue voices a desire to staple stuff to her head for having gained a bit of power over Bridget in the publishing company Pemberley Press. Gee, let’s see what we have: entitled, snooty, fancy, having the attitude they are above it all, who has those traits? I’ll wait *sipping tea*

But we notice something about Perpetua; after Bridget’s relationship with Daniel implodes because he was using her as his side piece and decides to find a better job elsewhere, Bridget goes to Daniel to tell him she is quitting. Perpetua overhears and picks up on what has been going on (she is appalled at what she is hearing) and as soon as Daniel tries to beg Bridget to stay, Perpetua gets up to defend Bridget: “I want to hear this, because if she gives one inch, I’m going to fire her bony arse for being totally spineless!” To her smiling pride, she sees Bridget tell Daniel off and leave the publishing company...and that’s the last we see of Perpetua. Even after that (awesome) scene, my teenage self got the message that it’s better to be a Bridget over a Perpetua, a bubbly but insecure girl who tries to conform to the male gaze over a stoic and IDGAF woman who does what she wants. I also heard messages from people, like my parents, telling me how important it was to act and look a certain way to be “likable”; it was better to be insecure and conventionally feminine rather than to be confident not very popular but self-assured. Also Bridget was the rom-com heroine who had people fall in love with her, Perpetua was seen as stuck-up and she was thrown to the wayside. Who stood to reap the benefits of our society?

Looking back, I found out that after almost 20 years of trying to be a Bridget: the “relatable” insecure girl next door type who is vulnerable and needs the validation of those to find her desirable and “worth it” that I’m wasn’t the likable, conventionally pretty and feminine Bridget...I was Perpetua: not always likable, assertive, willing to put her neck out there, not always sociable, but assured of her intelligence and her ability to turn heads. Plus we have our signature style and know how to work accessories. While Bridget dresses basic and in miniskirts (she wants to blend in but also attract men), Perpetua stands out in her headbands, pearls, cardigans, and pie-crust collars combining the elements that I loved in a younger Hillary Rodham Clinton, Peggy Olson, Nancy Wheeler, and Raquel Rodriguez Orozco from Destinos: An Introduction to Spanish. Just a Power Preppie who figured out how to stick out and take her place in a male-dominated workplace, with no apologies.

After watching Tee Noir’s video on women who were declared to be problematic but upon second viewing and reading were raising valid points about their situation or the situations they observed but lacked the likability or popularity to be taken seriously, I was inspired to finally write this post. As Perpetua was a woman who showcased what it was like to live life on your terms and not ask for the permission of anyone to validate you. A woman who may have envied Bridget’s “bony arse” but didn’t let her size or peoples’ perceptions of her appearance get in the way of getting what she wanted from others.

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Here are some tropes and issues I will be referring to in this order, as they relate to Perpetua’s role in the films and books and how they regard her.

Fatphobia: Being Targeted by Internalized Hatred

“Ah. Introduce people with thoughtful details. Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel raced ex-wife. Perpetua is a fat-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.” Bridget Jones’s inner monologue, Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)

We all know that Bridget Jones is notoriously famous for obsessing over her weight (134 lbs. at 5′4″, which is pretty fine) and that there have been reviews of the books and the movies condemning her or passive-aggressively noting that she isn’t Hollywood Thin and how it was remarkable for she (with hourglass curves, wears a small to medium size, blonde and blue eyed, average pretty at her worst) to get Colin Firth and Hugh Grant (in their prime) to fight over her. Whether we go by the timeline of the books (her birth year being 1962, Marilyn Monroe’s death) or the movies (her birth year being 1969 in the first film, post Jayne Mansfield), we see that Bridget grew up in and became an adult in an age where the female standard of beauty had gotten thinner and thinner, with even models having their pores air-brushed away from their faces. To paraphrase a Mad Men fan when she was talking about the culture of the mid-1960s, when she was a kid and women wanted to look curvaceous as Marilyn and Elizabeth Taylor, she looked like Twiggy; when she developed the voluptuous curves, everyone wanted to look like Twiggy. The 1970s and 1980s was an age of self-improvement as female empowerment (feminism co-opted by capitalism) where dieting and getting thinner was seen as “bettering” oneself. Suddenly it wasn’t cool for Bridget to strut her stuff in a pencil skirt a la Joan Holloway, it wasn’t enough to be a junior partner or to create your own safety net, even the irresistible Veronica Lodge worried about her weight.

*WARNING: Most of my sources refer to Fat Black Women but I feel like the arguments hold up here*

Then we go to Bridget and Perpetua, aside from their personality clash, Bridget is secretly envious and outwardly disgusted by how Perpetua can be much heavier than Bridget, yet wear curve-hugging clothes and go shopping and not give a shit about how her body looked. Perpetua knows that her boyfriend appreciates her good pussy under her gut! Bridget comforts herself by telling herself that happiness comes from reaching attainable goals....like changing one’s body rather than making money or procuring items....sigh Capitalism is a son of a gun. Clearly Bridget has animosity towards Perpetua for being plump and not feeling like she needs to hide for not looking like a supermodel. But why?

Fatphobia is one way of expressing internalized hatred against one’s body and their own self. In fact, Perpetua committed the sin of loving herself (or being neutral to oneself) as she is, and stands out from the rest of the cast who are obsessed with living up to certain standards to putting forward a certain image to the world that everything is fine. In a fatphobic capitalist patriarchy, it’s quite maddening that she would develop the arrogance and entitlement that she puts on display, especially because she is a...woman! Katie Wee, in her essay for Huffington Post, talked about how it was hard for her to play a fat-shaming exercise instructor in an episode of Shrill because she wouldn’t fat shame another person, but she had practice internalizing that cruelty. Wee talks about her history of eating disorders and over-exercising, all in a bid to become a ballerina, well into her twenties. Currently she works at a body-inclusive fitness studio and that Lindy West and Aidy Bryant were very encouraging in her performance. She also said:

When Annie writes her off, I made the decision that for Tanya this hits something much deeper. It’s as if Annie is saying Tanya’s life’s work is for nothing, or her religion is bullshit. Annie is feeling content in the body she is in, and for Tanya this feels like a personal attack. The subtext to what Tanya is saying is, “If I don’t get to be happy in my body, neither do you! Especially not you.”

This was also explored in the Room 104 episode “The Hikers” where college graduates and childhood best friends go on a hiking trip before they start working or looking for work. Megan (the fabulous Shannon Purser) is plump, freckled, down to earth and happy to have gotten a job offer right after she accepted her degree while her friend Casey (Kendra Carelli) is thin, has excelled on Instagram artifice, and hasn’t procured her own job yet but is triumphant over her past popularity. Yet a placed pebble in Megan’s boot reveals that Casey has been feeling disgust over how her fat friend would thrive in a larger body and not cover up and how she was burdened with making sure she was included in social gatherings growing up, soon Casey’s angry rant after Megan voiced her disgust over Casey’s sense of superiority over her reveals that Casey is angry that being conventionally beautiful and popular hasn’t made her any happier with herself or her own life, while Megan has excelled in their young adulthood in spite of her appearance and lack of popularity. Bridget is angry that Perpetua is thriving and content with her own life despite not looking a certain way while Bridget has been trying to get down to 110 lbs since she was a teenager and has been backing out of rooms after getting laid so the menfolk wouldn’t notice her behind isn’t scrawny (what would she think of Kim Kardashian’s or Nicki Minaj’s behinds?). Bridget, who poured energy into fitting an ideal of an adult woman, is miserable while Perpetua, who isn’t the “ideal woman”, is successful.

There is also some egocentrism on Bridget’s part: she is a heroine of a rom com so the story centers on her, with her friends being mere satellites. There has been a tradition of the fat best friend who exists to support the leading lady or gent who will fall in love while the fat person gets to sass and serve as cheerleader, with no insight on their inner life. Especially if they are Black. Tee Noir noted that most of the funny fat friends tend to be more engaging and likable or just plain compelling than the conventionally attractive main character, but their characterization is often neglected, to the point of sometimes even lacking a last name. In fact society, and even fat people, are internalized towards thinking that if you don’t fit the standard of desirability (thin, white, young-ish, cis, wealthy), you have to settle for less in your relationships and in entitlements, like how Annie in Shrill goes out with a boy who is too mediocre for her, all because she got the message that a fat girl like her shouldn’t expect a hunk or even a guy who is going to treat her decently and see her as a goddess. The show centered on Annie bringing out her inner fat bitch. Bridget hears constantly from her smug married male pals that women of a certain age shouldn’t be too picky because they aren’t as attractive and fertile as younger women (ring, ring, I am calling Tarana Burke on their asses, can I be the hype man?) and that triggers her insecurities about being single and 130 something pounds. Perpetua, who is a bit older than Bridget, medically overweight, single (but with a boyfriend) and less conventionally attractive than her...and is thriving in her life with no rush to the altar and she is free to voice demands in her relationship. I guess Bridget isn’t as nice as we were supposed to think she is, no shade, but be upfront about it Bridget (or writers).

