#(( though i do still think about cass on occasion so she may not be entirely dead tbh )) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

codenamed-queenie · 4 years

Text

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

4K notes · View notes

sjmsstuff · 3 years

Text

Light and Dark

Chapter 3

A/N: back at it again, this time with a slightly shorter chapter, I’ve been swamped with work, don’t hate me x. Small bit of angst but like not loads.

Warnings: major warning for sexual abuse if you want to skip it just stop reading at <~> and start when you see it again, just know Gwyn had a nightmare.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

Gwyn was entirely sure she was an idiot.

A fool, an imbecile, an utter buffoon.

She could hardly look at Az all morning at training and then she could hardly think of anything but him as she worked in the library.

Nesta came down an hour after they parted at training, looking flushed and happy.

It was astonishing the difference between who she was when she first arrived and the female who stood before her now. Happiness radiated from Nesta when it used to disapate in her presence. Her slender frame was no longer thin and skinny but toned and full. Her eyes looked less weary and the bags had disappeared.

The two friends chatted as Nesta completed her duties for Clotho and Gwyn scampered through the jobs Merril had given her.

Thankfully the cranky priestess was cloistered in her office for the evening, meaning Gwyn could talk without needing to look over her shoulder every few minutes, like a guilty man waiting to be apprehended.

Merril was still researching the idea of multiple worlds layering on top of each other. To be completely honest Gwyn had no idea what she was on about half the time but nodding and scurrying hadn’t failed her yet.

She left Nesta hours later to return to the dreaded office with an assortment of copied and highlighted texts that Merril had requested, each organised and double checked to avoid any scenes.

Though Gwyn had thoroughly enjoyed the first clash of her friend and her superior, she was not especially eager for a rematch. Clotho may be upset if one of the cleverest priestesses could no longer write.

Or breathe.

Merril was sitting with her back to the door when Gwyn entered, so she quietly deposited the books on a small table. Merril waved her off without looking up and Gwyn took that to mean she was dismissed.

Dinner was a dismal affair. She was close with a few of the other girls but shared nothing like the connection she, Nesta, and Emerie lived for. Probably because she hadn’t killed and nearly died for her fellow priestesses.

They were missing out.

Gwyn returned to her dormitory that night, resolutely not thinking about hazel eyes, soft mouths or slender, scarred fingers.

Instead she drifted off to sleep, humming a quiet melody.

<~>

Hands grabbed her waist, her heart. Someone was screaming, it sounded like her sister but she wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t even sure how she could hear anything over the pounding heartbeat in her ears.

How could Gwyn have a heartbeat when she was dead? Maybe she wasn’t dead yet, maybe she was just dying. It would be over soon.

Men laughed around her. Bile crept up her throat.

Her skirts were around her waist.

Cold wood bit into the back of her bare thighs.

Her thighs were forced open. There was a speck of soot on the ceiling.

Someone should probably clean that off.

She thrashed but it was no use when her wrists were locked. They felt trapped in stone.

Stone that smelled of death and stone that dug it’s nails into her wrists, biting like the teeth of a hound.

His sweat dripped down onto her face. It felt too similar to blood. The children’s blood, Catrin’s blood.

He robbed that special occasion from her. She wanted it to be important, it was supposed to be important, that moment in a woman’s life and it was stolen.

He was finished.

More lined up.

She stopped thrashing. She couldn’t move.

Broken.

Another unbuckled his belt.

A slash of red, then glowing blue siphons and-

<~>

Gwyn woke with a gasp.

She was out of bed and tugging on a dressing gown before she could even think about what she was doing.

Out of the dormitories and up into the library. It was quiet, fae lights burned low and sleep hung heavy in the silence.

It was probably hours away from dawn.

Up the stairs and there, a door. She swung it open and Nesta stood before her.

“Gwyn? What are you-“ Nesta looked concerned, Gwyn probably looked a state.

Cassian stood behind his mate, blade in hand, scanning the hall.

Nesta reached for her but she jerked out of reach, she needed-

“Gwyn?”

A smooth, deep voice. She almost collapsed in relief.

Instead she turned towards the warrior standing at the foot of the stairs.

Gwyn fell against his chest before she realised she had moved. Strong hand wrapped around her, then quickly withdrew. Soft shadows encased her instead. Singing soft words of comfort and they soothed her.

Azriels chest rumbled as he spoke to Nesta and Cassian. Then he attempted to guide her up the stairs but she clung to him.

He was the only solid thing in the raging sea and she wasn’t going to let go of her lifeline.

Instead Azriels strong arms wrapped around her legs and waist and she was softly carried into a room that smelled like home. ***

Gwyn woke hours later as dawn filtered through large windows that covered one wall. She was curled in an armchair, a softly moving pillow rising and falling beneath her head.

A pillow that smelled a lot like Azriel.

She shifted slightly in his lap to look up at his sleeping face. Dark eyelashes that shadowed high cheekbones, fluttered slightly. Gwyn shifted some more, readying to get up, but strong arms wrapped around her, tucking her in close, burying his head in her hair.

She sat there, comfortable in Azriels arms for minutes or hours until the sun rose fully, bringing with it the realisation of where she was, and what had brought her to this comforting embrace.

Embarrassment shifted her weight again, waking Azriel fully. His arms loosened, hazel eyes filling with concern, no doubt from the memories of the night before.

Gwyn rose fully, “Thank- Thank you for that,” she gestured vaguely to the chair they had been tucked in on, “But it really wasn’t necessary for you to sleep with me in your arms, your neck probably hurts and you would’ve been more comfortable in your own bed, not that I’d want to be in your bed,” Gods what was she saying? “It’s just that you probably would’ve been-“

“Gwyn.” Az still lay prone in the armchair, wearing loose bottoms and a thin sleeping shirt. Gods he was pretty in the early sunlight.

“Ye- Yes?”

“It’s alright,” He smiled softly, “I’ve slept in worse conditions and you didn’t really want me to let you go.”

Mother, could she get any more red?

“And, well,” he coughed slightly, “it didn’t really seem proper to bring you to my bed.”

Yep, she definitely could get more red.

“Oh, well, em, thank- thank you, again” she was making it worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No. Yes? No, she wasn’t ready to relive that experience before breakfast. She had only told two people what happened. Nesta and Emerie. Azriel knew because he was there but she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“No, I’m fine.”

His expression was unreadable, but he rose, “Come, let’s eat breakfast. Cass and Nesta might join us, if they can separate for long enough.” ***

Nesta and her mate were indeed sitting next to each other at the table when Gwyn entered.

Nesta smiled kindly at her and Cassian winked in greeting before returning to the conversation with his mate. Gwyn took in the easy nature with which they chatted, Nesta occasionally leaning back to laugh at something Cassian said, the way Cassian’s eyes seemed to flare with pride every time.

She glanced over at Azriel who sat across the table from her and realised he had been watching her.

She resisted the temptation to look down, instead keeping his gaze and smiling back when he smirked at her.

Gwyn realised belatedly that Nesta had said something to her.

“What?”

Her friend’s eyes flickered between Gwyn and Azriel, “I said ‘you and I need to get Emerie and go to Velaris’. Rhys kindly agreed to winnow us and he’ll be here in about an hour.”

Gwyn’s brows furrowed, “Why are we going to Velaris?”

Gwyn had been to the city of starlight only a few times, but enjoyed each excursion immensely.

Nesta smirked, “We’re going dress shopping for Starfall.”

Chapter 4

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for this fic or my writing in general

Tag list: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @illyrian-valkyrie @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @gwynkyrie @acourtofmidnightsnacks @simpforfictionalmenandwomen @bittermuire @mirubyai @velvetrays

#sjmsstuff writes #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel #light and dark #light and dark ch 3 #acosf spoiler #acosf

155 notes · View notes

itsmeevie01 · 4 years

Text

Bio!dad Bruce Day 7-Fashion Show

Marinette laughed as she linked arms with Alix and hurried out of school. Today, the girls had arranged to go out for the evening, and they were insistent that nothing would ruin their fun, even an akuma. As the shorter girls hurried away, Alya watched from where she stood on the steps. When she had transferred, she had hoped that the girl she had made a connection with would become her best friend. Now, as they neared the end of April, she had resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t part of the other’s inner circle.

Although she was friendly with the entire class, Marinette had quickly proven to be hard to get close to. She had her life out of school, and she had her life in school. They didn’t mix.

Unknown to the rest of the school, Marinette’s birthday was coming up. Every year, she would do something small with Tom and Sabine. Sometimes she would invite a friend over. Mostly, she kept her birthday quiet. The teen knew that if she offered, her class would love to celebrate with her, but she didn’t see it as a big deal. three years earlier, Bruce had asked her if she wanted to do anything for her birthday. When she had mentioned that she didn’t really celebrate it that much, he had nodded in acceptance. Each year, he flew into Paris and took her out for a day of shopping, an amusement park, or a fancy dinner. This year, he had invited her to join him in Gotham so that her brothers could come along. Since the event earlier in the month, Bruce had been more at ease when talking about many of the things going on in his home city. Now that he knew that Marinette was already entrenched in the hero life that he had been working so hard to keep her out of, he had opened up about the times that the family had vanished during her visits.

When Marinette had eagerly agreed to join him in Gotham, Bruce had asked his daughter of she had any preferences on what they did. The girl, as expected, shook her head and told him to surprise her. As long as they were together, it didn’t really matter. Imagine her surprise, when she got home from her late-night movie with Alix, to find her parents waiting for her, both buzzing in excitement.

“Mariette! Oh good, we were afraid that you would be out later. Bruce got in contact with us, he is going to fly you our for the entire weekend, instead of just one day!” While the bakers continued to gush about how wonderful it was for Bruce to fly Marinette out for her birthday, the girl paused. Usually, as much as she enjoyed her brothers, they were very upfront with her. When she had asked if they knew what Bruce was planning, they had been cagey. Now, he was flying her out on a Thursday, and bringing her back on a Tuesday? That was a long time considering she still had school.

Later that week as she packed her carry on, the noirette crinkled her nose in concentration. She had been doing the best she could to figure out what it could be, but she still had found nothing on their plans for the next few days. Once she had finished, she plopped the bag next to her suitcase. Whatever her family had planned, she could only hope that she was ready for it.

The next day at school, Marinette rolled her eyes as Alya started to chatter at her. The girl was nice, yes, but Marinette had seen what had happened when she had started to zero in on information. Alya was not likely to let anything go, which sadly, meant that for the sake of her secret identity, Marinette had t keep her distance. When Nino plopped into his seat in front of her, he turned to flash Marinette a grin. “you ready for your trip, dudette?” Marinette smiled in return,

“So ready! I finished packing last night, so Maman is going to pick me up at noon. That makes sure I have a little under four hours to get on my plane.” Nino nodded in understanding.

“International travel is nothing to mess with. You may be joined by Chloe; she is flying out to visit her mother. Where are you flying into?”

“New York! They said that they would meet me there, and that we would head back after whatever surprise they’ve been planning.” Nino snickered at his friend’s frustration. It was well known within their friend group that the girl liked to know what was going on so that she could plan accordingly. The last time they had tried to surprise her, Kim had ended up with a broken arm, and Alix had gotten enough blackmail to last a lifetime. It was also pretty common for the girl to refer to her family in vague terms. As much as she trusted her friends, her class was more than willing to dig into her personal life in an attempt to force friendship. Because of this, Marinette tried to keep her personal life a vague as possible. In situations like this, she was grateful that Nino understood what she meant, because Alya had caught onto their conversation and started to ask as many questions as she could. Thankfully, Chloe must have gotten the notice from Nino to rescue her, because the blonde swaggered into the room and made a beeline for the duo’s desk.

“So, Mari trash, what this I hear about you leaving the country?” while Alya bristled at the name that the heiress had thrown out, Marinette sent her friend a secret smile. Chloe sent her a nod before returning to riling up Alya until Madame Bustier made her way in, effectively shutting down all conversations.

The girls giggled as they hurried through the airport. When they had realized that they were on the same flight, they had agreed to meet up at the airport and wait out the extra time together. As the duo sat there, they chatted and traded pictures, and discussed fashion. When Chloe mentioned that her mother was taking her to meet a ‘rich client who she wont name. Ridiculous!’ Marinette paused. “Chloe, that’s not the only reason that your flying out, right?” the blond gave an undignified snot.

“Honestly Mari, I wish! She’s dragging me to her ‘secret fashion show for the ages’ as she calls it.” Soon the girls were giggling and discussing the latest trends. When the flight attendants called for first class, the two girls gather their bags and made their way over to the line that was forming. When they had gotten settled (conveniently next to each other, which spoke of manipulation to Marinette, although she refrained from mentioning it to the diva next to her), they each pulled out a book and got ready for their flight. Thankfully, they both made the transatlantic flights enough to know what to expect.

That evening, when they arrived, the girls hurried to get through security and collect their bags. As they exited the baggage claim, both girls started to scan for their rides. On one side of the airport, was Audrey Bourgeois’ personal assistant. Next to her stood the stately figure of Alfred Pennyworth. While Marinette threw herself at Alfred in a hug, Chloe nodded to the frazzled looking brunette who had greeted them. The girls hugged and parted ways, promising to meet up on Monday if they didn’t see each other before hand.

While Chloe settled in her mother’s penthouse, Marinette was buried in a pile of hugs from her brothers. When they had finally given her room to breathe, her father introduced her to a girl who had been standing nearby. Cassandra (her sister!!) smiled at her and waved shyly. Marinette had sent her a smile worthy of the sun and given the girl a hug in return.

The next morning, the two girls were the first to join Alfred in the kitchen. Was Marinette caught Alfred up on the last few months, she started to help him with breakfast. Cassandra (Cass, Marinette scolded herself) settled on a stool to watch her move through the kitchen with a fluidity that spoke of many, many hours of experience. Once Bruce and they boys had joined them, the group settled at the dining table.

When the food had been cleared up, Marinette turned to her father, “you know, you made it really hard to pack for this trip, when I had no idea what we are going to do!” Bruce smiled at her ire and easily brushed aside her worries.

“it’s a good thing that we’re going shopping then, isn’t it, Marinette?” the way the girls face lit up made Tim snort.

“B, you really shouldn’t have said that, now she’s not going to sit still for the rest of the day.” The teen made a face at the look sent his way and Marinette huffed at her older brother.

“At least I know how to dress myself nicely without having someone pick my clothes out for me!” Dick sniggered at her response before wincing as she directed her fury his way. “don’t think I’m ignoring you, Richard.” The man froze, because his sister had used his first name only once and that occasion was not to be brought up unless the world was ending. “your fashion choices are even worse than Dad’s!” As the family started to argue about the validity of her statements, Marinette slipped away, beckoning for Cassandra (Cass!) to follow her.

Once they were in Marinette’s temporary room, the girl handed her sister (!!) a small wrapped package. “Tim gave me a heads up that there was a new addition to the family, and I wanted to make something for you.” The other girl studied her for a moment before hesitantly ripping the paper. Inside was a small journal that was leather bound and had the name Cass written in an elegant script (A/N Cass is probably the character that I am the least familiar with the origin of. That said, I’m going to run off the assumption that she is learning to read when she is brought to join n the Wayne family. If I am wrong, lmk, for now, this is what we are vibing with). The quiet girl gave Marinette a tentative hug as a thank you before Tim knocked on the doorframe.

“Time to go, ladies. Your chariot awaits.” Marinate rolled her eyes at their brother while throwing a pair of balled up socks at him.

“We’re coming, boy genius. Be fearful though, this is the start of an alliance. Soon, maybe ill be able to finally compete against you boys on game night without rigging the games!” Tim spluttered at her declaration as she strode past him. He huffed and hurried after the girls, bemoaning Bruce for making this trip a ‘family affair’.

Three hours later, Tim and Dick were each carrying handfuls of shopping bags, as the family of five re-entered their temporary living space. The girls were walking together, Marinette explaining some of her ideas for different designs. Alfred smiled at them as they all stood talking together, until an unfamiliar ringtone broke the low ambiance. The brothers looked at each other in confusion, while Bruce raised an eye at his youngest daughter. The girl flushed in embarrassment and dug into her purse for a long moment before pulling out a phone that was very obviously not her own. “hey! Is everything ok?” her immediate switch to French made the others pause and zero in on her conversation. “Oh, you caught it. How much damage was there?” A pause and then, “do I need to- I know I’m supposed to be on vacation but- oh fine! Leave it on my balcony in the jar, ill take care of as soon as I can.” A beat, and the girl made a face at whatever the person on the other end of the phone said. “stay safe, and call me if you need me, yeah?” once she had hung up, the girl turned back to them with a raised eyebrow. “what? Are you saying you don’t have a second phone for emergencies?”

The next day, Saturday, was a whirlwind, as Alfred got everyone up and moving by7 am. When asked what was going on by Marinette, the butler simply smiled and moved to lure Dick out of bed. When the family was once again gathered around the breakfast table, Marinette turned to her father and demanded an explanation at the reason for a wakeup call before what she considered ‘reasonable hours’. The man smiled in return, “Today, Marinette, we are going to celebrate your birthday. As promised, this year, the entire fairly will be able to join in.” the girl protested at his declaration.

“what was yesterday? I thought that was us celebrating my birthday without going overboard!” Dick laughed at her shock before jumping into the conversation.

“well, Net, yesterday was part one. Today is part two…and the part that we think you’ll like the most.” At her confusion, Tim leaned over from his spot across the dining table, pushing a stack of six tickets towards her,

“were going to Audrey Bourgeois’ secret fashion show.” The screech that came from the youngest in the family was well worth the suspense.

As the family approached the hidden venue, Marinette felt excitement bubble up once again. She had spent the day making sure that the entire family was dressed appropriately for the event. Somehow, Bruce had managed to buy a dress on the sly for her, after catching her gazing longingly at it for the duration of their time in the shop. As for the others, for the most part, they had the necessary pieces to put together a look that would be presentable at the secret show. The door was opened once they had handed over their tickets, and the Wayne family were handed a stack of passes that they hurriedly settled around their necks as they were show their way to their seats.

When the catwalk lit up, Marinette sat there, frozen, anticipating the beginning of the show. The lights blacked out, and a spotlight followed the first model on her way towards the middle of the room. Marinette’s breath caught in shock at the beauty of the coat that was trailing down the runway. As the next model made his way out, Marinette lost herself in the world of fashion.

After, Bruce turned to the girl and raised an eyebrow, “so…was this too over the top for your birthday?” the 14-year-old smiled at her father.

“no,” she breathed, “it was perfect”

whew! that was a long one! obviously, this one is not compleate, but it’s other half is going to be coming soon! any feedback is more than welcome, im going to try to keep these a little longer if i can...

also, what did y’all think of Alya? i’m not her biggest fan, but didnt want to make her a villian?

#b!dbwm2020 #b!dbwm #miraculous ladybug #maribat #My writing #shit this was supposed to be short #i love Chloe #so she will probably play a bigger role in mari's life #idk where this came from man...

226 notes · View notes

kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

Kiss It Better?

@runningracingdancingchasing

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3426

Prompt: “Kiss it better” kiss

Summary: "Kiss it better"... Rapunzel liked that idea, she decided. It might not be magic, not like her hair had been, but giving love and affection to comfort someone who was hurting was definitely its own form of healing.

