#and it would need. better explanation in its own side thing because it would derail the main one too hard

[ratcandy]

no I'm NOT also planning a self-indulgent side fic to this other fic I haven't even figured out a solid plan for yet GO AWAY

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I was reading your post about Jason punching Dick in the face when Dick revealed he fake his death was bullshit ( which it was) and it reminded me of an issue/question that has bothered me for sometime.

Why did people believe Dick was actually dead?

I’m not the most avid comic reader so maybe I missed something but it was always weird to me that everyone just accepted this especially given how Bruce was acting or should I say wasn’t acting.

This is a man when his child died another child had to come along and told him sir you are being too violent and emotional you need supervision. When his other child died he went all over the universe to bring him back to life because he knew it was possible ( which was happening at the same time), so why didn’t anyone think it was weird he wasn’t doing that for Dick. Can you imagine Dick really dying that soon after Damian it would be injustice Batman Version. You are telling me that Tim, Jason or Barbara didn’t think it was weird that Bruce didn’t also bring Dick’s corpse to the bring Damian back to life mission or mention it to themselves. Like what more likely Dick dead and Bruce is handling it well or that he fake his death to do something stupid and Dangerous after his partner/brother/ little bit my son the feelings are complicated died after he was knocked out and woke up to his corpse.

Oh man, this is like, the entire nature of my beef?

(Slight derail just to emphasize the fact real quick that Dick DID actually die, he was just revived quickly, but like, the trauma of his death was very real and its not like anyone was clued into Luthor having a resurrection backdoor built into his literal murder of Dick in the actual moment of it happening. So Dick’s death wasn’t fake, and additionally, he didn’t have anything to do with like, telling people about it, because he was literally comatose in the cave and recovering while Bruce was telling people....by the time Dick woke up in the cave, we already know that Alfred at least had already been convinced by Bruce that Dick was dead, so I have a kneejerk need to pushback against the Dick faked his death narrative by reminding people wherever possible that Dick had no agency in the spreading of that narrative. 

It happened without him being involved, and the only actual contribution he ever made to it was just not revealing he was alive before Grayson #12, after Bruce like.....emotionally, mentally and physically badgered him into accepting that doing so would be directly harmful to his family and he didn’t want to be the reason more people died when like, people had just died because he ‘let’ himself be captured and interrogated by Power Woman’s Lasso of Submission, did he?

SORRY TO BE PEDANTIC, just wanted to start this off on a clarification, even though I know the aim of your ask was very much in tune with the rest of my response. A lot of people don’t read the actual comics, so like, I’m never gonna skip over an opportunity to emphasize that the shorthand people use to refer to Dick’s death and the year he was with Spyral, is like, literally just shorthand for describing it. Its not actually an accurate description of how all that went down and who had the most hand in it).

BUT ANYWAY. BACK TO THE MEAT OF THE BEEF.

Okay so like, not only was the entire family and Bruce himself giving Dick shit for his death and Spyral, like, PAINFULLY egregious because it was literal victim blaming in every possible sense of the word....

None of it made a LICK of sense with ANY of their characterizations, and they ONLY all accepted it on face value because the Plot Demanded It, and when you're like, no, as a reader I say The Plot Demanded It is not a good enough reason for me to be like well sure, that makes sense......looking at the characters ACTUAL actions at face value pretty much just makes them all look like assholes?

Like, Tim has never gracefully accepted anyone's death. Ever. This is core characterization for him. He will go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones and to bring them back, prove they're not dead, refuse to let death be the final verdict for them. He was tempted to use the Lazarus Pit to bring his parents back to life. He refused to accept Bruce was dead long before he had any proof whatsoever of that theory. He tried to clone his BFF/future-husband Kon in his fucking basement like, dude was two whole inches away from going Full Dark Side in his quest to bring back a lost loved one no matter WHAT the cost.....and then you've got Dick unmasked onscreen, killed offscreen, and Bruce then reporting to the rest of them with zero inflection 'oh Dick's dead now. Its very sad' and Tim's just like, sure. Sounds legit.

I mean?!?!

And you're SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DAMIAN THING! Bruce LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY went BEYOND the ends of the Earth, like, he full on chartered a fucking space ship to fly his whole family out to APOKOLIPS to bring Damian back from the dead by going to EXTREME lengths.....WHILE everyone else thought Dick was dead....

And not a single person looked at Bruce and was like, okay, not that we're not down to do this for Damian because we miss Stabby Smurf something fierce ourselves, but.....what the fuck is UP with you dude? Why aren't you displaying ANY hint of this same kind of energy in regards to your eldest son that you said you watched die right in front of you?

Like....I don't know that we were actually ever told that Dick's coffin was empty or had a fake in it, but like....this family of detectives who refuse to accept death, defy death, COME BACK FROM THE DEAD....not a single one of them said like, okay, if I'm gonna like, ACCEPT accept that Dick is dead and gone for good, I need to at least just see him one last time? That's literally all it would have taken for someone to realize hey something's a little wonky here. Where's the dead body, Pops?

Since when has Jason ever missed an opportunity to prove Bruce is a) full of shit, b) acting like an emotionless robot and all his kids deserve better especially when they've just like....died, c) just factually incorrect and wrong and jumped to a conclusion before it was conclusively proved, d) lying like a liar or e) all of the above?

Nobody even ASKED if Dick's body could be put in a Lazarus Pit? Yeah, Jason wouldn't necessarily recommend it himself, given what it put him through, but actually fuck that, I take that back, because I'm NOT actually of the opinion that Jason full on hates his life and actively spends every second of every day wishing he hadn't been resurrected, even if it had come with a huge buffet of additional trauma and pain.

And that's kinda what's implied when people just take it for granted that he would never be on board with any scenario involving using a Lazarus Pit to bring Dick back, because it suggests that based even just on his own experiences and feelings, he honestly believes Dick would prefer being dead and not have ANY further opportunities to be with his loved ones, his friends, help save the damn world again at some future point.....that Jason, projecting based just off himself, legit feels Dick would rather be dead than have another shot at life even WITH the downsides of Lazarus Pit usage? Nope. Sorry, I don't buy it.

Speaking of not buying it.....you know what was missing from all those soliloquies the others monologued at Dick about how they felt and were hurt and just devastated by his death, to such a point they can't seem to muster a single shred of happiness that he's NOT dead still -

(seriously, Damian was the ONLY person in ALL THE LANDS OF EMOTION-HAVING who expressed ANY kind of positive reaction to having Dick back. We were so fucking cheated of like.....ANY opportunity to have the characters show just how much they valued him by just being fucking HAPPY he was alive, no matter what else was involved....and then most of fandom compounded that by for years being like mmmm, no, Dick didn't get yelled at enough by his family for what HE put THEM through. Needs more yelling. More punching too. Bad Dick. Bad. This is the only way you'll learn not to die and get shipped off on a mission that you don't want but at least is to protect your family after being beaten into it by your dad whilst victim blaming you for dying in the first place. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR FEELINGS FOR A CHANGE, DICK?!?)

- But like, BUT I DIGRESS aside....you know what was missing from all those monologues about how hard DICK'S death and ensuing year of basically exile from his loved ones was for EVERYONE BUT HIM?

We never got a single line of explanation as to what everyone else officially thinks even happened to him in the first place?

Like, did Bruce straight up just say oh bad news kids, your brother umm. Expired. Spontaneously. There's no one to blame, he just keeled over, its all very sad.

Is that how that went down?

You're telling me that the explanation of Dick's death didn't come with a single pointed finger at someone for this family of blame-happy vigilantes to like, BLAME for the loss of this brother they all mourned oh so much, they just couldn't help but blame him for all the hurt it caused them?

The family that in every other fic is like OBSESSED with avenging and being avenged and all things vengeful and even tangentially vengeance-y....like didn't ask for a single detail on whomst the fuck deprived us of our brother-having?

Where were the attempts on Luthor's life by Jason (who I mean, yeah I know it was in a previous continuity, but erasing that timeline doesn't erase my awareness of the time Dick killed Jason's murderer so like.....mmm, just saying, woulda been nice)....where was the rage directed at the Crime Syndicate and references to how seriously and personally the Batfam took making sure that they were PUNISHED for all this and would never be free to wreak havoc on their world or their family again? What did they tell Damian when he came back to life, and how are you going to tell me that this fraternal little ball of fury didn't aim himself like a cannonball at whomever the fuck had DARED take HIS Batman from him when Damian wasn't around to have his back?

Not only does everyone else's desire to be avenged start falling really flat the second you factor in hey maybe Dick feels "mmm what about MY avenging" sometimes, and why doesn't anyone ever care about doing that for him.....but also, y'know what REALLY sucks about the ONLY person we actually SEE being blamed for Dick's death and ensuing absence being like....Dick himself?

Not only were his family all super keen on making all of this HIS fault and HIM the bad guy because of how it made them all feeeeeeel (and meanwhile fuck his feelings, am I right Batfam hfaklshfklahfkla).....

They somehow found a way to justify prioritizing this OVER ever even getting around to blaming some villain for his death in the FIRST place, in the entire year or so they thought he was still dead!

Like, you couldn't come up with a single target in all that time, but Dick's back two seconds, and you don't even give him a chance to EXPLAIN before you're punching him, shutting him down with 'I expected better from you' and turning away with 'I don't want to hear it, why am I surprised Dick Grayson disappointed me again'?

afshklfhalfhalfhla

Make it make sense!

And like, it won't, cuz it doesn't, and it never will, and like I said at the top, the ONLY reason it all played out this way is because DC doesn't give a fuck about character development and deemed it necessary to go down this way for the sake of the plot (which was totes worth it, I mean, glad we sacrificed characters for this A+ plot which was clearly the greatest plot of all time and definitely justified every story choice made or not made around it loooool).

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT.

The problem isn't JUST that DC is stupid, even though that is an eternal mood and quite the problem.

Its that the SECOND large parts of fandom decided to play along with DC and just accept the story at face value, only add to it and play into it exactly as it happened in canon with no significant deviations, and like, heaping on the LITERAL abuse from Dick's siblings while ignoring the LITERAL abuse from his father....

THAT....is when all of this becomes relevant.

Because the second people decided TO engage with the reasoning DC gave for what Bruce did and how and what Dick did and how and just not mess with any of that and have it all play out exactly like that...

The second people are like, okay we're FINE with not just dismissing this story as OOC writing that doesn't make any sense, and actually VALIDATING it to various degrees by engaging with it as is....

That's when 'OOC writing' stops being an excuse or explanation for alllll of the above gaps in character logic and actions.

Because its like, when you had abundant chance to REJECT this story and say nope, this was bullshit from start to finish and I'm not here for it, when you were just as capable of transforming literally ANY aspect of this story you didn't like into something that made more sense to you....

And you chose not to.

That's.....accepting it as valid writing. You were like, okay, I'm game to just treat this as a thing that happened, just like they said that happened.

For the chance to give Dick shit for it, see. For the angst, see.

And that's when I'm like okay cool, so when engaging with this story as is and accepting it on face value and just delving into the characters as they were SHOWN interacting with and around these events......for the angst or whatever....

You guys just all decided en masse to just hop, skip and jump over allllllllll the opportunities for angst inherent in examining even ANY SINGLE ONE of the above lapses in judgment or hypocrisy on the parts of the characters (who don't get to be excused by OOC writing if you're not going to call the story an example of OOC writing, whoops).

And its just like, uh, what's up with that?

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

[ill-go-with-that-then]

Some Like It Hot

a quick erasermic fic - rated G

The crime rate goes up during heat waves. Shouta doesn’t have a source for that, it’s just one of those things you always hear, but he thinks it’s true. The unpleasant weather puts everyone a little closer to the edge, even the cheerful older lady who sells him his morning newspaper had sighed when he opened the shop door, bringing a burst of humid air in with him. Petty criminals who’d usually go in without a struggle have been more likely to take a swing, lately. Even the plants along the edge of the street are drooping and wilted. The whole world seems more miserable than usual.

With one exception.

“Shouta!!” Hizashi beams at him from the other side his apartment door. Shouta has to squint against his brightness, even through the peephole. “Let me in!”

“Why.” It’s not really a question, Shouta is already working on the locks, but Hizashi has an answer ready, apparently. 

“Because I’m your best friend and best friends don’t leave each other on the doorstep!” Hizashi’s smile widens as the door swings open. “And besides, we patrol together today!”

Shouta scowls. He hadn’t forgotten, they’ve done their first patrol of the month together since they graduated. But it’s so damn hot, he’d intended to skip work for once, in favor of slowly melting to death in front of his cheap fan. He’d just expected Hizashi, who is generally devoted to his comforts and also the owner of an actual air conditioner, to be the one to call it off. But now Hizashi is here, in head to toe leather, and still smiling. Not for the first time, Shouta wonders if his friend doesn’t have some kind of secondary quirk that keeps him from feeling the same fatigue as a normal person. “Let me get my scarf,” he mutters, grabbing his equipment from its messy pile by the door. 

“You seem grumpy,” Hizashi says, like he has no idea why Shouta could possibly be unhappy to be walking around in all black on a day like today. Still, Shouta appreciates that he didn’t say “grumpier than usual” like most people - all right, every other person Shouta knows - would have. 

“It’s too hot,” is all Shouta is prepared to say on the matter. Whining about it isn’t going to help. Still, he’d feel a little better if Hizashi didn’t look so... put together. His uniform is even thicker than Shouta’s, but he doesn’t seem at all uncomfortable.

“Ah, it’s not so bad!” Hizashi knocks his shoulder against Shouta’s as they leave the building. It’s even warmer outside, with the bright rays of the sun baking down onto the pavement. For a moment, Shouta envies Hizashi’s tinted glasses. “C’mon, I’ll buy you an iced coffee!”

Shouta’s not going to say no to that, so the cafe on the corner is their first stop. It’s crowded; they’re apparently not the only ones to have this idea, and the air in the shop is thick and tense.

“Do you have to stand so close!” A guy a few places up in line spins around to scold the woman behind him. 

“There’s a ton of room in front of you, move up!” The woman steps forward, even further into his space, and Shouta puts a hand on his capture weapon, ready to break up a fight before the first swing lands-

But Hizashi is faster. “Hey now!” he says appeasingly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “No need to argue! There’s enough coffee to go around, and-” he whips out his wallet with a flourish. “It’s on me, yeah? Coffee for everybody!”

The mood immediately relaxes, and everyone waiting in line brightens at Hizashi’s generous offer. Even Shouta is impressed. Not at the cost - coffee is hardly expensive, and Hizashi can afford it easily - but at how efficiently Hizashi had diffused the situation. The rest of the customers leave smiling, a very different outcome than if Shouta had been by himself. 

They finally escape with their drinks, a little later than expected, but Shouta’s not going to complain. The slow walk up and down the streets seems like it takes even longer than usual, and Shouta can feel his hair stuck down with sweat to the back of his neck. It’s awful.

“Let’s cut through the park,” he suggests as they pass it, desperate to get out of the sun, at least for a little while. 

“Sure!” Hizashi chirps, sipping at his drink. Shouta eyes it jealously, he’d finished his own long ago. And apparently he’s not as subtle about it as he thinks, because Hizashi notices his expression and laughs. “Here,” he shoves the cup towards Shouta, who takes it reflexively. 

Shouta brings it to his lips - it’s still cold - and tries not to listen to the little voice in his head laughing at their “indirect kiss.” It sounds like Kayama. “Thanks,” he says around the straw.

“You looked like you needed it,” Hizashi smiles. Then he starts whistling a cheerful tune as they walk along the shaded path through the park. It’s not a long walk - in just a few minutes they’re out from under the trees and at the park’s open center, next to the fountain. Usually it’s crowded with families and couples, but today it’s almost deserted, with most people sticking to the cooler areas in the shade.

“Looks like the clouds are rolling in,” Aizawa notices, peering up at the suddenly overcast sky and trying hard not to get his hopes up. “Do you think it might-“

A loud clap of thunder interrupts before he can finish the thought, but renders the question moot, anyway. Before he can say anything else, the sky opens, rain pouring down like a bucket’s been overturned in the heavens. 

Shouta is soaked instantly, the cool water a blessed relief on his overwarm skin. “Looks like the heat broke,” he says, voice raised over the patter of the raindrops.

“Thank god,” Hizashi says, tipping his face up towards the sky. His hair is ruined, stuck to his face in lank strings, and his glasses are so splattered with water Shouta can barely see the outline of his closed eyes.  “That was so fucking miserable, wasn’t it?”

Shouta can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, he has to brace himself against his knees to keep from tumbling straight to the ground. “Shouta?” Hizashi asks, the pitch of his voice concerned, but also a little amused, like he knows exactly what Shouta found funny. “You okay?”

“Perfect,” Shouta says as he catches his breath, still chuckling a little as he straightens back up. Quick as a blink, he leans forward into Hizashi’s space and kisses him, a hand cradling each side of Hizashi’s familiar, perfect face. 

“I’m definitely not complaining,” Hizashi says when he pulls away, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting hard not to grin. “But what was that for?”

Shouta shrugs, tempted to lean in and do it again, hesitating only because Hizashi really deserves some explanation. “You were just as unhappy as me, this whole time. But still trying to cheer me up. It - I appreciate you. That you do stuff like that.”

“And that’s how you show your appreciation?” Hizashi smirks, leaning his forehead to Shouta’s temple. It almost derails his train of thought, but Shouta soldiers on. 

“Not usually,” he says, turning his head at the last moment, so his lips meet Hizashi’s for a quick kiss. “But it did make me wonder what else you’ve been hiding.”

Hizashi seems to have given up fighting his grin, smiling wide enough now that Shouta can’t really kiss him anymore, but that’s all right. There will be time for that later, lots of time. “Guess my secret’s out, huh?” 

Shouta reaches forward, wiping the hair out of Hizashi’s eyes and off his face. “Let’s call it a day. No villain’s going to try anything in this weather, and I have a fan at home we can sit in front of.”

“Well I have towels, and an air conditioner that’s been running nonstop for a week.” Hizashi peers over the edge of his glasses at Shouta, eyes warm and bright and just a little wicked, and Shouta is pretty sure he’d agree to anything to keep Hizashi looking at him like that. Even if Hizashi’s offer weren’t clearly superior already. 

For the first time all day, Shouta smiles. “Lead the way.”

[d3-iseefire]

Little Swan Lost Chapter 39

Thorin hadn’t realized it was possible for a human to turn as scarlet red as the girl did when he opened the door. She then did her best to look anywhere but him but her eyes, almost on their own, darted toward his chest every few seconds. Every time they did, he swore she discovered a new intensity of red.

At least he didn’t have to worry about whether his young wife found him physically attractive.  

The thought passed idly through his mind, only to be pushed out by another taking its place. He had personally seen her being escorted back into the palace on their wedding night, and her cousin had all but accused her of infidelity. The media reports and rumors, many traced directly back to Shire, also painted her as…promiscuous to say the least.

Thorin had half expected similar rumors to crop up in Erebor, especially after discovering she’d found a way to sneak out of the palace.  

Those rumors had never come, however, and now, watching her reaction to him, he questioned if she’d ever seen a man without his shirt on much less done anything else with one. Instead of behaving like the tart the media painted her as, she was behaving far more like a…

“I’m sorry,” Bilba suddenly blurted, derailing his train of thought. She waved a hand vaguely toward where the worst of the bruising from the ocean fiasco had stained his torso a mottled yellow and black. “That must hurt.”

It did, but there was no reason to rub it in her face. “It’s fine,” Thorin said instead. “What about you?”

“Oh.” Her hand lifted slightly toward her side. “I’m all right. Thank you for asking.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, until Thorin finally cleared his throat. “Did you want something?”

Bilba jumped. “Did you hear what happened today?” Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her. She started wringing her hands aggressively, leaving the skin reddened.

Without thinking, Thorin put a hand over hers, stopping them mid-motion. She froze, and her eyes went wide.

“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back.

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. “It’s-- ”

She trailed off again and Thorin suppressed a sigh. They’d be here all night at this rate. “You were saying?” he asked, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice. “I was in meetings all day, so I haven’t heard much of anything.”

Meetings that had left him drained and fighting a headache, which was why he’d grabbed some pain medication and gone straight to bed afterward, only to be woken up less than an hour later by her knocking on his door.

Her shoulders slumped a half inch or so as if relieved to find him ignorant. Probably not a good sign.

“I just thought I should tell you. Before –”

“I hear it from someone else?” Thorin filled in. Definitely a bad sign then. He sighed and resigned himself to still more frustration before he’d be allowed to sleep again. “All right.” He gestured toward the couch. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and then paused, eyes darting toward his chest. Thorin raised an eyebrow in question. “Would you prefer it if I put on a shirt first?”

Another nod and Thorin pushed off the doorframe to retrieve a black t-shirt from his closet. It was one he used as an undershirt so it was on the tighter side, but it would have to do. He didn’t really have any casual clothes and he wasn’t about to get dressed back in his uniform for…whatever this was.

He returned to the door. “Better?”

She muttered something that sounded like “marginally” and headed for the couch with him close on her heels.

He sat on one end, and she immediately headed to the exact opposite side. In a seamless, graceful move she sat and pulled her legs up so they somehow fit perfectly beside her on the small cushion. Thorin would have dislocated a hip if he tried to copy that position, but she looked entirely comfortable. His own flexibility was limited to throwing an arm along the back of the couch and crossing a leg to allow him to face her easier.  

“You’re a dancer, right?” he asked, only to mentally kick himself. Of course she was a dancer, he’d literally witnessed her doing it.

“I danced for a company back in Shire.” A look of genuine happiness crossed her face, and Thorin realized it was the first time he’d ever seen it. “I was hoping I could maybe dance for the one here in Erebor too.”

Thorin tried, and failed, to find a diplomatic response. He suspected the girl didn’t understand being crown princess wasn’t just a title, but a full-time job. Nori had reported Bilba had lived a relatively civilian life in Shire, but Thorin had thought she’d at least have some idea of what being a princess entailed.

It was becoming increasingly clear that she did not. She’d never inquired about her duties and responsibilities, and while a schedule had been mentioned to her, Thorin doubted she understood just what it meant. The fact she wanted to work at a bakery, and attend college, and was now expressing interest in dancing proved that much.

The look on her face was fading, and he knew he’d waited to long to answer.

“We’ll see,” he said finally, lamely trying to salvage what little he could. “You can bring it up to Balin.”

Perhaps they could work something out where she did certain things part time or only part of the year. There was also the possibility of patronages where they could potentially incorporate what she wanted into her actual duties. It’d depend on what duties she ended up having, and the possible conflicts between those responsibilities and the things she wanted to do.

She gave him a weak, false smile and focused on where her hands were clasped in her lap. “I suppose.” She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. “All right, I guess I should stop stalling and just tell you.”

The sense of dread reared up again and settled across Thorin’s shoulders. If she’d gone to the trouble of getting him up and was fidgeting this badly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “All right.”

She started talking, eyes focused on her hands and voice low as she recounted the events of the day. By the end of it all, Thorin had shut his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the worsening headache behind his temples.

Bilba lapsed into silence.

“First off,” he said eventually, opening his eyes and straightening to face Bilba. “I apologize on behalf of my father. He’s an idiot and had no right to do that to you.”

Or at least he had no right to do it the way he had. Thorin doubted the Thain of Shire cared whether or not the girl could produce an heir, not with the crown having four already, but he wouldn’t put it past the man sending someone infertile out of simple spite. So Thorin could at least understand having the question.

Having the question after barely a month, however, was ridiculous and forcing the girl into an exam was asinine. He could imagine what his sister had said to their father, and he fully intended to add his own part in the morning.

He’d also need to speak to Kyra. She didn’t deserve whatever his father had said on top of everything else she was dealing with. The media had been split on her since the wedding, with some giving her sympathy and the rest mocking her mercilessly. He’d heard some of what was being said and it was brutal. Kyra hadn’t commented on it, but he had no doubt she was aware of it.

“It’s all right.” She bit her lower lip. “I tried to tell Dis I didn’t need--”

“Dis is a force of nature,” Thorin said, waving off her explanation. “Trying to control her just encourages her.”

A ghost of a smile graced Bilba’s face. Her shoulders slumped with relief, and she leaned a little harder into the back of the couch.

“I appreciate you telling me,” Thorin added, and he meant it. It suggested at least some level of trust, even if she didn’t fully realize it. Even if she’d believed his reaction might be negative, she’d still gone to the length of waking him up to have a private conversation with him.

She was more comfortable with him than she thought, and if that was the case...

An idea that had been percolating at the back of his mind for awhile pushed to the front, and Thorin acted on it before he could talk himself out of it.

“I wonder,” he started slowly, his own nerves suddenly on edge. “Since we’re already on the topic, if I could ask you something.”