But I can go easy on our hapless blonde, because Bridget (and probably Perpetua) internalized the notion that fat is disgusting and that women who aren’t thin enough have to shrink themselves and blend in, not causing waves. Perpetua lets us in on some hints that perhaps she is jealous of Bridget’s looks and figure, referring to her as having a “bony arse” for one, but it’s not a driving trait of her character. In her seminal book on female Baby Boom pop culture history, Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media, she noted that from a young age women were encouraged to see other women as competition, and if one woman is victorious in one area, we are defeated “And we had grown up with a notion of a female hierarchy in which some women---the Waspy, wealthy, young, and beautiful---were at the top of the pyramid and other women---the poor, the dark-skinned, the ugly, the old, the fat---were at the bottom and this is something that advertising (a source that sells Perpetua her image of wealth and sells Bridget’s insecurities) capitalizes on. Media in the 1970s have even applied the same dichotomy to some feminists where Germaine Greer (before she was all TERFy) and Gloria Steinem were held up as exceptions to the stereotype of ugly, nagging, and/or mannish feminists (something that Betty Freidan, Kate Millet, and the OG Bella Abzug got slapped with). It’s the ugly side affect of individualism.

One can hope that Bridget got the shameless and joyful spirit of that little girl who ran around the paddling pool in her underwear back.

Who’s Afraid of “Fat ass old bags”?: Backlash against non-insecure women

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you'll be criticized anyway.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Let’s be clear: arrogance isn’t confidence. I use the term “non-insecure” as an umbrella term for Perpetua and for confident women who have faced backlash for their lack of willingness to act like they are less than to appease the patriarchy. But...men get to be arrogant and admired for their drive and accomplishments, hell they don’t even have to accomplish much unless you count bankruptcies (look at who is President of the United States at the time of this writing). So why do women who act arrogantly, aggressively, cut throat, authoritative, or just plain assert their needs and personal boundaries are so vilified? So I will try to look for how we could all learn to be confident as Perpetua.

Ever since Peggy Olson was promoted to Junior Copywriter, and even before, women in the workplace have been scrutinized from the secretarial pool to even top positions as CEO or junior partner. Like McCann-Erickson in the final season of Mad Men, Pemberley Press is something of a toxic workplace where underlings fight to get noticed for their achievements in dull lighting, men like Daniel Cleaver and Mr. Fitzherbert (more like Tits Pervert, right Bridget?) feel free to sexually harass women who haven’t developed the skills to defend themselves and demand respect, and where the characters we are closest to, don’t really like her. Women in power tend to confuse a white cis male hierarchy with a pecking order where the men try to undermine her authority either because they find her too attractive or make her feel unattractive, sometimes other women would undermine women because their success threatens their own self-image as women. A toxic workplace can also be why Bridget cannot excel at the work she does (she jumps from one toxic workplace to another in the movie); this can also be why Perpetua comes off as a hardass, she has to put up a shield to protect herself and the years working at Pemberley Press have hardened her to the point where Bridget couldn’t relate to her.

Bridget, according to Daniel Cleaver and the viewers of the films, is likable while Perpetua is not. Bridget is very feminine, sexy, witty, self-deprecating, supportive, warm, and non-intimidating while Perpetua may be feminine (look at them pearls and long hair), she isn’t conventionally attractive as Bridget and her size and age have kept her out of the “sexy box” and while Perpetua is clever, the woman doesn’t ease her way into conversations at parties like Bridget pretty much demanding to be introduced and included in them and she walks with the ease and assumption that she belongs everywhere she goes. Perpetua just also isn’t cuddly, but men get to be aloof like Mark to the point of being insulting or irreverent like Daniel to the point of toxicity, why is Perpetua being judged so harshly for traits that we see in these two high-status men? Forbes magazine once quoted that women are affected by two types of bias at work: prescriptive and descriptive bias.

Descriptive bias is the labels we attach and associate with certain social groups and communities, and prescriptive bias is how they are expected to behave. And, when someone does not conform to these prescribed roles and behaviors they can be penalized or punished. Women, for instance, are traditionally expected to be caring, warm, deferential, emotional, sensitive, and so on, and men are expected to be assertive, rational, competent and objective. So, when it comes to promotion, these traits are sometimes automatically prescribed to people as per their gender without detailed information about their personalities, thereby a man, in general, is assumed to be a better fit as a leader.

The other side of this is prescriptive bias is when a woman does not fit the role that is traditionally assigned to her and attempts to claim a traditionally male position is seen as breaking the norm. So, when a woman is decisive, she might be perceived as "brusque" and "abrupt". Therefore, for the same kind of leadership behavior, women might be penalized while a man is commended.

Women who are traditionally feminine (passive, self-effacing, caring), are considered “likable” but not leadership material while women who display traditionally masculine traits (assertiveness, self-preservation, ambition) are considered ball-busters. Both women are less likely to get promoted because of both bias, while what’s “bossy” or, sometimes, “hysterical” for women, get’s men promoted (*cough* Brett Kavanaugh crying that he likes beer *cough*). Women who help out at work aren’t seen for what those caring and proactive qualities can benefit the workplace, it’s expected that a woman would be so domestic. Even female candidates for Head of State are subjected to the tyranny of likability....for a position where the focus has to be on achieving safety and stability for a nation, even if no one likes them, a position that will be decisive no matter what they do. The work can be done by women supporting one another and both genders checking their biases at the door. Men can call out another man for describing their appropriately authoritative female boss as a “bitch” and women can examine why other women demanding more in their relationships or being promiscuous is so threatening to them. Women can even decide who takes turns at office domestic tasks like making coffee and getting birthday cards signed, making it a universal effort by the work site and network with each other as they celebrate each other’s triumphs and different traits.

Bridget’s passivity doesn’t help her in being taken seriously at work by her male peers either. Whereas Perpetua is disparaged for being older, heavier, and less conventionally attractive as she is criticized for being authoritative, Bridget is reduced to her sex appeal by Daniel to her face and even described as “fannying about with the press releases” (hearing about this treatment incenses Perpetua to Bridget’s side), thereby reducing Bridget’s femininity into something frivolous and not a endearing trait that helps her navigate the world. Bridget has proved in a deleted scene that she can give a brilliant advertising pitch for a horror novel, sadly the assignment was for a children’s book but it was maddening that the men wouldn’t give Bridget that credit (watch it, I can see Peggy Olson smiling somewhere). Bridget is also hampered by what is called “Imposter Syndrome”: according to Wikipedia, it “is a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their skills, talents or accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a 'fraud'” despite have external skills and a number of accomplishments. Aside from her own appearance, Bridget puts her own abilities and intellect down, and it’s no surprise as how her society puts an emphasis on the physical appearance of women: “If you've grown up with messages that you're only valued for your looks and your body, not your skills or intelligence, you may end up getting a certain job or position and wondering whether you truly deserve it or if the hiring manager just thought you were a pretty face”, said clinical psychologist Emily Hu for the BBC (not to mention it’s much harder for women of color who deal with their cultural expectations and prejudice from a white supremacist patriarchy). Bridget’s own outrageous mother hasn’t passed down her bolder traits to her daughter and often makes Bridget feel small as she berates her for “not getting your colours done” or being unmarried.

In a world where tomboys and girly girls are pitted against each other, what would have happened if Perpetua and Bridget have let go of their preconceived notions of one another? Perpetua does seem to see Bridget as more than “blonde hair and big boobs”. It’s worth seeing that when the Bustle wrote about how to combat workplace misogyny, that they emphasized how important it was to support other women in the workplace as Perpetua did for Bridget at the last minute, alongside feeling free to disagree with men and demand a raise. Once again I want to note, Bridget and Perpetua are both white cis able-bodied women from upper-middle class backgrounds, so if their professional journey is fraught just imagine what it’s like for women of color.