Note: I haven’t posted anything in a while oops fdsghg Thank you Bex for the prompt!! I hope you’ll like this!! This is half fluff half hurt/comfort so everyone should be happy :’)

Read on ao3

"Ouch," Eugene said quietly, startling Rapunzel out of her concentration as he sucked in a breath.

They were in the library, their favourite place since they had been welcomed in the castle less than one month ago. They had a common passion for reading, though their tastes widely differed, and they both loved to spend quiet afternoons in each other's company, reading whatever story interested them that day. Today, Rapunzel had been learning a lot about the history of medicine, reading passionately an immense volume detailing the progress humanity made in this field - at least, until Eugene broke the silence. When she raised her head to look at him, she saw him pouting in the direction of one of his hands, more precisely towards his raised pinky.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, putting her book down and scooching over to be closer to him.

"Yeah, I just got a papercut," Eugene grumbled. "These are the worst, such a tiny cut shouldn't have the right to sting that much."

Gently, Rapunzel took his hand to inspect the wound. It really was nothing more than a little line on the tip of his finger. She never had to deal too much with papercuts; even if she did hurt herself during the day, she had always known that by the evening, she would sing to Gothel, and would heal every of her own ailments at the same occasion. But that wasn't an option anymore, of course.

"You okay Sunshine?" Eugene said, interrupting her thoughts. She must have looked a little too intense - thinking about Gothel always did that to her. "You can always kiss it better if it's worrying you so much," he grinned.

She frowned at him, his hand still in hers. "I'm pretty sure a kiss won't make it better. Actually, I don't recommend getting your wounds kissed at all, do you know the-"

"Oh no, that's not- It's more of a… belief thing, I guess? I don't think a kiss can literally heal wounds, don't worry," Eugene explained awkwardly, and Rapunzel felt her cheeks darken at this. Of course Eugene wasn't seriously suggesting something like that. She should have known she was missing something - there was so much she still didn't know, so much she hadn't lived through, and she didn't feel like she would be able to catch up any time soon. Every place, every sentence seemed to hold a new concept she had never heard of before.

"Ah," she tried to chuckle, "of course."

"Hey, it's okay," he smiled softly, his free hand gently pushing her short hair behind her ear. "It's something you do with kids mostly, to distract them from little hurts they might have. You're right though, you shouldn't kiss the wounds directly."

She nodded emphatically, but kept herself from reciting all the exciting stuff she had learnt on medicine and bacterias today. She wanted Eugene to finish his explanation first.

"Basically, a lot of kids cry after getting hurt because they got scared, not because they're still in pain. Applying a "magical" kiss distracts them, and that makes them stop crying most of the time. Well, if the kid isn't stubborn," Eugene muttered. He was definitely speaking from experience here.

"It's not really magic then but it's... comfort?"

"Yeah exactly. It's both a distraction and a way to show a hurt kid affection, to make them feel better. I said it mostly as a joke," Eugene added.

Rapunzel hummed, mulling it over. This was… This was really nice, she decided. It might not be magic, not like her hair had been, but giving love and affection to comfort someone who was hurting was definitely its own form of healing.

Eugene's hand was still in hers, though she had lowered it on her lap during their little discussion. Slowly, she raised his hand again, smiling at the way he let her do it, and guided it to her lips. She put a soft kiss on the arch of his knuckles, eyes closed, thinking about all the love she felt for him. When she lowered his hand and opened her eyes, she saw the way Eugene looked at her, his cheeks bright red and his mouth half open.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Oh, maybe the kiss should be closer to the wound-"

"N- no, no," he stuttered out, "it was perfect, I..."

The red on his cheeks intensified and, with some amusement, Rapunzel understood that he was more moved than embarrassed.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked cheekily.

"Yep," he squeaked, "definitely."

"Good," she smiled, before taking the opportunity his distraction was offering to press her lips against his, drawing a soft noise from him. Her hands sneaked around his neck, and his own ended around her waist, any thought of papercuts - or reading, for that matter - forgotten.

------

Though Rapunzel knew the trip to the Dark Kingdom was dangerous, and that the future of her kingdom was at stake, she couldn’t help but think that life on the road was really exciting. She discovered so many new things each day! And, even if it always made Cass grumpy, stopping to explore was one of Rapunzel's favourite things to do.

That was also why she treasured her dates with Eugene so much - not only did she love spending time with him without anyone else, but he also always made sure Rapunzel would be able to explore the most interesting places around. She sometimes worried he would grow bored of seeing her run everywhere, but he kept assuring her it wasn't the case - and going by the smile he always had when looking at her, she tended to trust him on this.

Today was one of those great days. They were currently making their way into a really cool cave Rapunzel had spotted, and they had both gotten a little wet because it had been hidden away by a small waterfall - they sneaked behind it thanks to a narrow path leading to it. Eugene had grumbled about his hair, but he was cute when he did that, and he still followed her in despite the splashing water.

"Uh, Sunshine," he called when she rushed inside. "Careful, it's probably slippe-"

The last part of his warning was left unheard as Rapunzel slipped on the wet floor with a yelp, and fell heavily on her hands and knees. It stung.

"I'm okay!" she exclaimed, grimacing as she got up again. Eugene was already next to her, and he gently took her arm to help her straighten up. "Ouch," she muttered when her knees contested said straightening up.

"Come on, it's drier back there," Eugene noted, before guiding her further into the cave.

She felt like she was walking like a penguin, trying to not bend her knees too much to avoid making it hurt more. The cave wasn't even that fun, or mysterious, she thought with a pout. Finally, Eugene helped her sit on a bigger rock, and kneeled before her extended legs.

His eyes flickered up. "Can I...?" he asked, gesturing to her now dirty and slightly wet dress.

"Of course," Rapunzel smiled - Eugene had seen way more of her body than just her knees, but she loved that he always made sure she was okay with whatever he was doing.

Gently, Eugene rolled up the bottom of her skirt. He had to tug a little when he got to her knees, because it had stuck to her skin. Her skin probably broke in the fall, Rapunzel understood.

"So? What's your pronostic, doc?" she joked as he inspected the wounds.

"Your odds aren't good," Eugene declared dramatically, searching through his satchel, "but I think we can still save your legs."

"Oh thank god," Rapunzel laughed, leaning forwards to see the scratches on her skin. One was a little deeper than the other, but it was nearly nothing. Eugene showed her the bandages he had packed triumphantly, and she laughed again. "Do you always carry that on you?"

"Hey, I know my public! Although, it's not often that you're the one falling Sunshine."

He took his cantine too, and poured water on the wounds, probably to get rid of the dirt and the pebbles. Rapunzel hummed quietly as he worked, mulling over what he said - he was right, she might be a little clumsy, but with her hair, rare were the occasions when she couldn't catch herself.

There were worse situations to be in, though. The sunlight was filtered by the waterfall, illuminating the cave with a soft, dark blue colour. It was as if night had fallen in the middle of the day, and there were only the two of them in the entire universe. Eugene's slightly wet hair seemed even darker here, but his tongue popping out as he concentrated on her also made him look adorable. Rapunzel had come to explore this cave in search of adventure and mystery, but to have Eugene on his knees before her, taking care of her, loving her - that was perhaps the greatest treasure this cave could have ever possessed.

"It's all good," he grinned, proud of himself.

"Not exactly," she smiled.

"Really?

"Kiss it better?"

Eugene raised his head to observe for a few seconds. Without taking his eyes off her, he placed a soft and quick kiss on the top of her right knee, then on her left one, his skin warm against hers.

"And now?" he asked, putting his hands on the rock around her legs to get up and be closer to her. "Is it better?"

"I may need another kiss," she breathed, voice drowned by the rushing water and the feel of his lips against hers.

------

Rapunzel was thinking about these moments, right now. About the soft and careful kisses in the library, when their relationship was still so new, and they didn't quite know how to say I love you yet. About Eugene's tongue and his hands and his hips, all pressing against her during one of their rare moments of privacy on the road, cold drops of water falling on their heated skin.

She was also thinking about the way Eugene's eyes smiled when he was happy; about the blush on his cheeks she knew exactly how to provoke, the laugh in his chest she could feel if he was close enough. She was thinking about it, because right now, Eugene didn't look happy at all, and she didn't like it when he wasn't.

"Hey hey hey Rapunzel," he called her from above, sounding more scared than she had ever heard him, "stay with me please okay? Just- Just breathe, it's gonna be fine, I swear."

Eugene always babbled a lot when he was freaking out. She found it adorable, really, but here, he seemed terrified, and she wanted to know what was wrong. Why was he- Why was he above her? No, wait, why was she laying on the ground?

She tried to say… anything, really, but she felt something press harshly against her shoulder, and the intense pain that erupted from it took her breath away. For a second, she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything beyond the fast beating of her heart, before the world slammed back into focus, too bright, too loud, too painful. The sun was shining right into her eyes, it felt, and everything was nauseatingly hot - especially her shoulder, pulsing with a pain she didn't understand. There were voices all around her, and she heard Eugene snap at someone to back off, and she- the weight came back on her shoulder, and she gasped, feeling too tired to do anything else.

"I'm sorry Sunshine, I'm so sorry," Eugene said quickly, something breaking in his voice. "You're gonna be fine but I need to do this, okay? I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

"S'okay," Rapunzel croaked with difficulty, her throat dry. Eugene looked about to cry, and she tried to move her other hand to cup his cheek, but only her fingers twitched. Huh.

Eugene's eyes left her to look at something she couldn't see without moving and, to be honest, she didn't intend to move at all if no one forced her. She was so tired. She could feel her eyelids flickering, her vision starting to blur, but she didn't want to make Eugene even sadder by falling asleep on him. His frown was only cute when she knew he was playing it up.

Her head hurt. She could feel a slick warmth spreading under her shoulder, and she wondered what happened to the trip in town she was sure to have planned for today. She loved talking with the Coronans directly, and Eugene always managed to accompany her as a "security detail", so she would never miss it for anything. She was exhausted, though. Maybe it could wait for tomorrow...

"No no no no, Sunshine, Rapunzel, hey." Her right shoulder -the one that didn't hurt- was shaken roughly, and she had to blink open the eyes she hadn't even realised she had closed. "Yes, look at me, you need to keep your eyes open until the doctor arrives, can you do that for me Sweetheart?"

She tried to hum, but she wasn't sure he heard her. All around them, other people were moving, talking too loudly and too quickly for her to follow. She was... She was lying in the street? Eugene gently pushed aside her hair, but his usually white Captain glove had specks of red on it. Did he- no, she was the one who got hurt, she was pretty sure of that. Her shoulder hurt. But she couldn't- she didn't remember what happened.

"Eugene-" she gasped, feeling like she couldn't breathe right.

"I'm here, I'm right here Sunshine." He plastered the most unconvincing smile on his face, but she could see tears building up in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you I promise."

"I…" she tried, brain scrambling to find anything that could make Eugene look happier.

She hated it when he was sad. She hated it when she was the reason for his sadness, because if there was one person she never wanted to upset, it was Eugene. But as long as she was hurt, she also knew he wouldn't be able to cheer up.

"May- Maybe kiss it better?" she whispered hoarsely, blinking against the stars in her vision.

Eugene laughed tearfully. Her mission was somewhat accomplished, she thought with a small smile.

For a brief moment, she thought he wouldn't do it; then he leant over her gently, the sun illuminating his hair as his lips found hers with a tentative softness. Comfort. She remembered that this was the goal, to offer love and affection, to help overcome the pain. And, although this pain was still there, Rapunzel wanted to believe it was working, because she felt infinitely better when he kissed her. The kiss tasted salty. Eugene was crying, or maybe it was her, she wasn't sure. All too quickly, he ended it, leaving a piece of his heart with her.

She smiled, or at least tried to. "All better now," she intended to say, but her own words were lost to her when her vision tunnelled. Eugene cried out for her, and she wished so badly she could answer him, but her consciousness was playing a dirty fight, and she didn't even remember losing it.

------

Rapunzel woke up to whispers. The world was far less confusing, in this instant; there was no bright light, no burning pain, no loud voices - nothing but the quiet of the night… and these whispers. At first, she thought they were prayers, low and intense requests to be listened to. However, as she concentrated, through the mist covering her mind - as she listened, she understood that they were apologies.

She understood that it was Eugene, holding her right hand in both of his, softly asking for her forgiveness, voice so quiet it felt like he didn't want to be heard.

Despite the exhaustion, Rapunzel opened her eyes, feeling how heavy they still were. She breathed in deeply, and her shoulder twinged, but the pain was dull compared to earlier. She glanced to her right, and saw Eugene hunched over, looking at her hands as he muttered strings of apologies. He wasn't in his Captain uniform - just his regular clothes, and he looked... He looked small. Tired, too, even though she couldn't see his face.

"This shouldn't have happened," he breathed, squeezing her hand tighter. "I should- I should have protected you better. I'm sorry," he repeated again.

There were a lot of things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that no one could predict these kinds of things, and that no matter the protection, someone who wanted her dead could always find a way to harm her. She wanted to tell him that she loved how he trusted her, she loved that he never tried to coddle her like other people in her life did, and she knew that, despite how scared he was right now, he would never do anything to impair her freedom. She wanted to tell him that this was a good thing. She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

"Hey," she said instead, her voice so hoarse she sounded like a grandma. Eh, she did her best.

Eugene's head snapped up, and his eyes widened visibly when they met hers. A myriad of emotions played on his face, the guilt and the joy and the fear all mixing together for an instant, until a bright and disbelieving smile broke on his face.

"Rapunzel," he breathed out, biting his lips as he held her hand tighter and leant to be closer to her. "I- Hi," he laughed, though it looked like a sob. "You're okay."

She grinned as best as she could, revelling in the way he immediately cupped her cheek, like he always did.

"Love you," she murmured, and it was all it took for his emotions to get the better of Eugene. His face contorted as he fought it, but it was too late; he lowered his face on her bed when the first tear fell, shaking slightly.

"I thought- I- I'm so sorry, Sunshine," he said, chest heaving as he looked at her again. His face was a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes, a flow of tears staining his cheeks, and, most of all, he still seemed terrified that she might close her eyes again, not wake up this time.

Eugene wasn't supposed to look like this. Eugene should be smiling, because she never wanted him to suffer from anything. But he was hurting right now, and if she couldn't make everything right again, she could at least make it better.

She could bring him comfort.

Rapunzel breathed, and used all her energy to raise herself slightly on her right arm. She didn't go far, but Eugene immediately came to support her, and before he could try to put her back on the bed, she raised the arm that was supporting her quickly, and latched it around his neck.

He didn't let her fall. She had known he wouldn't.

But now that she was close enough, she crossed the remaining space between them, and gently kissed the top of his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears on her lips. His eyes fluttered closed, and she felt his arms hug her tenderly, as if he was afraid she would disappear.

"Are you kissing my tears better?" he asked quietly, holding her tightly.

"Is it... Is it working?" she said, feeling now tired as she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and sound in his arms.

"Yes." His breath tickled the skin of her neck. Gently, he helped her lie down again, and she was too exhausted to say anything. "It's definitely working," he whispered.

His hand was playing with strands of her hair, soothing her as she was already half-asleep. She smiled, because she could already see that this was true, that he was feeling better now just from her kiss. And she would kiss him over and over and over again if he wanted, because she loved being able to sooth his hurts just by being there for him, just like he could sooth hers by being there for her.

She would do it after sleeping, though. For that night, she rested, because she knew she'd have the opportunity to love him tomorrow too, and that she'd do it for as long as it was possible.

#tangled #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled the series

59 notes · View notes

snelbz · 4 years

Text

Lost Time {18}

Summary: It’s been four years since Azriel ran away from Velaris and left behind everyone he ever loved — including the girl left standing at the altar. Now, he’s back home, but can he try and pick up the broken pieces of his life, or has there been too much lost time?

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

Lost Time Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

Azriel sat in silence in Cassian’s living room, both he and Rhysand staring at him, unblinking. Azriel was doing nothing, just letting them take in the information as he slowly sipped his steaming cup of black coffee.

It was a pleasant morning, sunny and cloud-free, warm. Azriel was exhausted, though. He hadn’t slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Ianthe and the texts she had sent, the words haunting him.

She was in town.

In his hometown.

And she wasn’t leaving him alone.

After he woke up that morning, he got Novan ready to go and brought him over to Cassian’s after Elain had left for work.

After his second cup of coffee, he had told his brothers the entire story of Ianthe, the parts they hadn’t already known, then confessed about her texts, and the fact that Elain knew absolutely nothing about it.

Which he both felt equally confident and guilty about.

“So, let me get this straight,” Cassian said, at last. “Your ex, who is a model, and a little bit of a stalker, is in town, and hasn’t stopped texting you since last night…and you haven’t mentioned any of this to Elain. Your wife.”

Azriel nodded, watching as Novan chased the kitten up the stairs.

“And this Ianthe also got into it with you when you were in New York getting your stuff,” Rhysand followed. “Which Elain also doesn’t know about.”

Azriel gave them both an exasperated, pointed look. “Obviously you have all the facts, alright? Now, what do I do? Elain’s pregnant, tired, and sick. I don’t want to tell her about it if it’s nothing, she has enough going on, but I can never tell with Ianthe, I never know what she’ll do. She’s not the type that exactly takes no for an answer.”

“Clearly,” Cassian muttered, reaching for his coffee, and Azriel glowered.

“No, no,” Rhys said, stopping Az from giving Cassian a smartass remark. “That’s his thinking voice.”

Azriel glanced at Rhys and then at Cass and found him still holding his coffee cup. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound Novan’s feet chasing the small ball of fur through the house.

“Just the texts and calls so far?” He finally asked, looking up at Az. He nodded in confirmation. Cassian shrugged. “I can’t do anything until she makes a physical unwanted advance on you or Elain in Velaris. And back in New York, did anything…happen? Did you make her a promise or anything?”

“Like, the last time I saw her?” Az asked. “Or before that?”

He had to admit, Azriel didn’t like the way Cassian’s eyebrows rose at that question. “Let’s start with last time and then explain before that.” With a sigh, Azriel ran through that last night one more time, remembering the rage in Ianthe’s bright eyes well. “Okay,” Cass continued. “Now…before that?”

Azriel sighed and hung his head. “I may have told her on a few, drunk occasions that I thought marriage was a sham and that with enough persuasion, I’d …” He groaned and dragged his hands down his face.”I’d always be down for a quick ride.”

Both of his brothers stared at him, and then Cassian asked, quietly for the sake of little ears, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Azriel set down his mug before rubbing his temples. “Look, marriage wasn’t really my favorite topic throughout the years, alright? So, excuse me if in my miserable drunken state that I said bitter shit I didn’t mean.”

“That miserable shit is going to be what gets you in trouble,” Cassian said, staring his younger brother down. “You need to talk to Elain.”

Azriel scoffed. “And tell her that? No, I don’t think so.”

“Az,” Rhysand began, shaking his head, slowly. “I get the drunken shit, okay? But, that’s going to be what she uses to get her way.”

“I know, I know,” Azriel groaned.

“Ianthe seems like a piece of work,” Cassian said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

A little head peeked over the railing of the banister and they heard “Uncle Cass?”

They all glanced up as Cassian asked “Yeah, buddy?”

“How do I get power rangers on the tv?”

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, jogging up the stairs.

Azriel sighed and took a drink of his coffee. “I need something stronger than this.”

“Apparently you don’t,” Rhys mumbled, taking a sip of his own. He set the mug back on the side table beside him. “Especially if you make stupid, fucking promises when you’re drunk.”