She raised an eyebrow in question, and he froze as uncertainty settled in. This probably wasn’t the best time but, then again, when was a good time to bring up physical intimacy? He’d idly hoped she’d approach him, especially based on the reports from Shire, but that hadn’t happened. Was it because she’d been finding an outlet somewhere else, or was it that the reports were wrong all together?

There was also the fact that he hadn’t even spoken to her until just recently and, again, how did one broach such a topic, particularly to a stranger? Oh, by the way, I know we barely know one another, but I’m not a huge fan of celibacy so I was wondering…”

Yeah, that would go over well, wouldn’t it?

But now she’d brought it up, in a roundabout way, so wouldn’t this be the perfect time to…

“You didn’t consummate the marriage, did you?”

Kyra’s words, almost the first thing she’d said to him after he’d called her on the wedding night.

A sick feeling settled in his gut.

What was he thinking? How could he do that to Kyra? She’d be devastated if he did…that…and she found out.

“Of course not.”

That’s what he’d said to her. Of course not, and he’d meant it even though, in the back of his mind he’d been thinking of the duty of one day needing to produce a male heir.

Duty.

Just a duty.

An obligation.

Intimacy for a purpose, not because he simply…wanted it.

And yet, here he was, about to ask about exactly that.

Mahal, what did that say about him? Was he really that fickle? Was it so important to him that he’d betray the woman who’d been by his side since childhood?

But you betrayed her already, didn’t you? A voice inside his head whispered. You broke your engagement, and married another, didn’t you?

He’d thought he was doing the right thing. He still thought so, most of the time. He’d made his choice and it had been the right one, hadn’t it? He’d been taught since childhood that duty to the crown came above all else. It had been a matter of honor.

And, besides, if he’d refused…if he’d abdicated the throne in favor of marrying Kyra…would that have really been better? Frerin, who had neither the temperament nor the desire to rule, would have been named heir. The nobility would have torn him apart.

Dis would have been there.

Even so, Thorin knew his father would have disowned him and fired Kyra from her position as ambassador. He would have been left penniless, and at the mercy of living off Kyra’s finances.

Excuses.

It was highly possibly they’d have had to leave Erebor, and for what?

For what indeed?

Krya would never be happy living a simple life, and Thorin would be useless for it. He was a crown prince. He didn’t know how to be anything else.

He’d had an uncle once who left everything behind to marry a woman his family had not approved of. He’d ended up rotting away at the villa of some benevolent relative or another, unable to find work due to his notoriety and lack of skill set. There was little call in the workforce for an ex-noble that had fallen out of favor with those in power.

Over time, his uncle had begun to resent his new wife and that resentment had grown into a cancer that had utterly poisoned their relationship.

If Thorin had gone down that same road, would he have faced the same end?

He feared the answer was yes. Yes and, in that, the choice, in the end, had been that there was no choice.

His father questioned why he didn’t abdicate.

The answer was he couldn’t. The answer was there were no good options, no good roads or paths to take that would lead him to an end he desired.

There was only the least painful route.

The route that did the least damage.

The route that protected Kyra from the worst possible pain, even if she didn’t see it.

 If it was the right choice, then why work so hard to undo it?

Why are you questioning it?

Why not just ask?

 Kyra’s face when he’d told her the engagement was broken filled his mind and a surge of nausea roiled in his gut. He pushed to his feet, guilt making his very bones ache. “Never mind,” he said, voice sharper than he’d intended. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He almost ran into his room and shut the door, the last sight he had of Bilba’s eyes, wide and startled where she still sat on the couch.

He pressed his hands on the door, leaned his head against it, and let out a quiet groan.

She probably thought he was insane.

He thought he was insane, sometimes.

He pushed off the door and paced to his balcony. He threw open the doors and was immediately hit by the bitter cold air coming off the ocean. The loud roar of the sea washed over him, and he heard the distant sound of a ship’s horn.

Thorin walked out onto the balcony, stone cold beneath his feet, and leaned forward to rest his hand on the stone railing. The skies were overcast, as they often were in Erebor, so there was little to see but he could imagine it well enough.

Light caught his attention and he turned to see it shining merrily from Bilba’s windows.

Those windows were supposed to belong to Kyra. The entire room in fact. She’d designed it, even slept in it when she wasn’t in his room. They’d been all but living together right up until the very end when he’d pulled it all down around her without warning.

What kind of man did that?

He tightened his hands on the railing until he felt the edge of the stone cutting into his palms, and then shoved off it angrily.

He stalked back into his room, dropped onto his back on his bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Mahal, what was he doing?

This was done with. He’d made his decision. Why was he questioning it now? He needed to stop. Stop questioning, stop having Ori look for ways out, stop…

Kyra’s heartbroken sobs rang through his mind, and suddenly bile was forcing its way up his throat. Thorin lunged from the bed, and barely made it to the bathroom before he lost what little he’d been able to eat that day.

When he was done, he leaned forward to rest his head against the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Some crown prince he was.

Some fiancé, or husband for that matter.

He and Kyra should have just eloped, years ago when they’d have the chance. He could have given Kyra the large wedding she wanted later, after his father had a chance to calm down. Bilba would have ended up married to Frerin, who was closer in age to her and had far less baggage to cart around.

It would have been better for all of them.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. A glance in the mirror showed him looking haggard, dark circles under his eyes from the day full of meetings, and his hair unkempt.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he ordered under his breath to his reflection. “You’re the crown prince for Mahal’s sake.”

His reflection offered nothing but judgement in return. Thorin splashed water on his face, grabbed a towel to dry off and went to try and get some sleep.

It would be a long time coming and, when it did, his dreams were haunted by the sound of a woman crying and a voice shouting one single question for which he had no answer.

Why?

***

Bilba didn’t know how long she sat on the couch before finally getting up to retire to her room. At her door, she paused and looked over her shoulder toward Thorin’s room. She could hear him in there, pacing about, clearly unsettled.

“Since we’re already on the topic, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”

Which topic? They’d talked about money before, and he’d never brought anything up so that left the topic of…heirs? He’d wanted to talk about heirs?

No, she thought as sudden heat flooded her face. Not heirs.

Sex.

He’d wanted to talk about sex.

Wanted to but, instead, had freaked out as far as she could tell and ran off to his room?

Bilba walked into her own room slowly and shut the door behind her. Her room, but Kyra had designed it. How close must they have been to the wedding for Kyra to have designed her room in the marital suite?

He must have been sleeping with her.

Bilba paused mid-step as the thought crossed her mind. She knew that already, logically. They’d been together for years, all but married. She knew it, but this was the first time she’d recognized it.

It must have been a drastic change, for both of them. Their entire lives upended in an instant.

A heavy feeling settled over her, and Bilba wrapped her arms around herself. She’d been congratulating herself on not being bitter but had simultaneously been judging Thorin and Kyra for every time they so much as looked at one another.

If anything, they should be the ones who were bitter. Especially Kyra. Every day she saw the man she loved but couldn’t touch him.

Bilba sank down onto the end of her bed and tried to imagine if she had been Kyra, having to watch Bofur with someone else.

It would have hurt, and she hadn’t even been with him that long. Not as long as Kyra and Thorin had been.

She sighed and studied her hands. She wasn’t so good a person that she fully sympathized with either of them, but she supposed it wouldn’t kill her to try a little harder to be understanding, would it?

A soft scratching came from her balcony doors, and she got up to go open them a slit. Immediately the beach cat strolled in, damp and irritable but with tail and head held high.

“Did you get caught by the tide coming in?” Bilba asked. She scooped the small creature up and went to grab a towel to dry the small animal off with. Once that was done, she changed, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. The cat burrowed under the covers and curled against her stomach, purring softly.

Bilba absently stroked its head, while staring blankly into the darkness.

Had Thorin really wanted to talk about…that? She suppressed a shiver. If he had, it’d probably come up again, or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t even what she’d thought. Maybe he’d been wanting to ask her if he could continue to have sex with Kyra.

Bilba scowled. Sympathy or not, she didn’t think she’d be okay with that. But she also didn’t think she’d be okay with him wanting to be intimate with her, either.

That wasn’t particularly fair though, was it? If it was something he wanted enough to try talking to her about, then shouldn’t she at least hear him out? Should she bring it up, or wait and see if he mentioned it again sometime down the road?

She’d prefer the latter. Maybe he’d just forget about it all together and never bring it up again?

She sighed. It had been so much easier with Bofur. They’d had a foundation, a relationship that made it easy to just talk when they needed to talk. They’d talked about intimacy. He’d understood her hesitancy, if not the reasons for it, and had assured her he was fine with it.

It had honestly never occurred to her that Thorin might not be.

She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The thought of him possibly wanting…intimacy…made her nervous but didn’t particularly scare her. Mainly because she was confident that, if he’d planned to bully her or pressure her, she’d have known that by now. So she could say no.

She hoped she could say no.

She hadn’t actually said it to him yet, had she?

Some men were so kind, until they heard the word no.

Bilba shook her head. She was reading too much into it, working herself up over something that probably wasn’t even what she thought. He’d probably wanted to talk about something innocuous and, even if it had been that, there was no reason to believe he’d turn into a monster if…when, she rejected him.

“Please don’t a monster,” she whispered out loud.

The kitty grumbled against her stomach, and Bilba settled against the pillow, hoping sleep would find her sooner or later.

Maybe she could try talking to him? Not about that per se but just…about…stuff? She’d talked to Bofur all the time, and she missed it.

Maybe.

She’d think about it.

Maybe she’d just solve the problem by ignoring it all together and hoping it went away.

It had never worked before but there was always a first time.

Right?

Follow on AO3: Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Looks like another full chapter with no breaks here. This chapter really does feel like it just breezes past because of all the action that happens in short order, but I mean, that’s what we all read shounen manga for. 

Also, I just realized that the title might have two meanings - one being that this is All Might striking back against the villains, and the other that this is the villains’ plans to counter All Might being put into action. Huh.

[No. 18 - Heroes’ Counterattack]

God, so many of the kids are in tears from the relief of All Might being there. This really just hammers in the reminder that these are fifteen year old kids, fresh out of middle school, who have just had a collective near-death experience. Young heroes-to-be or not, this is traumatizing, to say the least. Good thing this is a shounen and mental health isn’t a worry!

[insert one hour of discussion derailment that somehow went from sports festival to nighteye to japanese vs english interpretations of canon. Yeah, we don’t know how we got there either.]

Anyways. All Might explains that he had a bad feeling, so he cut his talk with the principal short and came right away. He ran into Iida on his way there, who told him the gist of what was happening. He’s furious, and also worried about how scared the kids must have been. He then notes that his colleagues did their best - however, that’s exactly why he has to stand tall now and declare ‘Fear Not. I Am Here!’

This Is Fine. 

During that explanation, All Might dramatically tears his tie from around his neck, looking seriously pissed off all the while. Also, Izuku notes that All Might’s not smiling, which, again, he’s down the stairs and across the plaza from the guy, how can he even tell? From the tone? Though that’s still the issue of how far All Might’s voice was projecting in order to be heard… or perhaps he’s just used to analyzing distance shots of All Might and so there’s subtle differences from smiling and not-smiling All Might from like a hundred meters away or something?

Oh, right, analysis! Shigaraki’s attention turns to All Might, stating that he’s been waiting, hero, before calling the man ‘worthless trash.’ The other villains are nervous as one of them says they’ve never seen him in person before, and are awe-struck by his presence. Another says no backing down now, you idiot, they’re there to kill him.

All Might tosses aside his suit jacket as he leaps from the top of the stair case. The villains have a moment to panic before All Might has blown past them all, knocking each and every one of them out with a blow a piece as he moves to check in on Aizawa. As the villains all collapse, All Might apologizes to Aizawa, picking him up carefully while noting the man’s poor state - most notably, his arms and face. He puts Aizawa over his shoulder as he turns to look at Shigaraki and the Nomu.

He is Not Happy.

Tsuyu, Mineta, Izuku, and Shigaraki have no time to react as All Might rushes around, grabbing the kids out of danger. In the process, Shigaraki’s face-hand falls off and to the ground. By the time the hand hits the ground (presumably), All Might has already dropped the kids off some distance away, along with Aizawa’s body. 

He tells them to get to the entrance, and to bring Aizawa with them. The man’s unconscious, so they have to hurry. Mineta is shocked at how fast everything happened. Izuku, however, is more worried about All Might. 

Shigaraki’s wobbling as he stumbles over to the hand on the ground, head hanging so his hair hides his face. His voice is a wobbly mess as well, saying it’s no good, and apologizing to the hand, which he calls Father. Which is Not At All Disconcerting. 

Shigaraki sucks in a breath and centers himself as he returns the hand to his face, then gets back to mocking All Might. He comments on throwing punches to save people, then laughs and notes that that’s their state-sponsored violence. All Might’s fast - too fast to keep up with, but not as fast as expected. He wonders if it could really be true - that All Might is getting weaker?

Terrifying! :D

Izuku warns All Might that it’s no use, specifically with ‘that brain villain’. He almost mentions One For All, then corrects himself to just his general attack, then goes on to warn that said attack wasn’t strong enough to break his own arm, but the villain hadn’t even flinched. Up against that, he’s worried All Might will… 

All Might interrupts him, turning to give Izuku a winning smile and a cool pose while telling him to fear not. He then turns back to the villains and dashes forward, arms crossed in front of him as he begins to call out a Carolina Smash. Shigaraki calls on the nomu, who immediately moves to take the blow without any apparent effect. The nomu stares All Might down for a moment before it goes it for its own lunging grapple, but All Might manages to drop underneath the attack. 

It’s clear All Might’s already pushing his limits here - he’s quivering, and blood’s escaping between his teeth. Despite that, he gripes about his attack having no effect at all as he swings up into another punch to the gut, the nomu having no reaction besides turning its head to stare at him. All Might dodges another swipe and lands a blow to the nomu’s head. Shigaraki explains that there was no effect because it had shock absorption - if All Might really wants to damage it, he’d be better off slowly ripping him apart, piece by piece… not that it’ll give him the chance. 

All Might dashes around behind the nomu and grapples it by the waist, thanking Shigaraki for the info. He says it’s no sweat to handle as he yoinks the nomu up and over himself in a suplex. 

We briefly switch over to the flood zone trio, with Izuku carrying Aizawa on his back and Mineta holding up Aizawa’s feet. They’ve all paused briefly to watch the fight. Mineta asks the real questions, wondering how in the world a suplex made an explosion like that, then comments on how All Might’s in a whole different league. Tsuyu then replies that All Might’s still a newbie as a teacher, with those cheat sheets and all. 

However, Izuku’s still uncertain. He thinks about how the villains might have a way to kill All Might, while they’re stuck there, helpless. Even worse, any of the students trying to help would only slow All Might down if the villains managed to take any of them hostage. He has no reason to speculate about the villains, he just has to trust in All Might! 

(Meanwhile, at the top of the stairs, Sato is cheering over how the villains underestimated what All Might’s capable of. Ochako, on the other hand, has seen Izuku and the others, and more likely is aware of how bad a shape Aizawa seems to be in. She points them out, likely to try and get the others to help the flood zone trio up and out of there.)

...but…

Just, this whole page. I really love how using middle school izuku as a ‘center piece’ for the page both calls back to his memories of his first meeting with All Might and learning the secret of the man’s injury, AND sort of serves as a nod to how helpless and useless Izuku must be feeling in the moment while watching on. How afraid he is, in that moment. A lot of feelings that have to be similar to how he felt during the Sludge Villain incident.

And also, Izuku in general being really smart! He knew All Might had been on the news that morning, and he saw Thirteen’s subtle three fingers raised when she mentioned All Might wasn’t at the USJ yet, which must have meant All Might was already passed his limit for the day. And only Izuku knows about All Might’s injury, his personal fears, his secrets. 

(Well, a few of them. As we’ll learn, the man has a LOT more hiding in the rafters.)

But yeah, his worry and growing fear/helplessness is contrasted even more by the rest of his classmates cheering All Might on. And not without reason - we go back to All Might as he see more blood dripping from between his teeth and… onto the head of the nomu? Or no, that’s the blood from the wound on All Might’s side dripping down, ALl Might’s head is still close to where the nomu is being warped through Kurogiri’s portal, with the other half of the nomu emerging from below All Might to latch its claws into his sides. 

Shigsaraki notes that All Might had hoped to drive the nomu into the concrete and seal his movements, and then states that it wouldn’t have worked, because the nomu is as powerful as him. He then praises Kurogiri for the perfect timing. We get a glimpse over to Kurogiri, who is mostly shapeless as he maintains the portals. Then we get a closeup of the nomu clenching at All Might’s old injury and opening it up, drawing a pained noise from All Might.

All Might thinks about the unbelievable power of the nomu, having let go of the nomu’s waste in order to try and force the hand off of his weak point. All Might states out loud that it’s impressive for first-time offenders, but that they should prepare themselves. 

Kurogiri comments that he doesn’t much like the idea of having blood and guts inside his warp gate, but if they’re All Might’s, he’ll happily oblige. He then clarifies that it was the nomu’s job to get around All Might’s blinding speed and hold him down, while it’s Kurogiri’s job to close the warp gate while he’s halfway through and immobilized - thus cutting him in two. While he explains this, the nomu is starting to right itself, dragging All Might into the warp gate through it. All Might is smiling, but there’s tension around his eyes that suggest he’s in a tight spot.

Izuku starts to say Tsuyu’s last name, then corrects himself to Tsuyu last second. She congratulates him on getting it right, then asks what he wants. He asks her to take Aizawa for him, which she agrees to, though she’s confused what he’s going to do. Before she can finish asking, though, he’s already moving, tears building in his eyes, right towards the fight. All the while, he’s thinking about how there’s still so many things that he needs All Might to teach him - that he can’t lose All Might here. 

Kurogiri calls Izuku foolish, while All Might had a moment of panic over Izuku rushing forward, wanting to warn him away even as a portal opens right in front of him-

And Katsuki rolls right in like a hurricane, blasting Kurogiri out of the way with a feral grin. All while telling Izuku to get out of there. I don’t think that’s concern, more like he wants Izuku out of the way so he can claim glory for himself. But yeah, Katsuki’s got his gauntleted hand around Kurogiri’s neck brace as he shoves the villain to the ground, before using his non-gauntleted hand to hold said villain in place by the ‘throat’. 

As if that weren’t enough, Ice suddenly climbs up the side of the nomu, further surprising All Might. Shouto states that he heard the villains were there to kill All Might. We then see Shigaraki surprised as he last-second dodges Kirishima’s attack. Kirishima is frustrated about his near-miss, Katsuki is mocking Kurogiri over not being all that great (and calling him a misty mook), and Shouto is calm as he states that scum like them could never kill the Symbol of Peace.

Izuku is shook as he realizes who else came to help, and we end with the four UA students facing off against Shigaraki.

The tides really have turned for this match… 

Only three chapters left for this arc! And man has there been a few surprises along the way. I mean, we all know how this turns out, but there’s also a strange sense of anticipation when going back through it all in the manga.

Anyways, see y’all next time! Gonna see if I can get this arc done this week...

[razorblade180-heated]

Plugged

[Lewd!!!!]

Anniversaries, they’re important as hell. You would think after the first one that it would be less important or you don’t have to be as extravagant. That’s really stupid logic, and luckily Oscar wasn’t stupid. However, he was sad. Today marked the three year anniversary with Penny as his girlfriend but she had work tonight. Now he was in his shared apartment watching movies on the couch upside down with Jaune. It wasn’t terrible, but Oscar would much rather be doing his best to show Penny a good time at the beach picnic he’d plan. The moon was full tonight and everything!

The movie soon reached its credits and Jaune looked over at his clearly lovesick roommate. “Wanna watch another movie?”

“I didn’t really want to watch this one, and why am I the only one watching these upside down?”

Jaune tilted his head to see the boy's expression. “Because I was tired of seeing that sad pouty face. Buck up! You rescheduled your date for this weekend. That’s two days away!”

“But it feels less special…” Oscar groaned.

Jaune looked at him in disbelief. “I swear you’re just a male Ruby. She thinks like that.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that coming from you. Are you coming on to me Jaune?” Oscar smirked to make him uncomfortable. “Did you pick me as a roommate because I remind you of your girlfriend? How scandalous.”

Jaune chucked a pillow at Oscar and caused him to fall over on the floor and laugh. Jaune would be mortified but at least Oscar was smiling.

“Do not make those jokes young man! I fully believe Ruby would be down to clown with both of us now that you’re eighteen.”

“Uhh, I’m taken, remember?”

“Do you honestly believe Penny wouldn’t okay it? Ruby set you two up and your girlfriend is nice enough to let Ruby pull a crazy idea like that.”

Oscar’s face turned a little red. Jaune was not wrong. Penny would totally say “sounds neat” then give him a thumbs up. That was the thing about dating her, she was curious about everything the world had to offer. Especially with relationships. Not that he wasn’t, but such an idea was….

“Keep your mind out of the gutter Oscar.” Ozpin chimed in, internally. “Typical, haven’t slept with anyone and yet you fantasize the more advanced things. Oh virgins.”

Oscar’s face got redder.“Shut up! Just because you know I thought about it doesn’t mean you gotta bring it up.”

“Someone has to call you out on it.”

“Then let it be the person who actually pays rent.”

“Oh I’m sorry, who got you your job? Who works the night shifts when you’re sleepy? Maybe I should lock myself away whenever it’s time to pull a double?”

Oscar sucked on his teeth for a minute. “Oz…” he said kindly, “Let’s not fight, or do anything drastic.”

“Look at the tv.” Oz said bluntly.

Oscar looked at it to see his reflection. It crossed its arms and rolled its eyes before returning to normal. Oscar knew he was the only one seeing that but it never stopped being weird. Especially after the marathon of horror movies he did with Penny one time. Oz made sure to use every scare tactic imaginable that night. He just can’t help himself sometimes.

Jaune finally found another to watch but didn’t get the chance to play it. The doorbell rang, causing him to spring up and answer it.

“Expecting someone?” Oscar asked.

Jaune looked through the peephole and smiled. “Kinda sorta” he opened the door and Penny jumped inside the room wearing Oscar’s green flannel and ripped blue jean shorts: along with brown snow boots. A picnic basket was on her left shoulder and Ruby around her right.

“Happy Anniversary!!!”

“PENNY!!?” Oscar screamed. He immediately stood up to look less lame and opened his arms to his rapidly approaching girlfriend. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms though. Oscar braced his body for impact but was surprised when she landed in his arms no heavier than a regular girl. 130 pounds at best, which was nothing to him. He could swing her.

“Hey you’re in you’re in your polymer shell. I thought you had work?”

Ruby raised her hand. “I stole her.”

Jaune and Oscar looked at each other highly concerned. They didn’t need Atlas military busting down their door and dragging them to jail. Ruby broke out into a laugh from their expressions.

“Relax, I’m just joking. We begged James. He’s such a softie.”

“I’ve also put in more hours than usual in preparation for this day!” Penny kissed Oscar’s cheek and couldn’t hide her excitement. Not like she ever did. In a way, she was like Ruby but more outgoing. Oscar couldn’t help but think about what Jaune said earlier. Maybe Jaune saw all of us like Ruby. That’s a weird thought.

As happy as he was, Oscar couldn’t help notice the picnic basket.

“Penny, is that for the food?”

“Of course! What else would I use it for?”

Oscar let out a defeated sigh. “I don’t know but we should figure that out because I didn’t cook anything because we rescheduled.”

Penny opened her mouth but nothing came out. She turned to Ruby who was face palming. Jaune clapped his hands together and mimicked Oscar’s sigh.

“Welp! At least you two are together!” Jaune smiled, saving the positive energy in the room.

“Yeah!” Penny tossed the basket on the couch. “Home cooking isn’t the most important thing. Who needs it?”

Ruby went to their fridge and opened it. She couldn’t believe just how food was stuffed in it. Oscar was going all out this time. Ruby closed the fridge and pulled out their pots. “New plan, the two of you cook the food and have dinner here. It would suck for the food to spoil.”

Oscar thought about it. “What about you two?”

“It’s an anniversary, not a double date. We’ll just go to my place.” Ruby answered.

“Why does this sound like an elaborate plan for you to sleep with Jaune?”

“Hahaha! I don’t need a plan for that.” Ruby smiled at Jaune but he squinted at her.

“Just because it’s true doesn’t me you have to say it.” He grabbed his shoes and took his girlfriend by the hand to leave.

Ruby waved her friends goodbye and winked before closing the door. Oscar thought Ruby was a little more gitty than usual. It had been a couple of weeks since her and Jaune were together so something was bound to go down between them. Penny took off her shoes and put her hands on Oscar’s shoulders. She positioned him over the couch and made him sit.

“Ummmm Penny?”

“Since I made the plans derail, I’ll cook and you find something nice to put on for the both of us okay?”