Tough Women

“You can stand me up at the gates of hell. But I won't back down.” I Won’t Back Down, Tom Petty

Bridget learns, as we all do, and like Perpetua might have done that if she wanted to overcome her issues, she really has to confront her own discomfort and take risks as she demands more from life. Perpetua is a tough woman: she doesn’t appear to soften, even when she is greeting Bridget or Mark Darcy, who she is impressed by and she seems to encourage Natasha’s efforts to snatch him up. Granted a woman like Perpetua probably learned she had to tough, if she wanted to make it in a male-dominated workspace, I would not be surprised if she had parents who instilled a sense of ambition and toughness in her from a young age, or like Megan from Bridesmaids, she had to deal with a childhood of bullying and took that pain to transform herself into a formidable character.

We also see from her confrontation with Daniel, she isn’t afraid to get harsh with a powerful man especially after she finds out that he has been using a female employee sexually and been denigrating her worth at the office.

We don’t know Perpetua’s physical prowess and she clearly prefers pearls to combat boots, but she does possess traits that are associated with men: logical mind, firm, self-reliant, witty, sharp-minded, a professional in a cutthroat environment, and is flawed while being formidable. Perpetua is strong, a Shonda Rhimes character that Rhimes herself hasn’t created. Sadly like most Tough Girls, she isn’t her own protagonist and is there as an accessory to the main character, the Trinity to The Matrix’s Neo and she is often the lone woman that Bridget interacts with at work. Tough Girls are counterparts to more “typical” women: traditionally feminine women who are softer and more emotional...Bridgets. One thing I want to note is that Bridget is the protagonist instead of a love interest but yet she stands alone as her friendships are not that positive and her relationship with her mother is strained. Like Ripley of the Alien series, Perpetua is the lone smart and strong woman who has to deal with a environment where no one else wants to listen to her and everyone is ruled by their emotions (or their libido). She is Joan Holloway, who weathers the misogynistic waters with her razor-sharp observations and commentary regarding the absurdities of the people who are around her, while not being afraid to command attention and others, even at the risk at not being truly liked but “admired”. Not a phony. Perpetua is a privileged woman but like I stated before, she dealt with a combination of body-shaming and misogyny that toughened her...but why should a woman be tough and hurt? We could have had a scene where Bridget encourages Perpetua to reveal her vulnerabilities and open up along with Perpetua pushing her to be more resilient over a spa day with face masks, pedicures, beer, Milk Trays, pizza, Terminator movies, and hair makeovers while discussing how to hide Uncle Geoffrey’s body.

Strong Independent Women

“The watch I'm wearin', I've bought it. The house I live in, I've bought it. The car. I'm driving, I've bought it. I depend on me, I depend on me.” Independent Women, Destiny’s Child

Imagine trying to reconcile feminist principles of not depending on male partners and rugged individualism that insists the opposite of what John Donne’s quote about how one person is a party of a larger community. You have the Strong Independent Woman, who is used by capitalism to sell feminism and face cream/Spanx/sanitary napkins/Wonderbras/lipstick, who needs no man (or interdependence) to thrive in a still misogynistic world. This misogynistic world also abhors the independence, self-assurance, self-reliance, and self-love of women who choose to follow their path. Meanwhile the non-mainstream feminist and environmental movement have pushed for a culture of interdependence and for a culture that doesn’t base one’s value on how much money or genius or beauty (or what have you) an individual possesses; Bella Abzug noted that “Our struggle today is not to have a female Einstein get appointed as an assistant professor. It is for a woman schlemiel to get as quickly promoted as a male schlemiel”.

But the image of the female individualist for one strong reason: women are still expected to perform the bulk of emotional and domestic labor while being paid less than their male peers for the same job, also because of ingrained sexism and perpetuated self-doubt, many women are still dependent on their spouses, parents, bosses, the opinions of others. It’s nice to see images of powerful, strong, often gorgeous women of wealth not have to depend on men for their worth or their livelihood. But we are flesh-and-blood human beings, not super beings or robots; even Perpetua shows some vulnerability when she refers to Bridget being a lot thinner than she and she is clearly looks crestfallen when she hears that Bridget has been belittled and used for her body by Daniel, we don’t hear much about her circle of friends in the movie aside from Natasha (in the book, she is friends with some same-minded women). Everyone needs an interdependent society of people supporting one another and helping each other grow.

Perpetua both upholds and subverts the tenets of the Independent Woman: she isn’t the supermodel-esque independent woman but Perpetua makes her own money and at lot of it, she dresses very well to project her authority in the workplace, she is bold, rejects the validation of male authority, and she isn’t afraid to be unlikable. She lives in a big city (because independent and single people don’t live in small towns or the suburbs *sarcasm*), presumably in her own spacious apartment or even a townhouse, she has found herself at some point before the story and has a strong sense of self, she works hard and has a strong sense of purpose because of her work ethic, and heaven help the dumbass that underestimates her or any other woman. She is a non-superpowered Carol Danvers: rather than waiting for someone to rescue her, she is quick to rescue herself from self-doubt or even rescue someone from injustice. She is noted to have a love interest, but she doesn’t revolve her world around him and is suggested to make demands for her needs in the relationship, showing she isn’t prone to fuckwittage as Bridget is (perhaps Perpetua learned to put a stop to that bullshit?). Of course because this is Bridget’s story, a woman who yearns for that fairytale ending of marriage, and this is a regressive, “post-feminist” (what sense does that make?) story, Perpetua isn’t a role model and is seen as a polar opposite to Bridget’s softness, ditziness, girliness, romanticism, and self-effacing persona.

I want to stop and say that I am so happy to be writing this essay in 2020, a year in which a large number of women (especially of color) have been elected to political office in record numbers with the Indian and Jamaican American Kamala Harris being elected as Vice President of the United States (and the first woman to do so). She is also independent enough to make her own money and develop her sense of self, along with a strong sense of agency and inter-dependent enough to credit the support and love she has from her blended family including her late mother. In fact the independent women of Broad City, Sex and the City, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Moana, Mulan, and GLOW (crossing self) all have inter-dependent systems of support and are one another’s family (hell even Bridget’s so-called friends are her “Urban Family”). I also want to say, it’s highly likely that Kamala was more a Perpetua and not a Bridget (or else she wouldn’t have been able to succeed like she has done in her career), thus her win as Vice President vindicates Perpetuas who have worked and lived before her.

Working Women Do’s and Don’ts

“You're just a step on the boss man's ladder. But you got dreams he'll never take away.” 9 to 5, Dolly Parton

As established, Perpetua is happily single (but also partnered), she fulfilled in material comforts, she is unafraid to confront men about their bullshit (she has a hard time trying to get Fitzherbert away, I bet), and she has high standards. To paraphrase Charlotte Pickles, to thrive where she works she has to “eat, breathe, and sweat self-esteem” and she does. This is something that Bridget lacks and something I feel Perpetua can help her with. Sadly we never got that chance: the gentle and feminine Bridget and the stern and neutral Perpetua bonding in a mutually beneficial kinship. I’m sure that Perpetua wishes she could talk back to men like Julia Sugarbaker of Designing Women and that her role models came after some viewings of Working Girl, Baby Boom, and Murphy Brown and perhaps by the privileged and successful men (and a few women) in her family. It must be said that despite being referred to and clearly existing, we never see Perpetua’s boyfriend and that’s because pop culture has long depicted women in managerial and supervisory positions as lonely, ice-cold, unfeminine, and hard. Meanwhile more feminine women like Bridget don’t get the respect that Perpetua has and demands, and Perpetua lacks Bridget’s likability (Bridget of the many men and one woman who fall in love with her). While I wouldn’t consider Perpetua to be politically progressive (she is a woman of privilege and Sloan Rangers are considered Tories) but she isn’t a woman who is willing to exploit others for her own bottom line (or the corner office). We do see that she is quick to defend Bridget from slut-shaming or having her worth denigrated by Daniel, which leads to a rare scene of comcaderie between her and Bridget. I get the sense that Perpetua isn’t merely interested in ruling the workplace, but she wants to change the workplace enough to be less toxic (getting rid of Daniel and Fitzherbert).