Az glowered at him, not saying anything, just throwing his brother a vulgar gesture. He finally sighed and said, “Things were pretty bad for me for a while. Didn’t really feel anything. Just took pictures and lived my life. It’s probably why my shots were so good.” He laughed, but Rhysand could tell there was no humor in the sound. “I could only see and feel emotion through my camera lens. I was numb to my own, so I…captured other people’s. And just continued to ignore my own.”

It took Rhysand a moment to say anything else, but when he did, his voice was soft. “I get it. Try not to worry about it, yeah? Just…talk to Elain when she gets home so that she’s aware, and prepared, but don’t stress out about it until something happens. And hopefully nothing will happen.”

Azriel nibbled on his lip for a second before nodding. “No, yeah, you’re right.”

And yet, he felt a heavy sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as each word left his mouth.

* * * * * *

Working the day after she got married wasn't exactly how Elain had planned things, but things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan for most of her life.

Not that she was complaining, she loved her complicated life and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

She smiled at the couple who’d brought a family heirloom in, an old dresser that belonged to his grandmother. She hesitated before saying, “I can handle the refurbishment, but I’ll let you know now, my turn around is a little slower than it used to be.” She tucked a hand under her small bump and explained, “I’m a few days shy of three months pregnant, and my husband is looking for a well-ventilated workshop for me-.”

“It’s no rush,” the woman - Claire, she’d written on her order form - smiled, and looked up at her husband. “It’s actually for our baby’s nursery. I’m fourteen weeks.”

Elain’s smile was genuine as she said, “Congratulations! Okay, that gives me a little bit of time.”

After finishing up with the sweet couple and with some help, Elain had moved the dresser by the door to have Az load up and take home after work. Leaning against her desk, Elain stared at her reflection in one of the elegant full length mirrors that she’d salvaged from an old manor house and wrapped a hand under her belly again. She dialed Nesta’s number and waited as it rang.

“Hello?” Nesta asked.

“Do twins run in our family?” Elain asked, not even replying to her sister’s greeting.

“I- What?”

“Do we have the twin gene?” She asked again. “It’s not like we can trace Az back, so do you know if we have twins anywhere in our family?”

The other line was quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “Why?”

“Because I just had a customer who’s fourteen weeks pregnant, which is only a couple weeks farther than me, and I look drastically bigger than her.”

Nesta was quiet for a minute, then she said, “After Miryam and I were joking about it, I decided to do some digging into our family history. It turns out that Mom’s brothers are twins. They live down south, if I remember right. They and Mom never got along. I think the last time we saw them, you were just a baby-.”

“Nesta,” Elain interrupted, recalling she and Azriel’s previous conversation about twins. Elain had been joking, too, for the most part, then. They hadn’t been too close to their mother’s family, but she figured Nesta would have known. “What if I’m having twins?”

“What if you are?” Nesta repeated, and Elain rolled her eyes.

“If I am, Azriel will surely freak the hell out,” Elain mumbled, plopping down in an old wooden chair.

“Just means my baby gets two besties instead of one,” Nesta chuckled and Elain knew she was doing the exact same thing she was, rubbing soothing circles into her belly.

She smiled and changed the subject, asking, “When are you going to tell us what you’re having?”

The sigh that left Nesta would have made a soap star proud. “Whenever I find out, you’ll find out. Cassian is looking for the perfect gender reveal. He takes the damn envelope with him everywhere he goes because he knows I’ll look otherwise.”

Elain paused. “Has he looked? I can have Donovan ask, you know he’d tell-.”

“No, it’s still sealed,” she sighed. “I told him he has until next week to find something or I’m taking it to Viv’s bakery.”

The bell above the door jingled, alerting Elain of a new customer and she said, “I’ve got someone coming in, but let me know and I can drop it off on my way into work, okay?”

“Okay, I love you,” Nesta said, and Elain could hear her getting back up to go back to work as well. “Call Yrene. See if she can set up another scan. Find me another niece in there.”

Elain was laughing as she tried to see out of the back office. “And how do you know it’s a girl in the first place?”

“I have a hunch,” she replied, simply, then hung up.

With a roll of her eyes, and a small smile, Elain was up on her feet.

There was a tall, slender woman with long, blonde hair and some of the most beautiful eyes Elain had ever seen. She was eyeing an old, vintage floor length mirror that Elain had already refinished. She had been hoping that no one bought it because she was so in love with it that she wanted it in the corner of her bedroom.

“Hi,” Elain said, once she had approached, her smile bright. “Can I help you with anything?”

The woman met Elain’s eye with a smile. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for a gift.”

“I can certainly help with that,” she smiled. “Are we looking for something in particular?”

The woman glanced around the store. “Not really. It’s- it’s sort of complicated.”

“Okay,” Elain said, confused by the hesitation in the girl’s words. “Who’s it for?”

“The love of my life.” There was no hesitation this time and Elain smiled at her. “He’s an old soul. And I just got into town, I don’t know the area. So I just…ended up here.”

She nodded, knowing she hadn’t seen the beauty around before. It was a small town. “Who is he?” She saw the hesitation on her face and realized that just because she was in a small town, she might not be used to how nosy small town folks could be. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Follow me,” Elain said, blushing.

She led her over to an old workbench she’d finished the week before. She’d been debating on taking it home for Azriel to store his spare lenses and bodies for his cameras.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” the woman said, and then she blushed. “I have an odd request.”

Elain blinked. “Okay?”

“May I...sit on it?” She asked.

“Sit on it?” Elain repeated.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’d like to have some pictures taken with it.”

Elain blinked but said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. It’s quite sturdy.” The woman hopped up, pulling a foot up and planted it on the surface. Clearing her throat and looking away, Elain asked, “Are you a model?”

The woman’s eyes snapped to Elain’s. “Why?”

“You’re very pretty,” she laughed, meaning her words. “That and the pictures.”

“Ah,” the woman smiled. “Yes, I am. And thank you, that’s kind of you to say. You’re very pretty, too.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you.”

“You’re pregnant, I see?” she asked, glancing down at Elain’s hand that rested on her stomach.

“I am,” Elain said, nodding.

“Congrats,” she said, her smile radiant. “And the father? He loves you?”

Elain’s heart softened. “Very much so. He’s….well, he’s my soulmate.”

“Soulmate,” the woman repeated. “I want to know what that’s like.” She looked back down at the bench. After a moment, she fished her phone out of her leather satchel and held it out to Elain. “A picture? Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Elain said, taking the phone from the model’s hand and snapping a few pictures as she posed. Elain nearly felt awkward. It wasn’t everyday that she photographed models on her refinished antique furniture.

Azriel would get a kick out of it when she told him after work.

The girl hopped down and took her phone from Elain’s outstretched hand. She looked down at her phone, smiling and approving of the pictures. “Thank you, do you mind if I look around for a minute? Everything is so beautiful.”

“Of course not, please,” Elain said, smiling. She gestured towards the back of the store. “I’ll be in my office, but my name is Elain. Just holler if you need me.”

The girl smiled, slipping her phone back in her pocket and said nothing else. Something in her gaze though, it suddenly unnerved Elain and she turned and was nearly back to her office when she heard, “Thank you, Elain.”

A moment later, Elain heard the bell above the door announce her exit.

* * * * * *

Azriel had just dropped Novan off with Miryam. She was going to bring him to the zoo for a grandparent’s day, which Azriel was pretty bitter that he couldn’t go with.

It’s a Meme/Novan thing, Miryam had explained.

Azriel wasn’t going to argue by saying how much he loved seeing the giraffes.

Even though it was true.

He thought he’d try to scope out some landmarks, though, see what he could photograph in the little town of Velaris, before he went home and edited some stuff he had to send in.

But then, his phone chimed.

It was Ianthe, of course, but that wasn’t what had him slamming on his brakes.

Ianthe was sitting on an antique bench that had been refinished in a shop that Azriel knew all too well.

After pulling a very dangerous u-turn, resulting in a vulgar gesture from the minivan he’d accidentally cut off, he turned around and sped back into town, toward Elain’s shop. He cursed every time he got stopped at a redlight, which was far too often.

He didn’t see any cars in the small lot and knew that Elain parked in the back, but it didn’t stop him from pulling crookedly into the first spot he reached and rushing inside. Azriel hurried straight to Elain’s office and found her sitting at her desk, a forkful of salad in her mouth. Her eyes were wide in surprise, a bit of green hanging between her lips.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, breathless.

Elain’s eyebrows raised and she covered her mouth as she chewed, her other hand instinctively covering her stomach. “Yes? I mean, I think so,” she said, once she had chewed and swallowed her lunch. “What are you doing here, baby?”

Azriel glanced over his shoulder and saw that no one was in the shop. He hurried back to the door, flipping the open sign to closed, and locked the door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, voice slightly panicked as she left the back office.

He didn’t answer, just walked towards her and rested his hands on her hips, one of his thumbs gently brushing over her belly. “We need to talk.”

Elain blinked, staring at him as if he had gone mad. “Okay…”

“There was a woman in here today,” he began, trying to slow his words, realizing how panicked he sounded. “Blonde, tall-.”

“What, the model?” she asked.

So they had a conversation, Azriel thought, as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. She’s… She’s my ex, El. She’s here from New York, and I don’t know why.”

Elain continued to stare at him for a minute, trying to register his confession. “What?”

“She’s my ex. The…one I had been with, after you.” His words were soft, ashamed. “She…texted me last night, saying she was in town.”

Elain was blinking, shaking her head, trying to process what he was telling her. “How do you even—. She said she was here to—.” Her eyes widened and she smacked him in the chest. “Oh, my god, those pictures were for you!”

He raised his hands in surrender, but could tell she wasn’t angry with him, thank the Cauldron, just taken off guard. “Apparently, so. But I didn’t ask for them.” He took her hands in his, turning her wedding band over as he spoke. “This is what I said I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Elain’s eyes slipped closed and she nodded, recalling his text from that morning. Reopening her eyes, she said, “I understand why you wanted to have this talk in person now.”

He smiled, but she could tell he was worried. “And until Donovan was in bed.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Azriel looked away from her, at the floor, at his shoes. At first, he didn’t know what to say. There was no real excuse, no real reason to keep something from his wife. “I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Lainy, the years we spent apart… I’m not proud of them, you know? A lot went on, and I hate it all. Unfortunately, Ianthe was a part of that time we spent apart, and now it’s coming back to haunt me.”

Elain nodded, although she nibbled on her lip.

“You’re thinking of something,” he whispered. “What are you thinking?”

“That my husband has some creepish girl that’s in love with him following him around,” she whispered, her words rushed. “And… I don’t know. She’s here. Around you. Me. Our son, our family, Azriel.”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “She won’t hurt us though, okay? She’s harmless.”

“Is that why you hurried here once you found out she came to the shop?” Elain asked, exasperated. He could see the fear in her eyes, how shaken this had her.

He was still shaking his head, but he dropped his forehead to hers. “I rushed here because I fucked up in not telling you last night and she’s manipulative enough to say something.”

Elain scoffed and said, “She’s got some pretty big balls if she came in here and had your wife take pictures to send to you.”

Azriel chuckled and said, “You’re right. But just—.” He sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Keep an eye on your surroundings.” As her eyes widened, he added, “I don’t think she would do anything, but I’m going to worry until she leaves town. I can keep Novan with me, I can keep an eye on him. But you two,” his eyes softened as he gently caressed her belly. “I can’t always be with you. And I need both of you safe.”

Elain’s eyes lined with silver and she said, “I love you. It doesn’t matter that she’s here. What matters is that we have each other.”

“Exactly,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss her softly. He leaned back and gazed down at her. “Gods, you’re beautiful. Didn’t you say there was something you needed to talk to me about, too?”

Elain was beaming up at him, but she blinked, registering what he’d said. “Yes, sorry. You distracted me and made me cry.”

With a chuckle, Azriel kissed her forehead and walked them back to her office. He sat down in her chair, and pulled her into his lap. “Here, eat and talk. I’m not turning that sign back around until you’ve eaten and are full.”

With an eyebrow raised, Elain asked, “Of your cock?”

Azriel choked on air and when he glanced at her, he found her cheeks red. “I know what’s on your mind today. I’ll remember that later,” he said, squeezing her ass softly. “Now what were you going to talk to me about?”

Elain could feel how hard he’d become, but she did as she was told and resumed her lunch. Before taking a bite, she said, “I’m going back to see Yrene tomorrow at nine.”

Azriel tensed. “Why?”

Elain shrugged. “Just another ultrasound.”

Azriel nodded. “Should I go with you?”

“You can, if you want,” she said, softly. “But, it’s just to be sure…”

There was a moment of silence before Azriel asked, “Sure of?”

“To be sure of how many babies are in here,” Elain said, quietly, holding onto her stomach.

Azriel stared at her, blinking. “You really think it’s twins? I thought you were joking.”

“I feel like I’m so much bigger than I should be, Az,” she breathed. “I’m not saying it’s for sure, but… It’s a possibility.”

Azriel took a deep breath and nodded. “And, if it is twins?”

Elain looked up at him. “If it is?”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Elain, any child I can have with you is a blessing,” he whispered. “One baby, two, three… I just want to grow our family.”

Elain’s eyes were tearing up. “Three though? That’s a little much.”

Azriel chuckled. “I’m just saying… However many babies are in there, Lainy, I’m going to be so grateful.” She started to cry again, but ate her salad, and Azriel laughed. He kissed her shoulder and said, “I love you, you emotional, basket case.”

She stabbed another bite and muttered, “I love you, too.”

* * * * * *

The scene was so sweet, that even from the coffee shop in the square, Ianthe could see the couple lovingly embrace, and her pale eyebrow arched.

She hadn’t lied earlier, Azriel’s wife was very pretty. She was also very much pregnant. She hadn’t expected that. But she hadn’t thought that Azriel was serious when he’d said he’d had a son, until she took to social media and discovered she was blocked on every platform she had. After creating bogus account after bogus account, he finally accepted one of her follow requests and she came face to face with a picture of a little boy, who was the spitting image of him all over his personal Instagram, his Facebook, everything.

So he apparently had another on the way, it changed nothing. She came here for one reason and that was to bring Azriel back home. Clearly, he had no issue leaving who ever this Elain was while she was pregnant once before. She’d just have to convince him to do it again. Her lips curved upwards slightly as she took a drink from the white mug.

Azriel kissed his wife, softly, as they snuggled into his chair as she sipped her coffee.

He had confessed to her years ago that marriage meant little to nothing to him. In fact, he had proven his devotion to Ianthe over and over again throughout the years. Late at night, early in the morning, between shoots. They had seen each other naked too many times throughout the years for him to just disappear without a trace, saying he was married with kids.

It was bullshit.

Where did this woman even come from? Azriel had said very little about his past through the years, about the women he had dated before. All she knew was that he hadn’t seen anyone, at least not seriously, throughout the time she’d known him. Then, he comes home for a funeral, is gone for hardly any time at all, and comes back to New York, rejects her, and has a wife, a kid, and another on the way?

Something didn’t seem right.

She had come here for a job, that much was true. The modeling shoot had lasted less than a day and when the agency asked when to book her flight back, she told them she’d pay for her own flight, as she didn’t intend to return yet.

Because she wouldn’t be returning alone.

#lost time #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #elriel lost time #elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #feysand #nessian

145 notes · View notes

love-killed-the-superstar · 4 years

Text

what the hell is this i’m so LATE for the last day of cassunzel week but here, take it

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 7 - HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

Cassandra has been everywhere at this point. She has climbed mountains, drifted for days on the open sea, trudged through deserts and forests, passed through quaint town after quaint town, bustling city after bustling city. Every life is so very different from her own.

Still, after just over six years of walking this earth, nothing quite feels like home when she’s alone. Letters from Rapunzel find her easily, thanks to Owl, scrawled with child-like excitement; they document long days in the palace court and fun little mishaps with their friends in the same chipper tone, all while telling her each time without fail how much she misses her… how much she loves her.

Cass, in return, has done her best to keep Rapunzel in the loop in regards to her travels. There’s a letter sent from the peaks of the Koto mountain range, slightly blood-stained from scraping her hand on a rock during her climb; a postcard reading With Love, From Arendelle! on the cover, with warm regards from Anna and Elsa along with her own; several letters that are more ink prints of various fish she’s caught than anything, with a few words about how good they tasted and a vague grid location of whatever woodland she’s been wandering through between settlements. She’s even sent Rapunzel crude copies of maps she’s made, spinning the tale of how she’s made a small side business out of selling her maps to travellers she meets on her journeys. They don’t sell for all that much, with most travellers being just as broke and starving as she is, but it’s a small, honest living, and it does feel good to have her efforts appreciated.

She never used to be much of a sentimental type, but if Rapunzel is good at anything it’s rubbing off onto others, so for every loving letter that Rapunzel writes to her, she saves it in a small wooden box and sends her own back in return. Cass is pretty bad at writing mushy things to Rapunzel, but she does try to throw in an I-Love-You on occasion. More often than not, she writes what she knows, waxing poetic in her own special love language.

One such letter comes to her tonight, as she winds down for the day and watches the sky darken overhead.

Hey Raps,

It’s been another long day of travelling. Fortunately for me, I mapped out this area the last time I travelled through, so as long as I keep my wits about me I’ll be out of the woods in no time. For now, I’ve made camp. Owl is out hunting, so I will wait until he returns to entrust this letter to him, and Fidella is just outside the cave, grazing. I’m at the mouth, just sheltered enough so that my fire doesn’t blow out, but still with a view of the night sky. I hope you’re looking too.

I often find myself staring up at Polaris these days when the nights are clear, and I’m ever thankful for all those times you’ve taught me what you know about stargazing. I don’t have quite enough time or patience to chart the skies each night, but that’s why I’m grateful for navigational stars like Polaris. I LOVE that it doesn’t move. The other stars will stray from port, but no matter how far they go Polaris is always there like an anchor until they pass by once more. In that sense, I suppose that makes you the Polaris to my own fleeting skies.

Thank you for that. I love you.

Always Yours – Cassandra.

As she awaits Owl’s return, Cass watches that star like she does every night – the star that burns so brightly night after night, as though holding up an oil lamp, waiting in the darkness for something, some one – and hopes that maybe Rapunzel is watching that same sky with matched wonder.

Rapunzel’s reply comes a few days later, and Cass is knee-deep in a river trying her hand at spear-fishing when Owl swoops overhead, a letter clutched in his talons. She hoists herself out from the water and reaches for the letter, uncaring of the mud that squelches uncomfortably between her toes. She wastes no time in tearing open the envelope with that familiar purple royal seal.

Parts of the letter are nearly illegible; Cassandra can only imagine that Rapunzel scrawled it feverishly, so as not to keep Owl away from her for too long. But her reply is as lovestruck as ever, and Cass is unable to hold back her laughter at the adoring response.

My Darling Cassandra,

I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Your letters have grown a little infrequent lately, I thought maybe you were somewhere new and remote, and perhaps too far away for Owl to fly or for the courier to travel. I’m grateful you wrote to me. I treasure each and every letter you send my way, I hope you know! I scrapbook them so that I can flick through and read them whenever I miss you. They’ve filled up almost an entire journal at this point.

Castle life is as it always is: hard. Everyone is wonderful and I feel like I’m making good strides, but gruelling work is gruelling work, as you perfectly well know. Entertaining allied royals and diplomats is always a treat, but they ask after my absent wife often since you’re rarely back in Corona these days. (I’ve also heard rumours that a few don’t truly believe you exist, because you’ve alluded their notice. Lucky you! They can be very boring. Oh, I know that sounds mean, but we’re just incompatible people! I’m sure they find me boring too!)