“But that’s kinda unf-”

Penny leaned down and pressed her lips gently against Oscar’s. The kiss felt like it was minutes long but must’ve only been several seconds. Strange, it felt a little warmer than usual. Penny pulled back and smiled her usual beautiful smile, then walked to the kitchen. That kiss scattered Oscar’s thoughts, so he stared at the tv for a minute before remembering to find a movie. If he objected then Penny would simply stun him with another kiss. A nice way to say “shut up”but she’d probably end up burning food if he constantly distracted her.

Oscar grabbed the remote and began scrolling, his reflection in the tv moving on its own again. It paced from side to side while rubbing his chin.

“Don’t you find this a bit odd?” Oz asked.

“Yeah, please stop walking in front of the synopsis.”

“That’s not what I- sorry.” He stepped to the side. “I was referring to your anniversary.”

“What’s so odd about it?”

“You had plans, had to reschedule, then the plans went back to normal unexpectedly, but it’s fine because Ruby already had a solution that works well for everyone. Even Mr. Arc didn’t seem too surprised.”

Oscar shrugged, “You think too much.”

“Gah! So you’re not even going to entertain the idea of something going on? Though I suppose since Penny can’t lie, this could really be coincidence.”

The clicking and presses slowly came to a halt. Now he was rubbing his chin. What Oz said was true. Penny can’t lie because she’ll hiccup however, she didn’t tell him in person. Penny texted him and Ruby can plan tricks as easy as killing grimm. Oz sensed Oscar’s doubt.

“You know I’m right. No way they would just forget that you were in charge of food and had to cook it. I’m sure there’s a harmless explanation but you know, keep your wits about.”

“I could just ask her.”

“Boring but effective. Whatever floats your boat.” Oz finally left the young man alone to his devices. Oscar didn’t appreciate the jab he just took.

“Pfft, you’re boring.” Oscar directed his attention to Penny. She was so focused on preparing the meal that she hadn’t noticed he was looking right at her. He really was lucky to have her. She would probably say Oscar was exaggerating but he genuinely believed that she gave him all the happiest he could ever ask for. Days simply couldn’t be terrible as long as Penny stood by him, even when things got rough. Scheme or no scheme, Oscar didn’t worry. He knew Penny. Good intentions ran through her more than anybody else on Remnant.

xxxx

“Food’s ready!” Penny chanted as she carried two plates with steak, sliced potatoes, and fresh greens over to the small coffee table in front of the tv so they can watch movies while they eat. Oscar never got enough of her smile. It might’ve been because he was a little hungry and he knew her cooking was better than his but right now, Oscar wanted to marry this girl. One day hopefully, on another anniversary.

“Have I ever told you how happy I am to be with you?”

Penny’s face grew a little red. “All the time, and yet it still feels unreal admittedly.” She rubbed the back of her head and laughed sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

Oscar gave her a quick kiss and smiled. “Happy anniversary. Wait here while I get your gift.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she watched him walk off to his room and come out with a small rectangular box. “Aww, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Penny, you built me a car last year. I can’t reach that level of awesome but I’m at least going to spoil you every chance I get. It would be a crime if I got you nothing.”

“You make it sound like building a car would be hard. It’s way easier than most of the things Atlas military creates on a daily basis.”

“No matter what you say, you’re not gonna downplay that gift. Anyways…” he handed her the box.

Penny wasted no time unwrapping the paper and opening it.The girl’s eyes got bigger and let out a gasp. “Oscar, is this…” she pulled out a golden chain that had a heart shaped locket on it that had intricate carvings of what looked like branches. Her finger lifted the top up and inside was two gears that spun. One green, and the other orange.

“No matter the inside, you’re as natural as nature itself.” Oscar said. “I’m not the greatest at making things like this but-”

“I love you.”

Her words caught him off guard and made his heart skip a beat. He looked at his girlfriend who had gotten a little teary eyed. She put the locket on and gave a heartfelt smile. “Well, how does it look?”

“Perfect…” that was all Oscar could manage to say. He didn’t know why but he felt so embarrassed. She never failed to make him feel so flustered. That’s love for you, it always made every minute feel extraordinary and uncharted territory.

“So...I guess it’s my turn to explain my present to you.” Penny said, anxiously rubbing her finger across the couch cushion.

“Man, I thought the highlight was the surprise appearance and you cooking dinner. There’s more?”

“Oh yeah.” Penny laughed nervously. “Oscar, you know you always say that you’re perfectly happy with the way things are between us, despite us not necessarily being a normal couple?”

“Yeah, why?” Penny could hear a bit of concern in his voice and started getting frazzled.

“Don’t worry! I feel the same way!” A hiccup came out right as she finished that statement, making her cover her mouth instinctively. Now Oscar looked really concerned.

“Umm, you sure about that?” He asked, pensively.

This conversation was going nowhere fast. Penny tried to do collateral damage as fast as she could.

“No no no, it’s not what you think! Honestly I’m super happy. It’s just….”

Oscar raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. “Just…?”

This was harder to say than Penny thought. The words were there but she couldn’t put them together right. All that information at her disposal and here she was, struggling with simple sentences. Penny took a deep breath and started over.

“Oscar, you love me the way that I am. You’ve had since the beginning. I didn’t have to change a single thing about me but I did anyway so we could enjoy each other’s company better. Like this polymer model so we could do things like go swimming.”

“Yeah, sinking to the bottom of a lake wasn’t the best first date experience.”

They both chuckled at that memory. Time sure did fly.

“Precisely. Then there were other upgrades over time to help me feel more human. Receptors for, taste, eating in general, heat, touch…” her trailed off.

Oscar’s focus was broken for a moment when the sound of Oz’s voice started speaking to him.

“Oscar I’m going to lock myself in your head for awhile so don’t expect any help with anything. Good luck.”

He wasn’t sure what Oz meant by that but he didn’t get the chance to ask before he felt the man’s presence leave. Oscar focused on Penny again who had gotten closer to him on the couch. There was practically no space between them as they sat side by side.

Oscar felt Penny take his hand. Had she always been this warm? Felt this...soft? It was more natural than usual. Maybe she got another upgrade? That was common.

“Oscar, I...I feel so normal around you. Things that usually make me feel out of place, well I don’t get that feeling with you.”

“I feel the same way. As far as I’m concerned, we are a normal couple Penny.”

“Then shouldn’t we be doing normal couple things? The things Ruby and Jaune do?”

That question lingering in the air momentarily for Oscar as his girlfriend stared at him, red blush spread across her face. His own face started to get red the more he acknowledged what Penny had just said. He watched the girl lean closer to him until he had no choice but to prop himself up with his forearm as Penny took the bold move to straddle him. She gently took his hand and placed it on her right boob, squeezing it slightly. Oscar felt like he was about to pass out.

“P-Penny?”

“I didn’t have work today.” She admitted. “With the help of Ceil, Ruby and I managed to get me some upgrades I’ve wanted for a while. Like better touch sensitivity, the way my skin feels, and other...components.”

Both of them were a blushing mess at that last part. Oscar was smart enough to know what she meant. The reason however, that escaped him a little.

“Why go through all this? I mean, I never went into this expecting you to do something like this for me.”

“Because even if you’re happy with me emotionally, I don’t want to rob you of the physical experience a real girl could provide. I know you try and I hide it but you’re still a boy with needs.”

He couldn’t deny that. There were many times he looked at Penny or thought of her in a physical way that made his imagination go a little rampant. He was young after all, and she was so beautiful. Oscar felt a little guilty for not being upfront about it with her and avoided her gaze. Penny reached for his face though and turned it back towards her. She wanted to see those beautiful eyes of his when she confessed.

“ I did it for myself as well. Oscar I want to be close to you, feel connected to you. Doing this, is a thing I put a lot of thought into. I wanna try at least once. So please, will you have sex with me?”

She was nervous, down right terrified of what Oscar might say. Was this too much as once? Would he deny her request? Oscar was just looking up into her eyes silently with no indication on what was going through his mind. Penny was beginning to think this was a terrible mistake and removed his hand. She started to move off of him when Oscar suddenly sat up. His hand wrapped around her waist and Penny yelped as he placed her on his lap. Now they’re face to face, inches away from each other with red tint darker than Ruby’s hair.

“Oscar?” Penny whispered, anxiously waiting for him to speak. The way he leaned in compelled her to do the same.

“Penny, stop saying you’re not a real girl.” Oscar pressed his lips against hers. He could feel them tremble slightly before returning the embrace with more than equal force, rubbing Oscar’s chin at slightly pulling down on it to slide her tongue in. The sudden act gave Oscar shivers and made him pull her in closer. This wasn’t their first kiss like this, but it was definitely the first time it made Oscar this anxious. The tension he felt right now to stop himself from going too far or fast felt like he was playing tug o'war against a Goliath. That feeling went away the moment a small and fleeting warmth hit his face. Oscar broke off the kiss to see Penny teary eyed. The girl let out a giggle and started wiping them away.

“Penny are you okay? Did I-”

“Don’t worry, it’s not you. Well it is you technically.” She lightly giggled again. “I’m just really happy right now, that’s all. Let’s keep going okay?”

Her arms went on either side of his shoulders and wrapped around. Oscar gave the girl what she wanted and went right back to kissing her. She felt warm, very warm. Oscar couldn’t explain it but made him want to touch her more. Before he knew it, Oscar had leaned forward until Penny had no choice but to lay down on the couch and let him hover over him, not that it bothered her one bit. To see him be this into it was exciting to say the least.

The feel of his lips ended again when Oscar had no choice but to catch his breath Penny was ready for him to come back for more but was surprised when his face went past her own. Suddenly her body flinched the moment she felt him kiss and nip at her neck. Now she really didn’t know what to feel! This was something he hadn’t done before but it made her hard to lay still. His teeth gently grazed her until one nip sunk in more than the others.

“Aaa~” a moan finally slipped out from her and Penny quickly covered her mouth while Oscar stopped to look at her, also surprised. He honestly wasn’t sure if that was going to do anything for her. Apparently it did.

“You good?” He smirked.

Penny nodded and uncovered her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever made that sound before.”

“Well...today is going to be full of it hopefully.” Oscar grabbed the bottom of his orange shirt and pulled it over his head, freeing him from the stuffy fabric.

Penny only watched from underneath him. It was hard to believe when they first met that he was shorter than her and tiny. Now he was 5’10 and had a physique of an expert huntsman. His shoulders had gotten broad and there was practically no fat on him. His chest widened out and he was cut! Ruby had compared him to a pro swimmer before. His skin had gathered a handful of scars over the years. A couple along his torso and a few more faded ones on his arms. She was pretty sure there was more on his back too. Him and Jaune were almost the same bulk. It made her wonder if Jaune had looked like Oscar at fourteen. That thought was interrupted when the feeling of his fingertips went across her collarbone and down to the first bottom of her shirt. He had kept his gloves on for some reason but honestly, Penny thought it was pretty attractive. Ruby has clearly influenced her taste.

It only took a few seconds for Oscar to unbutton her shirt completely.

“Woah...” Oscar said without thinking.

He hadn’t noticed earlier but she wasn’t wearing a bra like usual, probably so he wouldn’t fumble with it. Today really was planned. That didn’t make seeing Penny’s bare chest any less of a hurdle. They were somewhere in the middle of Weiss and Ruby’s, but perkier. Not to mention her nipples were real pink and a little puffy.

Penny could feel his stare on her and it made her turn her head to the side. Something about it made it really hard to think and breathe a little heavier, which only made Oscar more turned on. It didn’t help that she was technically still in his shirt and the necklace he just gave her dangled around her neck.

“You’re breathtaking…”

His words made her face feel hot and ears red. “Can you not stare too much? It’s embarra-ahhh!”

Oscar’s hands gently grabbed the orbs and massaged them as he bent down and started kissing her stomach, scattered with freckles.

His kisses were slow and deliberate. Causing Penny to moan or gasp anytime his tongue pressed against her before his lips sucked on that spot as he made his way down her now arching body.

“Oscar…” was all she could manage to moan. How was he so good at this? Was he good, or was she a lightweight like Ruby had described to her? She just knew she liked this feeling. It was easy to understand why people talked up sex, why Oscar was so clearly eager despite not telling her directly. Her eyes shut tightly every time his thumbs methodically traced around her nipples, causing her to suck air in through her teeth. The fact this was foreplay only made Penny more excited for the main part.

Finally she was given a moment to relax. Penny propped herself up with one forearm to see Oscar unbuckle her shorts. Penny raised her hips up again for him to pull the fabric off, flinging it on the ground. Despite the flannel, she only had frilly pink panties on now that had become more than a little damp. Oscar thought now would be a good time to remove his own pants. He sat up to undo them but Penny unexpectedly grabbed his wrist. Her face at waist level to him as she was on her hands and knees, while Oscar rested on his knees.

“Let me.” She said in a voice that Oscar couldn’t begin to describe, but it made him gulp. Penny’s nimble fingers made quick work of the button and purposely slow work of the zipper. Oscar lifted one leg up at a time for her to pull his pants off. Now they were more or less in the same boat in terms of nudity. Penny couldn’t help but stare at the bulge in her boyfriend’s dark blue boxers. She reached out to touch it and wasn’t expecting to hear Oscar let out a light groan as it throbbed in her hand. Penny looked up to see Oscar red in the face and avoided eye contact with her.

“Did that...feel good?” She asked, genuinely wondering.

“More than it probably should’ve.” He admitted. “It feels different when...it isn’t me touching it, better.” He added.

“I see, do you...touch yourself often? Penny didn’t know why but asking such questions felt so overwhelming. Her hand gave the clothed shaft a few more gent strokes, earning another groan. Penny didn’t know Oscar’s voice could sound so husky and deep.

“Every so often.” Oscar couldn’t stop his hips from pressing more into Penny’s hand until she hooked his waistband and pulled his boxers down. She let out a little “eep” the moment his manhood sprung out. It was different from textbooks, bigger. Half a foot maybe? It was about as wide though. Penny put her hand around it as much as she could. She wasn’t expecting it to feel so hot, so alive. Her hand started stroking it without even thinking. Again she was rewarded with the sound of Oscar’s voice. Penny really liked that voice. Another personal question came to mind that she couldn’t help but know.

“When you touched yourself, did you think of me?” Her breathing got a little heavy asking that. It was enough to make Oscar twitch and throb even more in her hand.

“Yes!”

Penny had no more questions, nothing else going through her head. Just the reaction to close her eyes and wrap her lips against Oscar’s searing length, gradually sinking her head down it before coming back up to the top, then down again.

“F-Penny!!!” Oscar shouted. He tried his best not to buck his hips but he couldn’t help himself. Penny used her free hand to grab his and rest it on her head. Her tongue slid around his manhood while she picked up the pace. His attempts to stay gentle made her really happy but it was clear to her that Oscar had forgotten something he didn’t have to worry about with her. Penny had a lot of things that made her more human in terms of design, a gag reflex wasn’t one of them.

Every second, Penny could feel him move more and more. All she could taste and smell right now was Oscar and the arousal that leaked out of him. Penny hummed lightly which only Oscar thrust a little harder, turning the hum into more of a moan. It didn’t take long before the sound of Oscar moaning joined the mix of scandalous sounds in the living room.

“Wait Penny, Penny I’m…!!!”

She was too lost in the moment to really register his plea. A couple of moments later and she felt Oscar grip her head especially tight, his body tensing up as he came. The taste from earlier had suddenly gotten a lot more potent. Penny’s eyes widened as ropes of seed were shot into her mouth. Still, she kept sucking just a little longer just to make sure nothing spilled out when she finally removed herself from him. Unsurprisingly, he was still hard. Ruby had told her that it was pretty common for young men to recover in no time at all, especially if they’re pent up.

Penny sat on her knees and looked up at Oscar, who had gotten a little sweaty and was breathing heavy. She was feeling pretty proud of herself right now.

Oscar had a million feelings right now and didn’t know exactly where to start. “That was… really good.” He huffed. “Let me get you a napkin so you can spit-” Oscar saw Penny gulp down his cum right before he could finish his sentence. If he wasn’t hard and blushing before, that would’ve done it.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Penny said, still chipper about what just happened.

“Nothing, just…that won’t mess anything up internally will it?”

“Oscar if I can eat food then I can swallow.” She said, grabbing her drink on the small table next to them to wash down whatever might’ve remained in her mouth.

It was hard to argue with that logic. Penny wouldn’t do anything that would compromise herself anyways, he hoped. She did like magnets after all.

Penny put the cup back down next to their untouched food and wrapped her arms around Oscar again. She pulled herself back onto his lap to get a kiss that had somehow gotten more feverish than last time. Oscar’s hands went immediately to her soft and plump rear, grasping it firmly before pinning Penny underneath him again. This was good, she really wanted him to take the lead on this one. The way his erection poked at her inner thighs told Penny she didn’t have much of an option to begin with.

Oscar slid his right hand up her leg and under the then layer of fabric she had left to touch her soaked lips directly. The hold she had on him tightened while she gasped into their kiss. He kept trailing up and down his slit until his middle finger barely pierced her entrance. The heat and grip surrounding the digit was enough on its own to make Oscar shiver.

“I wanted to return the favor of going down on you, but I don’t think I can wait.” He groaned, centimeters from her ear.

“I’m perfectly fine with that. I want you inside of me.” Penny lifted her hips again. Her panties came off faster even than her shorts did, Oscar practically tossed them across the room, making her giggle. She liked this side of him. He was still caring but also very assertive in a way that was new to her.

Penny let out another moan as she felt his length rub against her. Oscar locked eyes with her and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“This way you don’t have to worry about me staring too much.” He joked. “I love you Penny Polendina.”

Her hand gently reached to grab her new necklace, her other and rubbing the side of his face. “I love you too, Oscar Pine.” She returned the chaste kiss, which quickly turned into a passionate one. Penny bent her knees more and spread her legs wider as Oscar began sliding into her hot entrance. She shut her eyes and moaned deeply, his manhood only a few inches in.

“Go slow please!” Penny gasped. Her body felt weird, but also really good. There was also a slight mixture of pressure that gave her a little discomfort as she was slowly being spread open. Penny could still feel pain after all. If you wanted to experience something good then you had to accept the possible flip side. That was good though. Pleasure, pain, good taste, bad taste, having the full range was ideal; it was normal.

Oscar did his best to go slowly. The way she coiled around him with such heat made him want to lose composure so badly, but he fought the urge. It took a minute before he was finally completely inside of her. Oscar took her left hand then interlocked their fingers. He had never seen Penny look winded before. It was...kinda cute.

“Are you okay?”

“Sen...sational” she giggled, out of breath. It had been awhile since she said that. “You can move when you're ready.”

“You sure?”

“Positive”

Oscar kissed her forehead. “I’ll start off slow.”

“Thank you…” Penny felt so weak right now and she didn’t know how to explain it. All she knew was it felt great. Not only that, being with Oscar like this made her happier than she could’ve imagined.

Oscar carefully started to pull out to the very tip before sinking back into Penny’s depth, making both groan all over again, again, and again. It didn’t take too long for Oscar to get to a rhythm of rocking his hips into Penny. Any pain started to subside and leave pleasure in Penny’s wake as she held onto Oscar by having her arms around his body. Oscar could feel Penny dig in a little into his back the more she moaned and got lost in the moment.

“Faster…” She finally moaned. Oscar didn’t delay in giving her what she wanted, what they wanted. His hips picked up the tempo until the couch started to creak from their love making. Any thought about controlling her moans were thrown out the window. Penny couldn’t resist moaning his name with every thrust that struck her deep inside. The only time noise went down was when the two kissed deeply.

Oscar brought her left leg up and around his lower back, while the right one dangled off the couch. This change in position brought Oscar even deeper than before; to the point Penny’s body arched again, rubbing against his.

“Gods Oscar!” She moaned, “You’re so deep” Penny found herself trying to sync up with Oscar’s rhythm, finding it the moment he grazed a new spot within her wall that made the spasm and Oscar bite down on her neck again.

“You’re so tight. So...ahhh! Penny!” Oscar couldn’t think straight. He could only keep rutting into her like a beast in heat. The apartment echoed the sounds of him slamming into her. It was a good thing he had aura, Oscar might’ve gotten a bruise otherwise. They found themselves staying like this for several minutes. Touching, tasting, hearing the intoxicating pleasure the other was making. As if it was the only thing that would sustain them. If it were up to them, this moment would’ve lasted forever, but neither of them could resist the intense urge building inside of them.

Oscar sat up and grabbed Penny’s hips, stabilizing the both of them as he continued to pump into her. He couldn’t help but stare at the womanhood that enveloped his length. The sight of her arousal covering and dripping off of his length only shortened his fuse. Oscar wanted to cum so badly but not alone. His thumb slid closer inward and started grazing her clit every time he thrusted into her. It gave him the results he was looking for. Penny started gripping the couch cushions and her voice started to get even more pleading.

“Oscar~!!! It’s too much!” She whimpered.

His own limits were finally reaching their end. “Cum Penny! Cum whenever you feel like it.” A thin layer of sweat started to coat Oscar as he tried prolonging the inevitable. “Fuck I’m so close!”

The pressure inside Penny just kept building and building like a knot that kept going pulled tighter. Until finally…

“OSCAR!” Penny felt that knot snap. Her walls mercilessly gripped Oscar with a grip that made him cave in at last, erupting rope after rope inside of her. She felt each one and made her shiver. Penny’s face went completely red. She couldn’t imagine the amount Oscar came. It was more than earlier! Oscar’s body finally came down from the adrenaline and he fell right next to her, thoroughly exhausted. Another thing Penny didn’t have to worry much about. Granted she was a little tired, but could easily be active for days on end still.

The girl looked at her tired boyfriend and rubbed his face. “You okay?”

“Happy Anniversary” he chuckled. Penny did the same and kissed his lips quickly.

“I’m gonna get dressed, put the food up for later, and then we can cuddle here?”

“I don’t deserve you. You’re so wonderful.”

“Not as wonderful as you are. Seriously, thanks for accepting me for me, but also still be willing to accept more of me. Letting me grow, change, and try to feel more...you know.”

“I will always support any version of you that you want to become. Forever and always. My other half.”

“My soulmate.” She rubbed her fingers through his hair as he started to doze off a little. Penny happily hummed and got up to clean.

Oscar laid comfortably on the couch. The presence of Ozpin slowly returning before he fell too deep into sleep.

“Good job. Personally I would’ve used the bed conveniently in the other room but hey, things happen fast.”

“Please tell me you weren’t watching all that?” Oscar groaned.

“Of course not, I believe in privacy. It’s not my fault you’re replaying what just happened. It’s kinda unavoidable, sorry.”

“I don’t care, I just can’t believe it went so well”

“I can, muscle memory remember? This might’ve been your first time but you have a massive pool of prior knowledge. Completely blowing it wasn’t gonna happen. I told you good luck for confidence.”

“How’d you know this would happen? Prior knowledge?”

“Oscar, it could be a faunus, human, android, or Salem, certain cues from women just do not change. I saw it coming a mile away.”

Oscar yawned and sunk deeper into the couch. “I guess it pays to be immortal. You know a lot.”

“A blessing and a curse. Like I know for a fact there’s no way Pietro approved or even knows about this scheme, or whatever upgrades she got for this occasion.”

Oscar’s eyes opened back up. There was no way Oz was wrong was wrong about that. If Oscar wasn’t tired, he’d be freaking out. Instead he simply closed his eyes again.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

xxxx

Ruby laid on Jaune’s bare chest in bed as she went through her scroll during the movie they were supposed to be watching. Their clothes were scattered everywhere and they couldn’t be happier.

“Hey, I got a text from Penny. Looks like the plan worked.”

“Good for them.” Jaune said, playing with her hair. “Pietro is gonna murder him for sure.”

“Good thing you boost aura and healing.”

“Oh, so that’s your grand scheme. Hey, I’m happy to serve.”

“Yeah you are.” She puts down her scroll and straddles Jaune. “Think you can serve me at least one more time?” She took the remote away and smiled.

Jaune couldn’t help but smile too and flip her over to be on top. “I’m always up for your schemes” the two kissed and enjoyed their time together.

[tiffdawg]

Breathe In Your Love | Javier Peña x Reader

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Series: Confessions | Part 3 of 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW - smut, sexual language, mild cursing. 18+ only. Soft!Javi is his own warning. 

A/N: We’ve reached the end! And the soft Javi I promised you is here. This is the first multi-part story I’ve ever written and I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and following along 💕

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

... . ...

Breathe in Your Love

The sounds of Bogota – squeals of children playing in the streets, gossip shared between neighbors, the bell of a street vendor’s cart passing by – drifted in through the open window and pulled you from your slumber. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains and kissed your exposed skin, the bedsheets a tangled mess around your limbs, as you stretched life back into your well-rested body. Without opening your eyes, you reached across the bed only to find yourself alone.

But the empty space was still warm. 

“Mi amada,” a low voice beckoned from behind you. 