I can find some similarities to Perpetua in three fictional characters known for their drive in the workplace: Dr. Christina Yang (Grey’s Anatomy), Peggy Olson (Mad Men), and Princess Carolyn (Bojack Horseman). Christina Yang, like her creator Shonda Rhimes (if you are reading this Ms. Rhimes or someone writing or interning for her, please feel free to take ideas for a film or show about Perpetua, I need cheddar), is proudly childfree, dominant, blunt, up for a good time, and voraciously sexual and ambitious. Like Perpetua, she doesn’t aim to please others and very performative in her actions and words along with being caring and brusque (and snarky, especially about the terrifying Mr. Blobby). Also like Perpetua, Yang finds comcaderie with a bubbly young blonde who is sometimes reduced to her beauty (Izzy as played by Katherine Heigel) and tries to lift her girl friends up. While Perpetua has been working in a post Cold War publishing company, Peggy Olson is a young woman from Brooklyn working at a advertising agency in the 1960s, with different struggles from her more “sexier” counterpart (Joan is a more confident Bridget after all, and Peggy has some BJ traits). Peggy is also a trailblazer for assertive working women of today and paved the way for Perpetua across the pond, setting an example from the ground up (partly observing the men above her) when she wasn’t able to find much female role models that didn’t rely on their sexuality or follow a traditional path. Women during that time didn’t have reproductive freedom, equal pay (still, sigh), and working women were shamed for wanting to follow a different path. Peggy also deals with fatphobia in Season One (she was actually pregnant) and divorced herself from her sexuality temporarily (but she experiments with sex and drugs throughout the series). Like Peggy, Perpetua isn’t crippled by Don Draper’s self-loathing (Bridget) or lack of discipline (Daniel) and Perpetua had to learn to believe in herself rather than merely rely on the validation of others. Princess Carolyn is a pink, perky, girly girl cat but like Perpetua she has a relentless drive, is intelligent, hard-working, can sell something (a celebrity image or books), and knows how to positively influence certain people around her. All these women have lived by their own self-definitions and owned the struggles they endured to get ahead.

Can’t Be Tamed

Walter Stratford: Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?

Katarina Stratford: Sadly, no. But it's only 4:30. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

Rom Coms (such as Bridget Jones’s Diary) have a nasty habit of wanting to tame, soften, tone down, settle down an independent woman with her strong mind, sharp tongue, active sex life, and own money to matrimony. Then we have heroines who are allowed to fly their freak flag and find their own tribe (or leading man). That is Kat Stratford, the teenage feminist protagonist of 10 Things I Hate About You, a girl that Perpetua would have been at that age if she were American with blonde, pretty privilege. After all Perpetua has been perceived by Bridget (a Bianca without wit or spine) as a “heinous bitch” as delivered by the fabulous Allison Janney; they are perceived as difficult women who rain down their parades with their truth and don’t suffer the foolishness of arrogant men. Such women are supposed to be tamed, which has several meanings. The negative being to “tone down” or “dominate”; an alternate definition has been offered by The Little Prince’s fox “to earn one’s trust”.

We don’t know if Perpetua has anyone, romantic or platonic, to complement her personality and balance her out as Natasha seems to have Perpetua’s negative traits. This is where she and Bridget could have developed a friendship, combining vulnerability and a disdain for the fickle opinions of others and keep from having to choose between love and career, between relationships and financial independence. We could have seen a closer relationship blossom over the story just as Bianca and Kat grow closer to one another in the film. Maybe Bridget demanding more from Mark at the end, telling him that just because he bought her a new diary it doesn’t mean that he can get away with walking away from her and that it makes up for how tight-assed he can be with Perpetua cheering her on and another scene where Bridget smiles and let’s Perpetua squees over something in excitement.

Like Kat, the Perpetuas can find their own tribes or mates.

Women of Privilege in Media

Rich bitches, girl bosses, sassy queens, matriarchs, as Christopher Rosa noted about these women (which includes Perpetua): "They're rude, they're loaded, and we love them for it.” In a world that hates empowered women, as bell hooks bluntly noted, these Regina Georges, Cheryl Blossoms, Alexis Carringtons, and Perpetuas take back that slur and wrap it up in designer couture and fabulous accessories with nary a hair out of place. They own the negative stereotypes and manicure it into an image of fearlessness. They reject the social pressures placed on women to be nice no matter what, likable, fade into the background, and talk themselves down. Rich bitches indulge themselves with no apology and wear their strengths as boldly as their statement jewelry. But what if you don’t want to be bitchy all the time, what if you want to channel that fierceness into something constructive?

#Girlboss is an atom and a half: traditionalists argue that she isn’t a proper “feminine” woman who loses out on heterosexual love and children (”true womanhood”) while many feminists argue that she simply advanced to a seat in the patriarchy and doesn’t give a damn about the little people below her enough to truly make positive changes. Pop Culture has four flavors of the this character, as noted by The Take: the Bitch Boss, the Pre Code Boss who acts the way we think women started acting like after 1968, the Feminine Boss, and the social media savvy Girlboss who starts companies with cutesy names like WAHAM or WEEMAN or GOOP and they are often white and conventionally attractive. The last flavor exploits feminist phrases while selling out to capitalism and patriarchy for women to buy more shit and willing to step on people’s heads while building her empire. Sometimes she’s Charlotte Pickles, a somewhat ruthless but loving mother and CEO who loves angora sweaters, is glued to her phone, and can effectively hit the roof of a overturned boat with her high heel. Perpetua may seem standoffish to care only about her bottom line or take on traditionally masculine traits like Ruth Chatterton in Female or Diane Keaton in Baby Boom, but she proves to be a Leslie Knope when she stands up for Bridget in a heated moment. Perpetua has no necessity for large pink letters or catchphrases to prove she is a powerful (and empowered) woman, she simply is. One can see Perpetua taking over Pemberley Press, first Daniel’s job and then ousting Fitzherbert and taking his position, thus ousting misogyny from that workplace and using her power to uplift more voices in writing.

Bridget and Perpetua, meet, Betty and Veronica (respectively). While the Bridget the Nice Girl avoids her issues (and Betty can be in danger of being subsumed by them), Veronica and Perpetua make their rules and are willing to break them. Like Perpetua, the teenage Veronica wears her posh prep clothes proudly with a string of pearls and headbands holding her shiny hair. Veronica is also confronting a system (and family legacy) that taints America and makes living so impossible for people who have no boots to pull the straps from and handicaps her to a pedestal. Perpetua seems to want her friend Natasha to snap up Mark Darcy (remember she knows nothing of Mark and Bridget) like Veronica in the CW reboot wanted Betty to do with Archie. Both want to work hard and be recognized for their merit, not wanting to depend solely on Daddy’s money, bucking long-standing patriarchal expectations of upper-class young women who were expected to marry a man from a similar class and have children to inherit the money. Perpetua and Veronica show a willingness to get down and dirty while being allies to their less privileged and/or more passive female comrades. They also wield their power to take down over-puffed authority figures who abuse their privilege and have attitude when a woman gets slut-shamed or otherwise mistreated. Remember Daniel and Mr. Titspervert, Perpetua’s specialty is ice.

Legally Blonde and Bridesmaids, etc.

Vivian Kensington. Elle Woods. Professor Stromwell. These women showcase an alternative where cold but supportive women befriend our plucky blonde protagonist in a Playboy bunny suit and a douchebag ex-boyfriend (before ending up with a lawyer who comes off as uptight). Legally Blonde gifted Elle camaraderie with these women while Perpetua was left at the wayside and Elle was given a circle of supportive friends while Bridget had friends who negged her and were a poor influence on her confidence. Where Delta Nu gave Elle their time to help her practice for the LSATS, Bridget’s friends openly wonder out loud that Mark Darcy said he likes Bridget as she is, ditziness and unfashionable (of the time) curves and non-airbrushed looks (really?). We also see Elle add more people to her friend circle, like the working-class Paulette who proves to be mutually supportive of Elle and has been empowered by her to stand up to her ex and then we focus on two women who stand in for Perpetua: the steely Professor Stromwell ( the Mrs. Sarah Paulson, Holland Taylor) and the preppy Vivian Kensington (Selma Blair, la diva). Vivian and Elle start out as rivals for the handsome but douchey Warner Huntington III, who categorizes these women as the wife material Jackie and the fun and hot-tubbing Marilyn, but slowly upon finding out that their professor is a sexist who demands his young interns get him coffee and that Warner lacks Elle’s integrity find some common ground. Vivian is horrified and takes back her previous behavior upon hearing that their professor has sexually harassed Elle, reducing this intelligent and savvy young woman to her sex appeal. Also Professor Stromwell puts Elle on the spot on her first day of classes at and has a reputation for making her students sob, but it’s implied that Stromwell sees a bit of herself in Elle and wants this young woman to succeed and that means challenging her to do the hard work in Harvard. In the climax of the film, when Elle discusses quitting Harvard because of people undervaluing her intellect and being sexually harassed as a final straw, Stromwell turns around in her salon chair and tells Elle: “If you let one male prick ruin your life, you’re not the girl I thought you were.” Stromwell gets credit in Elle’s valedictorian speech at the end of the film. We see here that while Elle upholds girliness and finds new love in a established lawyer, unlike Bridget she has a support system of women (and a few men) who encourage her to kick ass and challenge the perceptions of others and celebrate her triumph in defending someone from a life-altering sentence.