Cass laughs aloud at that. Rapunzel may be many things, and they certainly might not enjoy her company, but the notion of Rapunzel being boring, even to people who don’t understand her, is just too ludicrous.

But anyway. Let’s talk about stars.

Your words on Polaris moved me when I read them. Eugene thought I had seen a ghost! I will gladly treat you to another astronomy lesson the next time you come home. I never knew you to be such a poet, Cass, but here you are! I find it hard to pick a favourite star, but now that I know your favourite I’ll have to watch Polaris each night too, and hope you’re also looking. Watching the same sky does make me feel closer to you now. I just wish there was some way to fully bridge that gap. Do you know that I miss you when I climb into bed at night and you’re not at my side, ready to hold me? I’d give anything to have you in my arms right now.

I love you so much. Please be safe, wherever you go next.

With all my love, Rapunzel.

PS. Eugene says hi. Well, he’s actually working right now, but I’m sure if he was here he’d be saying hi.

With a heavy sigh, Cass leans back, bringing the letter up close. It smells faintly of Rapunzel, somehow – a trace of her perfume or something. Just enough that if she shuts her eyes tight, she can pretend her wife is hovering over, a playful smile on her lips, ready to kiss her.

She can’t wait any longer.

“We’re going back to Corona,” Cass tells Owl and Fidella, who seem unsurprised that the change of plan comes so soon after a letter from her sweetheart. “At first light, we’re heading east.”

I’ll be home soon, she thinks to herself, resolutely. Wait for me, just a little longer.

…

A week later, home is in sight. She passes through the Corona gates just as night is about to fall. The guards at the gates are pissed that she’s slipped through at this time of night, grumbling that it makes their life harder having to carry out ID checks by lamplight, but when she says as sweetly as she can that she’s the princess fucking consort and hasn’t posed a threat to the kingdom for many, many years now, they shut up surprisingly fast.

Cassandra feels a little bad for them, in all honesty; she used to be just like them, after all, and they’re only following orders. So she thanks them for their service and crosses over the bridge, choosing to ignore Fidella’s disapproving snort. After all, she’s so damn close.

She rides through the courtyard, nodding towards Stan and Pete and asking breathlessly if they’ve seen Rapunzel this evening. She’ll catch up with them later, but she’s on a mission that leaves no time to stop and smell the roses.

“The princess has already retired to her room for the night,” Stan begins, and Cass gives him her thanks and swiftly rides on, giving a quick wave as she goes. Owl, who has been silently perched on her shoulder the entire time, takes off into the sky and soars upwards, past the balcony of Rapunzel’s room. Cass and Fidella wait at the bottom, watching with bated breath as he disappears from sight.

She feels… disheveled. Maybe she should have freshened up a bit first? But then again, Rapunzel has seen her in just about every state of dirty, sweaty and tired known to mankind, so to pretend that she’s been fresh as a daisy this whole trip would be a little ridiculous.

Cass reaches up to smooth down her hair, self-consciously trace a thumb across the crows feet that have become more noticeable in the last few months, and for a moment she considers turning around and heading towards her old quarters to freshen up.

But then there’s the creaking of a window pane, and suddenly Rapunzel’s face, flung over the edge of the balcony, stares down at her in starry-eyed wonder. Cass stares up at her, a beacon in the fading light.

Ah, Polaris.

“Cassandra, you came back?!”

“I am! Didn’t I tell you?” Cass calls up to her, cocking her head in confusion. “I could have sworn I wrote another letter.”

“No,” Rapunzel says simply. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, then Cass stretches out her hand towards her. “Hey, come for a ride with me?”

“Are you sure?” Rapunzel asks, craning her neck a little further. “It’s getting late.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time we snuck out at night, would it?” Cass grins up at her. “Come on, Raps. Let’s go on an adventure.”

Rapunzel matches her grin with equal glee, and nods.

“Okay, okay, yes! Give me a moment to change, I’m in my nightgown.”

She blows a kiss and then turns, disappearing from view. Cass waits patiently, reveling in the silence of the empty courtyard, before seeing another figure peeking over the edge, looking more pasty than usual.

“Oh, look what the cavalry dragged in.”

Cass can’t fight her eye-roll back. “Evening to you too, Fitzherbert. What’s that on your face?”

“It’s an oat facial,” he retorts. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, I’m just glad to hear it’s not mould, because from here…” She waves her hand in an uncertain manner, earning a harsh laugh from him. Her face softens. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great. I’m training some new recruits and they’re right cocky little shits. You planning on sticking around for a few days? I need someone to scare ‘em straight and you look like you have at least six facial scars at this point. I’ll tell them you were barred from the guard for extreme war crimes.”

“Sure, it’s a better story than choosing not to join after having all of my extreme war crime charges dropped in court because of my quote-unquote ‘emotional issues’.” She clicks her tongue. “So an oat facial won’t help my cause, then?”

“Cass, if you want to do facials with me all you have to do is ask, I’ve been dying to set you up with a skincare routine for years.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks for the consideration,” she says dryly.

“Rapunzel will be down in a second.” Eugene hesitates, and for a moment Cass gets the sinking feeling he’s going to ask to tag along on their would-be date, but then he adds, “You’ll keep each other safe?”

Cass cracks a smile.

“We can handle ourselves,” she promises. “I’ll be sure to get her back in one piece.”

“You’d better, because I can’t be waiting up for you two, I have morning drills at five and I need my damn beauty rest.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Cass says cheerily. “I only came for my wife.”

“Our wife.”

“Details, details.”

Cass hears the heavy creak of the main doors opening and closing, and turns her head to see Rapunzel approaching. In terms of physical appearance, she looks marginally the same as always, but Cassandra is pleasantly surprised by the fact that she’s donned a pair of riding trousers for their big adventure, though has still foregone any shoes. They suit her, Cass muses. She finds her gaze lingering on Rapunzel’s legs a little longer than she should, but then Rapunzel is right in front of her and all thoughts leave her head as they lean down to kiss.

“Hey there, stranger,” Rapunzel whispers, giggling as Cass takes the opportunity to pepper her brow and nose and cheeks with quick kisses.

“Hello to you too, Princess. Here, hop on.”

Rapunzel reaches over to give Fidella a loving pat in greeting, and Cass outstretches her arm to pull her up. Rapunzel hugs her waist once she’s settled down, and Cass shivers happily at the contact.

“You kids have fun now,” Eugene calls, punctuated by a yawn. “I expect no funny business, all right? Make good choices!”

Rapunzel blows him an exaggerated kiss as Cass rolls her eyes, and they take off towards the gates once more. The guards from earlier are perplexed by the sudden appearance of the princess, while being revisited by the grumpy woman they’d only just ushered in; but after taking a brief statement as per safety protocol (“A romantic rendezvous with my wife,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, while Cass simply responds, “We’re going out, what other reason would we have for leaving?”) the gates are opened, and they take off into the night.

With Rapunzel clinging to her, whooping and cheering, Cassandra feels happier than she has in a long time. She encourages Fidella to go faster, faster… the thrill sets her heart aglow, the blood thrumming in her veins.

They soar through the country roads and follow the light of the moon, and Rapunzel is squealing with laughter, uncaring of any attention they may draw from shopkeepers locking up, or drunkards leaving The Snuggly Duckling. They glide past effortlessly, and Rapunzel asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh trust me, you’ll know,” Cass calls back. They veer off the roads and into the woodland, heading west for a while. Rapunzel’s laughter dies out once Fidella begins to slow down, weaving through unruly trees. Under the cover of the forest, moonlight barely peeking through the high branches, it becomes increasingly difficult to see. Cass blinks rapidly, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, thankful Fidella is having an easier time of it than she is.

“You didn’t find another strange cottage with a magic teapot on your travels, did you Cass?” Rapunzel teases. “Because wherever you’re taking us…”

“Trust me, will you?” Cass says again, tilting her head back to fix Rapunzel with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’ve ever gone to someone’s creepy magic shack after what happened out on the road with those bird-brains?”

Rapunzel giggles and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Cassandra’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry. I trust you! Wherever you’re taking us, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

They ride on in comfortable silence for another few minutes, both happily revelling in each other’s company, until they pass through a pair of old oaks.

“Ah, I see,” Rapunzel sings, squeezing Cassandra’s waist a little tighter. “You’ll go all out on the romantic gestures when it’s the middle of the night, but if I invite you to come home and spend the most romantic Coronan holiday with me…”

“Nice try, but you can never guilt me to join you for the Day of Hearts, Raps,” Cass sing-songs back to her. They follow the path as it grows narrower, and Fidella treads carefully through the gulch, raising their feet to avoid the cold rush of water. The lagoon comes into view, the moon gleaming on the water’s deep indigo surface.

“Oh, it’s beautiful as ever,” breathes Rapunzel. “I haven’t been back here in a long time.”

Cass cocks her head towards her. “You never visit?”

“Not without you. It feels weird.”

“Well fear not, I’m here now!” Cass reaches over to pat Fidella’s head. “Think you can hang back here for a while so Raps and I can have a little… alone time?”

Fidella grunts in reply, and Cass reluctantly pries Rapunzel’s arms from her waist before climbing down and reaching into her travel pack to offer Fidella up an apple.

“Good girl, thank you.”

She helps Rapunzel down and the two of them take off, running through the narrow strip of shoreline. Rapunzel wastes no time in shimmying off her trousers and wading in, while Cass hangs back to take off her boots, pouring sand out of them with a grimace and slipping down her stockings.

“Augh, it’s cold!” squeals Rapunzel. “Not like, horribly cold? Lagoon-cold? But still, it’s cold!!”

Cass laughs at Rapunzel’s shrieks, but still finds herself shivering a little once she slips her tunic off. She takes a few tentative steps in, gasping sharply as the cool water laps around her ankles. Rapunzel, at this point, has slipped off the waistcoat and blouse she’d been wearing, and flings them in the vague direction of the shore. They land, unsuccessfully, in the shallows.

“Oh, well done. You’re lucky I have some spare shirts in my travel pack.”

Rapunzel cheers. “Yes! You know I love wearing your clothes!”

“It’ll be a bit spicy,” Cass warns. “I haven’t had a chance to do laundry in the past week.”

“Eh, I’ll manage.”

Cass plucks the now drenched clothing from the water and tosses it onto shore, before following Rapunzel further into the water. She makes it up just above her waist, shivering and grumbling all the way, when suddenly the sand beneath gives away and she plunges below the surface. For a split second, panic settles in; that primal fear of sinking like a stone and never coming back up that has haunted her since she was a child. Her arms thrash wildly, trying to push herself up to the surface, when a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her up.

Cass gasps and splutters, and Rapunzel’s face swims into view.

“Cass! Cass, it’s okay! You’re okay, I’ve got you!”

Gulping a few deep breaths, Cass is pulled in close, and Rapunzel kisses her brow and strokes her soaking wet hair.

“It was just a sand bank that gave away underneath you. You’re okay. You’re treading water without even realising, see?”

Cassandra realises dizzily that Rapunzel has a point. She’s doing okay. She’s not drowning, not even close.

“I… I don’t normally, uh,” she begins, and Rapunzel shushes her.

“I know. It just took you by surprise, huh?” Cass nods numbly, and Rapunzel pulls back a little, hands reaching to cup Cassandra’s face. “I’ve got you,” she says again, quietly, eyes bearing into hers with fierce devotion.

Cass manages to smile, heart still pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. “Yeah. You’ve got me.”

They swim a little further out, with Rapunzel facing her the whole time and offering smiles of encouragement, and when Cass’s heart has calmed down, she leans over to kiss Rapunzel softly.

“Well,” breathes Rapunzel, punctuated with another kiss, “this has been quite the excursion, huh.”

“I aim to please.” Cass kisses her again, humming happily against her mouth. “By the way, those riding pants you were wearing? They really suit you.”

“I had a feeling you’d like them,” Rapunzel grins.

She holds her arms out, and hesitantly, Cass leans back into them. She focuses her centre of gravity and lightly sculls the water with cupped hands to keep afloat while Rapunzel lays back beside her, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. It’s only once Cass properly looks up at the stunning sky above, stars and light everywhere, that her body grows still and simply floats on the lagoon’s surface.

“What a view,” she murmurs.

“I know it’s the same sky, no matter what,” Rapunzel muses, “but somehow the stars look even prettier here in the lagoon, don’t they?”

“Corona is always lit up,” Cass explains, voice tuning in and out as the water laps against her ears. “The sky isn’t as visible in places where a lot of people gather because of the light they produce. You remember how many stars we could see on the road, whenever we spent the night between towns?”

Rapunzel nods. “It was beautiful. I suppose you enjoy views like this all the time, then?”

“When the weather permits,” Cass laughs. “But yeah. Out in nature, it’s much easier to see a full sky of stars.”

“But Polaris is your favourite!”

Cass feels the heat come to her face a little, knowing Rapunzel is about to steer this somewhere overly sentimental. “Yeah. I mean, It’s a key navigational star, so… it’s a pretty obvious pick.”

“I like that,” insists Rapunzel. “The reasoning, it’s… authentically you. I think.”

“Why, because I like things based on how practical they are?”

“Because only you could make a navigational tool sound romantic.”

“Is that a gift or a curse?”

Rapunzel giggles and Cass joins in, their hands lacing together as they stare at the patchwork sky above.

“I love the idea, though,” Rapunzel murmurs, once their laughter dies down. “That I’m your anchorpoint.”

“You’re so much more than that.”

“Oh, I am?” grins Rapunzel, tilting her head towards Cass.

“Don’t ruin it,” Cass says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, tell me?”

Cassandra stares up at the northern star, twinkling bright, and exhales. “Rapunzel, when I’m coming back to visit and I’m riding through Corona, all that I really feel is that I’m in Corona. It might as well be any other place. Sure, I’m more familiar with each side street and stray cobble, but… there’s no real, you know, connection there, not after everything that’s happened. But when I turn the corner and lay eyes upon your face, that – that’s the moment I think to myself, ‘I’m home’.”

The world is still, just for a moment, before Rapunzel lets go of her hand and changes to an upright position in the water, reaching up to smooth her soaking hair back. Cass also gives up on floating on her back, already thinking of ways to backtrack if what she said was too embarrassing, even for Rapunzel to bear. But then she notices the way the tips of Rapunzel’s ears are burning.

She turns to face Cass, all red-faced and slicked back hair and wide, longing eyes, and utters, “Cass, I love what you’re saying, but Corona and I are kind of a package deal.”

Cassandra snorts with laughter. “Yes, Raps, I know that. And I do love Corona, in my own way. But my point is that if you were… I don’t know, living life out in the marshes as a bog witch or something, I’d still feel the same way. To me, home is wherever you are.”

“If this is your way of saying you want to go live in a marsh for a while,” Rapunzel begins, a sly gleam in her eye, and Cass reaches over to splash her.

“Shut up! This is why I don’t do schmaltz.”

Rapunzel squeals and splashes back, before swimming over to her and reaching for her waist, pulling her in close. The constellations above don’t compare to the galaxy of freckles dusting Rapunzel’s nose, or the universe in her irises. Cass reaches up to cup her jaw, and Rapunzel shivers when her cold wedding band makes contact with the soft skin of her cheek.

“Cass,” she murmurs, eyes bearing into her own, almost afraid of the answer she’ll find, “do you think you’ll stick around this time?”

“I don’t know,” Cass admits. “I’m not ready to settle down just yet, if that’s what you mean. I’m… I’m getting good at making my own happiness, Rapunzel. Real good.”

Rapunzel nods, offering up a bittersweet smile. “Okay. I understand. I’m proud of you, Cass, I really am.”

Cassandra sees herself as Rapunzel sees her, just for a moment as she catches her brief reflection; an older soul, face marred with scars, eyes tired but kinder. The road has been hers for a fair few years now – the events prior to the eclipse feel like a lifetime ago, out of sight and out of mind. She likes to keep it that way, and perhaps that’s why she never stopped moving, even after the honeymoon, even after her textbook happily ever after.

She isn’t ready to give up that life yet – maybe she never will be – but perhaps she can take a short reprieve from destiny. Maybe staying in one place for a little while, being around Rapunzel, letting Corona get used to the idea that someday she’ll be around for a long time… maybe this is something she can do.

“I know you are,” Cass affirms, offering up a warm smile. “I don’t know if you’ll be so impressed with me once I start sitting in on some of these fancy diplomat dinners as your wife, though. Any training I might have had is long gone by this point.”

Her proposition takes a few moments to really dawn on Rapunzel, who then squeals, launches herself at Cassandra and hones in with a kiss, drinking her in readily as the placid water laps around them. When they part, Rapunzel hugs her tightly, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra’s neck and pressing kiss after gentle kiss to whatever bare skin she can find.

“I never said this earlier,” Rapunzel utters, dithering happily, “but welcome home, Cassandra. Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Cassandra whispers.

She holds Rapunzel close as they tread water in the quiet of the lagoon, the stars their only witnesses as they enter the next chapter of their happily ever after.

…

(Eugene is unimpressed when they finally stagger into the castle at 4:30, shivering from a night of swimming and Rapunzel in Cassandra’s grubby clothes and barely standing upright from the way that sleep seizes her. He helps Cassandra set her down on the bed, and is about to launch into a speech about how they promised to be safe and responsible in their late night tomfoolery, before catching the goofy smile on Cassandra’s face.

“What’s got you so chipper?” he asks.

“I’m home,” she says with a shrug. “That’s all there is to it.”)

#cassunzel #cassunzel week #tangled #cassunzel week 2020 #writing

33 notes · View notes

madamemayura · 5 years

Note

interesting post you've written about Cass/Raps being a tragic romance. maybe you'll be feel better if you write a longer one on your thoughts on that... ;)

Okay this took me WAY longer than I expected but y’all ask for tragic readings and I deliver, so may I present: Rapunzel and Cassandra as a tragic romantic subversion of the Knight in Shining Armor.

Alright, as a disclaimer I will say that the way this reading works is that it’s just that: a reading. Cassandra and Rapunzel as a tragic romance (while simultaneously remaining a fantastic depiction of female friendship) is an interpretation of TTS that I find incredibly valid and, in a storytelling sense, rewarding. This isn’t to say the creators intended it to be that way or that this is the one and only reading of Cassandra and Rapunzel’s dynamic, but it is a reading I subscribe to and believe to hold evidence, support, chemistry, and immense value in a literary and creative sense.

So let’s get into why that is.

Consider Cassandra and Rapunzel, together. Their friendship is well established even as the show starts, and over the course of the series we watch Cass serve as a foil to Raps in a multitude of ways: she’s the experience to her inexperience, the logical to her creative, the knight to her princess. Cass wears dark earth-tones in her preferred clothing while Rapunzel opts for a vibrancy of pinks and purples; Cassandra’s approach to problems is straightforward and direct, while Rapunzel’s involves planning and imaginative thinking (see: Queen for a Day, the use of the Demanitus Device); Cass is private and reserved, Rapunzel open and outgoing.

The building blocks of their dynamic are prime material for a developing romance, complete with tension, conflict, and positive growth. They’re complementary opposites in most of their mannerisms, yet both are brave, adventurous, intuitive, competitive, and though they show it in different ways, ultimately good and compassionate people.