You sat up, finally opening your eyes to the bright Sunday morning, and found Javier offering you a steaming mug of your favorite Colombian tea. You’d promised to cut back your copious caffeine consumption in solidarity with his attempt to stop smoking, and the crisp, clean minty tea laced with fragrant bits of tropical fruit – a delicious aroma of soursop and guava and a hint of citrus – was now part of your morning ritual. You took a tentative sip, testing the heat of the tea on your tongue, as you peered over the rim at him.

Your eyes followed Javi, enchanted by the golden summer light streaming in through the curtains behind him, warming his tanned features, bare save for the sleep pants hanging dangerously low on his hips, as he walked around the bed to his side. 

You remembered a time when these stolen moments were just a dream. By some stroke of luck, your fantasies became your reality. And yet the truth was so much better than you ever imagined. Even though all the struggles that accompanied any relationship were compounded by the fact that you were both stressed, overworked DEA agents, every day with him still felt like a beautiful dream.

When Javier was sent back to the states, you’d joined him for a brief respite from work, grateful for the accrued vacation days you’d never found a use for before. It’d been a shock to you both when he narrowly escaped reprimand only to be sent back to Colombia with a new mission. While you had your pick of assignments after helping take down Escobar, you remained in Bogota as well. It just wouldn’t have been that same without Javi by your side.

It was a different cartel the second time around, but the same old tired game.

Now, your jobs were done, and half of your shared apartment was already in boxes – your stuff and his mixed together, heading to the same undetermined location. Neither of you had decided where to go or what to do next. The DEA had been your entire lives for so long that it was difficult to envision what should come after. But you were going to figure it out together. 

Javi slipped back beneath the sheets, relaxing against the headboard. With an arm held out to you in silent welcome, he offered you the space next to him. You tucked yourself in, resting your back against his chest, and the two of you sipped at your drinks in a comfortable silence, perfectly content to enjoy the slow morning. 

He pressed a single, lingering kiss to your temple, and you let out a deep breath, feeling yourself melt into his embrace. You treasured times like this with him, and in that moment, you knew you would go anywhere with him because this, right there with him, already felt like home. 

Suddenly, Javi shifted behind you, setting his coffee mug on the nightstand before taking your half-finished drink from you. 

“Hey–” Confused you sat up to level him with an accusing stare, but whatever witty remark you thought of making faded away, derailed by the raw look in his wide eyes. The hint of a soft smile played at the corner of his mouth, easing your worries as his calloused hand cupped your face.

“I love you,” he confessed.

You stilled at his words, uncertain, for a moment, if you’d heard him correctly.

“Javi,” you sighed, his name nothing more than a breath parting your lips. You’d almost abandoned any hope of hearing those three little words from him. You’d still dreamed of his deep voice uttering that singular phrase to you, of course, but you realized a long time ago that you didn’t actually need to hear it to know it was true.

You studied his face carefully, relieved when you couldn’t detect so much as a hint of fear or panic. Instead, he looked resolved, assured. He looked happy. Now, not only did you share the same feelings for one another, but your love was spoken. It was free. Mirroring his position, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, feeling the curve of his widening smile against your palm. “I love you too.” 

“I know–” he said, choking over his own words, “I still can’t believe that.” With strong hands, he drew you into his lap. There was an urgency to his movements, like he needed you closer to him the same way he needed air to breath, but when he pressed his lips to yours, his kisses were slow and tender, as if you had all the time in the world for each other. Maybe you finally did. 

Soon, languid kisses deepened, turned needy and desperate. Until only the need for air forced you to part, if only for a moment. Foreheads touching, you beamed at each other as you caught your breaths.

“I don’t know how I got so damn lucky,” he murmured in between soft pecks to your cheeks, your jawline, and even one on your nose. You could only shake your head at his ministrations, having been wondering the exact same thing about him.

“Make love to me, Javi,” you whispered against his lips.

“Always.”

Wanting to hold him even closer, you draped your arms around his shoulders, letting the bedsheets fall from your body, and pulled him to you. He let go of you only to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands soon returning to wander reverently over your soft body. He felt so warm and solid beneath you, and you never wanted this moment to end. You ran your fingers through his ruffled hair, already disheveled from sleep, as he kissed a path down the delicate skin of your neck.

Your hips instinctively rolled against his, grinding against his half-hard cock, and you let out an annoyed huff when you were met with the fabric of his sleep pants. Sensing your frustration, he tugged his pants down just enough to free himself, and he lazily stroked his cock to its full length as he nuzzled affectionately against your jaw. “This what you need, baby?”

“Oh! Yes, Javi– Please,” you mewled before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, “Need you– Need you inside of me.”

“I’m gonna give you everything you need, mi amor.” Sliding a hand between your parted legs, he found you soaked. “You’re already so wet for me? Fuck– You’re so amazing. So perfect.”

He gathered some of your arousal to spread across his length, before lining the head of his cock at your entrance. With firm hands on your hips, he guided you down slowly, making sure you took every inch of him, and you moaned against his lips at the way he stretched you when fully seated inside of you.

That morning there was no rush, no hurry. Only the gentle rocking of his hips against yours. On each forward roll, you felt every ridge of his cock drag against your walls, every brush of your sensitive bud against the soft curls covering his pelvis, and every little movement sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. He filled you so completely, so intimately, and your position allowed you to hold each other’s gaze. His warm brown eyes shining with love never left yours.

As you looked at Javi, your whole future flashed before your eyes: a small home somewhere quiet, maybe a couple of kids with those same deep brown eyes– God, they’d get away with everything– and a golden retriever. There’d be family vacations with the Murphey’s and trips to visit their abuelo in Texas. It would be a peaceful life because that was what Javier deserved. It was what you both deserved after everything you’d been through, everything you’d sacrificed, and you suddenly wanted it more than anything. You wanted it with him.

For the first time, it felt possible.

Javi held you against him as you came, murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish against the shell of your ear. It was only as the haze of your pleasure lifted, that you realized what he was saying.

“Eres el amor de mi vida.”

Squeezing your eyes shut to hold back a few errant tears, your hold on him tightened as you hugged him against you, never wanting to let go. He burrowed his face in crook of your neck, groaning into your flushed skin, and with a few more languid thrusts, he came deep inside of you, coating your walls with his spend.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry it took–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Jav.” You took his face in your hands and made sure he was looking at you. “I always knew. You didn’t have to say it.”

“I know you did. But you deserve to hear it,” he said soberly. “And I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life saying it. I’m never going to let you forget it.”

“That could be a long time,” you suggested playfully.

“I’m counting on it, mi amor.”

Still holding you in his lap, he leaned over and dug around in the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a small velvet box.

“Javi,” you gasped in disbelief. You searched his eyes for some sort of explanation, amazed that he was picturing the same life you’d just imagined. Although, considering he already had the ring, he might’ve been ahead of you for once. He just smiled at you.

“I never thought that I could have this. Didn’t even realize how badly I wanted it, needed it, until I fell in love with you.” He popped open the box, revealing an elegantly simple diamond ring. “Marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed around a smile, “Of course, Javi.”

After he slid the ring onto your finger, he embraced you, kissing you passionately before unceremoniously tossing you backwards on the bed.

“What are you doing?” you squealed as you bounced against the mattress.

“What does it look like I’m doing, mi amor?” he asked as he lied down between your legs, throwing both over his shoulders, “I’m gonna eat my fiancée’s pussy for breakfast.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed as he grinned up at you, heart bursting in your chest. You knew you wouldn’t be getting out of bed anytime soon that day and as you reached down to brush a stray lock off his forehead, marveling at the way the sunlight glinted off your new ring, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too.”

... . ...

The End. Thanks for reading! 

[darkpoisonouslove]

More GxV Headcanons for the Soul (and Mind)

@ the anon that said they’d like to hear more of my Griffin and Valtor thoughts - I have some more that I just remembered. Hot from the oven even though I have had some of these ever since I first came back to this fandom last year.

I see Griffin and Valtor as complementary opposites if that makes sense. She is the water to his fire so to speak. Now we haven’t been told what element her magic revolves around and have only been given some general magical abilities she has so her element could as well be water, though I headcanon her magic is more related with space bodies and draws power from the cosmos. I look at the fire/water duality in a metaphorical way. We’ve seen Valtor’s temper on the show. He is definitely quick to anger and explode while he also can give you anything you want to warm your heart so to speak. And what we’ve seen from Griffin definitely places her temperament under the symbol of water for me in all of its states. We’ve seen her get angry much like boiling water turning to vapor, we’ve seen her be cold and calculating like ice and we’ve seen her being adaptive towards the shift in circumstances. To me she is the perfect embodiment of water as an element and the perfect complementary part to Valtor as she can both hold him back by being the rationality to his recklessness and she can match his temper to match him in his thirst for victory.

Now even though I don’t think her magic actually has anything to do with water, I headcanon Griffin as coming from a realm that is heavily water based and fares on producing crops. It’s what made her so good with plants as she knew all about them from a child and her specialty are herbs in particular. I like the idea that Griffin is actually pretty good in healing magic but she refuses to utilize her natural gift because she is tired of people reacting like it’s unheard of a witch to have healing powers. She got a lot of shit for that when she was younger so she’s suppressed that side of her powers even if it is her best and destructive magic requires a lot more effort than the healing spells that come naturally to her. Now all of this works to make her even more an opposite and simultaneously a complementary reflection of Valtor since his Dragon Fire is the thing that created all life but he is using it for destruction instead. Btw in one of my “drabbles” I wrote that in Griffin’s realm they didn’t have fireworks and all usage of fire was closely monitored due to the production of crops. You know, just for the heck of it as it made her partnership with Valtor an even more interesting dynamic. I even headcanon that she was wary of his fire powers at first just for the fact that it was fire and she was not exactly used to having someone so explosive around her at all times.

Also somewhat on the same topic, in 3x25 when Valtor used the spell of the elements against the realm of Magix, he sent water to CT and fire to Alfea which has been interesting to me to dig into. It may not have held a lot of significance as a choice to the writers but I think it rather makes sense because Valtor was so mad at Griffin about her betrayal that he thought she didn’t “deserve” to be ended by fire which is his element. And on the other hand, he was pretty pissed at Faragonda and there was already one unsuccessful attempt at permanently getting rid of her when he trapped her into the tree (unlike Griffin who he only imprisoned) so he wanted to make sure he’ll be rid of her once and for all and what better way to do that than fire? Also, of course, sending fire to Alfea aka Bloom makes sense and the Alfea/CT opposition of fire/water could have been based on the opposition between fairies and witches. Either way, I like to tie this to my personal headcanon about his and Griffin’s relationship on a symbolical level as well as his rage over the betrayal. I think it makes sense whether that was intended or not.

Speaking of CT, I have a fun question to ask right here right now (that I have actually been asking for over a year and a half now but never shared). Where does Valtor sleep in CT? We all know that he wanted to take everything Griffin had as revenge for leaving him which was why he chose CT as his new headquarters when he relocated. He’s mostly been shown to reside in her office after he took control of CT and only ever left it if he had to attend to something else (which I blame on the fact that the show was mostly like “We’ll make the villains so evil that you can’t even imagine them sleeping because that would imply a level of vulnerability that seems OOC.”) Hell, even his entrance during the confrontation with Griffin supports the idea that he wants to take her place since he made himself comfortable in her chair instantly (and Icy called him the new headmaster later). So after all of this, it would be logical to conclude that he sleeps in Griffin’s room and in her bed which I think has so much deliciously irresistible potential for angst on both parts. Like, it’s her space, her very personal, very private space that he has invaded. There is nothing sacred that he won’t touch in his quest for vengeance against her. But on the other hand, it is her space and everything in there will remind him of her and of the life she’s had after she left him for dead so to speak. Just think about the tragic implications that this set up has, soak them in, let them drown you in angst. I hadn’t shared this headcanon because I wanted to write a fic about it but that derailed and I haven’t found a good way to bring it back on track yet so I decided to finally talk about it because I just need it to be out there in the world. JUST. THINK. ABOUT. IT!!!!!!!

Another headcanon I have about them is that because they were partners and so close (it is strongly implied in canon that they did convergence together and that it was super powerful) and they were also in love and spent a lot of time together, Griffin got a feel of the Dragon Fire and can recognize the vibe it gives off so to speak. She just got attuned to the magical presence of the Dragon Fire and she can sense it even if she’s never had it herself. She’s felt it flowing together with her own magic and tangled so deeply with it that it’s almost entering her veins so many times that she’s learned how it feels and can recognize it instantly. And that is not true just about Valtor’s Dragon Fire but also about Marion and Bloom’s as well. In fact that is my explanation about her behavior in 1x06 when she attacked Winx in the library of CT. Her reaction is too overexaggerated to be normal in the situation (she legit tried to kill them for heaven’s sake) and I like to think that it was because she instantly noticed the similarity that Bloom bore to Marion and Oritel’s lost daughter but she didn’t sense any Dragon Fire coming from her because Bloom’s powers were still pretty dormant after not having been used for 16 years. Griffin thought the girl was an impostor so she attacked because she was mad about the painful memories of both Valtor and Marion and Bloom being invoked by this obviously fake “heir”. And one last thing here that I’ve already written out but it will take ages to find the post - Griffin got so used to Valtor’s fire that is was hard to be without it later so she literally conditioned herself into having a resistance to cold because she refused to be left shivering in the stead of his loss.

(I think I might have bitched about this already but I have more rage to spare and some new points to bring to the table so let’s have at it again.) Now is time for a little rant I have had ever since I rewatched s3 for the first time in the beginning of last year. It has to do with my last point in that regardless of whether Griffin can sense the Dragon Fire specifically or not, she can still sense other magic. We’ve seen it in 1x25 when she and Faragonda both sensed the Army of Decay even though it was still too far away for them to actually perceive it via any of their other senses. And we’ve seen it in 2x16 when she knew Lucy was eavesdropping despite the door that was in the way. That second one especially pisses me off so much because Lucy was a student - aka much weaker than Griffin - and she wasn’t using any magic while she was eavesdropping and Griffin still sensed her even though Ediltrude was talking to her and distracting her at the time. But then Valtor - literally the most powerful individual at the whole realm and possibly the universe at the time AND someone that she has closely worked with for years - teleports in her office which means that he used his immense power and she didn’t sense that and was surprised by him showing up. How does THAT make any sense? No, please, this is just ridiculous. She should have sensed him at the very least. I have no illusions that she stood a chance against him either way but it would have been good if they hadn’t made her look totally incompetent and had also let her throw a spell his way at the very least. They had a good opportunity for a battle there that they totally disregarded and I will be forever salty about that.

We all know that magic comes from emotions, right? Well, I have had an interesting idea which I have already included in two of my fics. What if you can read emotions through magic? We’ve all seen those moments when a character is so mad that they literally start glowing in a magical aura and their rage is tangible to everyone around so that had me thinking that perhaps the magic carries the emotional charge that powered it. And if you get attuned enough to it, you can start reading the emotions tangled in the magic. If they spawned it, it would make sense that there are traces of them left in the magic. And it could make perfect sense when it comes to convergence as the binding element in the spell. Like, we know Winx all have different elements but are able to pull off convergence seamlessly  because of the harmony in their feelings. The emotions could very well be acting like the common thing between the different sets of powers that ties them together to allow them all to flow towards the same goal and the spell to be completed. And since I have a headcanon that Griffin is pretty good at reading magical auras and we know that Valtor was literally carved from magic, it would make sense that the two of them would be able to read the emotional charge that a spell carries. I actually like to imagine it was Valtor that taught Griffin how to do that but she got even better than him at it with some practice because she is more in tune with her own emotions and has higher empathy. Also headcanon that they have done that with each other and it helped strengthen both their romantic relationship and their partnership. It was what made Valtor especially mad after she left because that was undeniable proof that she hadn’t been faking her feelings for him which he wanted to pretend was what happened so that it would hurt less. It’s not something anyone can fake.

I also like to think that Valtor taught Griffin a lot about magic and he did it in the way in which he understood and practiced magic. Aka he taught her a more instinctive approach to magic rather than the more academic and removed approach that the magical schools teach. Formal magical education looks at emotions as something that powers magic and thus has to be controlled because it can be dangerous. Magic itself is treated as a weapon or a servant to the magic user which to Valtor seems ridiculous since he is literally made of magic. He was magic before he was a person so for him the two are inseparable. It was exactly what he taught Griffin - that magic is not some tool you use whenever you need it. It is a part of you that you need to accept as equal to your other parts and your consciousness. If you do that, it unlocks a greater potential for power due to the closer connection you have established with your magic. It sort of has the magic user and the magic become one and it is hard to tell who is controlling what. It’s a more dangerous approach because instincts can take over and steer things in uncontrollable directions which is why it isn’t taught in magical schools. Griffin was bitter at first when she learned how much more there was to her magic that her education didn’t teach her about but the more she used the approach Valtor taught her, the more she realized why that was. And especially when she became headmistress of CT, she knew it would be irresponsible to teach young and inexperienced witches that kind of approach to magic. Still, she feels like she takes away from them by not teaching them about the full extent of their powers so she has been looking for ways to include more about getting in touch with one’s own inner feelings for better access to their magic in her lessons so that the witches can use more of their powers.

[barbika1508]

Hiwaga (Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader)

Part 2

Words: 11,2k

Genre: Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, Enemies to Lovers, Action, Romance, Smut, Flufffffff

Pairing: Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader

Warnings: More cursing, Nightmares

Summary: Life was good, playing out better than it has been ever before. My future was bright and full of promises and wishes coming to realization. All up until she showed up. She stormed though the front doors ruining everything along the way by her mere presence derailing my goals and purpose in life. A puny mortal, a child, a complete nuisance, and yet…The key to an unimaginable life, to the truth all along.

Author's note: Hiwaga – mystery; full of wonder Words in italics are dialogues or thoughts that Jeongguk reads from others. So I’ve done research with this fic, and used certain words that need explanation…given that there can be A LOT I’ve put a dictionary just below the fic if anyone is interested :3

Jeongguk’s POV:

‘’YOONGIIIIII-YAAAHHH!!!’’ comes the call not really disrupting others, but it does pull the gained momentum to a full stop, everyone now straightening up, eyes and heads turned towards the entrance. We all observe as the owner of that annoying voice comes in sight, dressed in none other than Yoongi hyungs favourite red hoodie that he mostly lounges around in.

‘’I’ve figure it out!’’ she continues on oblivious to the others stopping because of her. Our elder simply smiles and turns his attention completely onto her, as she offers up a thick book that at first glance leaves me wondering how she was able to pick it up. Frankly if you look at her you wouldn’t assume that she’d be able to lift much.

He simply hums in acknowledgement, eyes scanning the page his smile gradually fading. Namjoon appears at the doorframe a moment later, the girl not jumping or flinching at his sudden presence like most humans would normally react to. Wordlessly she accepts a notebook from him, her own eyes darting left and right a frown drawing itself across her features. Hmmm she’s kind of cute…

‘’What’s going on?’’ Taehyung asks frowning as he shifts the spear he’s using to train, between his hands. We’re all dressed the same, in black tank tops and grey sweatpants most of us barefoot too. We came to the fully equipped gym which we’ve transformed into an arena its purpose clear – practice martial arts and combat between another. Hyung had just started teaching us new techniques honestly surprising us all as he joined in from the beginning.

We don’t necessarily need the fitness or practice – nobody even broke a sweat in the last hour we’ve been training – but the impending tension that has settled after the ball two nights ago, doesn’t seem to loosen up so this is the best next thing to relieve some form of built up frustration. Even though neither Yoongi nor Jin hyung revealed anything yet, both of them are hiding their emotions back but everyone just knows that something is happening. Fighting is a temporary distraction.

Most vampires don’t actually need to fight or simply never learn how to because they rely solemnly on their powers or abilities. And half of us could lean onto using our powers, but Yoongi made sure we had a good solid base of self-defence before he had us train our abilities. For example, his power is scary and rare and doesn’t require of him to ever lift a finger whilst fighting. Others had to learn the hard way how to control their powers. That includes myself – mentality and people’s minds are tricky.

‘’Research.’’ Its Namjoon that replies handing over a regular pencil that he usually sticks behind his ear whenever he’s working on something in the library where he has been spending a lot of time lately again at. The human accepts it, and is quick to start and scribble something over a page. Being the only one left out of this round I approach them first, eyeing Yoongi for a moment further his eyes darting over to Namjoon.

‘’This is bothersome.’’ He comments offering the book to Namjoon who accepts it nodding silently. The girl curses out of the blue, the swear words that spill from her mouth unfamiliar to my ear, and judging by other hyung’s faces they are stumped too. Some curses don’t even sound like words, but once she shuts up and looks at the platinum blonde elder, she looks beyond annoyed while he burst into chuckles shaking his head ‘’Yah, Y/N-ah there are kids here.’’ He teases back the occurrence and light-heartedness that he shows to her still unfamiliar. He must be the only one who understood whatever came from her mouth.

I spare a glance at Seokjin who is shaking his head, two fingers pressed against the inner of his eyes. Okay he understood her to, but to what degree I’m not sure.

‘’Aish.’’ She intakes a breath ready to smack Yoongi with the notebook but refrains from doing so, her eyes darting over to us. Maybe it’s just my imagination but I get a feeling as if they linger on me for a moment longer ‘’Not funny. They called me a child.’’ She ends up pouting and showing her notebook over to Yoongi. Glancing at Namjoon he’s awkwardly smiling, eyes averted down onto the thick book ‘’And other things I don’t need to translate.’’ Grumbling she adds looking upset as she glares at him unamused. Everyone offers soft chuckles in return finally relaxing more as they step closer.

Hyung’s arm rises wrapping around her shoulders reassuringly ‘’Well that was the plan was it not?’’

My eyes dart over to Tae and Jimin, exchanging looks between both of them in question and sort of answer at the revelation ‘’Yeh.’’ Her reply is curt arms crossed over while she turns her eyes towards Namjoon ‘’We’re close to figuring it out. Its trickier than I thought. Haven’t practiced Gaya in so long…Kaya…aish even my pronunciation is completely off.’’ She signs looking exasperated.

‘’Wait…’’ Hoseok starts tensing up taking barely half a step towards her in the uneven circle we’ve created ‘’Kaya as in the language? Karak? Like 5th century, dead long and forgotten language?!’’ he looks at them in complete disbelief mouth hanging ajar. He’s almost on his toes. I immediately look at the human, that nods fingers tapping against the page of her notebook impatiently or out of nerves.

‘’That one yes. Why? Do you know it???’’ her eyes sparkle for a moment, but hyung is quick to turn his head away and raise his hands in defeat.

‘’That’s way before my time.’’ he mumbles pouting. I watch as Y/N enthusiasm diminishes instantly. She sighs heavily looking at Yoongi who’s already staring back at her.

‘’Aigo.’’ She complains pouting ‘’It’s all on us then buddy.’’ She adds on offering Namjoon a soft smile. I can see her disappointment clearly in the way her shoulders lower sag. I narrow my eyes as I watch her, not really comprehending that there’s a chance that she actually knows a dead language. The name of it or the know how about it. She barely speaks proper Korean!!!!! And to know of a pre-Korean language makes zero logic!!!

‘’Uh huh. I’m sure we can handle it. Easy.’’ Namjoon replies trying to sound positive but, we all know he’s putting up a front for her sake ‘’I’ll head into the city right away. Go to my usual places to snoop around for any fragments. There should be at least something somewhere.’’ And with that, and a silent confirmation from Jin and Yoongi, he bids us goodbye’s and heads out disappearing quickly as he appeared before.

‘’What are you even translating? Did that douche-ling make another cryptic speech?’’ Jimin asks looking annoyed, tapping both fingers against the handles of his dual swords which are resting against the ground. Y/N instead of quickly replying looks over at Yoongi, who takes her notebook and closes it. Is she waiting for permission or is she actually being respectful for once?!?

‘’In the beginning yeah, he bounced with Karak but then switched to Latin mid-way.’’ Yoongi snorts smirking but there’s no amusement to his words ‘’Y/N-ah already translated his official scripts and the other speech, and the propositions he gave us.’’

‘’Lots of politics involved.’’ Jin confirms looking lost in thought, holding his head propped up with one hand, the other remaining crossed across his chest.

‘’There’s something else isn’t there.’’ I pick up on the lack of explanation staring straight at the human. Her lips go into a tight line eyes averting looking anywhere else, while she shifts her feet in line with her shoulders, stance defensive with her centre balanced. That much I can read out once her shoulders square up, and her leg muscles clench and unclench. Why is she wearing a hoodie and shorts again?!? Her bare legs look very nicely defined, I never noticed it.

‘’I wrote down notes of the conversation that Wangseja had with his advisor.’’ Everyone takes a double take at her disclosure clearly none of us expecting something like this of her. Maybe she isn’t a clueless bimbo after all.

‘’That still wouldn’t fully explain the usage of Karak.’’ Hoseok speaks up thoughtful ‘’Do you think them speaking out loud was deliberate or simply a foolish error?’’