I feel that in 2001, either Annie Mumulo or Kristen Wiig watched BJD and found the relationship between Bridget and Megan wanting as well as I did, this likely spurred them into writing Bridesmaids, a film that centered on women fighting over a best friend rather than a man, where the male love interest listened to the protagonist vent about her friend issues, and where an overweight and unconventional female secondary character pushes our insecure everywoman protagonist to start fighting for her goals and her sense of self, or rather her “shitty life”. Annie (Kirsten Wiig) is a former owner of a bakery that fell victim to the 2008 recession who is hitting rock bottom as her childhood best friend gets engaged and starts befriending her fiancee’s boss’s preened to perfection wife Helen (Rose Byrne) and then finds comfort and motivation in the form of the fiancee’s wacky sister Megan (Melissa McCarthy). Annie gets loonier as the movie goes on (ahem) until Megan persuades her to channel that spirit more constructively; Megan is proud of her hard-earned achievements and is confident but also kind enough to adopt several puppies and see Annie at her lowest. Megan earns her own money and demands more from her relationships than the other women in the movie (unhappy marriages, lack of communication, lack of trust) and emboldens Annie to grab life by the horns, thus starting a new friendship. It’s notable that this film is about post-college aged adults and the role of friendships in their lives.

Perpetua’s Potential

The 2010s have shown more narratives that focused on women’s relationships with one another and have even re-defined what “happily ever after” looks like and as a result of the #MeToo and #TimesUp Movements, women have examined how toxic their culture is to women and finding that the harassment and assault of women to be terrifyingly normalized and it has been for a long time. Millennial and Gen Z women have even questioned the issue of pitting women against each other, one of which is the “not like other girls” attitude that pits the cool babe or the weird girl against the high-maintenance girly girls that easily conform to society (even rewriting these types as friends or lovers to one another).

So what does that mean for Bridget Jones’s Diary? Well we could see a B Plot on Mark Darcy and his divorce from his Japanese ex-wife and she’d be given her own inner life and complexities, Perpetua might have to reconcile her relationship with Bridget and Natasha (the latter who is hostile to the former), we could see Perpetua strike up a friendship with her polar opposite Bridget and the narrative could focus on Bridget helping Perpetua open up her softer side while Perpetua gives Bridget the encouragement to stand up to her (admittedly) trashy family and friends and demand more from her relationship with Mark (or even dump him). We can even see them include Rebecca Gillies, the beautiful trust fund baby that works for Mark and finds Bridget to be desirable as she is (without being backhanded about it Mark!). We can see Bridget become stronger as she has one friend who challenges her to be better and another friend who finds her supremely wonderful and gets her to see it.

Maybe we can see Uncle G die, a girl can dream.

The Rise of the Perpetuas or what happened after Bridget drank some of Perpetua’s Juice

#MeToo, #TimesUp, #BossBitch, Lizzo, Ariana Grande, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Beyonce, Hillary Clinton, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, the Notorious (and late) Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Jacinda Ardern, Michelle Obama, Jameela Jamil, Mindy Kaling, Tiffany Ferg, Kimberly Nicole Foster, Dahvi Waller, Gretchen Whitmer, #BlackGirlsAreMagic, Mothers of the Movement, CaShawn Thompson, Intersectional Feminism, Black Feminism, Mad Men, Mrs. America, Insecure, The Baby Sitters Club, Amy Schumer, GLOW, Emma Gonzalez, Candice Carty Williams, Malala Yousafzai, Kamala Harris, Meghan Markle...all of them have grappled with issues like Bridget and Perpetua and have even expanded the conversation about women’s day to day lives and the small (and large) ways society is misogynistic and have gone further to question why it’s so commonplace. We even see a talk about body neutrality (as opposed to the sanitized body positivity), which one can easily see Perpetua practicing. We also see women being held up in social media as being “stanned” for being difficult, wonderful, achievement oriented, sassy, fierce, outspoken, demanding, and fashionable...all things that Perpetua was put down for.

“I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100% that bitch

Even when I'm crying crazy

Yeah, I got boy problems, that's the human in me

Bling bling, then I solve 'em, that's the goddess in me” Truth Hurts, Lizzo

To paraphrase Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?: All this time, they could have been friends.

The year 2020 has been a dismal year for women’s careers as women are swamped with the demands of domestic life and bosses have shown that they won’t cut their employees slack for having kids in the background. People even explored how the pandemic has revealed cracks in society from economic disparity, how women are ultimately shouldered with the burdens of home that men aren’t expected to, how vulnerable marginalized communities are in systems with poor health care and systemic bigotry, and the lack of a social safety net. These are challenges I see Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z women pushing back against (I will show up, pussy hat and mask on my person). One can even see Bridget, the ex Mrs. Darcy, Perpetua, and Rebecca marching in their Women’s March or even the global Black Lives Matter marches as they cheer on (or help) “tipped” over statues of colonizers and slave traders. We’d even see them attend virtual seminars on how to be better allies to BIPOC and listen as ex Mrs. Darcy talked about her difficulties as a East Asian woman in a predominantly white society and Bridget promising to call out her mother for her racist comments. There’d be no good woman/bad-woman dichotomy being perpetuated as they embrace each other’s differences.

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

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24 days - 24 oneshots | with angst, fluff, and everything in between | both canon and au

a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | chapter prompts based on my favourite christmas songs

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and the music started sighin', an' awailin' through the hall

it was there that i attended "the cowboys' christmas ball"

Roy tipped his hat in greeting at the man at standing by the door. In return, he tipped his own and greeted Roy with a joyful “howdy” before moving onto the next person, shooting a grin at everyone who entered the old barn.

Glancing up as he entered, Roy spotted decorations hanging from the rafters above, dangling down over their heads. Candles lined the walls, their flames flickering in the cool evening breeze of the east. Even at this time of year it was warm due to the proximity of the desert across the border. Tinsel and paper fluttered however their crinkling was drowned out by the lively band at the other end of the barn. There was no singing in their songs, but the banjo, fiddle, and drums would have blocked out the singer anyway with their cheery, upbeat tune. The dancers in the middle of the dancefloor gave it their all, moving effortlessly in time to the beat, obviously used to dancing this one. Their feet thumped in time on the wooden floor beneath them. This song appeared to be a regular at events like this, because everyone was in time and didn’t miss a beat.

Easing himself through the throng, Roy approached the bar and tipped his hat in greeting.

“Howdy,” the barman shot him an easy grin, placing the glass he’d been cleaning on top of the bar and tapping it once, silently asking what Roy would like. His country drawl settled over Roy like a comfort.

“Beer, please,” Roy replied.

The man looked slightly taken aback, then nodded and chuckled at his own private joke. “Apologies, sir. I was surprised by the manners. We don’t get a lot of that ‘round these parts.” Roy shrugged. It wasn’t the first time that had happened to him today. “You from the city?”

Roy nodded. “Yeah, Central.”

The man whistled lowly, apparently impressed. “I bet this is a far cry from what you’re used to, huh?”

“It is,” Roy agreed, turning to glance around the room. Someone caught his eye and Roy grinned to himself. “However, I have a good person looking out for me,” he reassured the barman, turning back to collect his drink.

“That’s a mighty fine idea, if I do say so myself. The east can be a wild place. You’ll find none of that trouble here, but it’s good to have someone lookin’ out for ya.”

“Thank you.” Roy lifted his glass in thanks and nodded to the man. He tipped his hat in return and the two parted ways.

The dancing continued around them, the dancers becoming more animated and enthusiastic as the music reached a crescendo. Everyone froze expertly in time when the music paused, finally hitting its peak, then the music continued at its initial, much slower pace. It was an incredible thing to watch. The way they were all in sync and with wide grins on their faces. It was much different from the waltz in Central, and it was refreshing. This was more freeing, and Roy thought he’d take this kind of dancing over waltzing any day.