So why is this a tragedy? Why is it that Rapunzel and Cassandra’s relationship is inherently doomed, shot through with hairline fractures that lead to a temporary yet heartbreaking betrayal in Destinies Collide?

The answer lies not only in context and circumstances, but even deeper, in the very core of their characters; Rapunzel’s driving force is freedom, and Cassandra’s is control.

While the previous description of Cassandra and Rapunzel as foils lists complementary opposites, puzzle pieces that ultimately still fit together, these two forces are repelling magnets, each of them informing many of Cass and Rapunzel’s individual character flaws and virtues.

Perhaps the root of the tragedy that encompasses Cassandra and Rapunzel’s story is that both are justified in being driven by their respective desires. Cassandra, who has spent most of her life striving for a position she can’t reach, trying to prove herself worthy of respect and trust and arguably doing just that, has yet to see the rewards for her hard work. She is never given the position of control and influence she desires, despite having developed both her skills and her instincts.

Rapunzel, similarly, has every right to the freedom she was crucially denied in her past; after enduring emotional manipulation and abuse throughout her childhood, abuse exacted with the intent to keep her isolated and caged, there can be no other resolution than that she fight against any and all restraints.

Yet freedom for Rapunzel is a double-edged sword. Despite her escape from the tower that was her prison, she finds herself in the position of a princess and future queen, a role that comes with rules, regulations, and no shortage of trials. As Rapunzel and the audience discover in Queen for a Day, her royalty can put her in positions where she is anything but free to act, and if she’s to be an effective ruler, she has to learn to compromise. Sometimes, to devastating results.

Cassandra, likewise, is forced to show some of her more fatal flaws when it comes to her desire for control. Her stubbornness and occasional tunnel-vision are a result of that need to be in charge, that need to be heard and listened to oftentimes above anyone else. Being unfairly ignored, combined with her tendency to keep her true feelings bottled up, leads to her putting ambition over her relationships and sometimes lashing out harshly, going further than she previously intended. It happens in Challenge of the Brave when she competes less than ethically against Rapunzel, Great Expotations when she backs out of her agreement with Varian, and most notably in a brilliantly written yet incredibly heartwrenching episode, Rapunzel and the Great Tree:

“Cass, you of all people should know I can handle myself pretty well out here. I don’t need someone to keep me safe.”

It begins here, with Rapunzel’s honest but unintentionally hurtful remark. As the audience already knows, Rapunzel doesn’t need protecting, but in the moment she says it the question must be asked: if Rapunzel needs no protection, no guardian, no knight… what does that make Cassandra?

Cass, who has chased after a position as a guard of Corona, who promises her king that she’ll keep his daughter safe, whose moment of truth in the first season was stepping up as captain and leading the attack in Old Corona. If she’s not the knight in shining armor, who is she?

And of course, we might be able to come up with a plethora of answers. She’s Rapunzel’s best friend, an excellent strategist and fighter, an adventurer, a hardworker, her own individual woman, and much more. Yet, despite her frustration of being put in second place, of literally waiting in the wings, Cassandra insists on existing in Rapunzel’s shadow. She wants recognition, a position that comes with honor and control, but she wants them in close relation to Rapunzel because of the love she holds for her.

There lies Cassandra’s dilemma: she’s afraid of what might happen if she ever breaks out of that shadow, if she ever achieves her goal and comes center stage. If she’s not Rapunzel’s protector, will she have any place in her life? Cassandra, desperate to remain near the woman and friend she’s fallen in love with, has meticulously sculpted her own future around her, and in doing so has forgotten to take into account that Rapunzel might not follow that exact route.

Now, is there anything wrong with Cassandra wanting to serve as Rapunzel’s protector? Not at all. The two of them have proven on multiple occasions that they’re a formidable team, as well as close friends, and Cass is more than up to the task. Yet we-the-audience know that Rapunzel, driven by freedom and currently undergoing an arc that’s whole purpose is reclaiming her agency, deserves the right to make her own choices (a fact driven even further home as we see Zhan Tiri’s disciples, the most significant of villains in the series, try desperately to take away that exact ability).

And those very choices are what cause the rift between herself and Cassandra.

“I can’t do that, Cass.”

“What do you mean you can’t do that? Are you that obliviously naïve that you can’t–”

“Enough, Cassandra!”

It’s in this particular moment where Rapunzel and Cassandra’s staple characteristics flip: Cass, normally able to keep her feelings tightly bound, is emotional and angry, while Rapunzel (in stark contrast to her uncertainty in Queen for a Day) becomes stern and unmoving.

The brilliance and heartbreak bound in this scene is that Cassandra, though ultimately right in her insistence that the group move on from the Tree of Zhan Tiri, has unknowingly echoed rhetoric that Gothel, Rapunzel’s abuser, once used to keep her in line. The tragedy is that Cassandra is right but goes too far, and that Rapunzel has every right to respond harshly.

Because, when it comes down to it, Rapunzel retains her freedom through having the control Cassandra cannot.

And thanks to the particularly tense events of season two, the two of them have not found a compromise that allows them to share it. As Cassandra attempts to exercise the control she’s worked towards for so long, she is unwittingly depriving Rapunzel of the freedom she’s only just recently found. On the other hand, Rapunzel, in exercising her own agency and stepping into the role she has long been training for, deprives Cass of an agency of her own.

It is important also to remember that, though friends, Rapunzel and Cassandra retain a professional relationship of a royal woman and her subject, a princess/heir to a kingdom and her sworn protector. It’s this relationship that ties control and freedom so closely together for both of them, further complicating their character progression and dynamic.

And truly, why shouldn’t Cass be respected and her advice heeded after all she’s proven her capability? And again, why should Rapunzel have to sacrifice any of her agency or her own sense of capability for the sake of Cassandra? There’s a balance between them, but one that is delicate and often interrupted, eventually to the point where we realize that Rapunzel and Cassandra’s motivations, however justified, are doomed to clash.

A comparison between the dynamics of Rapunzel, Cassandra, and Eugene is vital to this reading, though not in the ways one might think. Both Eugene and Cass legitimately and truly love Rapunzel, and neither of their love is diminished by the other. The main difference is within Cass and Eugene’s individual characters; while Cassandra and Rapunzel are both in the midst of their journeys of self-discovery (the thing that leads Cass to most of her inner and outer-conflict), Eugene was not.

Eugene and Cassandra parallel one another in their roles as Rapunzel’s support, but Cassandra isn’t satisfied or even entirely comfortable in that position. Her desire for control, for her own agency, provides an obstacle that Eugene simply doesn’t have throughout the majority of the series. This, as it happens, is the root of his crisis in Destinies Collide; Eugene’s betrayal to the group is so brief due to the uncertainty of the situation, and ultimately is overcome by him reaffirming the identity he’s always had.

Cassandra, however, has not yet fully discovered her own identity. She has no deep foundation, no certainty to fall back on, only her contrasting desires and an incredible drive to accomplish them.

Unlike Cassandra, Eugene has already lived center-stage as Flynn Rider. We watch him develop past his selfishness and arrogance, watch as Rapunzel becomes his “new dream,” and continue to watch as their relationship is reaffirmed in the series. One of the most refreshing aspects of Eugene and Rapunzel as a couple is the healthiness of the dynamic, the lack of manufactured drama (i.e. drama for drama’s sake), and the genuine love and maturity woven into their relationship.

None of this is to say that Eugene is at all better or superior to Cassandra, or Cassandra better or superior to Eugene; rather, the parallels and differences between their two characters help illuminate the inner-workings of their respective relationships with Rapunzel. They both love her, but how that love thrives in one dynamic and hurts in the other comes down to this: Eugene is done with center stage, and Cassandra has never even been in it.

The tragedy of Rapunzel and Cassandra’s romance, then, is this: though they deeply love and care for one another (and always will), though they have helped one another grow, have made each other better people in a way no less valuable than Rapunzel and Eugene have, they’ve reached the point where they no longer can. They aren’t toxic to one another, but static; if Cass wants her moment in the sun, a moment she fully deserves, she needs to pursue it on her own.

And Cassandra is afraid to accept that.

This aspect of analysis will try to avoid going into too much speculation, since the whole story behind Cassandra’s betrayal is still a mystery. That aspect aside, this moment is undeniably where Cass’ inner-conflict comes to a head.

How does Cassandra get everything she wants? How does she stay with Rapunzel while also getting the control and agency she craves? Cass won’t accept a world where she has to operate independent of Rapunzel, yet it’s independence that she longs for. This, possibly combined with a desire to protect Rapunzel and save her life (and/or supernatural influence from mysterious room in Rapunzeltopia), moves her to grab the moonstone, to stop “waiting in the wings” and move center stage.

The tragedy isn’t that Cassandra is evil, or that she’s too selfish or arrogant or jealous. No, the tragedy is that Cassandra is a character perfectly tailored to have her own protagonist’s journey, but cannot let go of being her princess’ knight in shining armor. And it’s that very armor she now wears that might well end up corrupting her.

#tts #tangled the series #cassunzel #cassandra #rapunzel #rta #rapunzel's tangled adventure #cassandra x rapunzel #holy crap this took me forever but here it is #send me an ask if you want me to expand on anything #I could have gone on even longer wtf #anyway tl;dr cass and raps are in love and VALID #also the ot3 is alive and I WILL die on this hill #good day.#my meta

353 notes · View notes

incoherentbabblings · 4 years

Text

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (2/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Ao3 Link Here!

Tim’s Thursday began well – a morning at work which had ended with his lunch break going into one of Gotham’s nicest department stores. He had pulled some strings, using Wayne “clout”, to get an appointment with the jewellers there.

Bruce had said no budget, and Tim was going to take him at his word.

Now he was sat, glass of bubbly champagne sitting untouched, at the desk of a man with a thinner moustache than Alfred, but a belly three times the size. Tim rubbed his knees, more than a little uncomfortable.

“I need an engagement ring, a promise ring, and wedding bands.”

He had a plan, of sorts. The engagement and wedding rings were all for show – the more expensive, the better. He didn’t want them to be ugly – he wasn’t going to make Stephanie wear something she loathed on her finger for two months, and he wasn’t that frivolous with money – but they had to be ostentatious enough to catch people’s attention. The fact that he was even here would be enough, but let it be said that the Bats knew drama like no other.

The promise ring was… well it was part of a plan that Tim had no proof would ever reach the stage of being offered, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. That one, he would buy with nothing but Stephanie in mind.

The man at the table blinked, gears in his head turning, and he became ever more effusive. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together.

“Any ideas for these rings?”

Tim raised his chin, trying to appear confident. “Purple and white for the engagement, plain wedding band for me but diamonds for hers.”

“Budget?”

Tim scoffed, and the man smiled widely.

“It’s such a moment for me, to have a Wayne be a patron once more. Mr Wayne’s father used to frequent here, or so I’m told. You’re in good company.”

The endless cabinets that circled the room were suddenly emptied by a small army of assistants, each laying out more diamonds and sapphires and amethysts than Tim would ever know what to do with. The amount of money in this room… no wonder people hated him and his family.

Trying not to appear overwhelmed, Tim quickly chose the wedding bands. White gold, Stephanie’s with embedded diamonds that circled the entire ring, his a chunky thing that felt weighty on his finger. A constant reminder of the promise he would make. Tim smiled tightly at the thought. With a little luck, he would make that promise to be faithful and true and in sickness and in health... With a lot of luck, he’d be able to fulfil those promises, and she for him.

For now though, he was stuck buying rings that he knew neither of them truly wanted.

He and Steph both didn’t like white gold… though how Tim knew this, he didn’t know. It just lacked a warmth. Stephanie didn’t wear much jewellery anyway. The odd set of earrings here and there, one or two necklaces… no rings. No bracelets. No watches.

He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like to, or she just couldn’t afford to.

Resting his chin on an arm on the table, Tim mused over a shortlisted row of rings. The man across the table licked his lips and leaned in closer. Tim moved backwards, a little put out. The man seemed undeterred.

“May I enquire… the lady you are buying these for?

Oh boy. And with that it started. He told the truth, for whatever it was worth. He smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it would fool the overly curious seller.

“I’ve known her since I was fourteen.” True. “Childhood sweetheart, I guess?” Half true. False. For now.

Down boy. Focus.

Tim finally settled on a sapphire ring that was almost lilac in shade. Twelve carats, whatever that meant, surrounded by oval shaped diamonds and smaller, glimmering purple and pink stones. It was huge, with no price given, and was sure to make Stephanie cringe.

“David Morris…” The man nodded approvingly, like Tim was supposed to know or care who that was. “His son continues to do very good work. That ring is a beauty no?”

It would do.

“And the promise ring? For the same lady?”

Tim tried not to read into much about the implication that he kept multiple women.

“Yeah… Rose gold for this one.”

The man’s nose twitched, and with a wave of his hand more rings appeared, though the selection was much smaller.

Tim didn’t like any of them, however. Too granny-ish. Rose gold wasn’t popular with the younger crowd apparently. The sales manager sighed sadly, tapping his fingers on the table, thinking of a solution. Tim knew he was acting exaggeratedly, as what Tim wanted wasn’t impossible to provide. Especially not at the price he was about to pay.

“Is there one perhaps, you do like, that we could refit? We could make something entirely bespoke, if you wished, but if there is one design –”

“The pink sapphire – the one that looks like a flower.” With a jerk of his jaw, Tim drew the man’s attention to a smaller set of rings. Still much more expensive than what 90% of Gotham’s population would be willing to pay for a ring, but more manageable for Tim.

The man patted his belly. “Are you sure Mr Wayne? It is only two carats. There are other—”

“Drake-Wayne.” Tim interrupted quietly, still looking at the ring. “And yes. I’m sure.”

A diamond shaped pink sapphire sat surrounded by eight pear shaped diamonds, with the gaps between the points filled with more pink sapphires. The band also had embedded diamonds, but they stopped part of the way round. It was currently in white gold, but Tim thought it would look better in the softer pink shaded gold. It was utterly girly, and he wanted it for Stephanie.

Before he signed an agreement which contained too many zeroes, Tim threw in a bracelet for good measure with carved rubies. Birds were engraved in the deep red, and Tim wanted Stephanie to have something that was shamelessly meant to make her think of him whenever she saw it.

In the back of his head he could hear Stephanie’s discomfort, but he had a date to attend to. Hiding in one of the department store’s bathroom cubicles, he threw off his suit in a way that would have Alfred disappointed in him, switching for a t-shirt and a plaid over-shirt with dark jeans. Ramming his dress shoes into his backpack, he fled the store, high on excitement and the knowledge that he had just spent a million dollars on jewellery. Hopping in his red car and tossing his bag towards the trunk, Tim patted himself on the back, then set off for the college campus.

Stephanie was waiting for him, at the steps of one of the medical buildings. Tim was laughing before she even got in the car.

“What?” She said, collapsing in a heap. “What’s so funny?”

“We match.”

Stephanie recoiled, noticing that she was wearing a thin plaid hoodie, green t-shirt and jeans. Looking at Tim’s clothes, she cursed quietly.

A moment’s pause followed, Tim laughing to himself against the wheel of the redbird. It had been some time since he had laughed just because something was funny, and not from an occasion calling for a fake smile or laughing in derision at himself or others.

It was enough to make her want to tease him.

Wordlessly, she went to leave the car, reopening the door. Tim squeaked, reaching across her and shutting it.

“No! It’s cute! Come on, I got my skateboards in the back. Gonna have you riding by the end of the day.”

“Right.” She threw on her seatbelt. Tim set off. They sat in happy silence for a while as they moved from one Gotham island to another. Growing more comfortable, the radio playing quietly, barely above the sound of the engine, Stephanie smiled.

“Dare I ask how was work this morning?”

Tim gave such a sigh that signalled that he was happy, albeit a little stressed. “It’s okay actually!” He confirmed. “Getting started with a couple new projects, so lots to plan.”

“Bruce helping you?”

“Yeah, actually he’s…” He turned into the multi-storey, getting through the barrier. “I think he’s pulling back on a bunch of stuff.”

“Getting ready to retire at the ripe age of forty-seven? Tragic.”

Tim laughed again, backing the car into a tight space expertly. “Well, not like Dick is in a hurry to join the board.”

“No, he’s busy preparing to cover the other job I think.”

“Right.” Handbrake on. Engine off. “Dick will do the Gotham night job; I’ll do the Gotham day.”

He sounded content with that routine. Stephanie thought he was lying.

“Cass?”

“International night job.”

“Damian?”

Tim shrugged, opening the door and getting out. Before Stephanie could get out on her own, Tim was already at her side, opening the door for her. She clambered out, the redbird sat pretty low compared to her own little car.

It was cloudy, but dry, spring well under way. Robinson park was filled with lines and lines of blooming flowers, little lakes with bobbing ducks, and large open spaces to lay out and snooze. Plenty of space to practice her balance and roll in a straight line.

Stephanie put on her backpack and tried not to look clumsy when Tim handed her one of his boards.

She gasped when he slapped a helmet on her head. Slapping it repeatedly, he laughed.

“Safety first.”

And so began their ‘dates’. Two weeks of what would have been considered beforehand just a regular day of them hanging out, now had different connotations. She took a step by holding his hand everywhere. He took a step by taking many photos of her to post online, either alone or with Cassandra when she deigned to join them. Steph would frequently grow embarrassed by the attention, and insist he be in half of the photos with her.

Honestly, it was not as bad as she feared, however that was largely because of how shallow the interactions felt. Not much of substance was spoken, largely because they couldn’t, being in such public spaces. She could feel people doing double takes at them, and every now and then someone would take photographs, but it was never enough to disorient her.

So far so good. Except she suspected the reason they were being left to their own devices was that they had been seen together in the past, Cassandra usually in tow, so she was nothing more than a family friend. They were going to have to up the ante a little.

Stephanie met Tim one night at the base of Wayne Tower. He had changed again for her, out of his suit.

“You look handsome.” She teased. Tim burned red. He said nothing, only staring at her, then went to lean forward for a greeting kiss.

Stephanie leaped back. She didn’t mean to, and she tried not to think too much of how vulnerable Tim looked from her rejection. Gulping, she buried herself into his chest, tugging his left arm around her waist.

“Where are we heading?” She asked, desperate to move on from that awkward moment.

Tim’s coat pocket buzzed aggressively. When he looked, he swore.

“What?”

“It’s a text… from Dick?”

Stephanie grabbed his arm.

There’s a festival on Amusement Mile tonight! Could be fun wink wink.

Stephanie was flabbergasted. “I thought he was in space? Like fifty light years away?”

Tim stared at the screen. “He is…”

He looked down at her, and the two exchanged confused glances.

“You mean he—”

“Found a way to text me across time and space only for the message to be to take you to the fair? Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Tim sighed, dragging a laughing Stephanie off with him in the direction of Amusement Mile.

“Wingman to the rescue!” Chortling to herself, Tim couldn’t help but join in.

Amusement mile was lit up bright when they arrived, music blasting and lots of young families crowding in. Dick had done good in pouring half his inheritance into the strip, despite it being an obvious target for people like the Joker. The Wayne’s had stubbornly continued to fund it alongside the city council, allowing for entertainment beyond shopping in Gotham.

It had a certain charm about it – well maintained, but still old fashioned. The lighting was warm, oranges and yellows and reds, and each ride and stall was blasting out its own variety of generic trance and dance music. It was so busy that it felt private, as everyone was absorbed with their own fun.