He has a point there. It could be a trap, but Yoongi is quick to shake his head in denial arm now having shifted around Y/N, his hand placed on her hip ‘’I don’t think it’s either of those. It’s safe to assume for certain than none of you assumed that Y/N-ah here spoke more than 3 languages, let alone Karak in the mix right?’’ the other hyungs nod along eyeing her suspiciously, except for Jin that offers a smirk and Taehyung that seems to be revaluating his stance over her again ‘’Point made then.’’

That boulder in my stomach reappears again, as with prideful eyes Yoongi turns to look at her with a wider smile, while she shakes her head instead twirling the pen, he hasn’t confiscated from her. She’s shifting from one foot to another lulling side to side impatiently making him retreat his arm away.

This girl never seems to be able to stand still even for a second ‘’Yeah, yeah I’m more than meets the eye, bla, bla.’’ She shows her tongue at her supposedly life-term friend ‘’Never heard that one before.’’ she mocks, and slides the pen smoothly behind Hyung’s ear who doesn’t blink twice at her antics. Even more so as she reaches for his Geom that is sheathed on his left hip ‘’So instead of wracking our brains uselessly with the lack of information that we are stuck with, I would like to lay of some steam as well.’’ she draws out the double-edged sword, with poise, letting the handle go while she maintains the balance of it, flipping the sword around a single digit, capturing it successfully once it does a 360 turn.

She looks pleased upon capturing it, perking up and giving of an almost goofy smile. Oh no. Don’t tell me this is something else that she isn’t going to take seriously?

‘’You wanna play with us little mortal?’’ Jimin pips up looking enthusiastic and livelier all of the sudden. But he doesn’t slide forward and move closer to her like I know he would prefer to. It brings a smile to my face, the thought of him being so afraid of hyung that he doesn’t dare approach her in his presence all that much.

Looking at the girl, she’s preoccupied with hyung’s sword, trying to find the balance of it as she holds it by the handle horizontally keeping it steady. At his comment, she lets the sword fall but catches it before the tip can hit the ground.

‘’Jagi?’’ the nickname has everyone in the room freeze on spot. There are two reaction that she grants herself. Chuckles of amusement, that aren’t as quiet as the hyungs wants them to be – nobody in their sane mind would want to experience Yoongi’s wrath. Tae ends up ducking behind Hoseok as he’s the loudest, hence why the elders glare is instantaneous as he turns to glare at both giggling men.

Jin hyung straight up turns around hand covering his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking badly. Hoseok ends up grinning wider and starts too coo instead, teasing in between but mostly telling Y/N how adorable she is for some reason. Jimin settles for kneeling on the ground hands still holding into his own dual swords grin present over his features, eyes having disappeared from how much he finds this whole situation amusing.

I on the other hand hold back the bile that gathers in my stomach. Ew. Just no. Why? Seriously why. I cringe and listen to the way Yoongi is quick to defend her and not himself! He’s advocating for her, coming up with excuses as to why he is allowing her to use this nickname on him. Looking at her, she’s grinning widely clearly amused by the situation she has created.

I seriously feel sick to my stomach. It’s wrong it’s all just wrong. I seriously don’t like her. Just as I was starting to, I don’t anymore I really don’t. She’s way to cocky right now, acting as if she has hyung wrapped around her finger. He storms after our so called ‘dance line’ with the exception of me, as they start teasing the two louder and bolder. Unbothered she remains put just watching blurs go around, her eyes not able to pick up much on what’s going on as the chase begins.

If she wasn’t here – hyung would be chasing me too with the others. I let a few good comebacks die on my tongue knowing first-hand what it’s like to get silly punishment from Yoongi after badmouthing him or anyone else. Her mere presence right now is to put it in simple words; extinguishes my will to live. And yeah, I’ve been a vampire for almost 200 years but fuck does she weight me down. Is it because I can’t read her thoughts? I shift on my feet, dropping my arms from the crossed-up position I’ve had them. While my left hand reasts against my hip, I let my right rest over the handle of my own Geom. I’ve decided to build upon my skills with it, even though it’s not commonly used anymore, it’s still gives the thrill like no other.

That familiar itch raises in my throat slowly, prickling at it mostly. I think this type I haven’t felt since I’ve been freshly turned. But that was another story as my hunger for blood then was insatiable. When all I could think about was blood, and the constant pain that held me in its clutches. It’s starting to appear somewhat, but not necessarily for blood alone which is puzzling as to what’s happening to me.

‘’You look like you’re having fun.’’ I raise an eyebrow as I look down at her in surprise ‘’The whole brooding thing you’ve got going on right now, is a good strategy. I commend you on that dude.’’

‘’Strategy?’’ I ask bemused eyeing her carefully as she steps right next to me and turns to watch the chaos that’s still unfolding across us. Her approach is like – if you were sitting on the very edge of a couch, she’s the person that would sit right next to you. Can she get even more annoying than this?!

‘’Well yeah.’’ She starts and looks at me slightly losing the edge of confidence she has ‘’To avoid this mess that’s happening. Wasn’t that…’’ she trails off clearly doubting herself ‘’Never mind then.’’ she’s quick to look away, left hand reaching up to scratch at her cheek, but she keeps it there avoiding to look at me.

I can’t help but to smile at her behaviour. Is she blushing?!

Odd. Humans are weird. Narrowing my eyes as I continue watching her, I can’t help but to relax a bit. Her hair is a mess as always, falling over her shoulders, clearly uncombed or unattended. Not that she’s dirty, she smells fresh and like she bathed fairly recently that strawberry hint present underneath the artificial flavour of honey scented shampoo.

The hoodie is too big on her body as it’s too big for hyung himself but on her it easily reaches her mid tights. Having said that the branded shorts with white stripes at the side of her legs peek just from beneath the red hoodie. Otherwise her legs are exposed, and following the curves from her meaty thighs, down to her calves I can see she’s back at being restless her left foot tapping against the ground the rubber of her sneakers making faint noise against the wood of the ground.

Shouts raising has me turning up, ready to defend myself from blatantly staring at her or crudely said ogling her. To my rare luck Yoongi has both Jimin and Taehyung pinned down, clearly having fun as he fake scolds them. Hoseok has given up and is sitting on the ground, hands propping himself up as he’s leant backwards. Jin hasn’t even participated in whatever they have going on, and is sitting in the corner of the room, kneeling against the wall with his new pink coloured Samsung Z in his hands, typing furiously on it with a small smirk on his face.

‘’Hey do you know why did the scarecrow win an award?’’ Jin starts getting everyone’s attention eyes rising after he asks the question. He even glances towards us. And we all know what’s coming it’s clear as a single cloud on a clear sunny day ‘’Because he was outstanding in his field.’’

I roll my eyes instantly, biting onto my lower lip because it’s ridiculous. Jimin burst into laughter first, Hoseok and Tae groaning but ending up laughing more so because of Jimin that rolls away from Yoongi who has let go of both vampires and is staring at hyung with a scrunched-up expression.

‘’Seriously hyung?’’ he breathes shaking his head. But a smile is present.

I’m genuinely startled when Y/N places her hand on my shoulder, body trembling as she tries to keep her own giggles down, but is not having much success with it. I stare at her confused but slightly fascinated by the rosiness that covers her cheeks, and face. Her eyes crinkle as they shut, mouth twisted into a grin. Her hold on my shoulder is surprisingly firm, again in the back of my mind making me revaluate the estimate I put on her about her strength.

‘’You’re laughing at that?’’ I ask trying to sound unimpressed but fail at it completely as I smile all due to her own amusement, the joke not being that drop-dead-funny.

She shakes her head instead and let’s go of me taking a step to the side hand readjusting the hold on hyung’s Geom once more ‘’The delivery was A+.’’ she points out as she starts to calm down.

‘’Thank you, Y/N-ah! You see brats? Someone appreciates my jokes! It’s why from now on Y/N-ah is my favourite creature ever!!!’’ he shouts out acting bratty himself. Jimin and Tae are both on their feet making their way over to Jin, probably with the intention of convincing him that they are his favourite whatever.

‘’Gee thanks.’’ Y/N chuckles bringing my attention back to her ‘’Never been called someone’s favourite ‘creature’ but I’ll take it.’’ she ends up grinning happily as she turns to me, warmth still lingering on her cheeks. As well as over my shoulder where her hand was ‘’Anyways you wanna practice Sour boy?’’ I immediately frown at that nickname as does she scrunching up her nose adorably for a moment ‘’Sour creature?’’ she tries ending up chuckling to herself as she shift left and right, the calmness leaving her while her jumpiness coming back ‘’Can’t use Sour wolf those right are reserved obviously…’’ I tilt my head not having a clue what’s she’s referring to ‘’…sour…ah never mind.’’ Again, she’s shaking her head but isn’t hiding away. She twists the sword again putting her left foot forward balancing her centre first, hands and sword following suit ‘’So you wanna try going against me?’’

It’s a dare.

I want to burst into laughter already imagining 3 moves alone to disarm her in a blink of her eye. But hyung’s words in my head stop me from over reacting at the preposterous challenge that’s right in front of me.

Humour her Jeongguk-ah. It will do good for your patience.

Taking a hold of my own blade, I spare a glance over towards Yoongi first noticing that everyone is watching us. They are going to be entertained I’ll make sure I will…

In a blink of an eye and my own, as my reflexes are enhanced mind you – I find myself dumbfounded, as her sword flashes due to the light and clashes against my own, knocking it sideways proving that my hold on it wasn’t as tight as it should have been.

As I look down at her burning but non-glowing human eyes, she’s glaring at me with some sort of fire in her irises. Her hand is back on me, firmly holding onto the inside of my forearm, while her blade is angled in a seemingly awkward position right arm positioned over her left body twisted to the side. But the most important part is; the tip of her sword is located right under my chin. The body of the Geom is strategically positioned in a way that would block any stronger and direct attack from myself.

The cheers burst out of the blue interrupting the silence that happened due to her unexpected actions.

My tongue darts to my cheek as I snort and tilt my head narrowing my eyes at her, as she ends up smiling but look serious doing so. She ends up pulling her hand and sword back, rising it up in triumph.

‘’Lesson number one; always be ready for the unexpected.’’ Jin speaks up oddly enough giving me a more serious look.

I don’t even bother looking towards others, and focus on the girl before me that’s literally skipping on her spot 2 steps away from me. She wiggles her eyebrows at me, sword getting placed to rest against her shoulder angled at an around 80 degree ‘’Lesson 1000-something-something never lose focus.’’ She imitates Yoongi’s pattern of speech clearly making fun of him making me know that he trained her as well. Her head turns to the right to give him a look.

I twirl my Geom keeping in mind that even though I’m about to surprise her as she surprised me, I a voice screaming at me to keep my movements slow. It would be an easy defeat – like taking candy from a baby – if I use my regular speed and agility on her. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

As I raise my blade, she instantly blocks it spinning with elegance at the perfect time. While I’m holding the leather wrapped handle with both hands, she only uses one and efficiently blocks me, her blade only briefly losing a hold twitching backwards and then coming to a still.

‘’To rough?’’ I tease, as she grabs for the long handle with her left hand the pressure against my blade turning prominent. Fuck. I didn’t expect in the slightest that she would be even able to push against me. But that’s maybe because I didn’t focus on taking a hold of my Geom in a proper way like I should have. I underestimated her.

She doesn’t reply initially, but offers a smirk jaw locked tight. To my astonishment she unpredictably steps back, and raises her Geom ready to strike down, which I block successfully intercepting her attacks from the get go. The fact remains that tips the balance contradictory to my own belief and those of my hyungs as with my brief lack of concentration, everything changes – words fill my mind – because she has managed from the get go to legitimately push me backwards. She has me moving, whole body getting in tune and reflexes to work as two close calls of the metal coming in contact with me have me focusing solemnly on her.

It isn’t until she’s out of breath that she jumps back like in the beginning, and simply breathes harshly through her nose. That’s the weakness of being a human. Getting tired. I know it’s not fair but I take my chance and charge forward, confident that I’ve got an easy win under my belt.

But as I move forward faster than I should I’ll admit her left hand reaches and gets in line with where my sword is pointed at. She’s reaching forward as if she is about to pick an apple, the action itself insane. That has me stopping right before the blade can touch, forcing my whole body to a halt. That’s when she strikes, finger wrapping onto the top of my blade against the blunt part of it.

It all happens so fast even for me, as she holds onto my weapon and just like the first time, she’s finds herself right up in my personal space, her blade finding a home under my chin it seems.

Her face is almost feral – that’s how I’d describe it the easiest. She’s showing her blunt teeth as she breathes fast heart absolutely pounding in her chest, as she glares at me the fire I saw before has turned into some sort of a blizzard, and hunger. The cheers that erupt of disbelief and glee get all muted - her blood is calling out to me. I can feel it vibrating in her veins, pumping steadily though her heart. It sounds like a forgotten lullaby her speeding but regulating steady heartbeat. It brings a taste of nostalgia forward.

The smile that stretches across her lips seems newly unique, only for my eyes – there’s of course that prominent sense of victory, happiness that’s prominent in her whole being still only inches away from me.

I’m left blinking in confusion, the hold of my blade being let go as someone pulls her backwards the cold blade that was located under my chin retreating as well as her warmth and now prominent smell of fruitiness, and something else that I can almost taste in the air – something that kind of remind me of the smell I remember that came from my own clothes when I was still a human.

‘’Ah our sweet Golden Maknae, it seems you have meet you’re match in at least one category!’’ Jin cheers throwing his arm over my shoulders, looking extremely gleeful as he starts poking my sides. I twist at his ministration but keep watching as Hoseok lifts Y/N up onto his shoulders, her hands free from weapons and desperate to hold onto something as she dangerously shifts and tries to balance herself on his shoulders. His oblivious jumping spree continues despite her cries of protests with Jimin standing behind the two ready to catch her as Taehyung dances along with the vampire that’s carrying her.

I can’t shake off the tingles that seem to entrap me in a sense, running over my skin prickling at my long stopped beating heart. I stare almost dumbly listening to the shouts and cheers from the human girl, that decided to act along with the boys’ antics easily following and mimicking them having the time of her life judging by the giant smile she has on, and adorable chuckles that raise. But the smile she gave me doesn’t resemble this one, one bit. The one I got was more – her.

‘’Good effort, Jeongguk-ah.’’ Yoongi speaks up appearing finally on my right, hand holding onto his Geom once more. Meeting his eyes, they seem soft the smirk he has not too promising for my dignity ‘’Of course you’ve managed to accomplish all the don’ts than do’s in what I’ve taught you, but it was a good lesson nonetheless.’’

Jin stars laughing immediately agreeing with Yoongi, the jokes and mockery following after.

I hate losing, I despise it with my whole being given that I’m not sure if I still have a soul. And even though irritation is brewing under my skin, I can’t find myself to feel real anger of any sorts. She threw me off too much to completely understand the feeling I’m experiencing, in regards of her.

Of course, I still don’t like her, why would I pfffff. This is only a reason more that I need to start and upstage her frankly speaking. I’m not jealous of her being in hyung’s good graces or anything childish like that but…I’m the golden maknae. I need to knock her down a peg or two.

I find myself watching her like a hawk, awaiting the anger and frustration to hit me…it doesn’t. And that’s concerning me slightly.

*A few days later*

I squint automatically at the spill and change of contrasting light that floods into the room. My eyes are quick to adapt but my brain forces me to react humanly. Rounding the corner, I’m met with a wide and open door that leads to the side of the mansion, into the gardens and towards the pathway that leads towards the garage. I sigh annoyed that someone is trying to start a prank war again. It’s a poor prank just leaving the doors open, but the sun that’s shinning inside is frankly bothersome enough to diminish my mood.

I was having a good match going on the whole night, winning every time of course setting new records. The peckish-ness appeared out of nowhere – I fed 2 days ago, there’s no reason why I’m feeling hungry again. I should be fine and yet, my throat itches uncomfortably enough so that I need to take plan B; Take a blood bag from the fridge to calm myself down.

I rarely do this, hating the cold and very artificial taste that the bag leaves on the blood. But the blood bags are there for this exact reason.

I stand at the entrance of the lavish kitchen and dining area on my right and place my hands onto my hips just contemplating my life choices as one does in the middle of the day – or night for some. Why does it have to be so sunny, why can’t it just keep raining. Of course, it has been a while since I’ve seen sunlight, but I sure as hell didn’t miss it that much. It’s absolutely glowing against the polished marble flooring, and reflecting all over the clean white kitchen.

There are bowls on the kitchen island, the presence of them making me listen in a focus for a moment if someone is close and trying to scare me. Silence. Strange. Approaching the kitchen island and avoiding the stray odd ray of sunlight that stretches across the room, thanks to a curtain being moved, I see pastry has been laid out on a wooden desk. Two banana’s lies on another chopping board still intact, while a gooey brown substance resides in a pot next to the pastry.

I’m so confused. What is this supposed to be?

Looking around for Jin hyung I’m left wondering if he’s back at experimenting with human food and trying to impress our annoying temporary human resident. Last time he baked 10 cakes, of different flavours, which the human did thank him over hundreds of times for, but barely made a dent in them. We had to throw them out after 4 days, with Jin hyung reasoning that it’s logical as they were going to go bad. Sounds like bullshit to me as in my time cakes were a delicacy to get often, but I feel as if they are more compact and longer lasting than 4 days but what do I know about human food. Eh.

Glancing towards outside keeping my eyes trained on the marble flooring I pick up on someone talking fast and thoughts of How lovely and kind, she is flooding my mind That girl has a knack for flowers, and it helps that she’s extra nice unlike most of Mr. Min’s friends I block out the gardeners thoughts as they continue wandering about Yoongi…yet again. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I take the chance squinting and frowning at the brightness even more prominent, my eyes trained to the outside watching as Y/N stumbles over her feet but recollects herself. She’s carrying a small bouquet of what seem like lavender coloured roses. I didn’t even know we grow those. The flowers don’t look that nice during the night I’ll admit that. But I know Jin hyung wanted multi coloured flowers, and I know there was a Boquete of blue roses placed on this very kitchen island some time ago.

I watch as the girl jumps exaggeratingly childish and cheerful onto the concrete ground of the mansions floor and short patio. Her bare feet make barely any noise, as she approaches.

‘’Oh, hey what are you doing up still?’’ she asks squinting but due to the contrast she must be experiencing. I’m surprise she spotted me outside. She kinda looks that sort of an adorable-ugly.

‘’You do know that we don’t sleep right?’’ I ask hesitant not sure if she knows this fact. I stare at her, ready to bolt to her aid as she stumbles again once she steps inside closing her eyes and taking 2 steps blindly ahead.

‘’I know that, I meant as in up now. Everyone is usually closed off at this time.’’ she’s quick to explain opening her eyes carefully, looking around still squinting the ugliness still there.

‘’I should be asking you why are you up instead. Aren’t you usually dead asleep by this time?’’ I turn the conversation around, watching as she reaches the counter and places the roses on it, turning back to the doors. I snort to myself at her choice of clothing being a white shirt with jean overalls that hang slightly lose on her.

‘’To be honest I drank one energy drink or two too much, so I’m wide awake.’’ She replies turning to look at me, expression relaxing into a normal one, eyes still blinking quickly a few more times glossiness present in them ‘’Do you mind the doors?’’ the question has my brows rising in question ‘’Is the light bothering you? I can close them, if it is.’’

Surprised I contemplate for a moment, preferring that she does close the door off but there’s something more to her unusual question ‘’I’m fine with them as they are.’’ I lie and sit myself on the second bar stool from the right corner of the kitchen island, making sure I’m keeping a safe distance from the pesky sun.

‘’Oh good.’’ she sighs in relief perking up ‘’To be honest I didn’t even know how much I’ve missed the sun.’’ the short explanation is happy as she practically skips over to the doors anyways.

‘’Hm I bet you do.’’ I mumble reaching out for one rose, seeing with the corner of my eye as she slips into a pair of slippers that she has left near the wall which I didn’t even notice were there.

‘’Do you?’’ looking up she doesn’t seem like she means anything ill with the question. I think she’s naïve enough to be genuinely curious.

I take a moment to think about it looking out at the brightness, while she goes to rummage around the cabinets ‘’I’m not sure.’’ I admit ‘’I miss sightseeing certain places in day-light. It’s just easier going at night, instead of putting a ton of cream to my skin, and having an umbrella along.’’ I ramble remembering the time when I visited Paris alone. I put a ton of sun cream on, and picked out a designer umbrella, but the curious looks and people randomly asking me to take pictures with them as they thought I was a model or something got tiresome really fast.

‘’Hmm, that would guarantee unwanted attention I’m sure.’’ Her comment has me turning to her again curious as it’s like she read right through my thoughts. She’s filling out a vase or just a tall ornate glass up with water, face portraying her concentration with the matter.

‘’So, whenever you aren’t hanging out with vampires are you usually acting as a regular human being then?’’ I ask interested in her answer and maybe to learn more about her. Even though hyungs have quickly grown to thrust her, I still have my reservations. She talks a lot like A LOT but she never really reveals to much exclusively about herself.

I get a snort in reply eyes meeting my own briefly with a slight glare and edge before she turns to the vase and flowers ‘’It differentiates.’’ She starts ‘’I used to have a job high up somewhat, so yeah, I’ve spent the last couple of years just working. Working, sleeping and eating.’’ I’m taken a back at the new information not having expected her to reply seriously ‘’Had to be on point and available 24/7. You know how greedy humans can get.’’ She sighs tiredly. I can’t argue with that statement so I simply offer a faint nod, watching as her fingers work delicately over the flower petals, rearranging them around neatly. She accepts the flower I was toying with, with a small smile ‘’So one day when I was going to a library to do some research for a project I was doing, I stumbled upon a revelation and just decided to quit.’’

Taking a step back she cheers up instantly ‘’Ta-da.’’ I observe her mirthfulness observing her as she steps over to the sink, letting the water on as she runs her hands under it ‘’So with that done, and wanting to avoid confrontation as any normal human being…’’ I roll my eyes at that knowing what lengths humans are willing to take to avoid confrontations ‘’…I hoped on a plane and, after 5 hours from landing I walked right through your front door.’’ She ends her explanation, whipping her hands with a kitchen cloth.

‘’Just like that huh? No attachments nothing?’’ she nods immediately as I tilt my head shifting after to rest it over my bent left arm ‘’Aren’t you humans known for unnecessarily attachments to people and objects?’’

She chuckles at my statement nodding and smirking amused, hands set in motion as she stirs the gooey substance in the small pot. Smells like chocolate but the melted kind ‘’You’re right about that for the most part and people. But I’ve been sort of a nomad my whole life. Never stayed in one place for too long.’’ She shrugs spreading the substance all over the pastry working meticulously and evening it all out ‘’Didn’t find a reason to settle down.’’

‘’Why thought? Did your parents move a lot so that’s why you can’t find a place you genuinely like?’’ having studied a bit of psychology I pick up on her not fully revealed and rounded answer. She’s generalizing herself a lot. Her movements don’t stop or pause in hesitation at my question.

‘’The second part is more correct in a sense. My parents eh they were what they were.’’ Again, she shrugs, placing the two bananas on the edge of the pastry ‘’I moved a lot with my partner actually. We went on adventures and whatnot, ready to marry and all that jazz.’’ I raise both eyebrows feeling perplexed not having expecting that from the likes of her. That sounds a lot harsher than I intended it to but…I would have never expected her to want to marry, or well be serious about it.

For some reason I can’t imagine her being paired up with any regular man or woman, specially not human for some reason. It feels wrong, feels like nobody ordinary like that can handle her.

‘’Tragedy?’’ I ask assuming the progression of her story.

‘’Yep!’’ she replies too cheerfully for the theme of the conversation, popping the ‘p’ childishly ‘’Wasn’t meant to be.’’ She offers a smile as she looks at me, not looking that particular sad. It must have taken her a long time to get over it thought, because her eyes aren’t matching the mask that she has put on. I can heart the almost pitter patter of her slightly speed up heart. And the shakiness to her hands isn’t missed.

‘’Most things aren’t.’’ I agree remembering my own human experience. I was meant to marry a girl from my village. Being a fisherman, third generation I was meant to uphold the family tradition, and have managed to snob the prettiest girl. But yeah. Not everything is destined to happen as you expect them to. Although looking back I know Na-yeon was wrong for me in all aspect. Even back then with my human set mind and precepting I was mostly doing it as it was expected of me, and not because I genuinely wanted it ‘’Also what are you even doing?’’ I find myself frowning as she starts to roll the whole thing together, bananas disappearing inside the roll.

She doesn’t even respond for a moment, and has stopped breathing. I’m about to stand up and help her out force her to breathe when she straightens up grinning widely again that triumphant expression I’ve seen before present.

‘’A HA!!!!’’ she cheers removing her hands away carefully looking extremely proud at the brown coloured roll that’s left on the tray ‘’I present to you, a perfectly made chocolate banana pudding roll!!’’ she presents’ hands pointing at it dramatically.