“Hello, darlin’,” he greeted, taking a seat at one of the long tables stretching around the outskirts of the barn.

Riza Hawkeye turned to face him with a wide grin. “Howdy, partner.”

Roy chuckled and took a swig of his beer. “So, what brings a pretty girl like you here tonight, all alone? Surely you have a fine young man on the way to meet you?”

Riza rolled her eyes and Roy laughed at her response. He’d never been good at “cowboying it up”, as Havoc called it.

“No, there’s no man I need to wait on,” she stated firmly. “I got nothing from the informant,” she stated. Ah, so business it was. Roy was slightly disheartened. He thought the man he’d sent her to meet would know at least something about their quarry, but apparently not.

“That’s interesting,” Roy stated, pondering over what she’d said. He shifted closed, placing an arm around her shoulders as they sat and watched the dancers. Roy’s foot tapped in time with the music. “The group were here.” His announcement was quiet, Roy finally dropping the act he’d crafted for the locals here.

“He confirmed it?” Roy’s informant had been the barman. They’d conversed back and forth throughout the week, and at the man’s insistence, they’d come to this “Christmas Ball” in the middle of nowhere to scope the situation out. However, it was a good decision, because the atmosphere was electric and Roy was thoroughly enjoying himself, despite only being here about half an hour.

Roy nodded, tipping his head closer to Riza so they wouldn’t be overheard. It wasn’t likely, but it meant he was close enough now that he could smell the lavender of her shampoo and that wasn’t an opportunity he was going to pass up. “They’re in the area,” Roy added, his voice a murmur in her ear. Minutely, her spine straightened, and her shoulders tensed as a reaction to it, and Roy smiled to himself now she could no longer see it. “I don’t know where, but they’re definitely “around these parts”.”

Riza snorted as he put on an eastern twang just for that last part. “I see you’ve been sucking up the culture of the place.”

Roy pulled away and didn’t hide his grin this time. He shrugged. “It has a certain charm to it,” he replied, not tearing his eyes away from her for a second. Riza’s cheeks turned pink slightly and she looked away as he took another swig of his beer. She knew well enough he was talking about her. Since moving to Central she’d lost her own twang, but it came out every now and again and Roy loved those moments.

“They seem to be dangerous though. He said it’s good I have someone looking out for me.”

“Well, that’s a given, sir,” she stated.

“I’m glad,” he grinned, taking another drink.

They’d gathered the intel they needed for the night, so that meant the two were free to enjoy the rest of the soiree as they saw fit. They had to blend in, after all, and that would require dancing. Roy couldn’t wait.

As he scanned the barn, he couldn’t help but notice the large banner hanging on the wall behind the band. “I must say, I’d never heard of a “Cowboys’ Christmas Ball” before this trip.”

Riza shrugged. “I think nowadays its run to attract tourism to the area – a real treat of the old eastern ways. It’s very authentic though, I must say.”

“You went to things like this as a kid?”

Riza nodded and smiled. “With my mother, yes, they were a staple of the east. I used to dance with her by standing on her feet.” Roy chuckled at that image, finding it positively adorable. “They fizzled out in frequency, if I remember correctly, so we stopped going, but I know here in this town they do one every Christmas and have done for decades. It’s the longest running Christmas Ball and quite a famous event in the east. Plus, it just adds to the spirit of Christmas.”

“I quite like it, if I’m being honest. The spurs are kind of annoying,” he added, looking down at the boots he’d bought from a fancy-dress shop in Central before arriving. It was the only place in the city that stocked those boots. “But this is something I could get used it,” he grinned.

Riza snorted. “I’ve seen you on a horse.”

He’d fallen flat on his ass the first time he’d ridden one. “I could still get used to it. I don’t need to be a cowboy who rides a horse.”

“That’s kind of the whole point,” Riza replied.

Roy shrugged. “Eh, when have I ever let something like that beat me?” he winked. Riza just rolled her eyes. “Yeehaw, Riza.”

She snorted again, but this time her eyes widened, as if she hadn’t expected it. “I never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth, yet here we are.”

“See? I’d crush it.”

“Sure,” she replied, seeming very convinced. Roy chuckled and noticed as her smile never dropped as a new song kicked up. Instead it grew wider as she observed the dancers

Roy’s smile turned crooked as he observed her. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”

A wistful smile overtook her face. “It reminds me of my mother.”

Roy placed his beer on the table behind him, then stood, extending his hand. “A dance, darlin’?”

Riza smiled at him and gripped his hand tightly as she stood. “I’d love to.”

He spun her onto the dancefloor and Riza laughed at the unexpected move, sounding so carefree Roy almost stuttered to a stop. Catching himself, he grinned and threw himself into the dance with Riza. He was not as coordinated as her, she was an expert at line dancing, however, Roy quickly picked it up. They laughed together throughout the night and it reminded him of how they were as kids.

Young and carefree.

Happy.

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #the magic of christmas time #royai advent calendar #emma writes

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imagine-wannaone · 6 years

Text

Lee Daehwi Super Powers Au

Waddup So this was written yesterday and idk whether to do a powers au so I guess this is just a try??

In other news I got Seventeens new album for my bday today and got The8 i am blessed. Anywhere, here we go. also pls tell me if I need to tag any triggers, I’m not great at this stuff whoops.

• Lemme get one thing straight, you didn’t want to use your ability for bad, • It just kinda happened that you became a theif, • You were trapped, • You were a teen when you got dragged into a whole mess of a gang, when you went to take out a loan to pay for treatment for your brother’s illness, • Because your brother was the most important thing to you but your family couldn’t afford his treatment, • But you didn’t realise the loan company was actually kinda not a company and you had just officially ruined your life,

• With gastronomic Interest, you had to pay them back the money with no way of being able to do it, • Read the small print y'all, • So they offered you another option: you hated it but there was no other way to help your brother, and they threatened to cut your brother’s treatment if you stepped out of line, • And in a world made with certain people who had abilities, they made sure to utilize yours, • Aka the ability to change your appearance and voice to fit it, • They had you as a thief, and with your skill and ability you quickly became notorious around the city, • Which made you extremely paranoid, causing you to constantly switch appearances, • I don’t mean switching looks every minute or something bizarre, • I mean you never showed your true appearance anymore, you were always someone else and started to panic at the thought of people seeing the real you, • So you stayed in your place by day planning heists the gang had sent you to do, and went on the missions by night, • And you hated everything about the way you lived, but you knew your brother was getting better, so you kept at it, • The gang sent you a particularly dangerous heist one night, and you did not think it was a wise idea at all, • Like there were shit tonnes of guards and cameras and the switch overs were smooth and the codes hard to crack, • As a thief, you were known to be able to go in and out before anyone would even realise anything was gone, shifting into guards or ceo’s or customers, • And you trained your ability to perfection, having no flaws in your transformation and being able to quickly switch features, • A master™ • But you plan this near impossible heist anyway because you have to, you have everything to lose, • And while bits of the heist are a bit by chance or freestyle, • You hate yourself for being quite confidant, as always, • But heists had started going wrong lately, • A guard unconvinced and almost omniscient, • Or the whole place closed for a day as if they already knew, • Little things going wrong preventing the heists and causing them to go wrong, • You didn’t know how because they were all planned to perfection, but something was happening, • You heard whispers of a mole but no one ever told you anything so you had no idea really, • So you’re dropped off by the usual gruff looking men who are going to wait down the street, safe for them, • You where dressed as a medium height middle aged woman with brown hair, trying to blend in with the people around you,

• Like a chameleon damn, • You float into the bank and act naturally, milling around the atm’s and looking at posters, • A boy around your actual age seems to keep glancing at you, which sets your nerves off, • Not only is he cute, it’d be insanely weird for someone his age to be staring at a middle aged lady, • You try to sway away from his prying eyes and keep your heart at normal pace and prevent your hands shaking, • You always got nerves before a heist and this dude really wasn’t helping, • At all, • Smh doesn’t he know it’s rude to stare? • You’re nearly set on going over there and telling him yourself, but with your ‘can I see the manager’ hair style you play your role and send him a disapproving mum glare and shake you head, moving on, • Perfect, v realistic, • But the dude doesn’t stop sending u shady side eyes, so you decide to get the hell on with it, • So your eyes scan the floor before slipping into a side door, • Smooth as always, might I add, • You change your appearance quickly into a guard and take out a hand mirror quickly to check that you’re perfect, • Indeed you are perfect,