“Want a snack?” Stephanie asked, pulling Tim over to one of the vans. “I have a hankering for nachos.”

“I dunno. Kind of want something sweet.” And then he nudged her.

She made a face, brain now focusing on the prospect of salty fried food. “Urr no. Sweets is for after.” She joined the queue, rummaging through her little bag for her purse.

Tim groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “You missed my clever flirt!”

She rotated to stare, feet fixed in place. “Huh?”

Suddenly Tim was bashful. He couldn’t say it again. She had rejected him twice now, and so decisively too.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said.

Eyebrows drawn into a frown, Stephanie watched as Tim smiled awkwardly. He would do it when hurt, but not willing to admit it. The next step would be shuffling his feet, jamming his hands in his pocket, and directing his gaze elsewhere, anywhere but the person who had hurt him.

Stephanie watched as he proceeded to do exactly that.

She hated seeing him sad, even if she didn’t understand why. Reaching up, she cradled the back of his neck, fingers in his black hair, trying to provide some sort of physical comfort. She felt how tense his muscles were, and Tim sighed when she squeezed and rubbed at the base of his skull. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed her touch, making do with what she could offer him.

“Tim?”

“Mm.”

“What’s wrong?” He blinked, expression freezing.

“Nothing.”

“No, there is.” They stepped forward in the queue. “Tell me?”

Quietly pleading, Stephanie resumed her strokes. Tim tilted his head, allowing her better access.

“Nightmares.” Tim answered. Cooing, she curled closer. Neither of them knew how genuine the other was being, but Tim played along regardless. “It… they aren’t of anything specific, but I just wake up with like…this pressure on my chest and I don’t sleep well.”

“Honey, you’ve never slept well.” Pet names. Tim’s heart stuttered a little. He missed her sweethearts and honeys, more than he realised. He lied to himself and believed she was saying them sincerely, and not just playing the role of the concerned girlfriend. Her thumb found the bone behind his ear, rubbing it therapeutically. “When did these kind start?”

Another step forward in the queue. As the pair spoke, they had moved closer and closer, and Tim’s arm had begun to wrap around her waist. Stephanie distantly heard people behind them muttering, and could feel others staring at the overt pda, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Couple of months ago.”

The comfort that Tim felt at her miserable look was indescribable. That wasn’t faked, she wasn’t capable of lying with that level of sincerity. It wasn’t that he enjoyed her being sad at his expense, not even close, but the confirmation that she still cared deeply was heartening. Whether it was people in general or specifically directed at himself, Tim didn’t care. Being Batgirl hadn’t dampened her kindness.

Not for the first time, Tim was struck at how much she had grown, and how much he had seemingly regressed. Paralleled journeys, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to accept that he was destined to be as lonely and as miserable as he felt on his worst nights. He hadn’t completely given up hope. Neither had Steph, because after a moment of thought, she reassuringly tugged on his earlobe.

“We’ll figure it out.” She said. And then, unable to help herself, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It could have been read as platonic, as it was so quick and chaste to be seen as anything but, however when he turned to look at her, expression a little desperate, hand on her hip twitching, it seemed she finally understood what he wanted.

They kissed, once, twice, three times before a flash of light, the flash of a phone, made Stephanie break away. Tim turned his head, noticing a group of teens trying to hide their phones.

Bingo. He couldn’t help it, he smiled smugly.

Stephanie seemed to catch it and became stiff in his hold. They were called forward to the van, and Stephanie stepped away from Tim in a vain attempt to move forward and distract herself.

Kissing him was a mistake. She had avoided it then and she should have avoided it now, but he had played her like a piano and… it had felt right.

Breath shaking, she paid for her food. Tim put his arm back around her, and she cursed herself for relaxing back into it. Her body and mind were of two different opinions for Tim, and it was making her miserable.

She continued to play the game, feeding Tim chips, making him take photos of her on the merry-go-round, clinging close to his side, but as the night went on, she felt increasingly hollow. It would almost have been easier to pretend to be in love with someone she loathed, but being there with Tim, knowing that his smiles were genuine when the circumstances were forced... It was emotionally taxing.

She couldn’t tell, not anymore, what was real and what was just to grab folk’s attention, and it was eating at her. What made it more intolerable was that her and Tim were spending no time together in private. And how could they? College was kicking her ass more than normal and Tim had a high-flying job that required so much of his time. When they were free, they were out together.

She craved alone time with him.

Tim meanwhile saw Stephanie was faltering and tried to think of a way to end the evening on a high note.

“You ever won one of those arcade games?”

Stephanie, whose face was half hidden behind a giant ball of cotton candy, was quiet when she responded, “I thought they were rigged.”

“Oh sure. There’s a knack to them though.”

He looked around at one he could win at.

The shooting range was closest. The prizes ranged from mediocre to crass, but Stephanie didn’t miss the childish glee that sparked in his eyes at the sight of a ridiculously large plush duck. Like a rubber duck for the bathtub, but the size of a toddler. It was the kind of thing she could have straddled and bounced along the road on if she was determined enough.

“Tim please don’t win me that duck.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I do not need a giant duck.”

“Not asking if you need it.” He took a large chunk of her cotton candy, shivering in delight when it dissolved in his mouth. “Asking if you wanted it.”

Still hidden behind the sugar, she looked down. “My answer doesn’t matter does it? You’re gonna show off?”

“Oh yeah. You want a go too?”

“No… no I’ll watch you.”

And over they wandered to the stall. They had to wait until a young father and his daughter finished their turn before Tim could step forward. Stephanie watched them, the father encouraging his little girl. She wasn’t very good, as to be expected of a seven-year-old, and so won nothing. She got upset for a moment, distraught that she wasn’t good enough to get a prize. Her father got down next to her for a hug, muttering reassurances.

Impulsively, Stephanie butted in.

“Excuse me?” Both the girl and father looked up. The dad’s suspicious look turned friendly when he saw it was Stephanie’s unthreatening form. She held out her cotton candy. “I’m full. Do you think she’d want this?” A pause, as both parties processed what she was offering. “Is she allowed candy? I just… I just…”

She trailed off awkwardly, regretting having spoken. The little girl released Stephanie from the emotional turmoil and turned to her father.

“Can I?”

The father took the stick from Stephanie. He looked a little bamboozled by the abruptness of the offer. He nodded his thanks, then nudged the little girl, who squealed.

“Thank you!”

“Welcome.”

As the father and daughter walked away, the dad caught Stephanie staring at his little girl. Stephanie tried to smile in a way that was endearing at the man, and not like she was thinking of twelve different ways to stuff the little girl in the boot of her car. The father smiled back, so Stephanie supposed it worked.

She turned back to the stall, to see Tim smiling dopily at her. He kissed her temple, and she sighed, tension leaving her as he did so. He walked towards the vendor, calling out over his shoulder,

“You’re too good for this city sometimes… you know that, right?”

“Tim…” She wandered back to his side. “Just win me that duck, would you?”

And win her the ridiculous duck he did. Stephanie knew the entire family were pretty handy with guns. She herself was good with them, though she loathed their weight in her hands. Jason aside, Dick was the best shot she’d ever seen, and of course Kate knew her way around a firearm too, so she should have expected it from Tim.

He shot the row of ducks quickly and smoothly, definitely showing off, but Stephanie couldn’t really find it in her to pretend to be impressed. The rifle was old, the pellets were harmless, and Tim was shooting yellow plastic ducks on a rotating bicycle chain... But still. She didn’t like seeing Tim with a gun.

The duck seemed larger off the hanger, and she struggled to hold it without it tripping her up or completely unbalancing her.

As they walked away, Stephanie resorted to pulling it up, resting on her head like a basket filled with goods for the local market.

“Very nice.” Tim teased. He nudged her, making her stumble to the side, completely off kilter with such a weight on her head. She laughed breathlessly, then threw herself back at him. He caught her, hands in intimate places, and pulled her round. She quickly got the idea, and hopped on his back, resting her chin on his shoulder. She placed the duck on top of them both, and Tim stumbled out the fair, deliriously happy that her mood had been lifted.

They barely noticed the stares and photos that were taken. The following morning Stephanie saw she had been tagged in a few Instagram posts, and on twitter the pair were mildly trending, though not enough to cause her alarm. She continued to attend her classes and not speak to Tim until he would message her, asking when she was next free.

It was a Friday, three weeks into their ‘dating’ when he asked her out to dinner.

A nice dinner.

A really nice dinner.

“Alfred bought you some clothes.” Tim had said when he came to pick her up that night. Crystal had answered the door to glower at Tim, only to find him holding four hangers with dresses on them. Stephanie, pushing in front of her mother, was wearing a basic pink dress. The ones in Tim’s arms were blue or green. No babyish pink to be found.

“What I’m wearing isn’t good enough for you?”

Faced with two potentially angry Browns, Tim shook his head.

“No! No, you look beautiful! You always look beautiful.”

Crystal snorted; Stephanie looked like she was going to cry. She was wearing her hair up in a bun, tiny earrings hanging from her lobes. She peered at the choices.

“Alfred bought them?”

“He was shopping for Cassandra and saw these. Said they made him think of you.”

“Somehow I don’t find that reassuring.” She took them from his grip and turned back around, stomping back inside. If Tim had been expecting to be allowed back in the house, he was denied. Crystal remained in the doorway, wearing a faded blue dressing gown. Her slippers were grey and fluffy. She was one of the most intimidating things he had ever looked at.

He tried to smile at her, but she wouldn’t have it.

“You are ruining her life.”

The sentence was short, sharp, and honest. Tim’s breathing stopped, and he said nothing in response. Thoroughly shamed, he stared at his feet.

Not me. He wanted to beg. Bruce. Bruce was the one who failed her.

But he knew that Crystal was referring to them all, the whole lot of them, when she said “you”. He also knew that Crystal knew what they were about to go through, and was not happy about it.

There was a part of him, out of anger for Steph, and maybe he was projecting a little after his own parents, that wanted nothing more to snap at her: Oh? Now you care about your daughter’s wellbeing?

Tim had taken care of Steph years before Crystal had gotten her act together. Heck, it had taken Steph dying for Crystal to truly pull herself together. No drugs, no emotional unavailability, no shitty husbands and brothers and friends hanging around the house on her watch.

Tim bit his tongue. Stephanie was trying so hard to have a functional relationship with her mother, but Tim couldn’t let go of the disappointment on her behalf.

Not that Tim had much better examples to go off of, Dana more than anyone tried the hardest, and whilst Bruce tried...

No. Not going down that rabbit hole.

Tim said nothing, knowing no words would help the situation, and cowered under Crystal’s stare. The ring in his blazer pocket weighed heavier and heavier with each passing moment. He had kept the engagement ring on his person since he had taken it home, not knowing when he would have to whip it out.

His other pocket buzzed then. His phone. Pulling it out, thankful for a distraction from the silent tower of a future “mother-in-law”, he saw that Bruce was phoning.

Caught between not wanting to appear rude to Crystal and potentially missing important information from Bruce, Tim decided that Crystal’s opinion of him was already shot, and answered the phone, still avoiding her stare.

“Hey Bruce. Just about to take Steph out. What’s up?”

“Another couple have died.”

Tim finally looked upwards at Crystal, seeing that she could sense something had gone wrong.

“…Same connection?”

“Yes.”

The ring felt a thousand tonnes.

“We’ll… we’ll speed it up.”

“I will speak to the designer tonight. See how she’s doing. If she knows anything. There’s still no public suspicion of her. Both of you come back home after you’re done at the restaurant.”

“Okay.” Crystal had stepped closer, out onto the little step that granted access to the front door. She was blatantly eavesdropping. Tim remained frozen on the spot. “Thanks for… thanks.” He ended lamely, hanging up. Crystal looked very pale.

“I…” Tim started. How could he convince Stephanie’s mother that all would work out? No words would do the job.

Stephanie interrupted them. Her voice drifting closer as she tripped down the main staircase, blissfully ignorant.

“I went with the dark green. I like green. Dark green.” She paused when two pale faces stared back at her. Tim struggled to reconcile how beautiful she was with the fact that the pair’s mortality was staring them in the face. Tim’s death was always something he accepted as part of his job. Stephanie’s was out of the question.

Her smile tightened; teeth clenched. “What’s wrong?”

Crystal sniffed in a way that indicated she was going to cry, and left the two alone, slamming the door shut on her daughter in a manner that made Stephanie baffled. She turned back to Tim, who seemed to grow more upset by the moment.

“What’s going on?”

Tim absentmindedly tugged on the little cap sleeve of the dress, admiring it on her.

“I’ll tell you on the way.” As Stephanie followed him to the car, she looked back at her house, worried for her mother.

It was a silent drive to the restaurant, this time with the radio off and the engine in general being quiet in the drive through the city. It was awful, tense and uncomfortable. Stephanie watched as Tim’s eyes flittered everywhere, the windows, the mirrors, the road and her. He was panicking a little.

She kept quiet until they approached the restaurant. Then Tim spoke unprompted.

“We’ll have to go back to the manor after this. Bruce called me, says another couple has died. Same designer.”

Slowly, Stephanie turned to look at Tim. He was trying to stay focused, as if pulling up to valet parking involved particularly difficult manoeuvres.

“Three times isn’t a coincidence.” She stated.

“No.” His knuckles were white from gripping the wheel so tightly.

“Those poor people.”

Tim let the air come out of his chest in a woosh whilst Steph stared at her palms resting in her lap. He reached across with one hand and took hers. Intertwining the fingers, she observed his beautiful but scarred hands. Another moment of thoughtful silence ensued.

“You okay to keep going?”

She forced a smile. “Bruce’ll solve it in no time.”

It was only part of the way through their soup did Tim drop his little spoon with a clatter. They had been trying to do small talk, being aggressively cutesy in sight of the other restaurant patrons and staff, but it was difficult, as neither of their moods were particularly lending themselves to lying.

“…Tim?”

He looked at her, pale blue eyes wide from fear. His adams apple bobbed in his thin neck.

“Stephanie.” He said, standing up so quickly his chair fell back, and the table rattled. The crystal champagne glasses shuddered, and the china made an awful clang. Stephanie made an oopf noise and rested her hand over the glasses to prevent spillage.

“Sweetie, what’s wron…” She trailed off as Tim moved to her side of the table and knelt down in front of her. She began to hiss. “No! Now?”

Tim reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a little black box. “We have to speed it up.”

Stephanie felt she was close to hyperventilating, eyes flitting to the other customers surrounding their central table.

“You should have warned me! Not in public…”

“It had to be.” Tim retorted. He knew how much she hated it. He did also. If he ever did propose, it would be in private, because no-one else mattered for that moment. Only he and the person he proposed to should matter, not faceless people voyeuristically watching them. But neither of them were going to get what they wanted. Not for now at least.

Stephanie did not need to dig for her surprised face, as she burst into tears the moment Tim popped open the box. Sat inside was possibly the largest ring she had ever seen.

It was hideous.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” She screeched, slapping the table. People who were already staring from the proposal dropped their food in their lap at the swearing woman.

Blowing her nose extra hard on the fancy serviette, she tried to bring her emotions back to dignified. However, every time she caught sight of the hunking stones glittering in the dim light, she lost it.

Six dead people were hanging over her head she was stuck in a dress she didn’t buy there were more cutlery pieces on the table than ordered courses and he had dropped this on her with no warning and okay fine she knew in the back of her head it was coming but still –

Tim leaned back slightly, not sure what to make of it, if her shock and rage was directed at him or herself. Heavily hinting at her, he tried to get the proposal back on track and smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a yes, right?”

The bastard…

“Fuck! You stupid shit, fuck!” She caught glances of neighbouring tables and tried to smile, though she couldn’t see much clearly from her stinging eyes. There was no point trying to verbalise that she was insulting herself, not the poor boy on the floor in front of her.

God, her eyes just wouldn’t stop watering and she couldn’t feel any more like the kind of women she made fun of on reality tv shows. “Yes, I will marry you! Yes, yes, yes!”

There was a painfully awkward pause as she didn’t know what to do next. Entering panic mode, Tim punched her leg, making her spasm down off the chair into his arms. He hoped her outburst would be read in an eccentric relatable manner, and not the freak out of a woman who could really do with an acting class or two.

A few tables were clapping politely, probably more miffed than endeared to the couple. Tim rocked Steph from side to side.

“Okay?” He whispered, conscious of the fact that she may have genuinely gone into shock.

“That ring is hideous, Tim.” She blubbered into his ear.

“Well, it’s only for two months.” He muttered, more than a little dejected. God, he hoped – if he got the chance to offer it – that she would like the promise ring more.

“Hoo!” She leaned back from the embrace, head facing the ceiling. Her cat eyeliner look that she had painstakingly applied had flooded down her cheeks. Tim’s collar felt a little wet, and would no doubt be stained black. She smiled in a way that reminded Tim of a hyena. “Oh, wow! What a ring. Oh sweetheart...”

Tim nodded and nodded and nodded like a ventriloquist doll and pulled it out of its case, flinging aside the box with exaggerated disinterest.

“All yours! For as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked down as he slid it on. It weighed heavily on her finger.

She tugged Tim closer to her, bumping their foreheads together. She clung tight to his hair, and he could feel her trembling.

“Fuck.” She whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Steph…”

“Love you.” She said. The suddenness of it seemed to surprise them both, and to cover it up she kissed Tim. Actions were easier than words, they always had been with him.

The reality of what they had undertaken came crashing down on her, and she dreaded the morning to come.

#my fic tag #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #dc

17 notes · View notes

archiveofidentityconstellations · 5 years

Text

cass won't share her cheese nibs and bruce doesn't love me and i think?? that i deserve better??? than this???? i'm moving to alaska where NO ONE CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO

the sequel to that one trix yogurt fic

I feel like I should tell you that I am MASSIVELY fucked up right now

like i am such a garbage heap that oscar the grouch took a look at me and said

“fuckk off!! i have standards!”

anyways

it’s Brimothy, bitch

what is UP mothertrucksrs it is Me i am back here to write a report on the UNBELIEVABLE SHIT I JUST HANDLED.

okay so u know how Gotham city is on crack cocaine all the time. with like some LSD and heroin and never ever any weed except for like who is that pig guy?? nevrm he doesn’t have weeeed but like he is definitely a Pig. what the fuck is his name. what the fuck.

okay so anyways

is it Goyle

Doyle

Pigoyle

tin foil? lmao

OKAY FUCK anyways the City, who Also May Be My Lover, is in a constant life crisis (which i relate? a Lot) and do you want to know this s h i t

Crocodile

Killer Croc

who Steve Irwin would be v disappointed in

Is climbing

into people’s FUCKING TOILETS

???????????????