I glance at the severely unimpressed desert ‘’Judging by that crack right there, it isn’t as perfect as you claim it to be actually.’’

‘’What no!’’ she rushes leaning over it, bumping her hips into the stone counter. Curses raise, sounding way to rough for the image of a soft girl that she’s unintentionally portraying as of today. She preoccupies herself with inspecting the roll ending up frowning as she straightens up hands placed on the counter while she glares at the desert as if it has offended her.

‘’If it’s any consolation if I were still human, I’d eat it.’’ my words have her shoulders softening up as she shifts and eyes it some more. Her lower lips juts out slightly mouth forming into this sort of adorable hurt puppy pout.

But it only lasts a few seconds, lips quick to turn upwards onto a thankful smile ‘’Thanks.’’ Once her eyes meet my own, I get this odd warm sensation in my chest, seeing her brighten up thanks to my words and encouragement.

‘’Your welcome.’’

*A few days later, later*

‘’I don’t understand why I have to be the one to check on her.’’

A pause ‘’Probably because you’re the only one to dislike her the most. And the most probable to not make any advances.’’ At this I immediately fake throwing up, Taehyung chuckles following as on que ‘’See?’’ he points out smirking ‘’Namjoon hyung got almost punched when he accidentally told a pick-up line yesterday. She didn’t even register it, but Yoongi hyung just went off on him. Poor Namjoonie.’’ He tuts shaking his head finding hyungs predicament funny judging by the smirk he has on.

‘’As perceptive as she is, she can be so annoyingly dull.’’ I half snarl exasperated groaning to myself.

‘’That’s mean Jeonggukie.’’ He raises a complaint ‘’Don’t be so cocky. There’s always more than meets the eye. Even in regards of humans.’’

‘’Yeah, we’ve all seen that but…’’ looking at Taehyung that’s still walking besides me, arm brushing against my own mischievously now and then – he’s giving me this fond look as his eyes take me in. We start to slow our steps down, as we’ve reached the doors that led to the library.

‘’But?’’ he insists as I shrug stuffing my hands into the front pockets of the oversize black hoodie I have on.

‘’I just don’t like her.’’ I mumble, glancing towards the door lowering my tone.

‘’Yeah why is that?’’ glancing up I’m surprised at the way he narrows his eyes, and gets sort of serious, licking his lips quickly.

It’s easy to let the frustration rise up again, get a hold of me around my throat choking me up for a moment as I have to think what to tell him exactly. He’s smarter than he looks, always two steps in front of you, catching Yoongi and Jin hyung of guard even though the two of them have practically seen it all in all the years they’ve been alive. This isn’t said in vain when others warn against Taehyung. He’s as cunning as he is stunning.

‘’It’s the way she is! She just gets on my nerves you know.’’ I try lamely frowning gaze going to the doors ‘’The way she breathes is exaggerated, the way she talks, her voice is way to scratchy and of pitched, the lack of manners towards hyungs ugh…’’ If I was human, I’d shudder from anger but I simply close my eyes in frustration that part of her still irking me greatly ‘’…and the way she keeps on wearing hyungs clothes, and not sleeping enough. Does she even eat enough? What is that all about.’’

I end up glaring at Taehyung who nods once holding his serious demander but soon after ends up smirking widely eyes sparkling almost. He arches an eyebrow clearly having thought of something ‘’There’s also the fact that she almost beat your score in Overwatch.’’

‘’THAT TOO!!’’ I half exclaim throwing my hands in the air, then proceed to step up and don for a moment ‘’With my reflexes how is that possible?!’’ Taehyung just keeps nodding in understanding ‘’She’s a child that’s what she is! Doesn’t reach any level where we are, mentally and maturely.’’

‘’Pfff says the late bloomer himself.’’ I stop moving around and give hyung a challenging glare.

‘’I wasn’t that late. Just had extra on my plate in regards of my abilities.’’ I pout going into a similar pose as the beginning just standing closer to the doors.

‘’Aigo, Aigo, Golden maknae.’’ He tuts affectionately walking closer hand coming up to place it over my shoulder as he leans close to me ‘’You’ve got a fair point there yes, but don’t you think that we’ve had to accept you too in the beginning? That there weren’t any let’s say fractions of hesitance’s from our parts?’’

At this my nose scrunches up as I know it’s true, about their reservations when it came to me. My telepathy came at a disadvantage in the beginning, strength easily frightening even Hoseok hyung who is considered to be the best fighter in our clan.

‘’That’s it Jeonggukie. I see how your clogs are starting to turn. Do you see my point?’’

‘’She’s human hyung. There’s a difference.’’ At this he waves his hand straightening up.

‘’Meaning it’s in your favour if you really despise her that much. She’ll die judging by her bad lifestyle choices in a decade or two. Maybe three.’’ He shrugs attitude way to uncaring unlike our conversation a few days ago where he praised her and defended her loudly against Jimin who was upset at her yet another refusal. So, the switch has me second guessing him, and myself as…I didn’t even think about her dying.

It causes that boulder that hasn’t left my stomach to churn and twist, burning even at the thought of imagining seeing her lifeless body.

I don’t even notice that we’ve fallen silent until hyung speaks up again ‘’Anyways I’m gonna go find Jin hyung and maybe convince him to go to the city with me. I need new pair of shoes and a new collection is rumoured to be just on the verge of launching.’’ He wiggles his eyebrows patting my shoulder for a moment in consolation before he’s backing away, right hand stuck in the pocket of his pants whilst he gives me a finger gun with his left-hand winking a cold breeze of air whooshing past me, his eyes for a brief second turning icy blue ‘’Good luck, Bunny. And be nice to our human. They are fragile creatures after all.’’

I tilt my head in confusion staring at him ready to ask what he means by that but he disappears in a blink of an eye taking off leaving me alone. Even though I don’t exactly need air to breathe I do take it in and sigh, recollecting the confusion that are my emotions and have been for the past few days. Spinning on my heel I glance towards the double doors which are decorated with golden motifs, having been painted into white the wood barely peeking through unlike the inner side that displaying the many years the tree had before it was chopped down.

Pressing onto the handle of the left door I silently without making any sounds enter the big room from another perspective, the other entrance being in the ballroom whilst this one leads inside from a corridor that connects to the music room in the back of this huge house.

Nothing seems out of the usual as I take a look at the ground floor. Nothing moves either. I can hear her speed up heart and breathing, murmurs now and then cutting of the serenity. I walk over to the table that has been left since the “party” we’ve had. The name plates have been removed from its surface but it has been filled up by different books, and scrolls even. I glance over the few notebooks and stray papers here and there easily recognising Namjoon’s handwriting as well as Yoongi hyungs. The cracked screen of the iPad is mocking me as it lays unsafely on one corner of the table.

What has my immediate attention is a different looking notebook. I smirk in amusement as this handwriting is as of a child, words scribbled down in a fast pace, letters somewhere half formed or just distorted, even smudged. There’s an ink stain from a hand near the edge of the page, which I brush my own fingers over it. I can’t read through the text as it’s written in another language, and the choice of letters themselves are unusual. I don’t think I can even pronounce any word.

I’m not really here to offer my academic assistance as I barely speak any English myself, but it’s kind of nice to see that her character is clearly portrayed in the way she writes, and how she fills the page up irregularly. She’s as chaotic in real life and on paper.

Musing for a moment further spotting glasses and bottles of water on the other end of the lengthy table, I do glance upwards towards the second floor, hearing as a pen or something small as a pen clatters hitting the ground. By the lack of movement, I already figured she was asleep.

Silly human. Her life style is really un-well and extremely badly planned. Stepping around the table my intention on getting the girl and carrying her to her bedroom, gets postponed as my eyes shift onto a book, that for whatever reason has my feet stopping.

The gold of the cover is unusual between the rest of the books with used and dried up leather and yellowed pages. I pick it up, buried in between a stack of smaller scrolls and encyclopaedias actually. I frown at the title; it’s about mythology. Every kind actually.

What’s the most puzzling is that it’s written by hand. And the handwritings differentiate. Multiple people worked on this, and judging by the smell of the ink and paper things have been added or pulled out. Pictures are drawn here and there, and languages vary from all around the world from what I can judge by some symbols and added explanations in English.

There’s a myth about Thor, expanding at least 20 pages. Another myth about Pele a Hawaiian goddess covers well over 30 pages with many illustrations, and instructions from what I can assume for tattoos.

Shifting around I do recognize myths from the hand drawn images instead of their native titles. Nearing almost the end of the book, as I sniff at the pages and feeling like a complete idiot for a moment, I have to sit down as these are completely new pages added to this. Taking a look across the table, I find the A4 format pages placed near the corner just ahead of me, along with an old type-y looking pen with ink next to it.

Turning a page, I recognise the writing as being Jin hyungs which completely catches me of guard. Is this what they have been working on? Writing about myths?!

Don’t we have a coven war brewing?

Shuffling through the many written pages coming to the last one, I stare blankly for a moment the myth about Dangun which I know as it’s of Korean mythology. And as appropriate it is written in Korean.

What am I missing here? Why have they been working on this?! Why did other people work on this?! I pull the pages going slowly backwards, seeing stories actually unfolding. It’s not hard to connect the dots after a few pages, that these are from Yoongi hyung. But these are dating WAYYYY back in the millennia it feels like when hyung was as young as we are now it seems. But he was more mature definitely.

I frown at a half empty page where a sketch has been drawn into a half finished only the golden frame being finished. The sketch though - I can tell that linear lines are spears and, some even arrows that are sticking from what seems to be a pile of bodies on the floor? Only one figure is standing in the centre of the picture, with their back towards us armour robust and yet slim in a sense. I narrow my eyes at the handle of the soldier – the pommel is shaped like a pouncing lion.

Battle of Hwangsanbeol

That’s the title. I know about it from what hyung told me, but this is written much more in detail. The main explanation is from what humans are being told in schools, I remember it from college when I studied mechanics years ago. But the new ink underneath and Yoongi hyungs writing, is an indicator that this is where his story begins.

He didn’t take sides in particular, changing armours as he shifted from a Silla’s soldier into a soldier of the Tang army. The similarity is there with added commentary to make you know more about how life was then. What gets my attention is the comradery between hyung and another fellow that name is very generalized. They’ve struck a friendship and have covered for one another in battle, which had him switching sides and to remain with the Silla side out of curiosity and maybe even naivety he describes it. He didn’t have as much experience then as he does now to have judged everything smartly enough, even though the odds were clearly in Silla’s favour.

The praise towards the human soldier is tremendous, giving him full credit of saving his life more than once. And even though he was a turned by that point into an immortal, the praise has even me feeling grateful towards the man.

He did raise up in ranks, but he never left Yoongi behind. During the main battle after the slaughter, he describes his fellow soldier as being remorseful, as they stared across the field of many fallen soldiers and warriors and manslaughter that stretched miles away it had seemed at the time. It was brutal but necessary – I forget that hyung is from a completely different timeline sometimes. It’s easy to mistake him, and others for younger vampires.

The solider…tilting my head I spot a few notes written lightly over hyungs hand-writing. My frown deepens as the anger I felt before towards her starts to simmer - it’s not hard to see that this is Y/N’s handwriting. Her comments are absolutely ridiculous, playing hyung’s praise off – she’s dismissing it. How dare she? What does she know about wars, she was born in peaceful times, I bet to a good family! She hasn’t never experienced the horrors of wars, the stench, the travesty the fear the…

‘’No!’’ a shout has me glancing up stiffly. I notice how my fingers have curled into fists and how tight my jaw has locked together from anger ‘’…don’t…’’ she breathes out her heart beat now hammering. Confused I glance upwards thinking that she’s playing a joke on me. I’m ready to fucking snap at her – if she really is pulling a joke on me right now, I’m going to kick her out of the house myself.

‘’Ah no…’’ her words shift a cry following. What? Standing up I wait for amount further listening to her speed up breathing that’s sounds like hysteria ‘’NOOOO DON’T TAKE HIM NOOO!!!!!!’’ her cry is of terror and panic. It absolutely shocks me to my core but has me moving upwards, reaching the second floor and top of stairs in a second ‘’NO HE’S MY SOU…’’ she continues to shout switching to another language panic rising.

I’m completely disoriented by the mess that I find on the upper floor, books pulled and settled in piles on the ground, as posters of maps hang up over the book’s shelves. The 2 floor is sort of a balcony going half around the room above both entrances. After legit 2 spins around myself, I pick up on a mattress actually located in the very corner of the library. There’s a sheet stuck to the bent down ceiling, and a ton of blankets are thrown around the mattress.

I can see her finally, leg sticking up shoulder peeking over as she shifts onto her side ‘’Agápi mou, agápi mouuuuu…’’

‘’Shhhhh Y/N-ah.’’ I whisper as I run to her side, kneeling right next to her, my hands coming in contact with her overheated skin. She’s drenched in sweat, and twitching like crazy as if she’s fighting someone ‘’Wake up Y/N-ah it’s just a dream it’s not real, it’s not real!’’

‘���No…don’t go…’’ I pull her body into my lap without a second thought. As I brush her hair away from her face she flinches away probably because of my cooler hand. She’s overheating. What catches me of guard and has me whining is the tears that are running down her cheeks.

‘’Y/N-ah wake up, please wake up! It’s not real okay, it’s just a nightmare! You’re here with me in the library safe and sound! Come on you silly human wake up.’’ I urge her on rambling shaking her gently. She startles awake, eyes flying open hands in fists ready to fight. I half expect her to punch me but once her eyes find mine, she ends up smiling tiredly body immediately going lax in my hold.

‘’My love.’’ She says in Korean right hand reaching up, left palm pressed flat against my chest where my heart is.

‘’Don’t fall back asleep.’’ I try as her eyes fall close back again, her breathing having stabilized somewhat ‘’The one time I legit want to hang out with you, you suddenly want to sleep ah? The disrespect.’’ I laugh worried as I take her in. The bags under her eyes are prominent, and her cheeks which looks sort of more sunken aren’t reassuring me with her wellbeing at all.

I stare as her eyes blink open, taking me in clearly her hand that’s resting over my chest raises up shakily to cup my other cheek.

The blissful expression that settled before turns into a frown and a pout, as her eyes take my features in the change in mood confusing me with what to do. I readjust my hold gently, holding her steadily in my arms, making sure I’m not pressing to much of my skin against hers. I’ve heard from others that humans don’t like our colder skin in particular.

‘’Jeongguk-ah.’’ She states to which I offer a smile immediately as she seems to be coming back from wherever her mind took her.

‘’Yep. That’s my name.’’ I reply feeling her body tense up but not prominently. She’s waking up slowly at her own pace. She hums suddenly and pulls her hands back. I have to stop myself from wanting to tell her that it’s fine if she wants to touch me. That only conflicts my emotions all the more.

‘’Sorry am…was I making too much noise?’’ she asks gathering her thoughts, eyes darting around getting clearer as she notices the odd position we’ve fallen into.

‘’No, not at all.’’ I says wanting to immediately start reassuring her that everything is fine and she didn’t do anything wrong, but I have a hunch she’s not going to believe me either way ‘’Hyung wanted to see where you were exactly, and I was bored so. Two birds in one stone.’’

I help her up, as she starts to shift wanting to sit on her own. Silence begins after my brief explanation and after I’ve helped her sit back down onto the mattress. Without her permission I grab for a warm looking blanket and pull it over her shoulders, sitting down properly right next to her having this need to be as close as possible. Maybe I should offer a hug? Please say yes.

‘’What time is it even?’’ comes her question before I can ask her my own. She starts sifting more towards me, in the beginning of her sudden restlessness keeping the blanket around herself as she reaches with both hands upwards to rub her fingers across her eyes.

‘’Around 10AM.’’ I reply glancing towards the curtains, that are letting through sunlight from outside across the polished wooden floors only ‘’I think Jin hyung missed you at breakfast today.’’ I offer a smile while she pulls her hands away, running one through her messy hair quickly. She’s hunched forward into what seems like an awkward position – her gaze still seems far off like she’s not fully present yet.

‘’Oh yeah breakfast.’’ She mumbles glancing to the end of the mattress, to which I notice more pages and a silver notebook that has slid from the edge of the makeshift bed the papers all sprawled on the ground clearly by accident ‘’I didn’t mean to sleep.’’ She starts clearly her brain slowly starting up as she looks at me finally absently scratching the back of her head ‘’My back started to hurt, so I figured I should lay down or lean against the wall.’’ Ah so that’s why there are so many blankets piled up against the wall behind us.

‘’You should think more about getting proper sleep.’’ I comment ‘’I’m sure as great as this place is and cosy, I bet a proper bed would feel a lot nicer.’’

My heart and stomach flutter as she breaks into a small smile looking back to me amused ‘’Heard that before.’’

I shake my head immediately ‘’Uh huh. And if you’d listen, I think that would magically stop too.’’

She chuckles at my words, the gesture filling me with sort of pride that I actually made her smile and laugh. Oddly I want to comfort her properly. I want to make sure that she’s alright. Seeing her so distressed it…I can’t help but to still feel a bit freaked out myself. Her state is worrisome. Traces of her tears are still present over her puffy cheeks.

‘’So...’’ I start awkwardly ‘’Are you okay?’’

At this she looks away smile disappearing slowly ‘’I’m fine.’’ Another smile raises over her slightly dry lips this one clearly forced. She’s putting up a front – I just want to help her.

‘’You…’’

‘’I’m fine!’’ she’s quick to add not even looking at me swiftly pushing herself away, crawling over to the fallen notes, hands prompt with gathering her things ‘’Its fine. Totally fine.’’ She repeats it like a mantra, almost doubling over when she attempts to stand up ‘’I got it!’’ after the exclamation she’s up on her feet, proudly smiling goofiness making an appearance ‘’Totally A okay!!!’’

Frowning I’m quick to stand up following as she starts walking forward, feet slipping into her slippers before descending down the steps.

‘’You sure are saying that a lot for someone that just woke up screaming.’’ I don’t hold myself back this time. Even though I can’t see her face as she’s slowly descending down, the spring in her step isn’t present as much. She always walks with a bounce to her.

‘’This is the first time, it happened.’’ She huffs walking straight over to the table once her feet reach the ground. I grimace at her blatant lie, having heard her before in similar states that make much more sense now. But it’s always Yoongi that’s was at her side, specially whenever she went to sleep. It is different completely different to hear her from across the house, than from seeing her up close. It gives new meaning to her as a person.

‘’Yes, but it’s the first time that I’ve seen you sleep and wake up like that.’’ I point out as she places her notes on the desk, probably noticing the opened book I’ve left behind in my haste. Her head remains turned towards it, eyes going over the opened page ‘’You have nightmares every time you sleep, don’t you?’’

Taking the last two steps my feet touch the ground floor. I wait for her response as I make my way over to her left side, standing near her but putting enough distance to give her personal space. She flips the golden book to a close, placing a random one atop of it, shoulders shrugging in the meantime. Is she trying to hide it away from me? Or herself?

‘’A lot of people have nightmares, Jeongguk-ssi.’’ The serious look she gives me, irks me in a bad way. And not as in before where I felt agitated selfishly thinking of myself, but in a way that she’s treating me distantly - like I’ve been treating her more or less. The honorific is just the cheery on top. I think the phrase ‘give him some of his own medicine’ is appropriate to point out right now.

‘’Not like that.’’

She keeps staring at me upholding the glare she settles on. It’s so different from what I’ve seen her be and act around others. For the first time, I feel like I see another side of her which she clearly doesn’t like to reveal to anyone. Or anyone that’s not hyung. It’s starting to really bother me. Of course, I don’t really want her hurting or in pain, what just had occurred is something I’m ever going forget, but I’m sort of glad that I was here to snap her out of whatever nightmare she was in. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. She looked completely heartbroken, and lost.

Seeing that she has taken up a stubborn approach, it’s hard to miss the way her body trembles. Wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt the difference in temperature has her obviously chilly maybe even cold.

Given that she doesn’t intend to lose whatever staring contest we have going on, I end up breaking it and reach for the end of my hoodie, tugging it over my head smoothly ‘’Here.’’ I say offering. She doesn’t reveal how surprised she is on the outside – only her heart jumping slightly does – but she does raise an eyebrow in question ‘’You look cold and neither of us need hyung to scold us if you’ll catch the flue.’’ If I was a human, I know my cheeks would be bright red as my reasoning is clearly lame.

She accepts the hoodie with a quiet ‘thank you’ and tugs in on quickly ‘’Okay so, where was I? You can help me move some stuff and get books I need…’’ I’m pleasantly surprised that she’s quick to fall into her work after what just happened. I do keep myself quiet as this is clearly a distraction. But the smile that raises over my lips I cannot stop. Even with her back turned towards me, she looks good in my clothes. My hoodie suits her. And I’m sure my scent will mix better with hers than hyung’s.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Copyright 2020© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

Dictionary: Dangun - was the legendary founder and god-king of Gojoseon, the first Korean kingdom Gaya also rendered Kaya or Karak - is the presumed language of the Gaya confederacy in southern Korea Geom - is the generic term for "sword", but more specifically also refers to a shorter straight-blade, double-edged sword with a somewhat blunted tip Lavender roses - is often a sign of enchantment and love at first sight. Those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have used lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions. Agápi mou /Greek/ - My love

[theseerasures]

so you wanna revolution (but everyone’s being so mean)

this post is a response to a lot of little flare ups that have happened in the past few weeks, but most particularly this post, and responses like these. my usual approach whenever someone has an opinion in front of me in this septic tank of opinions is to just ignore them to death, but this line of rhetoric has been flying around a lot lately, and isn’t going away anytime soon. i don’t think banging my head against this particular pinata will finally break it wide open to reveal the sweet sweet candy of complete and total anti-racism, but as an ally in this fight i’d still rather it be MY head instead of, say, someone with even less time and mental energy to spare, and more cranial trauma.

you all want a civil, even-handed explanation for why you need to put aside your opinions and hurt feelings and just learn? why these activists aren’t giving you the patience and understanding you feel you deserve? then let’s unpack this shit.

for the sake of argument i’m gonna take it as a given that the allies who protest that they’d be better at helping/more people would help if everyone were nicer to them ARE coming from a place of sympathy and desire to help. i’m not here to question anyone’s motives: i’m sure you’re also heartbroken about senseless black death and have been shaking your metaphorical fist at the injustice. but i want to dig a little deeper to figure out why your sympathies manifest so frequently and comfortably in critiques of how people talk to you/other theoretical allies rather than actions or conversations that actually dismantle the systems you’re supposed to be against, and to do that, i’ve laid out a few things that motivate comments like the above.

1) Don’t I have a right to feel hurt when someone is mean to me?

this is already a very commonly discussed point. yes! you do. but get a god damn sense of perspective about it, people are dying. it is perfectly normal–particularly if you’re coming from a position of privilege–to feel shocked or hurt when someone brusquely corrects you for doing/saying something you thought was on the level. no one is asking you to get rid of these feelings (at least, not all at once); what we ARE asking is that you not make the whole thing about your hurt feelings, rather than trying to learn from the critique. derailing productive discussions about what you’re all ostensibly here to do (ie., antiracist activism) so you can bicker over Robert’s Rules does not a good ally make. when you do that, you are implicitly declaring that there is nothing in the world so important that it can’t be postponed in favor of how YOU feel. your feelings cannot be more important than black lives. if the implication is that you won’t help if people are mean to you, you are essentially trying to hold the movement hostage for the sake of your own feelings.

2) We’re all working together. Shouldn’t I get equal say in how we do things?

short answer: no. long answer: if you’ve just jumped onboard the antiracism train, it might help to think of it as a skill that you need to practice and develop like any other. activism requires training and work, and the people who have been doing it for longer generally tend to be better at it. you should try listening to them and thinking about what they say instead of going with your gut response, because your gut response at the moment of criticism is most likely guided by emotional defensiveness. this doesn’t mean that you don’t get ANY say; saying something wrong and being corrected is an essential and constructive part of the process, but Jesus CHRIST learn to read the room. if you’re with people who have been immersed in this work for years, try LEARNING from them instead of criticizing the way they say things. if you all can appreciate asshole artists, critics, and comedians in other aspects of culture, you can definitely learn from activists who don’t have the patience to hold your hand every time you make a mistake.

3) You catch more flies with honey–that’s just how the world works.

sure, okay–i want you to take a moment to recognize the incredible gall and presumption to come freshly into a history and movement that has existed in some form for more than FOUR HUNDRED YEARS and speak to it as if it has no experience with “how the world works.” what you are just now realizing might be an actionable issue is a lived reality every day for black people. the fact that you immediately feel comfortable telling them how to secure their liberation and aren’t comfortable when they correct you is the height of white privilege. this is how knowledge and politics get colonized: colonizers come in under the guise of “helping,” adopt a position that they say is more “rational” or “worldly” compared to that of the colonized, and try to take it over for the colonized’s “own good.” if you are in fact trying to help marginalized people improve their situations, DO NO PRESUME to know how to address their problems better than they do. and if someone calls you out on it, learn to be better.