•You were about to take off down the hall when the door slides open again, • You’re about to get into character when the boy from earlier locks eyes with you and lunges, • You dodge as quick as a whippet and a fight™ ensues, • You can tell idk how to write a fight omg, • DW I’ll get better, • You’re both incredibly good to the point you defo know this ain’t just a usual kid who’s taken some martial arts classes, • Because as soon as you dodge one punch and throw your own, he’s dodged that and is launching another assault with a knee or elbow,

• He keeps saying something along the line of 'Stop I’m trying to help’ but you ain’t buying no shady nonsense, • And you’re both getting pretty beaten, bruises and small cuts appearing, a bloody nose or a broken finger, • But shit really hits the fan when a guard comes round the corner and then you’re both in for it, • You’re internally having a meltdown you’ve never had to deal with this before, • And then your tryna fight the boy and the guards and - shit, • A bullet grazes your leg but it instantly burns and shocks you to hell, • Your appearance flickers before returning to the middle aged lady aka the wrong disguise, who0ps, • Your leg burns and the shock throws you off balance long enough for the boy to wrap an arm around your shoulder and have you against a wall in a second, • You’re about to swing your leg back to hit him when chloroform and damn you’re out cold, • Actually outraged in your knocked out state, • Who DaRe? • Like you don’t blame them, you’re a damn thief, tbh you’d probs knock yourself out if you were in their situation, • but hOw DaRe tHey? • And you’re defo worried about who just chloroformed you but whatever, • Idek if you can think all this while passed out but you find a way, • You wake up with someone’s hand on your forehead and you stay still, trying to gather your bearings and figure stuff out before you let them know you’re awake, • I mean the hand thing is so weird but you deal with it you til you gather that your head’s also in someone’s lap and your skin is tingling and you decide this is very weird, • I mean not a hard conclusion to come to but a conclusion all the same, • You slowly open one eye and wow, • Bright lights, • But you soldier through it and stare straight ahead at the face of the boy ahead of you, • You’re about to jump out of your skin but the boys eyes are closed and he looks so peaceful with flawless skin and a slight frown, his brow creased in concentration, • And then you realise your leg doesn’t burn and your hand and knuckles don’t scream like they did before you dropped, • And you realise he’s someone like you, he’s a healer, • And it makes your heart fly with joy, you’ve found someone else with an ability and all of a sudden you feel safer, • Especially because he’s a healer, • But then your eyes trail to your arm and your body and all the safety is thrown away, • You have no disguise, no fake face or fake voice; it’s purely you and it makes you dizzy and sick, • He must sense your panic because his eyes crack open and he smiles widely at you, removing his hand from your forehead, • Wow his smile settles your heart and warms your cheeks, • A million questions run through your foggy brain, where are we and what happened? Who is he and why is he so cute? Where’s the boy from before and what’s going to happen when your former gang know you’re not with them? • “Y/N, right? I’m Daehwi, and give me a sec and I’ll tell you all the gossip,” • While his soft voice is calming when you sit up, a wave of dizziness hits you like a wrecking ball ridden by Miley cirus • (Wow my pop culture references about 5 years too late), •But despite your swimming head you quickly change your skin, opting for the first thing you can think of, which happens to be Daehwi, • You change your hair quickly and alter your face and body to match his within seconds, • You’re kinda embarrassed that you just changed into him but you’re panicking, • While the boy next to you may have seen your face, you’d prefer if no one else would, • “That’s increadible,” • The look on Daehwi’s face, as well has his bubbly laugh, makes you flush but you’re heart is still beating a mile a minute and your chest feels a little too tight, • “While that’s really cool, and I’m really flattered, I thought your natural face was much prettier,” • Your face (or is it Daehwi’s?) blushes violently at the comment but the fact you don’t look like yourself calms you a little, • “A healer, then?” • You ask simply to change the subject, although it’s pretty obvious at this point, • “Yep, not one of the coolest abilities but pretty handy. You’re obviously a shape shifter, damn the whole city knows you’re a shape shifter, but seeing it myself, damn, it’s way cooler than I thought” • He talks in such a laid back manner, leaning back onto his hands, his whole presence relaxing, • He really suits his ability, • “I think healing’s the best ability, you get to help,” • Your voice is quiet but your words are the truth, and you can see Daehwi’s about to reply when the door swings open and the boy from earlier wonders in, doing a double take at the two Daehwi’s sat on the bed and sighing before dropping down into a nearby chair, • He’s hardly met you and he’s already done with your shit lmao, • But you’re eyeing him suspiciously because this guy FRICKEN chloroformed you and you still have no answers as to what the hell is going when he launched into a Hella Long explanation, • To put it simply,

• Daehwi and the boy, Guanlin, are part of an organisation that rescue abilities from sticky situations and tries to stop the people with abilities for using them nastily, • (Avengers who?) • There was indeed a mole in your gang as they planned to rescue you whilst intercepting a heist of yours, • They didn’t expect you to fight so defiantly back but I mean, • So then you explain that you’re really not nasty, I mean you used to put milk in before your cereal but yOu’vE cHanGeD, • You explain your situation and they agreed that they’ll see what they can do for your brother and you feel like you might cry because this is too good to be true, • Half convinced this is some awful experiment or teasing you, • So you spend a few days in the room you wake up in, just in case, in which you discover is actually Daehwi’s room, • Which is kinda awkward, • But you honestly can’t ask for a better first friend in the base they have there, • Daehwi is oh so patient, painfully so, encouraging you to take your time and helps introduce you to the many people in the base, most of which have powers themselves which blows your mind a little

• You’ve never seen so many abilities, • And it takes you a while to trust Guanlin, but as soon as you do you realise he’s just a goof and you apologise endlessly for hurting him, • And you start helping out at the base, doing small missions to help others by using your ability, • And it feels good, • Especially when you can come back to Daehwi at the end of the day and laugh and relax into the night, • And you visit your brother for a very emotional reunion and he’s getting better and life just seems to be good,

• And in the middle of it all is Daehwi, who you would trust with your life, • I mean he is a healer many people trust him with their lives,

• So you’re sat in his room (or your now shared one - you refuse to sleep anywhere else, feeling unsafe) chatting into the night, • When you both reach a lull in conversation, • “Y/N, why do you never walk, or sleep, or eat, or live in your normal skin?” • The question is so out of the blue that your eyes snap to his, • Which rest on you, • They always rest on you, • And you try to figure out a way to say it without feeling stupid, • Because in your mind it is a whole concept and fear, but there aren’t enough words to describe how you feel, and to condense your thoughts into words belittles them endlessly, • “It’s scary, showing your true self. I used to fear people would recognise me and arrest me, for being a thief, but nowadays it’s almost as if I don’t trust people enough. Enough to see my face,” • You pick your words carefully but still feel as if it’s a weak excuse, • “You don’t trust me, y/n?” • His words shock you, make you question yourself, and you look into those soft, open eyes and brace yourself, •You know he’s right as you relax, completely relax for the first time in years, letting all of your facade melt away to show your true skin, your true eyes, your true being, • And there’s something in Daehwi’s eyes that you love as he looks at your pure self,

• You feel insanely exposed but Daehwi himself settles you, • And you know you no longer need to hide yourself from Daehwi anymore when he leans over, wrapping an arm around your real hips, • Cups the back of your head, • And gently smiles and he places his lips on your real ones,

#lee daehwi #daehwi #i always get confused with his name lmao #wanna one #ww1 #pd 101 #produce 101 #imagines #scenarios #headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #superpower au #power au #abilities #wanna one scenario #wanna one imagines #og admin

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magpiewords · 7 years

Text

Code name: Timely

Title: A Punk by any Other Name

Universe: MCU

Rating: Teen, for mildly suggestive dialogue?

Word Count: 1765

A/N: This is my first time writing something Steve centric and it was super fun! He’s a ball of stubbornness and drama and I love him. Set in a MCU where Steve and Tony got married and sadness doesn’t happen.

“No no no no!” Steve rubbed his palms against closed eyes until he saw lights and colors. His vision had been bad these past few days but he still couldn’t believe the reflection he was seeing.