THIS ISN’T FLORIDA

THIS IS NEW JERSEY

WE WEAR SHOES IN THE WINTER

WHAT SORT OF FLIP-FLOP WEARING CUCKER DOES HE THINK HE IS

okay so obviously KC is a big guy. a Dude. a whack-o whaler of a Male. a Big Boh. the largest banananana in the pack. he is Big. so he cAn’t fit into most people’s toilets. he can, however, fit into Big People’s toilets (big as in wealthy, not As in Tom Hanks)

so KC (crispy,,,nuggest…i wonder if fried alligator is good—not that im thinking of eating him, though someone really should threaten him with cannibalism, like if you’re going to be a bitch about it then you deserve the same done to you, it’s just manners) is in cahoots and canoodles with Someone Who Shall Not Be Named (not bc i don’t know, I do, that’s how detectives work. it’s my JOB to know, and i was a prodigy) but bc there is a whole other report detailing this person and their movements and its case file #4461 if u don’t believe me, but i ain’t no snitch, but i will say that tonight’s events connect to file #4461 so Dad if you’re reading this you should already have it out bc it’s your JOB

speaking of jobs ding ding here is mine coming round the mountain as she comes bc the apple bottom jeans the boots with the fur will be coming round the mountain when she comes shE’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll b e coming round and getting low low low low low l ow low

It was a crisp October night. The sun was blinking its sleepy lids, setting the ballroom with an incandescent glow. Bruce Wayne strode across the floor, his daughter Cassandra accompanying him. They wore matching expressions that the privileged always wear: guarded, yet hungry. Hungry for what? Probably for the crab cakes just out of reach. Neither of them had an allergy, and Cassandra in particular had a propensity to shove anything edible in her mouth, so it really was a tragedy that those crab cakes were all the way across the room. There should really be a table right in the middle of the dance floor just for snacks. That way caterers wouldn’t have to do so much leg work, which is actually a good thing, because that ballroom floor is slippery af. This narrator should know, he has Died A Few Times getting there. Suddenly, the night’s festivities were interrupted by a social faux pas: a scream.

You don’t just scream at regular parties, it’s uncouth and hysterical. But you can scream if the social boundaries have already been crossed, and boy, were they crossed.

You see, Dear Reader, there was a man in the toilet.

I use the term “man” loosely, as his glaring yellow eyes do wonders when you might just crap your pantaloons. You start imagining things, like dinosaurs whcih i am personally a big fan of bc Jurassic Park has a kid named Tim in it and I am also Tim.

hI y is our toilet so big that Killer Croc could wiggle his way up? also how long can he hold his breath.

it seems to be impressively long

hey Bdad how long can he hold his breath? please let me know if you can, and if you won’t i will eat all your wafers becauzs i wa

Mrs. Trenton screamed and fled the impertinent bathroom guest, who wasted no time in ripping the commode to pieces. There was a roar and all the guests paused, unsure if it was merely pipe problems or if they were under attack.

Reader: They were, in fact, under attack.

The guests, deciding that Mrs. Trenton was a social entrepreneur, followed her lead and began to scream. Killer Croc had made it to ballroom, standing at an impressive height just outside the doors.

He was Not wearing a shirt.

okay have u ever noticed that Killer Crog hasn’t got any nipples????? where are they? he’s got pecs but no nipples??

where did they go where are his nip nops i kno people don’t like to think about this but i hAve wondered since i was like 13 like where did they go. has anyone ever asked him.

did they fall off

“Take the crab cakes!” shouted Matthew Fielder, a lil bitch.

“No, take me!” said Cassandra Wayne, who would literally rather die than give up those crab cakes.

Killer Croc paid them no heed. He desired one thing and one thing only, the sweet satisfaction for his carnal craving: Humain Flesh.

(alliteration hell yeah hell yeah take that Mrs. Johnson i do know shit and im creative as well u jusy don’t know how my brian works it’s like a golden goose egg trap ye ye ye)

i just Realized

i am…a high school drop out

i don’t know why im doing this

Dear Reader, as an Aside: Smoking can lead to many health issues, especially if one begins smoking at a young age. Harmful side effects include increased risk of stroke and brain damage; muscular degeneration, eye cataracts; cancer of lips, nose, tongue, and mouth, and nipple loss.

Jason you may want to have a talk with you and your mipples

The terror in the air was stifling. Cannibalism conduct was not something conveyed in etiquette classes. Rich people never expect to be eaten.

Reader, everyone hardly breathed. Something deeply primal had occurred.

From the doorway the golden eyes struck. Deadly. Lethal. Hungry.

This was more than vengeance. It was a sadistic occasion of play.

okay good thing Dames wasn’t there because he fucking HATES KC he gets all huffy and shrieky about him like “he’s a HYGIENE PROBLEM” and it’s like,,,,,.ur right but i don’t want to agree with you because where do we stand if i do that?? as brothers???

i think the fuck not

anyways i just realized i’ve been calling Waylon Jones KC the entire damn time (NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE) but to be fucking h, he wants to to be called that. i called him Allen once and he was so PISSED so i can only think of actually calling him by his name. he wouldn’t even be chill with me naming the sewer alligators even tho they were awesome names. i called one Dundee. that’s fucking genius. that’s just. i’m fucking amazing. stupenous. and unappreciated.

maybe his nipples fell off because he swims in shit every night?????

question: why do i swim in shit almost as often

what the dfck

what are my life choices

i feel like there should have been some fine print involved here

“Robin duties include scraping shit off your asschreks 3 times a week”

mahbe,,,,maybe not what i want

personal choice

though i haven’t really seen any alligators in the sewers for years now, which is

oh my god OH MY GOD HE ATE THEM HE ATE THEM OH MY GOD OH MY GOD !!!!!!!!!!

HE FUCKING HE FUCKING. HE. HE ATE HIMSELF HE FUCNING ATE HIMAELF AND HIS FAMILY HIS COUSINS HIS CPOUSINS HIS FAMILY OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION ALL OVER AGAIN

im so disturbed……..i like, need to eat something. Fucking hell. this Not what i had in mind when i decided to be alive.

i feel like as if i woke up one day and i was the only one in the entire world who remembered Caillou. also could pull off my face and eat it like taffy. imw so. i.

mom i know i refused to go to Shabbat when i was ten so i don’t get to say this but:

this is Not kosher

oh heyy i want some pIckes

i was also thinking of takin a spin class?? like fuck it i like to bike. fuck it. and maybe iwdont want bruce and nigtwink fucking watxhing me with their beady eyes. like get those off my calves. my cleavage is up here, gentlemen. stop talking about proper form. some people can do things and suck at them. i’m never going to be like a professional ice curler. and i shouldn’t feel bad about that. who the fuck curls for fun. maybe Canada???????

note to self: look up the history of the sport of curling

i’m going to get good at it to piss off Jason

Back On Topic:

Killer Croc took a step forward. His mouth trembled, watering in anticipation. He took another step.

Mrs. Trenton drew in a breath.

The room was silent.

Far across the room, Bruce Wayne clenched his champagne glass. Cassandra Wayne stopped chewing the crab cakes. Reader, I won’t mince words: Waylon Jones crossed the threshold.

and the instant he put his foot down on the ballroom floor he fucking slipped like a drunkass toddler

like when Damian is really really tired bc he’s like 2 years old (only an evil 2 years old like chucky) and Jason tries to give him a high five

gremlin still doesn’t get that “down low” precedes “too slow”

and he like. faceplants

onto the fucking concrete

and then Bruce yells at Jason

and then Jason yells back

“I NEVER ASKED FOR SIBLINGS”

like it was something we all did, like wrote it down on our batmas lists for Brucie Claus

and im sitting there, a perennial Forgotten Middle Child

and Damian is like still. on the ground.

anyways KC is just slipping across the ballroom, slippering and sliding bc the floor was just waxed and it’s silent except for the wet slaps of his feet against the floor and the screech his tail makes every time he trips (sort of like this) and when he sometimes falls it makes that sound of when your thighs SLAP against the mats and it sounds like a wet walrus coming to cheer you on while a Giant simultaneously swallows a liquid-filled gummy worm down his throat like QAWAGGHHHHHHH only his falls reverberated against the ceiling panels and the cherubs looked down in like. disgust.

Cass began chewing the crab cakes again by the time Killer Croc fell for the twelfth time so idk it was an embarrassing situation

we all did that Thing people do when a social barrier is breached

we like…..avoided each other’s eyes and made light conversation

meanwhile Killer Croc’s body screeched in the background

anyways Matthew Fielder was like “so I hear you dance ballet” and Cass responded “uh huh. tap too” and the chewed up crab cake crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the floor

i CAN’T

scrambled cock on a cracker, Cass why does Alfred let this happen????? what is this?????? like she can snort creme puffs like cocaine but GOD FORBID i put my elbows on the table and call damian “a poisonous little bitch” because he ate my croutons

the standards in this family are unbelievable

So everyone is just talking and Mrs. Trenton is sipping champagne now and Luis Alvarez is doing that thing where he starts trying to eat caviar one teeny tiny egg at a time and KC is just like WHUMPH for the thirtieth time

finally dad takes pity on him and crouches down and is like “hey how you doing slugger” which???? Offended me. Very Much.

that’s MY nickname

has Waylon No-Nipples Jones been adopted by Bruce Wayne??? has Waylon No-Nipples Jones retrieved HIS sorry ass from time?? i don’t fucking think so

the audacity of this man

but before Killer Croc can reply

Red Hood

BURSTS INTO THE ROOM

guns out, voice modulator kind of fuzzy like a broke refrigerator that makes an “eeeeeeeeeee” sound ever since i tripped over it and fell on it

which wASN’T MY FAULT

IM NOT “deformed baby zebra clumsy” FUCK YOU JASON

MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T KEEP HIS EXPENSIVE HELMET ON THE FLOOR THEN

you know what? I’m GLAD i tripped over it.

yeah. suck it.

im glad you sound like a 90s japanese transistor radio

off brand too

fuck you

I GOT A BRUISE NOT THAT ANYONE CARES

even Bruce was like “hey tim you need to watch where you’re going”

???

how about YOU watch where YOU’RE GOING

“where” as in TIME TRAVEL

REMEMBER THAT BRUCE

REMEMBER THAT?!???????

HUH BIG GUY?!???????!!???

no one is allowed to criticize me from now on

i am Above Reproach

anyways yeah Red Hood appears at the party and shoots KC and Bruce was like “why the FUCK would you SHOOT HIM” as if he has some misplaced paternal feeling for Waylon No-Nipples Jones because he called him slugger which is something he calls one of his other kids but whatever im not bitter im just insecure and sad all the time but don’t worry about it maybe i’ll die one day and you’ll all be sorry especially about Certain Things like not sharing cheese nibs huh Cassandra

so RH and Bruce Wayne kind of argue. like. literally sniping at each other bc SOMEBODY forgot that Red Hood is a criminal and not their misplaced son and RH is like “it’s!!!!! a tranquilizer!!!!! ya big hoe!!!!!” only he doesn’t really say it like that but everyone isn’t even listening at this point because this party has already been so goddamn weird and we’re all suffering from secondhand embarrassment

i am Assuming,,,,,that Killer Croc Jones “Jonsie No-Nipples” has been taken away to be put into jail and studied for his non-nipple properties but at this point i’ve been sitting here huffing that cold medicine or whatever Bruce gave me. which

oh yeah i was crushed earlier

it was by “slugger” but whatever

yeah his body broke mine

it was because Bruce and Jason were fighting again and not paying attention so

KC was tranquillized and like

fell on me

he drooled on me too

those ballroom floors really hurt

like my head feels like mush

Alfred’s oatmeal

on its second day

because i refused to eat it on the first day

that man has a spine of Steel and he Does Not Let You Waste Food

btw he fell on me because i pushed Luis Alvarez out of the way

he was really transfixed by those tiny fish eggs

it’s fun to put them on your tongue and let them like slide around

so i pushed him out of the way and was promptly crushed to death

B said something about a broken collarbone

i am more worried about a broken butt

fuck

my coccyx

PROFESSOR PYM wait no shit that’s a comic book character

anyways my butt is broken and im hungry and dad wouldn’t let me get out of the chair so i write up this report because I am A Real Life Detective and I do my JOB

once again im the best

hey red jood can you get me some cheese nibs cassandrA won’t share which is p mean especially since i was all for being eaten to give her those crab cakes red hoof red why isn’t he responding to me i want xheese nibs red hanz red red Red Hood please I require sustenance red fhau red gjji red hhood ted joood redb hood red red edds red red edd dedd red red red red red wd red what the fuck what a right bastard sometimes oh hi Badaman

EDIT: His name is “Pyg.” Fucking. Pyg. Points taken off for unoriginality.

decided to have a tumblr version too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#take this and put it on my grave #in remembrance of me

143 notes · View notes

littlemissonewhoisall · 5 years

Text

Guide to writing Cassandra Cain

I’ve seen a lot of people in the Bat Family fandom say that they often minimize or exclude Cassandra from their works because they don’t know enough about her. While I HIGHLY recommend reading her Batgirl comic from 2000, I’ve compiled a guide to her personality, abilities, and relationships with other DC characters here for easy reference. (I’ve tried to be as comprehensive as possible, but I’ve probably forgotten something so please feel free to add onto this if you know the character well)

PERSONALITY

Cassandra has a difficult time with language, spoken or written. This generally manifests through her relying on body language and single-word sentences to get her point across. When she needs to speak, it is halting and awkward, but not broken. She will pause frequently, mumble, or use Malapropisms, but she is a perfectionist and is frustrated when she doesnt use perfect grammar or pronunciation. At times she will be unable to find the words for a particular thought. She usually is portrayed as being unable to read or write.

Cass sometimes uses mimicry when she has trouble putting words together herself, quoting films, tv shows, and plays.

Cassandra is compassionate above all else. She values life, and protecting it is her highest priority. She will not hesitate to put herself in danger to save others, and does not tolerate killing.

Cassandra has a strong guilt complex. Anyone who dies on her watch weighs heavily on her conscience, even if there was nothing she could’ve done to stop it. She does not let go of these “failures” easily.

Cassandra has little regard for societal norms and expectations. While generally caring and compassionate, she often comes across as rude due to spending most of her life either locked in a bunker or surviving in the wilderness. This includes poor table manners, a tendency to lurk in the shadows, and mirroring her adoptive father’s habit of coming and going without warning.

Cassandra has great pride in her physical prowess, but little in her moral character. Though she has a strong moral code and is quick to intervene when others break it, she does not see herself as above them and may even have more faith in them than in herself, as she still feels that she may not be able to rise above her upbringing. She can be rather arrogant about her superior agility and combat prowess, however.

Cassandra is fond of friendly jibes and snark, usually but not always expressed nonverbally. Her sense of humor is slightly unconventional, but usually good-natured.

Cassandra wears her heart on her sleeve. She is very emotional, and her past trauma can make her emotionally vulnerable, especially because of her lack of communicative skills. Her emotions show through her entire body, even when she doesn’t vocalize them.

Cassandra is quick to leap before looking, but excellent at adapting to unexpected situations. She is a poor planner and rather impulsive, with a rebellious streak that sometimes makes it hard for her to listen to instructions. However, she is great at thinking on her feet and analyzing her situation in the moment.

Cassandra does not do things in half measures. When she wants to learn something, such as reading or detective work, she is eager to dive into the deep end even if it’s not always the best way to approach it. As mentioned before she is also a perfectionist when it comes to herself, so this approach often leads to frustration.

Cassandra is very physically affectionate, with little mind for personal space. This often comes in the form of gently touching the face of someone she believes to be in pain.

Cassandra is extremely empathetic, to the point that it can be overwhelming for her at times. She is very good at spotting falsehoods, hidden pain, etc.

Despite this, she often misinterprets social cues. For instance, when Barbara and Dick were going through a rough patch in their relationship, she though Dick had intentionally done something to hurt Barbara, and threw him out a window.

ABILITIES

Cass is fast. Really, really fast. She can move incredibly quickly and quietly, making her very hard to track.

Cass has a shocking amount of strength for her small size. She has punched through 3-inch thick quartz glass, kicked down concrete walls, and thrown a metahuman more than twice her size without issue.

Her primary advantage comes from her ability to read body language and predict her opponents’ actions, allowing her to dodge bullets and outmaneuver pretty much any non powered opponent. This ability does not work on robots, animals, or sufficiently nonhuman aliens.

Cassandra is a contender for the world’s best martial artist, along with Lady Shiva and Richard Dragon. She can pick up new fighting styles nearly instantly, allowing her to learn and adapt techniques she’s never encountered before.

Cass is an incredible acrobat, though not as good as Nightwing.

Cass is able to control the amount of force she uses to the point that she doesn’t usually have to worry about killing even when using normally lethal techniques.

She is able to use pressure points to paralyze someone nearly instantly, though she has only shown the ability to use it on those who do not expect her to attack.

She can stop a person’s heart using a special technique, and in later appearances was able to do so without endangering the person for a good length of time, though they’d still die if not revived within that time period.

She is very good at analyzing her surroundings, which has helped her solve cases.

Cassandra is exceptional at dividing her attention and energy, able to coordinate herself to the point that government agents assumed she was a metahuman.

She is very good at the intimidation side of the job, able to terrify even trained killers.

RELATIONSHIPS

Cassandra is very close to Stephanie Brown, who was her first real friend. She can be a bit overprotective of her, even using violence to keep her out of fights that Cass thinks will be too much for her, though she has largely grown out of that and these days has a lot more faith in her. Cassandra is able to unwind with Stephanie in ways that she has trouble doing with around other people, even those she trusts like Barbara and Tim. When Stephanie seemingly died, Cassandra was deeply affected, becoming shorter-tempered and more violent.

Cassandra sees Barbara as the mother she never had, and values her insight. Though she often chafes at Barbara’s well-intentioned attempts to get her to see beyond her life as Batgirl, she still cares deeply for her.

Cass sees Bruce as somewhat of a father figure as well as a bit of an idol, and seeks his approval. When she believes that she has disappointed him, it can be devastating for her. However, she also recognizes his pain and trauma, and sympathizes strongly with it. Her admiration also doesn’t always mean she’ll do what he says.

While Cassandra and Dick don’t always get along (as mentioned earlier), she usually sees him as a mentor and big brother, and she is often more relaxed around him than most people.

Cass and Jason’s interactions have been largely confrontational, and it’s likely that further encounters would be similar, as she is strongly opposed to lethal force and would endeavor to stop him if she could. That said, she would almost certainly understand the pain he went through, and would try to get through to him with words as much as she is capable, rather than immediately resorting to violence.

Cass and Tim have a long and complicated history. While the two of them started off rather tense, with Tim being somewhat intimidated by her, they soon grew very close, and treat each other as siblings. Their strengths complement each other, and they are able to work in synch with each other very well. She has also been known to break into his house to steal food and take a shower.

Like Jason, Cass’s interactions with Damian are few and far between. Their first meeting didn’t end well, as Cassandra pulled him from a building when he was disarming a bomb despite his protests that he could handle it. While she found some of what he said hurtful, she didn’t seem to hold much of a grudge, and I think they could find common ground due to their similar backgrounds.

Cassandra and Duke seem to be friends, though beyond that little is known of their relationship.

Cassandra is close with Harper Row, and the two of them definitely care for one another despite the troubled history between them.

Cass and Jean-Paul Valley bonded quickly over their shared inexperience with society, and they are both very fond of one-another.

Cassandra is friends with Dinah Lance, who she has been shown to train with on occasion.

Cass does not get along with Helena Bertinelli for obvious reasons, and when they worked together during the Battle for the Cowl there was quite a bit of tension between them.

Cassandra had a close relationship with Basil Karlo/Clayface during the time that he had reformed, as she had faith in his ability to change. His apparent death devastated her.

Her relationship with her biological father is complicated. Though she has always despised what he does for a living, it took a long time for her to come to terms with how badly he treated her.

Cass’s relationship with her biological mother is even more complex. In most depictions, Cassandra respects Shiva in some ways, but is also troubled by all of the lives that she’s taken.