4) Shouldn’t we be on the side of reasonable discussions? People don’t learn from being namecalled a white supremacist, even when they get over themselves.

you know what? you’re right. education is a hugely important part of activism, and even beyond that, the cohesion and efficacy of activist movements do depend on its members treating each other with a certain generosity. black people have shown us a remarkable level of generosity by letting us–those who have been complicit in their oppression for centuries–into their movement, teaching us how to be most constructive and forgiving us when we make mistakes. so practice being generous to THEM instead of demanding more from them. recognize that it takes an immense amount labor to offer well-thought-out critiques to your shitty actions, and even more to have a long conversation with you. realize that attempting to communicate to you why you should care about their lives and livelihood is a deeply painful and traumatic experience. have some of the fucking empathy that you’re demanding from them! think about how terrible you’re feeling about all the 2020 tumult, and then think about how everything that’s happened this year has been orders of magnitude worse for the black community, and how terrible they must be feeling as a result. think about the fact that these moments of high activism DO NOT LAST FOREVER, so many activists are rightly prioritizing direct action and do not have time to guide you through your emerging wokeness. of course learning about why what you did was wrong is important, but the right way to do that is not to pester black people to educate you. the resources are out there. other, more experienced allies are out there. if you’re behind in a class, the solution isn’t to demand that the rest of the class stop to help you–the responsibility is on YOU to do the extra work to catch up.

5) But aren’t I being generous already? I’m offering to help these people even though I’ve never done anything wrong to them.

short answer: go fuck yourself! long answer: yeah, let’s go back to the “name calling” thing again. i fail to recognize why it’s so difficult–particularly for predominantly queer and/or feminist spaces–to recognize complicity and privilege in THIS arena compared to all others. we don’t say “not all white people” for the same reason we don’t say “not all men” or “not all straights” or “not all cis”–because white supremacy is baked into every aspect of our lives. it is inescapable. white supremacy cannot be restricted by the things other, cartoonishly racist people do. it is blood that is on ALL our hands, and we benefit from it daily. it IS uncomfortable to realize when you’re not the oppressed but an oppressor in a situation, but the way to resolve that is to sit in that discomfort, and learn to be better.

so the next time someone sharply corrects you, or tells you to check your privilege, and you’re upset about it, remind yourself that it is NOT ABOUT YOU. you are literally here because it’s unfair that so many things ARE about you. watch this video to remind yourself of what’s at stake! (it’s also in gif form!) revisit these slides about what you’re experiencing! (they were made by a high schooler, so you can really put yourself in that education mindset.) sit and process that feeling and learn why you were wrong without getting publicly defensive or asking a black person to coach you through it. donate to some MutualAid funds, legal defense funds, and personal fundraisers. badger some elected representatives about defunding the police. and realize that you’re still alive. you lived. you learned how to do better, and it didn’t kill you, and there’s still so much to do.

and if that still isn’t sitting well with you, you can also try eating an entire dick.

[megashadowdragon]

what celtic-pyro said  below

I just…hm…I think Lostbelt 2 had its flaws, for sure, but I don’t think all the criticisms being hurled at it are entirely fair.

First, people saying the “girls need to have kids by 15″ thing is a gross kink thing: I disagree. It’s fully intended to be disgusting, disturbing and unsettling. A clear sign of how dystopian this world is for humans that everyone who isn’t Gerda only reacts to with horror and shock. Gerda herself merely states it as a fact of life in the human settlements and there’s no moment where anyone is pressuring her to have children by 15 (beyond the implicit societal pressure at least). What bothered me about Agartha a lot was the way the female-on-male abuse was framed in an almost fetishistic context and jokes were made about it, like Astolfo joking about how he’d look cute in chains (bonus points for character derailment there). We don’t get that in LB2. I don’t mind ‘dark’ themes within a work as long as they’re handled in a way that doesn’t glorify or fetishize them and LB2 definitely did neither of those things.

Second, certain comments made by characters that caused many to cry “Romani’s law” over. Caenis’s remarks about Ophelia in particular were…interesting, at least in the context of his/her relation to Wodime. Their name escapes me but I saw a REALLY good analysis on him/her that put many of Caenis’s early dialogue in LB1 and LB2 into perspective (I’m so sorry my brain’s kind of fried so I forget what your name is!). I’d like to say overall that Fate is a franchise dealing with characters from history, so unsurprisingly they’ll sometimes say something politically incorrect (looking at you, Napoleon!). Plus, given the society she lived in and her own personal traumas, Caenis making that “cracked jar of oil” comment about Ophelia seemed fairly in-character, because it may have been how she saw herself when That happened.

Third, Napoleon’s one-sided crush on Ophelia. While he started off pretty immature about it, he recognizes that pursuing her may not be what she wants, and furthermore, could end up jeopardizing the mission. This is why he forms a temporary contract with you. I was fully expecting him to go off the rails obsessing over her (as one other FGO player had claimed he did) but I actually like how he ended his role in the Lostbelt chapter. Selflessly using his final moments to reach Ophelia so she could free herself of Surtr’s control and get to safety. It reminded me a little of Cu Chulainn’s (equally one-sided) crush on Rin, and how he similarly ends up saving her at the cost of his own life. (Alright it’s no secret Napoleon was my far my favorite thing about Lostbelt 2, he was just fantastic all around and added a lot of flair to cutscenes on top of being a top-tier free anti-Divine unit with great gameplay)

Fourth, Scathach=Skadi. I’m still less than happy that the devs went and made her a ScathachFace, and the in-universe explanation didn’t really do much in the way of telling us why Scathach, specifically, was chosen to be merged with Skadi, beyond a clever nod to a very niche, New Age conspiracy of the two being one and the same person. Having said that, this chapter warmed me up just a tiiiiiiiny bit to Skadi as a character. I really wish she’d simply been her own character separate from Scathach, just one with similar themes in her backstory, but I digress. I ended up not hating Skadi, only that she effectively body-snatched my wife the Godslayer.

Fifth, the dialogue apparently being repetitive. I didn’t really notice it too much? I guess the overarching themes were repeated a lot (love, hate, killing and sparing, ice and fire etc) but it didn’t seem that overbearing. Maybe it’s just me but I wasn’t noticing it getting to be a bore.

EDIT: One more criticism I don’t agree with, that Napoleon had no place in the Lostbelt chapter and should’ve been in Lostbelt 1. Yes, getting to shine in Anastasia would’ve let him finally take revenge on his Grand Armee’s defeat against the Russian Winter, and he also fittingly represents revolution and enlightenment. But otherwise he doesn’t really tie into the overall plot of the Russian Lostbelt, nor would he be much good against the Yaga or Ivan. Gotterdammerung, meanwhile, is full of Divine enemies where Napoleon’s anti-Divine Noble Phantasm was a huge boost.

Plus (and I made another post about this) he’s a literary foil of sorts to Salieri. A similarly fictionalized identity of a person who really existed in history, who offers something to that Lostbelt that both its people and its Crypter either didn’t have or were missing. Russia didn’t have music, and while the Yaga had no need for it, it was something Kadoc missed and something that helped us defeat Ivan. The children of Gotterdammerung had no heroes, nor wishes or dreams, but it was something Ophelia desperately needed, and it was through the things Napoleon represented that Surtr was defeated and Ophelia saved.

Now one criticism I think IS fair: Ophelia definitely deserved better. Without question. I’d have liked to have learned more about her or seen her have a subplot of having to choose between her friendship with Mash and her love for Wodime, or of being able to live without her Mystic Eye laying out every possibility for her and having to make those choices of her own accord. Or being able to fangirl over having Sigurd without Surtr’s influence, or getting to meet Napoleon a second time. There were SO many things the story could’ve done with her character arc, and I’m mad we’ll never get to see any of it in canon.

[space-whalesharks]

So that last post about it got attention so here’s Part 1 the Fake Dating /The Ref    John/Deputy AU I’ve been talking about for months. Figured I best  bite the bullet and get going on it. 

Helpless: 

Intent on making the Deputy say yes, he decides to use her family against her. He has her mother flown into the county, claiming to be the Deputy’s boyfriend who wants to surprise her with a family reunion. The Deputy arrives expecting trouble and plays along to keep her mother safe. But when it turns out that John’s also invited her father along, John realizes he vastly underestimated just how much drama a family other than his can have. He picked one Hell of a family to fake-date into. 

Deputy Nicolette Raylan sidled along the gardens dotting the exterior of Seed Ranch. She had been summoned there by John himself hours ago, somehow on her private channel. It had been a simple request, come to the Ranch to discuss ‘a deal involving your Atonement.’ 

It was the biggest, most obvious trap she had seen in the county so far. She had always been one to go in guns blazing to spring said traps in order to diffuse a situation. But this… this was a little too good to be true. 

There were no guards around. She hadn’t found any traces of snipers. The place had half of its floodlights out. And then the stranger bits: the sandbags were gone, the mounted gun was gone, and the crates of Bliss and God knew what else were nowhere to be found. 

The place looked like your average McMansion now. The distinct “Danger, Will Robinson!” vibe it gave off was missing for once.  It was other-wordly. 

Go figure, the place looking normal set off all sorts of red flags. 

She made two more sweeps around the perimeter and found the same result. No guards, no guns, no nothing. The only evidence that the house was being lived in was the glow from the lights inside. 

Something was definitely wrong. She went over to the entryway into the great room and reached to open one of the doors, only to hear it unlock right as she reached for it. Not one to give John the satisfaction of thinking he had the upper hand, she rushed forward, one hand unclipping the .44 at her hip, the other raised to punch him in the face- 

In the blink of an eye, there was a firm press of fingers at the small of her back that guided her forward and slowed her advance all at once, and another hand that smacked the .44 down and away. 

Most importantly however, there was also a warm, insistent press of lips against hers. 

Her eyes flew open at that particular detail and she let out an indignant squawk into said kiss when she realized John had been the instigator. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK. 

John pulled back before she had the chance to deliver the slap she had pulled her hand back for, caught her hand, and then brought it up between them and practically caressed it with his own. “Dear, you’re home. It’s good to see you. Hope your day wasn’t… that tough,” he declared loudly. Too loudly. Even for him. 

She scowled. “Oh, you of all people should know how bad it was, you f-” 

He put two fingers to her lips to stop her, and she had half a mind to reach up and break them, but the confused part of her who knew that would deter getting answers won over. 

“I do understand. And that’s why I arranged a little surprise for you. It’ll make everything better. I promise,” John insisted. He crossed behind her in order to close the doors, and when she stepped back, content to say ‘fuck it’ and run, he caught her around the waist and pushed her further into the room. 

She scowled at him. It was the first thing he done that didn’t seem bizarre.

There was a warning in his tone, she had known his voice and inflection well enough to know that. But that was the first thing that remotely made sense. Why was he being so cheery? Why the fuck had he kissed her? Her radio wasn’t around, none seemed to be planted anywhere- what was his goal? Her train of thought promptly derailed when he took her hands in his and started guiding her towards the side door. He held firm when she tried to squeeze out of his grip.  

He set her with a look that was nearly as hypnotic as Joseph looking at her and she had the absurd thought to be impressed until he stopped walking and looked off to the side.

She followed his gaze and nearly choked on her own tongue. 

The answer to most of her questions was sitting at the dining table in the back.  A woman with wavy greying black hair and green eyes- an aged mirror of her own face- looked up at her and smiled. 

Nicolette’s  heart plummeted accordingly. “Mom?!” 

“Honey! Hi!” Isabelle Raylan beamed and got to her feet. She pulled her daughter into a hug. 

Nicolette pulled her in closer and made a point to move so her body was between her mother and John. 

Stranger yet, John seemed to move away from them on his own accord- no looming with the intent to intimidate, no leaning forward in order to make a point, not anything. 

None of this made sense. What the Hell was her mother doing here? What the Hell had John planned? How was she still alive in his company? Was he planning on killing her in front of her? Christ, she couldn’t go through anything like that night again. She looked at John for a moment, and he gave a predatory grin over her mother’s shoulder. So this was one of his games. She was going to have to play if she wanted to get herself and her mother out of there alive, that much was certain. 

Nicolette released Isabelle from the hug and looked her up and down. “Are you okay? Did he-” 

Isabelle seemed none the wiser to her daughter’s concerns. “I’m fine, a little jetlagged, but otherwise happy to be here.” 

Nicolette gave her another once over. No injuries, she didn’t looked drugged- or Blissed. She was the picture of health. “Jetlagged…?” Nicolette began. “Hap…?” No one was happy to be in Hope County anymore. 

Isabelle looked from her to John. “My, you really did surprise her.” 

To her own surprise again, Nicolette looked at John and waited for an explanation that she was sure he’d have- with hardly veiled threats thrown in to boot. 

John stepped forward. “Well, I know how hard our girl works, and I figured she could use the mental break, so I pulled some strings and had home flown to her for the holidays instead of the other way around.” 

Nicolette opened her mouth, ready to fire off the new set of questions that sentence spurred- and then she chose to focus on ‘our girl’ in that sentence. ‘Our girl.’ He had kissed her.  Her mother was unharmed and happy to be there. And oblivious to any danger. What. The. Fuck. 

“How sweet,” Isabelle replied smoothly. 

John offered up what would’ve been a charming smile to those who didn’t know better- case in point her mother. He looked between them, then clapped over-enthusiastically. “Where are my manners. Mrs. Raylan, can I offer you a glass of anything? Water, wine? What’s your poison?” 

Nicolette wanted to strangle the man when his grin went downright evil at the last word. She turned to her mother. “I can get it for you.” 

“Nonsense. Your mother is my guest, Dear.” 

“And she’s my mother, John,” Nicolette countered through clenched teeth. 

Isabelle looked between them briefly, concerned. “I’m fine as is, I don’t need anything.” 

“It’s no trouble. Besides, my very brave cop girlfriend just got home from work and needs to relax as much as her mother does after a long day of travel.” 

Nicolette scowled at him, then when she saw her mother look between them expectantly, she figured out a way to get out of the situation. “Bags!” she blurted. “Mom, did you bring luggage with you?” 

“Oh, yes, it’s right over here-” Isabelle motioned at the suitcase in the corner. 

“Great. We’ll bring it to the guestroom.” There were probably five.  She took the suitcase.  “Excuse us, Mom. John, let’s go.” She grabbed John by the arm and yanked him over to the archway on the other side of the room and into a second living room- because of course John was that rich- she picked an adjoining door and shoved him inside, hoping it was anything bigger than a closet. 

It ended up being a bathroom, but she would take what she could get. 

She whirled on him. “You’re taking my mother hostage?! What happened to waiting for me to say yes?! What happened to not forcing it like your siblings?!” 

Charming facade gone, John slipped right back into that thinly veiled air of danger around him was back. “I considered the fact that having a familiar face around might ease your mind and have you hear us out.” 

“So you threaten my mother.” 

“Oh, I don’t threaten, Deputy. I don’t want to harm her. Or you. I’ve told you that.  We only want you to see things our way.”

“What, and if I say yes, she goes home?” 

“If she wants. Maybe I’ll make a convert of her, too.” 

Nicolette advanced on him. “Stay away from her.” 

John put his hands up in mock surrender. “Won’t interact more than necessary. Scout’s honor.” 

“You were never a scout,” she countered. “That’s more Jacob’s speed.” 

“He’s a modern one. We never had the time to be scouts back in the day,” John objected. 

Nicolette laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, is the murderous psychopath giving a shitty attempt at a sympathy grab?” 

His answer was instantaneous and sounded far too rehearsed: “I never kill people.” 

“Tell that to Rae-Rae, Alex, and everybody else who crossed you,” she countered. 

“Well, you haven’t crossed me. Not yet.” 

“That’s not helping this.” She opened the door back up and went down the hall opening every door on each side of the hallway before she found a bedroom- not remotely extravagant enough to be his. She set the luggage down and turned sharply and nearly collided with his chest in the process.  “So how long do you plan to keep her your guest? I’m guessing I’m stuck here just as long. No, scratch that. I am. I’m not leaving her alone with you.” 

“She’s retired, is she not? As long as it takes.” 

“She doesn’t like relaxing for too long. She’ll get tired of this place after two weeks.” 

“Then for both of your sakes, I hope it takes you two weeks to see the light.” 

“Never,” she snapped. “And if you don’t expect my people to come to my rescue if it comes to that-” 

“Then they along with your mother will die,” John cut her off, and grinned when her face fell. “So I highly suggest you play nice, at least for now, and maybe I’ll let you go warn them off in person.  I highly suggest you convince her to stay longer. I’m doing this for you. I could’ve had her down in my bunker, but I chose comfort. Remember that, Dearest.” 

“Fuck off.” 

John’s grin widened again, then immediately turned on his heel and left the room. He turned back around the corner and went through the door leading back to the great room. He leaned over the railing. “I realized that was extremely rude of us to leave you here. Allow me to give you a tour.”  He descended the staircase, and Nicolette had to stop from gagging when the bastard offered her his elbow.

She couldn’t help the brief pained look when Isabelle looked from his elbow, to him, let out an impressed little “Oh”, and hooked her arm around his. She raised her eyebrows at Nicolette. Of course he would manage to charm her mother in seconds. Of course. 

Nicolette caught John’s warning look over Isabelle’s shoulder and forced a smile. “Great.” 

John led them back into the main part of the house, and Nicolette resigned herself to whatever kind of fate she was about to get into. At least this meant she could get a decent idea of a floorplan to tell the Resistance if they ever raided the place. 

[blackaquokat]

Bruised Hearts

Fandom: WKM

Pairing: DAtective (Abe x Y/N District Attorney)

Summary: In which an innocent outing turns into a fist fight and the fall out leads to an unexpected consequence.

(Or, alternatively, the author attempts to write in another character with mixed results.)

A/N: Hey guess what? I didn’t forget about this, but I had three different drafts and hated each of them until I finally powered through this one. I ended up going with suggestions by @beereblogsstuff , @dontworryaboutanything , and @skidspace but I did love ALL the suggestions in my inbox, so I will be tackling them at later dates. Something to note: this won’t be canon in Law & Disorder. Instead, this will be part of a different one which will be more in line with the canon suggested in Wilford Motherloving Warfstache. Take from that what you will.

(Spot the Ocean’s 11 Reference in this piece.)

Now, without further ado, here is the DAtective Installment of my 200 Follower Celebration works!

Oo00oO

“This is taking some getting used to…” his partner comments as they adjust their new glasses.

“I thought you had glasses when you were a DA?”

Abe thinks they look rather scholarly with the thick black rims framing their eyes. It’s still a bit of a shock to see his partner in modern-day wear, but…not an unpleasant shock.

Or at least it’s unpleasant in the way that a modern-clothed District Attorney sends his heart into sporadic beats of Morse code.  

“I only needed them for driving before,” they answer, oblivious to the heat rushing into his neck. “Or for going to the theater. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that death impaired my vision…”

Abe shouldn’t laugh, but he does. He also shouldn’t have this urge to grab their glasses and try them on himself, but that’s another problem entirely.

He half-heartedly protests when they drag him out of the biting cold air and into the nearest pub. “What’s going on here?”

“If I have to wear glasses on a regular basis now, then we’re damn well going to mark the start of this hell-fest with a drink.”

And they call him overdramatic.

(One time Abe announces a zombie apocalypse when a dead body twitched in front of him and suddenly he’s overdramatic. At least Wilford didn’t judge him, though he could have done without the gun waving at the time.)

While he’s on that line of thought…

“Shouldn’t we make sure Wilford hasn’t burned the apartment down?”

“It’ll be good to leave him alone a little longer, show him some responsibility, if he’s even at the apartment right now. Shot of whiskey, please,” they order from the bartender.

He orders a beer as his partner’s whiskey is placed in front of them. They banter back and forth, discuss the growing pile of cases waiting for them at home, and overall just…exist.

Together.

Even after a year since his partner’s unexpected return, and a little longer since Wilford destroyed his preconceptions of this nonsensical world they’re all trapped in, Abe still expects to wake up to an empty apartment. He still finds himself staring at his partner while they curse at the coffee pot, or when they sing whatever modern song they most recently discovered (lately it’s been an odd roulette of Beyoncé and some European metal group). Sometimes he’ll do something obnoxious like tug on the sleeves of their sweaters or ruffle their hair to get a rise out of them (which usually involves a hand-swat or a not-so-gentle elbow to his gut) to keep himself tethered to their presence.

(These moments tend to be hijacked by a randomly appearing Wilford, who either says something off the wall or does something rather insane to derail these moments. Abe only puts up with this since he wouldn’t have found the DA again if not for the psycho. He still questions as to when the term “psycho” became a term of endearment.)

He restrains himself from these actions now, since he’s already hyper-aware of how close they’re both standing next to each other at the bar, their glasses reflecting the hanging television screens and highlighting the liquid penny color in their eyes. Long before his partner lost their body and soul at the manor they looked like they’d witnessed eternity and scoffed at its depths, now they’re just tinged with an even darker awareness.

That eternity-tinged gaze is directed over his shoulder, narrowed in suspicion. “Can we help you?”

Abe turns to see three guys standing behind him. The one in the center has bloodshot eyes and keeps swaying from side to side.

(What kind of jackass gets flat-out drunk at eleven in the morning?)

“Hey, asshole, you’re in my seat,” the guy says without preamble. The two behind him do not look like they’re about to discourage him.

Abe chugs the last sip of his beer and settles it back atop the bar with a satisfying thunk. “I don’t see your name on it, bud.” He steps forward enough to keep his partner out of the jackass’s sight.

“I’d like you to move, pal.”

“Who you calling ‘pal,’ friend?”

“Who you calling ‘friend,’ jackass?!”

“Hey!” Abe jabs a finger at the guy. “You’re already ‘jackass’ in my head, we can’t both be jackasses today!”

“You son of a—”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty,” his partner suddenly interjects, treading between the two. “Please leave us alone before we all get kicked out for causing a scene,” they direct to the strangers.

Ever the attorney, his partner.

The trio of jackasses doesn’t hear the undercurrent of threat in their voice, however. The center jackass looks Abe’s partner up and down with something lewd and dismissive lined in his mouth. “Oh we’re way past that, birdie, now why don’t you back off and let the big boys hash it out? I can deal with you later.”

The word “deal” is emphasized with a shift of his eyebrows and Abe almost throws down right then and there, but his partner holds their arm out, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

Abe isn’t surprised when his partner stands their ground. They’ve never put up with being talked down to for long.

He is surprised when they clock the guy in the face without further verbal sparring.

The situation descends into chaos from there as Abe and the jackass’s friends join the fight with flying fists, bruised faces, and two bloody noses along with many other injuries until the bartender threatens to call the police.

Abe grabs the former District Attorney by the waist to keep them from giving one of the guys a second black eye. They fight vehemently against his hold.

“Whoa there, partner, take it easy—”

“Put me down, Abe, I got this!”

“I know you do, but why don’t we not deal with the cops today?”

Abe really shouldn’t enjoy carrying them outside and several blocks down, but he does. They’ve never been tiny, per se, but their solid form against his chest does odd things to his pulse. Their warmth also helps the initial rush of cold air pricking at his skin once again.

He finally releases them and they turn on him with an anger he’s certain could vaporize better men than he. Their glasses are askew, but somehow undamaged despite the peppered scratches on their cheek and split lip.

They jab a finger in his direction, voice going low. “Never. Carry. Me. Again.”

“Fine, but what the hell was that?” Abe demands. “Since when do you pick fights with total strangers?”

“If I recall, you were the one who almost got into that fight, I just beat you to it—”

“Don’t derail me with semantics, partner, what’s the problem?”

They cross their arms. Their knuckles are split and bleeding. “I didn’t realize I needed a license to beat the hell out of a bunch of perverted idiots.”

“C’mon, you know that’s not what I meant—”

But they’re already walking down the block again. Abe groans to himself and trails after them.

He doesn’t press for answers again, though it would be nice to have an answer for why he has a black eye right now.

He catches a glimpse of them shivering at the sudden rush of rain-threatening wind. They stifle the shaking once he catches up to their brisk pace.

At least this is familiar territory.

Abe takes his jacket off and puts it on their shoulders. He watches from the corner of his eye as they slip their arms into the sleeves.

As the rain slowly begins to trickles down around them, Abe spends far too much time wanting to take off their glasses to wipe the water off and maybe kiss their nose while he’s pushing boundaries.

Only the fear of another well-deserved elbow to his gut, or maybe even a punch to his face, prevents him from doing so.

Oo00oO

His partner doesn’t speak to him when they arrive home, but they do wrap up an ice pack for his eye. They head for the bathroom attached to the bedroom before he can try to fix up their own injuries, but not before he catches the guilt in their frown.  