There last mission had put them deep within a Hydra base. There was an explosion and a heavy blue cloud had filled the room they were searching. Thor’s alien biology had kept him unaffected, Iron Man’s suit had quickly switched to an emergency air tank. Thankfully the rest of the team had been on a different floor all together. Steve had assumed the serum had protected him. Thirty-six hours later and he woke up to an empty bed, a note from Tony that he had an emergency board meeting in Hong Kong, and all the health defects Steve had enjoyed back in the 1930s.

He’d gone immediately to Doctor Banner. Bruce hardly drew two vials of blood before Steve felt dizzy, but that had been enough samples to reach a conclusion from. The gas had elements of the super soldier serum, but had acted like a virus, latching itself onto the chemicals that made Steve who he liked being.

“Fortunately, you’ll heal.” Bruce took pity on Steve after a while of giving too many technical details. The solider was always smart, but biochemistry was about as complicated as rocket science, and Steve tended to tune out Tony whenever he excitedly babbled about an upgrade to the Iron Man armor. “Erskine’s genius will never be met. The serum just needs a few days to… I suppose the best word would be to reboot itself.”

“How many days is a few days?”

Bruce scribbled a few numbers, rough calculations that Steve couldn’t see clearly with how poor his eyes were. “Closest estimate I can give you is between two and four days.”

That had been all the estimate Steve had needed. Tony’s note said he’d be back in three days and Steve’s luck with the serum had always been favorable. Everyone had seen pictures of Steve before the serum, and he was certain Tony had read the laundry list of health problems he’d faced, but it would be different to see it in real time. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t worry. His husband didn’t have an ounce of the pettiness the media portrayed him with, he wouldn’t care what Steve looked like. At least, Steve hoped so. One thing the serum had never affected was his mind. Steve had always been stubborn, determined, battle-minded, but anxiety had been his constant companion as well. A small voice of doubt seemed bigger when Steve was, well, of equal size.

It was vain, but he didn’t want Tony to see him like this. He didn’t think he could handle Tony looking down on him.

He had woken up the next two mornings disappointed, but not surprised. The days had passed slowly as he relearned his old body. Doctor Banner had supplied him with thick glasses and cocktail of medications. He had tried going on a run, which had ended with Doctor Banner intruding him to the wonders of modern inhalers. After that, he spent the endless free time drawing or playing Mario Kart against Jarvis. The game was a bit less fun without all the colors.

The third morning had come and disappointment gave way to frustration. “Doctor Banner said three days!” He lamented to the empty room.

“Actually, Doctor Banner said two to four days, which does average three but does not guarantee it.”

“Not helping, Jarvis.”

“Sir has asked me to inform you he will arrive at the tower in one hour. He would like to take you to Aretsky’s for lunch.”

“That fancy rooftop place Colonel Rhodes told him about last month? I can’t go there like this.” He glanced at his reflection once more and winced.

“Certainly not in Sir’s pajamas, no.” Jarvis sounded a touch too amused. “I have taken the liberty of fabricating a blazer that will fit your temporary size and pair well with one of Sir’s dress shirts.”

Steve had spent the last few days raiding Tony’s closet almost exclusively for sweatpants and old band t-shirts. While the genius was the second slimmest in the tower, his clothes still barely hung on to Steve’s small frame. Natasha would have been the first choice to borrow from, but her shirts would have been far too loose. Besides, Steve didn’t exactly want the team to see him like this if they didn’t have to. And he generally made a point not to go into Natasha’s room – he tried bringing her surprise pancakes after a mission once and the resulting knives thrown were a very clear message about her boundaries. With his old body, he probably wouldn’t survive the knives or the terror that came with them.

The blazer was hanging at the front of the unbelievably deep walk-in on Tony’s side of the room. It was dusky gray and did in fact go with the soft blue crew neck placed next to it. A pair of slacks next to that fit surprisingly well if Steve cuffed the bottom of the legs.

“You make one hell of a fairy godmother, Jarvis.” Steve looked between the angled mirrors, almost pleased with what he saw.

“You should see what I can do with a pumpkin.”

Steve laughed, but kept it to a lighter chuckle to prevent any wheezing.

“Captain Grumpy laughing? That is my favorite sound! Now what was this about pumpkins, pumpkin?” Tony’s dress shoes clicked on the floor, a spring in his step as he entered the bedroom.

Steve must have lost track of time, how was Tony home so soon? He startled, completely at a loss for words as he turned. His husband looked dashing as always, hair windswept perfectly, silky black suit jacket framing his body with the red button up that made Steve think of brilliant sunsets and the armor. At least he thought it was red, it could have been green for all his color blind eyes knew.

Tony had roses. Steve couldn’t really remember everything he was allergic to, but he hoped flowers weren’t on the list. Even with the colors muted, they were beautiful.

“What,” Tony said.

“What?” Steve repeated dumbly. Surely he hadn’t been this stupid when he was small the first time.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Steve tilted his chin just a bit higher. The stupidity of being enamored met with the stupidity of his own stubbornness.

“No of course you’re okay I just – are these going to give you hives or something?” Tony jerked the roses back and Steve lunged for them.

“No! I mean, I don’t know actually, but I don’t care. They’re beautiful and you brought them for me and you’re my husband and just because I’m a punk again doesn’t mean I’m giving that up!” He clung to the roses, burying his face in them and – oh. Yeah, he felt hives forming.

“Steven,” Tony whispered, “You don’t have to give anything up. I’ll always be yours.” He leaned over the roses and their kiss was as soft as the petals.

“Though something tells me you don’t mean ‘punk’ in the 90s grunge kind of way.” Tony pulled back, frowning slightly. “How’d this happen?”

“Looks like Hydra’s attack last week affected me after all.”

“What!? And no one thought to tell me? Jarvis, what the hell?” Tony dropped the flowers in Steve’s arms, grabbing his husband’s chin and starting to look over him.

“Tony, I’m fine.”

“Fine my ass, you’ve got hives!”

“Sir, Captain Rogers was examined by Doctor Banner. He should regain the serum’s properties within twenty-four hours. He is in fact fine.”

“Huh.” Tony removed his hands from Steve’s body, letting his eyes roam over it instead. “You can say that again.”

Serum or not, Steve’s Irish skin always had him blush deep pink from his collarbone to the tip of his ears. Tony moved in close again, pressing their bodies together as Steve held the roses off to the side. It was strange, looking up at Tony, but thrilling in a way Steve had forgotten he’d enjoyed when he was small.

“Is that my shirt? You look very fine wearing my clothes.” His mouth was against Steve’s ear, breath hot as his hands ran their way up under the borrowed shirt. “But I think I’d like to see you out of them. You’re always the one sweeping me off my feet but it sure would be fun to have my wicked way with you like this.”

“He is, however, allergic to roses.” Jarvis interrupted with timing too precise to be coincidental.

“Fuck.” Tony snatched away the bouquet and stepped back, despite Steve’s protests.

“He is also allergic to shellfish, dairy, certain strains of gluten, twelve hormones found in modern beef products, thirty-seven local pollens, two blends of nylon, strawberries, and cats.”

“Not helping, Jarvis.” Steve grumbled.

“Cheer up, babe,” Tony said, “Aretsky’s got all that organic vegan stuff that’s trending right now and strawberries aren’t in season.” He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now, we’ll still make the reservation.”

Despite the casual tone, Tony’s eyes were wide. He was asking Steve about the plans, not telling him. The reservations for a place like that must have been made at least a few days ahead of time, even with the Stark name being put on the table. Tony would drop the lunch date in a second if Steve didn’t feel comfortable. Nothing had changed between them. The relief felt like a weight lift off that Steve didn’t realize he was carrying. That or his blood pressure dropped again and Bruce was going to lecture him on not taking his pills.

“Lunch sounds good.” Steve smiled before stepping close again. He pulled at Tony’s jacket lapels to bring him face to face without having to lean up. “Only if after you make good on that promise of wicked ways.”

“Tiny and bossy, just my type.” Tony kissed him with more heat than before, but Steve could tell he was holding back. They broke apart, Steve gasping despite the relatively tame kiss. Tony looped his arm around Steve’s waist, leading them to the elevator. “Besides, the press hasn’t seen me hit the town with a cute twink in years, it’ll be a field day.” He laughed and Steve was pretty sure that was his favorite sound, even if he knew it sounded muddier than it would have with the serum.

“Is that what they call it these days?”

#capimtrb2017 #round 3 #stony #skinny steve #i got a little too into describing clothes #sorry i have no idea about the rating #it's pretty tame but idk they get a little flirty with each other #also wow i'm posting before the deadline

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