#cassandra cain #Bat Family #bat fam #batkids #batfam #DC comics #bat kids #batgirl #black bat #orphan #kasumi #cass cain #cassandra wayne #blackbat

1K notes · View notes

fromtheringapron · 5 years

Text

WWE SummerSlam 2016

Date: August 21, 2016.

Location: The Barclay Center in Brooklyn, New York.

Attendance: 15,974

Commentary: Michael Cole, Byron Saxton, and Corey Graves (Raw). Mauro Renallo, John “Bradshaw” Layfield, and David Otunga (SmackDown).

Results:

Kickoff Match: The Usos (Jimmy and Jey), The Hype Bros (Mojo Rawley and Zack Ryder), and American Alpha (Chad Gable and Jason Jordan) defeated Breezango (Fandango and Tyler Breeze), The Ascension (Konnor and Viktor), and The Vaudevillains (Simon Gotch and Aiden English.

Kickoff Match: Sami Zayn and Neville defeated The Dudley Boyz (Bubba Ray and D-Von).

Kickoff Match, First in a Best of Seven Series: Sheamus defeated Cesaro.

1. Chris Jericho and Kevin Owens defeated Enzo Amore and Big Cass.

2. Raw Women’s Championship Match: Charlotte defeated Sasha Banks (champion) to win the title.

3. Intercontinental Championship Match: The Miz (champion) (with Maryse) defeated Apollo Crews.

4. AJ Styles defeated John Cena.

5. WWE Tag Team Championship Match: Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson defeated The New Day (Kofi Kingston and Xavier Woods) (champions) via disqualification.

6. WWE Championship Match: Dean Ambrose (champion) defeated Dolph Ziggler.

7. Nikki Bella, Natalya, and Alexa Bliss defeated Naomi, Carmella, and Becky Lynch.

8. WWE Universal Championship Match: Finn Balor defeated Seth Rollins to become the inaugural champion.

9. Brock Lesnar (with Paul Heyman) defeated Randy Orton via knockout.

My Review

SummerSlam 2016 is one long ass show. I’m aware that’s a bit of a redundant statement because, in the age of the WWE Network, every show is long and, more often than not, they’re also ass. However, the point still stands: this show is a whopping 4 hours and it’s not something you can digest in one sitting on a rewatch. For the record, I totally support making the SummerSlams and Survivor Series and so on seem just as big and important as WrestleMania. It’s fine by me for WWE’s Big 4 to feature absolutely stacked cards. Unfortunately, in modern WWE, this approach also results in the shows running out of gas midway through and some of the matches going on way longer than they should. The 2016 edition of the summer classic isn’t exactly the worst example of this trend, but it definitely shows similar signs of fatigue.

On top of that, it’s such a heel-dominated show. It’s only occasionally satisfying. In their crusade to make the audience finally embrace Roman Reigns, the WWE would pile on the heel victories in hopes the crowd would pop like crazy once the Big Dog got the W in the main event. It’s inherently flawed psychology to think the crowd is just going to accept a long-awaited face win from just anybody. That can really only work in a particular situation. Needless to say, it often failed because while Roman would get the W, the crowd still hated him. Worse here is that he doesn’t even wrestle on this show. So who was this booking supposed to benefit? I guess you could make the argument for Finn Balor, whose Universal title win remains a highlight of his WWE tenure. Even then, it was rendered irrelevant 24 hours later, as Balor would vacate the title due to injury.

With all that in mind, it shouldn’t be surprising that such a heel-heavy show ends on a rather depressing note. Brock Lesnar pummels Randy Orton into a bloody mess and that’s it. That’s the show. Fade to black. It would’ve been fine if placed somewhere in the middle of the card, but it’s such an awkward way to close up shop. They did have a pretty workable story going into the match, and I’m not gonna pass up the rare occasion to see Orton get beaten into oblivion, but talk about deflating. The whole thing winds up looking like a pale imitation of Lesnar’s squash of John Cena back at SummerSlam 2014. Oh, and there’s some drama with Shane McMahon at the end because, as we all know, that’s exactly what the WWE needs: more McMahon family drama!

The far more successful dream match is John Cena vs AJ Styles. Truly something special. It’s essentially the same finishing move and near-fall spam fest that plagues every major WWE main event, but I don’t mind it here. This is meant to be an epic blockbuster between two of the biggest stars in wrestling of the post-Monday Night War era. It makes perfect sense for both guys to throw all of their deadliest ammunition at each other right out of the gate. Styles was in the midst of one of the hottest stretches of his career at this point, but Cena deserves just as much credit here. It’s kind of amazing. For all the times he’s proven that he can rise to the occasion in a big match situation, there are still anti-Cena bros to this day who’ll deny it every step of the way. His record of putting people over isn’t perfect, especially at SummerSlam, but what he does for AJ here is pretty selfless. I don’t think even his haters can deny that.

Overall, SummerSlam 2016 isn’t a bad show by any means but, again, the length ensures it will inevitably start to drag. A shame, because there’s probably a pretty good show somewhere in here. It’s nice that the WWE is trying to make the biggest party of the summer feel important, but too much partying can make even the most diehard fan eventually feel pooped.

My Random Notes

I can only imagine what someone like Jon Stewart really thinks of WWE’s comedy. I mean, he’s probably had plenty of experience doing his best with bad material, but you’d have to think he had to grin and bear it here at several points.

In light of Sasha Banks’ recent spat with the company, I can really see why she’d be frustrated with her booking. Would it have killed them to have her hold the Women’s title for longer than a month? I know an injury is cited as the official reason she dropped the belt here, but it’s still the first of several instances of them yanking the rug out from under her.

Man, Enzo and Cass were so frickin’ over. They’re such laughing stocks now that it’s quickly become lost to time how much the fans were digging them. Of course, they only have themselves to blame for fucking it all up, but they really did have something special there for a bit.

Dean Ambrose in his black torn shirt gives me some serious Bobby Heenan singlet vibes.

Funny how the pre-match hype package for Dean vs. Dolph centers so much around who Dolph Ziggler is because, as I’ve stated here previously, I still have no frickin’ idea who Dolph is supposed to be. He’s some anonymous hybrid of HBK, Mr. Perfect, Billy Gunn, and an ‘80s Trapper Keeper with literally no individuality. I find it ironic that he later got into a storyline where he kept changing gimmicks only to never find anything of his own. What a summary of his entire WWE career.

Hey, Balor may have had to surrender the title 24 hours later, but at least this meant him getting another run with the belt in the future, right? Right?!?

Man, Nikki Bella was so frickin’ over. Why does it feel like I’m repeating myself? In all seriousness though, people can hate on the Bellas all they want, but in no way should it be surprising that they still get big pops. They’ve done more for WWE’s mainstream visibility than a lot of other superstars allegedly have.

Speaking of Nikki, crazy to think that she’s only one in the six-woman tag to not hold the Smackdown Women’s title.

I can’t be the only one who felt a little kick to gut when they showed fans waiting outside the now-deceased Toys R Us. I don’t need another reminder that my childhood is dead.

When did Lana drop the accent? I don’t watch Raw and Smackdown weekly anymore, but it horrifies me to know I let this travesty pass me by.

I know some people were upset they allowed The New Day to surpass Demolition’s record for the longest reign as tag champs but I’m totally okay with the decision. Sure, they occasionally get into terrible storylines like this ringpostitis shit, but they’re incredibly over, sell a ton of merchandise, and can wring out some entertainment from even the worst material. If they really wanted to insult Demolition, they should’ve given that honor to The Ascension.

#wwe summerslam #finn balor #sasha banks #roman reigns #total bellas

2 notes · View notes

sjmsstuff · 3 years

Text

Light and Dark

Chapter 2

A/N: hey gang, it’s chapter 2! This is not really canon compliant but if you squint real hard it is. I wrote this at 2 am and edited it during French class so I have no idea what state it’s in, please enjoy x

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Swearing (duh, it’s me), minorly nsfw but like not really, references to sexual and child abuse (not so much this chapter but probably later)

The silence pressed in the second she disappeared.

He was such an idiot.

She had been wearing his necklace though. Cauldron, how could he even call it his necklace, she didn’t know it was from him. Azriel wasn’t even entirely sure why he had given it to her but seeing it in his pile of solstice presents… that led to thoughts of Elain and after the fiasco at solstice he’d tried his best to forget about her.

Too often however, his mind meandered back to thoughts of her face, her mouth. Usually those thoughts came barging into his head late at night, when company fell asleep and his shadows disapated. Recently however those thoughts had changed.

Since solstice that mousy brown hair had taken on hues of red. Turquoise eyes closed in the throes of pleasure and a slimmer body writhed beneath him.

He was so unbelievably fucked. Or maybe the issue was that he wasn’t getting fucked.

He should Rhys’s advice and find company at a pleasure house. He must really hate himself, to lust firstly after Mor, who had shown no interest in him in 200 years. Then Elain, who was mated, and now Gwyneth, with her history she probably wouldn’t want a male to look at her for too long.

Which made him some massive creep to think of her like that. Azriel really did try not to. But when she appeared unannounced, like last night, he couldn’t help but think…

No, he wouldn’t go down that road. Not until he was fully sure she wanted it.

Azriel had beeen so surprised when a shadow curled around his ear in the stormy night and whispered of a nymph girl climbing the stairs. He was out of his seat and down the steps faster than he could consider any potential consequences.

And there she had been, standing in the hallway, looking like she might want to turn right around and march back down, but a shadow flicked against his ear, singing softly and he spoke her name.

He wanted to reach out to her, his shadows took that as a cue and tried to reach out themselves before he pulled them back. Something about her was affecting them, drawing them in. Or maybe she was affecting him like that.

That was a dangerous thought.

She had stood silent, lithe frame backlit by the torches behind her and said,

“Would you like some company?”

Her voice was a melody. His shadows purred in answer.

The worlds axis must have shifted, he could probably look outside to find the stormy sky had turned as blue as her eyes he was taking too long to answer and she was looking at him oddly, perhaps noting the shadows flying around his shoulders.

They were so excitable in her presence, he couldn’t control them and that was extremely concerning. Az doesn’t like what he can’t control.

All worry was chased from his mind as he climbed the stairs and another topic was thrust into his brain.

Gwyn from the back was almost as glorious as she was from the front.

Gods what he wouldn’t do to grip those hips and grind that perfect little ass on his-

No.

He stopped himself, looking away before his control could be tested further. She said it herself, she was here for conversation and Mother damn him he would talk to her casually.

Gwyn was not going to be a repeat of Mor or Elain. He was not going to lust after another female that wanted nothing to do with him, and pine away until his demise.

Gwyn was going to mean more than that. He would keep her at arms length, so that he may keep her as a friend.

And he was making a fool of himself. She asked his favourite colour and the only colour left in the world was that of her eyes.

And he laughed, for the first time in weeks, stress melting from his weary bones after just minutes with this fabulous creature.

And he told her things he had never told anyone, that was dangerous.

He was a spymaster, mother damn him. A spymaster wasn’t much good if he told a female all his secrets after a few pretty smiles.

But gods, her smiles were pretty. He wondered how pretty her mouth would-

No. None of that.

He needed her out of here so he could collect pieces of his sanity before he spilled any other important secrets.

As she walked back towards the library however, he almost called her back. An unruly shadow seemed to take that as an opportunity to reach for her, but Az whipped it back.

Dangerous indeed.

And yet, that night he slept without dreams. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Well truthfully, he could, it was a time when his hands were unscarred.

Cassian was back the next morning. Ever his cheerful self since the mating ceremony almost a month ago. He had been unbearable for a week afterwards. Azriel had had to vacate the house of wind and call a halt to lessons as Cass had almost taken his head off and Nesta had growled at Emerie the first time she tried to enter the house.

Not to mention the scents and sounds emanating from different rooms. Azriel was happy for his brother, truly. Even if it did make him green with envy and blue with melancholy.

The following week, the happy couple were back training but Cass was so distracted Az managed to beat him into the dirt on no less than three occasions. Azriel waited another week before moving back into the House, still half considering Rhys’s offer to fumegate it.

He had kept occupied by tracking Koschei, or rather attempting to track him. The King had proven hard to pin down, a source of growing frustration to Azriel. He despised having to bring bad news to his High Lord, and now that Rhys had Nyx to worry about he hated it even more.

But Rhys maintained that they had faced threats before and triumphed but the failure still weighed heavy on Az that morning in the training ring.

He tried his hardest not to look at Gwyn. He couldn’t help it sometimes, her hair caught the light when she twirled under Emerie’s punch.

It looked like a flame come to life in the early morning sunlight and he challenged any living male not to loose breath.

It was with a warriors assessment that he allowed his gaze to rove over her slight body. He was admiring her form and positioning, definitely not imagining her in different positions. That would be both unsavoury and unprofessional. Which is why he hated himself for doing it.

Gwyn hardly noticed him, barely glancing in his direction and he had the strangest urge to pick a fight with Cassian in attempt to garner her attention.

That wasn’t good.

The warrior in question was flirting with his mate while she squatted, arching her back in a way that was unnecessary and counterproductive but Cassian didn’t call her up on it, he seemed too busy enjoying the show. Nesta however corrected herself and continued on while his lovesick brother pretended he hadn’t been leering at his mate.

Gwyn too had spotted the encounter laughed, a tinkling sound that lightened something dark in Azriels chest. She looked around to see if anyone else had caught what she had, and that’s when it happened. Her eyes met his and the world shifted again. He couldn’t help the smile that blossomed in the wake off her own. One thought consumed him as he turned back to his own priestesses and guided them through the next set. He was so unbelievably fucked.

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @illyrian-valkyrie

Chapter 3

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for my writing or this fic x

#sjmsstuff writes #light and dark #light and dark ch 2 #acosf spoiler #acosf #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel

135 notes · View notes

sweettsubaki · 6 years

Text

Hello pre New52 Steph fans everywhere (or just Steph fans? This is mostly about her Pre New52 self and I'm not sure I ever met one of her fans who liked how she was portrayed in New 52 or Rebirth). This is addressed to those who have read most of her appearances (if you've read everything, all the better). I'm not asking that to find "better" fans or anything, it's more about getting an ensemble view. [Edit: I'm including willigham's run because while some of the things he did were clearly OOC, some of it made a lot of sense concerning Steph's characterization because I'm sorry but she didn't get over lifelong issues through a month of relatively quiet relationship where she could barely talk about how she felt because Tim and Steph never managed to fully trust each other emotionally speaking, which is normal considering... everything really]

I'm trying to MBTI type Steph and while I have reread quite a few comics (mostly in Robin), I thought I could use some help because I'm already biased. I'm trying different typing methods and one of them is through Hogwarts' houses (I'm doing the same to Tim, Kon, Cassie and Cass... Bart's already certain so I just confirmed it really). I found a short description of the types depending on their house a while ago which was pretty well done (seriously it was impressively well done).

Now Steph is quite clearly a Slytherin so that part was easy to narrow down and I've taken out the descriptions I'm certain don't fit her. However there are still quite a few descriptions that fit her at least partially (12 out of 16) so I'm gonna put them here without putting the type to avoid your own bias if you already have your own opinion on her type, I will replace it by a number and it won't be in any actual order. so I'd like for you to reach back to me by saying which description (with its number) fits her best or if you want to list from most like her to less I'm fine with it too. If you're doing this by ask or any messaging system please put her name first 'cause I'm doing it for Kon too.

So here goes:

1. Slytherins of this type thrive off of what could be described as cut throat competition. They have a strong need to be at the top of the world and in the center of attention, and they are quite willing to go to extremes to get it. They are incredibly self-confident, and want to show off the talent that they know they have. To some this may come off as annoying or pushy, but Slytherin Performers often try to shrug this off. They feel that one blow to their confidence could sabotage them.

2. Common in Slytherin house people within this type have a influential nature and a wicked tongue. They have the natural ability to be persuasive, and tend to have many friends or admirers due to this. Brilliant with words, making their point is not difficult for them, and this makes them great salespeople or workers within the field of law. They are very social, and have a way of making people feel comfortable around them. They are simultaneously independent, however, and can pull away if need be.

3. These Slytherins tend to be a bit like salesmen, always thinking of a new approach to something, and using this to their advantage. They have a strong desire to influence others, and this is quite often what leads them into new opportunities themselves. They are very social, and want to have a large circle of acquaintances which they can persuade.

4. Slytherins in this type could be easily considered a textbook activist. They have strong hearts and their drive is much more a emotional tug than a needful one, so they tend to find something they connect to, and dedicate themselves to it. Environmentalists, charity organizers, many of these people are what you could consider to be an ESFJ Slytherin. While social and kind, they can at times also seem to come off too strong for the liking of others, though they rarely comprehend why this is.

5. These Slytherins seem to have the keen ability to motivate others simply by their nature. They have a strong air of confidence, and this makes those around them quite positive. They enjoy having this ability, because having such strong influence gives them a very great sense of satisfaction. They are friendly and fun-loving, but they also tend to have a bit of a paternal instinct, trying to help others who are making questionable decisions.

6. Slytherins in this type have a strong enthusiasm which carries them through life. They seem to be full of energy constantly, and never stop moving. They tend toward social aspects of life, and the impact they have on others is what tends to drive them throughout their days.

7. Slytherins of this type are extremely loyal, and a bit like quiet soldiers. They are dedicated to whatever it is that they choose to do, but they don’t want to be advocates about it. They would rather wait until they have to show their loyalty, and they will do anything in their power. They can appear distant at times, because they tend to avoid too much interaction. They can become attached to others easily, and if they do this they will feel overwhelmed by obligation.

8. Individuals within this type do not outwardly show the same ambition and vigor as do Slytherins of other types. They tend to keep things within themselves, not feeling it necessary for others to know what they are thinking. Despite this, they are mentally some of the most enthusiastic Slytherins that there are. While not being too showy about it, these are often the people that contribute the most to group occasions, as they have a strong need to prove what they can do. That’s not to say impressing others with their abilities, but assuring themselves, as their confidence is everything to them.

9. Perhaps one of the most common types within Slytherin house, these individuals are extremely loyal to their blood. Their protective aspects shine through what they believe to be theirs, as they will fight tooth and nail to keep it. Within the world of Hogwarts, this could be shown through the family ties within Slytherin house, as these are individuals that will do whatever is asked of them by family, no questions asked. This makes them come off as very impulsive, and tends to give them a strong black and white moral standing.

10. Slytherins of this type are extremely intelligent, and like to express their thoughts to those around them. They have many theories on the world, and they want them to be known so that they can be used in the future. They have the strong intuition that they are bound to make a difference, whether it be for one person, for themselves, or for the entire universe. They are certain that they are bound for greatness.

11. These Slytherins, rather than speaking of actual physical tools, tend to use their own mind as their weapon of choice. They are strongly invested in their own needs, not so much selfishness, they just feel the need to take care of themselves, no matter what may entail. They will analyze every situation, opportunity, and relationship in their life, and come to the conclusion of what path would be the best for them. They are extremely self-assured, and this can come off as cockiness to some.

12. These Slytherins practically have the ability to pick up the world, pick it apart and take what they want, and then put it back down again. They are great at seeing the big picture, but picking out the small details they want from it. They have their own way of working and methods some may find eccentric. This makes little difference to them, as they tend to be absorbed in their own minds.

I know some of them don't fit her much but I'm trying to get new eyes to help me go through it.

#Stephanie Brown #DC Comics #Batgirl #Spoiler #MBTI #My DC Posts #Slytherin #Hogwarts Houses

34 notes · View notes