The urge to demand an explanation wells up again, and Abe crushes it.  He can ask later, or they will tell him. He’s hoping for the latter. If he has to ask, it might mean they have no plans to bring it up themself.

And they really need to discuss this.

A quick glance around the apartment tells him that Wilford is not in, and probably has not been in for a while. Abe’s best guess is that the crazy bastard is off dancing again (when did “crazy bastard” also become a term of endearment?). So long as Abe and his partner don’t get any calls regarding any shenanigans Wilford gets up to, perhaps he and the DA can have the talk they need to have. In the meantime, he hangs up his wet jacket to dry and starts up the coffee pot because why the hell not?

A half-hour later, his partner re-enters the main room, their knuckles wrapped and the largest cut on their cheek bandaged. Their glasses rest on their nose still, smudged from a cleaning attempt it looks like. Without a word, they go sit on the couch. They pat the cushion beside them.

Abe sighs in relief. He hops over the couch and lands with a plop onto the cushions.

Before they speak, Abe blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

Their brow furrows. “I—what?”

He didn’t quite mean to jump right into this, but so long as he’s on the subject…

“You were right. I could have walked away, but I didn’t. Had you not stepped in, I definitely would have beaten the guy into a bloody pulp before you. I can’t exactly judge you for getting a head start on me. So I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about it.”

His partner taps their fingers against their forearm and shakes their head. “When I was still a lawyer, I probably would have just pulled you away and we both could have gotten out unscathed. Now…”

Abe hadn’t thought of that, but in retrospect, maybe that’s where his surprise came from. Far as he knows, they’ve only ever gotten into fistfights when no other options were available.

“Now?”

Their head tilts back to gaze at the ceiling. “Most days I still feel like I’m not here. Like I’m still trapped, like…like I still have something clawing to get out of me. When that guy looked at me the way he did…it brought back awful memories and I decided to just let it all out for a moment.” Their laugh is a bitter sound. “At the time, it felt good to let loose and finally tear into a guy without worrying about what it might do to my reputation.”

They look back at him. Their hand takes his, fingers tracing over a bruise on the back of his hand.

“I forgot, for a moment, that just because I wouldn’t necessarily be consequences for myself, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences for someone else.” Their gaze is so intense Abe can barely breathe. “So I’m sorry you got hurt because I couldn’t walk away from a fight either.”

Abe should be thinking about their words, and he is, truthfully.

He remembers how uptight they were Before. Always afraid to stray off the straight and narrow the slightest bit for fear of all their hard work being undone in an instant. Even when they were undermined left and right they would keep silent, or as much as they could bear to depending on the circumstances. Abe can understand how the sudden disappearance of that intense pressure would affect them like this.

He remembers all of that.

But all he can think of now is how alive they looked when they clocked that bastard in the face. The furious fire alight in their eyes, the power of their hits, he never considered fist fights to be romantic, but then again, Abe never really had a specific type before.

Or perhaps his type has slowly taken shape into complicated former attorneys who call him out on his shit as much as they take part in it.

Abe doesn’t realize he’s moved until he’s already taken their glasses off their face and started cleaning the smudges with the bottom of his shirt. He chances a glance at his partner, who is staring at his moving hands like…well, he has no idea. A strange mix of confusion and something indefinable.

He doesn’t even try for an excuse for why he did that. And they haven’t done anything to stop him.

When he’s satisfied that the lenses are far clearer than before, Abe grins triumphantly at his handiwork, holding them up like a trophy.

His partner smiles back. There’s a bruise right on their cheekbone.

Abe means to put the glasses back onto their face, he really does. Instead he shifts closer to them, leaving enough space so they can move away if they wish to.

They don’t move.

“I will gladly have your back in any fist fights we start in the future,” he whispers. Before he can second guess himself, he pulls them in closer by the shoulder with his free hand so he can press a brief kiss to their forehead.

He intended to scurry off right after doing so, but they grab his hand and he stills. There is a long, pregnant pause.

They do not stare so much as probe deep into each other’s eyes like something out of a damn soap opera or something nonsensical and ridiculous along those lines. He wonders if they feel like their skin has been peeled away too. He wonders what they see that keeps them from breaking away from whatever this is.

Are they getting closer to him, or did he start leaning first, or is he just going crazy?

“Quite a storm out today, my friends!”

Abe and his partner jump to opposite ends of the sofa when Wilford suddenly appears, sitting on the middle cushion with his legs crossed. He’s wearing that godawful afro again. The false pink hairs are tipped with pearly raindrops.

His partner brushes their curls out of their face and clears their throat. “Hi, Wilford.”

Abe has no idea how they manage the nonchalance in their voice after the intensity of the moment five seconds before. Then again, they adapted to Wilford’s random and impossible materializing far quicker than Abe did.

“Were you out dancing?”

“Of course I was! Best way to pass a rainy day is a good disco party!”

“And the candy cane?” his partner asks.

“The what?”

They point to Wilford’s afro where, sure enough, the edge of a candy cane is sticking out.

Wilford pulls the treat out of his hair and stares at it for a moment. He shrugs and starts licking the cane, heedless of the synthetic fibers still stuck to it. “Perhaps one of Santa’s elves paid me a dance!” He declares mid-lick. “There were some lovely people there with pointed hats and striped stockings.”

“It’s October,” Abe points out. He doesn’t know why he’s still attempting to apply logic in this wherever-they-are, but it makes him feel better to try.

“An elf is an elf year round, my friend,” Wilford intones with the wisdom of an age-old scholar.

“They might have been witches, that’s all I’m saying. Wrong time of year for an elf to be hanging about.”

“Are you saying elves can’t be witches as well? My dear Abe, I wouldn’t have thought you to be so close-minded!”

“Yeah, Abe, don’t be so prejudiced,” his partner teases. “You might not get a visit from Santa otherwise.”

What the hell are they talking about right now?

His partner holds out their hand, uncaring of Wilford between them. Abe blinks and realizes he’s still holding their glasses. He hands them back sheepishly.

As they put their glasses back on, Wilford comments, “Well, look at you now, dear friend! You look like a scholar ready to prove the existence of dear old Nessie herself!”

They roll their eyes with a smile. “I appreciate that, Wilford.” They wink at Abe and he jerks his head away to hide a smirk of his own. “What are you up to now?”

“Well, now that we’re all on this couch together, I say let’s just enjoy one another’s company!”

Abe glances back to see a bowl of popcorn in Wilford’s lap, and the remote in his hand. “How the hell—?”

“Can we go to that channel that plays classic movies?” his partner asks without missing a beat. “I’ve been in a mood for something like Casablanca or Shop Around the Corner.”

“Oh, alright!” Wilford grumbles. He gestures at them wildly with the remote before switching on the television. “But I say we look for Tom and Jerry after this!”

“Sure. Now pass me the popcorn.”

Abe spares a glance at his partner again and thinks about their shattered moment. He shakes his head as a black-and-white film takes shape on the glowing television before them.

Probably for the best if he pretends there’s nothing between him and his partner. The three of them are already stuck in a world that doesn’t make sense.

Why begin one more thing he barely understands, even if it does stir up parts of him he thought were long dead?

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @wkm-detective-abe-squad , @veryobsessivefan , @lizard-in-a-skinsuit , @babymadz , @rainbowkittens97 , @peachythekeen-deactivated201810 , @statictay , @starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @ren-mon , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @musical-jim , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods

[glimmerglanger]

bthb: tortured for information

I almost forgot, one segment of ‘in the lands of gods and monsters’ (sequel to ‘as if death itself was undone,’ post-infinity war thorki fixit) was written for @badthingshappenbingo, to fill in my spot for ‘Tortured for Information:’

(I’m not doing a great job filling in five spaces in a row.)

Since the entire fic is almost 40k, and the applicable segment only close to 3k, I’m posting it separately. It pretty much stands alone as the after effects of a capture by the enemy gone very, very wrong, anyway, but further context is available on ao3! Anyway. Without further explanation:

And Monsters

Thor should have known not to trust to happiness, not even for a second.

Life had been nothing but one nightmare after another for so long. But he had thought it was past, that with his work and Loki’s they had moved beyond the tribulations of their tormented history, into a new world with their renewed people.

But everything had gone wrong once more, starting with dark whispers of warning delivered by Agent Romanoff regarding developments on Earth, so many days ago. He should have listened to her more carefully. He wished he had.

It was too late to go back and change things, to take seriously the threat the folk of Midgard might be. They had not dared attack New Asgard - not yet, Thor thought, in a wash of sick clarity, but now that he was gone they might do anything - instead luring them away, to a place where they were unprepared to defend themselves.

He did not recall all that had happened. He remembered pain, a sick, overwhelming sense of it, and crushing weight forcing him to the ground as his thoughts turned to Loki and Frigga.

He had not been able to reach them. The thought dragged a strangled cry from his throat. He could only imagine what was being done to them, what had already been done to them. Had he not sworn on his very life he would allow no more harm to come to his family? The words tasted of ash in his mouth, echoing in his head to remind him of his failure.

He had not been able to reach his child. He had left Loki to face whatever horrors awaited alone, and now they left him in the dark, chained at his neck and wrists with some strange, burning metal that he could not break, no matter how he strained against it.

His eyes had long grown used to the dark, but there was nothing to see but more dark. He could not turn his head to either side. The thick collar around his neck prevented it and bit into his jaw and shoulders. The muscles in his chest and back, all down his arms, burned with the strain of pulling against the shackles that kept his arms cruelly extended.

His knees ached, resting against the floor. They wouldn’t even allow him the pride of standing to await whatever foul fate they’d planned for him. He knew he deserved whatever they did. His failures had to be answered. But he hoped he would be able to kill some of them first.

He hoped they would not merely leave him to rot here, starving in his own filth.

He hoped--

Light flooded shocking into the room, derailing his thoughts and burning his eyes. He squinted against it, hissing, refusing to close his eyes all the way. The white brightness of it stung like fire; he snarled into it, “I’m going to--”

“There’s something we wanted to show you,” the voice came from behind him. Thor tried to twist automatically, unsure how anyone had gotten there, and caught on the chains. He could not identify the speaker. Their voice was strange and rasping, unpleasant to listen to. Nothing here was pleasant.

“The only thing I want to see is your broken body at my feet,” he snapped, holding onto the anger in his chest for all it was worth.

The unseen man chuckled, an almost clucking sound. “Then this will be a disappointing day for you,” he said. Thor could feel the stranger, standing directly behind his shoulder. They’d stripped Thor’s armor away, left him with nothing but his skin and sweat. “Before we begin,” he said, “there are a few things you should know. First of all, you can call me… Agent White”

“Where is Loki?” Thor asked, misliking intensely the direction this conversation seemed determined to head. “Where is my daughter?”

White tsked at him, as though he were a wayward pupil. “In due time,” he said. “We have questions for you.”

“If you’ve hurt them--”

White hurt him, then. He did not know how. The pain came from everywhere, from the air around him and the air in his lungs. When it passed, he hung limp for a moment, panting for breath and resisting the urge to scream.

“Listen,” White said, patient. “We have questions for you. You can answer us and make this easy.”

Thor spat on the ground. “I won’t tell you anything,” he said, and laughed, the sound breaking to pieces inside his chest.

He felt White move and strove ever harder to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eyes. White stayed just beyond his vision. “We thought you might say that,” White said. “So we set up an alternative approach, just to see if anyone else might be more interested in sharing.”

Thor’s breath caught at the words. “Loki,” he said, panting it. “He lives? You will--”

“For now,” White said. “But he’s not answering us, either.”

Thor reached for the force of the storm with all of his might and got nothing in return. It was like beating upon a closed door. He growled, “If you’ve hurt--”

There was pain, again. Eventually it stopped, leaving his head ringing and the taste of blood in his mouth. “I think,” White said, “that you are suffering under some misapprehensions. You’re in no position to threaten or issue orders. You will answer our questions, or we will hurt you until you do.”

“You will all die,” Thor told White, blinking sweat out of his eyes, barely feeling the sting of it.

White sighed. “Perhaps,” he said, “what you need is a demonstration.” Thor opened his mouth again and felt the words die on his tongue. The blinding white light in front of him changed, shifting to something that allowed him to see what was going on in the space before him.

He cried out as realization grounded itself down through his bones. Loki waited before him in a room, dark and organic. All of his armor had been stripped away, his scars dark in the greenish light. He lay on a curved table that bent him backwards, exposing his stomach and chest, the lone lines of his thighs. There were marks across his skin, purple, black, and angry red. Smears of blood spread like ugly shadows over his body. His hands were bound above his head, his hair in disorder, and his expression was terrible and distant. And he was not alone. There were two other figures in the room.

One figure circled him, impossible and terrible and familiar. Thor knew the face as well as his own, the fall of dark hair, the sharp smile, the flashing eyes. The creature looked as Loki had, once, years ago, in his mad service to the Titan Thanos. He looked corpse pale, with reddened skin around his blue eyes, his mouth pulled constantly into a snarling smile.

The second figure Thor recognized even better. He saw the features each time he looked into a mirror. But there was something wrong with his double, beyond the fact that he wore full armor and moved like a predator. It’s hands, he realized after a moment, were bloody red.

Thor yelled, crying out, and was ignored. “They can’t hear you,” White said, sounding pleased. “You may only listen, and watch. And when you are ready to stop it, you can answer my questions.”

Thor could find no reply to that, no reply as his double drew to a stop, close to Loki’s side. Loki flinched, noticeable in the tightening of the skin around his eyes and the shift in his hair. The thing wearing Loki’s face bent closer, its mouth pulled into a sharp, cruel smile as it said, “I can see that you need a break. Why don’t we just return to our previous topic of discussion for a while? Let the questions rest?”

Loki said nothing. His gaze did not shift from the middle-distance. He looked… terribly used to what was happening to him. The thought soured Thor’s gut yet further, adding to the horror of the fact that he could not see Frigga.

He startled when the doppelganger began to speak once more. “He’s just using you, as the Asgardians have always wished to use you. You know that. You’re useful now. You brought back the dead for him. You gave him an heir. He doesn’t love you.”

It was not the tact Thor would have imagined that these creatures take. They had only inflicted pain on him, after all, and surely they had to know that Loki would not---

Loki, the true Loki, jerked once, violently. He looked stricken, as though someone had reached into his chest and sunk fingers into his heart. He kept his lips pressed into a thin line, but he curled his fingers - stretched so far above his head - into claws.

“How could he?” The doppelganger continued in a slow, even voice. “Don’t you remember everything you’ve done? Everything you are? He’s a king and you’re an unwanted bastard child, left for the cold, for your enemies to do with what they wanted. You betrayed him. So many times. You know you’re nothing but a useful beast. A pliant body. How could you ever be anything more than that?”

Thor struggled against the bonds holding him, roaring in a fury that did not seem to reach Loki, where he stared at nothing, his eyes grown terribly bright, wet, as the thing with his face leaned close to his ear.

“The Aesir only tolerate you because you brought them back. And they’ll forget that soon enough. You’ll only remain useful while you keep the Jotun placated. And they don’t need you for that, really. Not with Frigga.”

Loki’s eyes widened. He seemed not to be breathing. “They’ll take her away from you,” the thing said, sounding almost apologetic. “Or he’ll get another on you and take that one. Give her to me, instead. Give her to me, before he can take her. I will make sure she never experiences pain. Or loss.”

The thing that looked like Loki reached out, brushing Loki’s face, and Thor bellowed, the sound torn directly out of his gut at the sight of that cold, vicious smile.

Loki twisted his face away and panted, “No.” His voice sounded strange and shredded. Broken. The thing with his face recoiled at the sound of it, a flash of confusion crossing its stolen features.

“What?”

“No,” Loki panted again. “You… lie. He loves me.”

The thing threw its head back and laughed, mockery in each echo of sound. Thor’s double joined it a moment later, and Loki jerked bodily against the bonds holding him down. “No one loves you,” it said. “You know that. You are forever unwanted, unloved, un—”

“He does,” Loki insisted, shaking his head, blinking his eyes for the first time in an age. “I gave him an heir. Brought back his people.” Something in Thor’s chest ached, even then, in the middle of this mad nightmare, to hear such reasons given for his affections, as though they would not have been there anyway, as though they had not endured through so many ages of their lives, as though he had not loved Loki even standing on Stark’s hideous tower, feeling the blade of a knife slide between his ribs.

“And you think that’s enough?” the thing with Thor’s face sneered. “Such a paltry offering—” Thor yelled once more, the agony of being unable to do anything to stop these lies, these lies delivered with his own mouth, too much to bear. He surged and struggled against the bonds holding him back, and got nowhere and nothing.

“It is for him,” Loki said, his quiet voice cutting across Thor’s ragged cries. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to clear something from his eyes. The skin around his eyes began to stain blue.

“You are lying to yourself,” the thing with Loki’s face hissed, grabbing his hair and wrenching his head to the side, the first time it had demonstrated violence. “Like the foolish child you are. You are only loved as long as you are useful. When your use wears out he will set you aside. You will be left alone again in the cold, while he picks some small, soft woman to warm his bed. Do not be a fool. Act now. Hurt him before he hurts you.”

Loki’s fingers shook, for a moment the blue faded, and then he took a wet, hitching breath and steadied. “No,” he said, his voice wrecked and broken. The blue spread, back towards his temples and something rose from his skin, something dark and shimmering, a fog bleeding out of his eyes.

“Stop!” the creature snarled, twisting its fingers tighter into Loki’s hair, shaking him viciously. It gestured at the thing with Thor’s face, and Thor had the fresh horror of watching himself fit his fingers around Loki’s neck. He ignored the pain, the agony he bought by struggling against the bonds unto the point that he thought he might break his own bones, tear muscle from tendon. And it was not enough. “You know I am right. You are a broken thing. Ruined. He will turn against you, you—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki gasped. The darkness hovered around his face, tendrils creeping down, moving towards his ears, his nose, his mouth. And Loki moved one of his arms, right through the bonds that held it, jerking lighting fast to close his fingers around the dark, shimmering thing, closing it into a cage, where it writhed, caught in a jail of skin and bone. “I love him.” He wept, still, but the anguish had left his face as he rolled his eyes up towards his double, and said, cold and sharp, “And now you will leave me go.”

The thing stumbled a step back, it’s form wavering, wearing a terror on its face that it hurt Thor to gaze upon, even knowing it was not really Loki. “Stop that,” it said, it’s voice changing in pitch, “Make him stop that. You don’t--”

“Did you think those words would stop me?” Loki asked, tilting his head to the side, ignoring the hand around his throat, almost curious as he watched the thing in his hand struggle desperately.

“They hurt you!” the doppelganger cried out. “We saw it, you believe them.”

Loki shrugged, something terrible in his easy acceptable. He pulled his legs up and reached out with his other hand, gripping the arm of Thor’s double and squeezing. “Hurt has never stopped me. And I know what you are, now,” Loki said, and his smile cut across his face like a knife. The Thor he held struggled. Some blackness spread up his arm, beneath the skin. Thor yelled himself hoarse, mad with relief and the fresh fear of not knowing for certain that whatever was going on would work.

“You should have never dared enter my head,” Loki said, and closed his hand, then, crushing the shadows in his fingers, and the creature with his face screamed, terribly and brutally, and--

And Thor’s cell went blinding white once more. “No!” he cried out. “Show me him once more, I--”

Pain flooded back, brutal and overwhelming, but Thor set his teeth against it. They had been in Loki’s head, doing something to him. He wondered if he did not have unwelcome visitors in his own mind. He tried to turn his thoughts inward, but the pain edged out all reason and he did not know what to look for, what to fight against.

He could hear things, in the bright light. The sounds of a battle. Loki crying out, screaming. Laughter. He tried to tell himself it could not be real. They were in Loki’s mind. In his mind, probably, but--

He cried out, the sound ragged in his throat, and then the world shifted, turning abruptly on its axis, the bright light fading, replaced by a shadow leaning over him. Hands pressed to either side of his head, cool and familiar.

He blinked upward, gazed into Loki’s face, pale and drawn but not wracked with agony. Loki said, “It’s not real. Whatever they’re making you see, it isn’t real, Thor, can you hear me?”

Behind him - through him - Thor heard terrible, wet sounds. But they were fading away, more and more as he searched Loki’s expression. “Yes,” he rasped, “what--”

And then Loki grunted, his fingertips pressing in tight to Thor’s head, and Thor sagged, the bonds around his arms just gone, leaving him to drop. Loki caught at him on the way down, holding him upright as Thor panted against his shoulder, rasping, “I saw--”

“Lies,” Loki said, “everything you saw was a lie.”

[creative-type]

Organic Character Growth in Call the Midwife

One of the things I most appreciate about Call the Midwife is its character writing. There are plenty of shows that suffer from flanderization or character derailment in an effort to keep things interesting, but Call the Midwife is and remains to be an excellent, character-driven drama over six-plus seasons (As an American, I’m a little behind on the most recent episodes). 

Speaking as someone who knows nothing about writing for a television series, I can only imagine how difficult it is to maintain quality writing when you have little to no control what the future holds. The series might get cancelled. Actors and actresses might pursue other roles. The audience might not respond well to a storyline necessitating the show to go a different direction. There are so many things about syndication that our outside the writer’s control, but they still have the thankless job of working around all the bumps and hiccups to produce the story they want to tell.

I eventually want to focus on how the show handled the character of Sister Evangelina, but before we get there I want to explore a little of what I think makes the writing as engaging as it is, using some of the other characters. With that in mind, let’s begin.

Also, beware of major spoilers, especially for season five. If any of my followers haven’t watched Call the Midwife it’s on Netflix and is awesome. Go watch it and then come back. I’ll still be here.

Episodes, Seasons, and Series: The Basic Units of Television

When evaluating the writing for a television series, I like to break the show down into three units of measure: The episode, the season, and the series as a whole. There can be good episodes in bad seasons, or bad seasons in otherwise good shows, or any combination of the above. 

Call the Midwife maintains a strong continuity, and because each season is less than ten episodes it doesn’t have a lot of time to mess around with filler material that doesn’t somehow advance the plot. The hour runtime of most episodes (extended to an hour and half for the Christmas specials) gives the series time to develop an interesting and compelling case of the week-style medical drama while also allowing for a large ensemble cast, which after the departure of Jenny Lee in the third season doesn’t have a main character but rather rotates through the stories of the nuns and midwives of Nonnatus House.

While I would argue that each season has its own main theme, the overarching concept the series is trying to explore is love. There are narrated voice overs at the beginning and end of each episode that drive this point home, which can come off as narmy or charmingly sweet depending on your disposition. Romantic love, familial love, love for community...all these things are the thread that bind the series into its current form. 

But it’s through these themes of love that Call the Midwife explores heavy issues such as poverty, women’s rights, health, mental health, alcoholism, abuse, racism, homosexuality, death, and so much more. It also is a period piece examining life in the late 1950s to early 60s though a modern lens, both optimistic at how far we’ve come and exploring how much farther we have to go.

To say Call the Midwife is ambitious is an understatement, and with a series that has so much to say might forget that it’s first and foremost a story, but it doesn’t. The characters act like real people, with real struggles, hopes, dreams and ambitions. The medical aspects of the show are well-researched and realistically displayed. While maintaining an overall optimistic tone it doesn’t shy away from the difficult or unpleasant realities of life.

This kind of balance can only be maintained with good character writing. The characters are the backbone of the show, and everything else branches off from their experiences.

(It should also be noted that the series has some excellent actors and actresses that bring this writing to life, but I’m going to basically ignore that aspect of things because I know less about acting than I do writing.)

Let’s look at the example of Season One, Episode One. The series opens with newly-qualified midwife Jenny Lee walking through the East End of London towards her new job, while the narrator (an older Jenny) says the following:

I must have been mad! I could have been an air hostess, I could have been a model, I could have moved to Paris or been a concert pianist. I could have seen the world, been brave, followed my heart. But I didn't. I side-stepped love and set off for the east-end of London because I thought it would be easier. Madness is the only explanation!

Another side note: Call the Midwife was drawing from the memoir of Jennifer Worth at this point in time, so I’m not 100% sure if this is a direct quotation or not, but I’m pretty sure it’s original material. 

In any case, Jenny walks past a scene of two women fighting: A heavily pregnant wife going after her husband’s mistress. There’s a circle of onlookers egging them on, while Jenny watches helplessly until the police and Sister Evangelina arrive and break up the altercation. 

Jenny eventually reaches Nonnatus House, meets the delightfully senile Sister Monica Joan, and admits to Sister Julienne that she thought she was working at a small private hospital when in fact she will be living and working in a convent.

This one small scene--over and done with in the first ten minutes of the episode--tells you everything you need to know about Jenny as well as the main theme of the season.

I’ve alternately thought of the first season of Call the Midwife as being about finding your place in the world, growing up, and overcoming naivete. Jenny--and later on Chummy who also happens to get a lot of screen time--are both new midwives and know nothing about living in poverty, neither are terribly experienced with love, and in Jenny’s case is holding onto the idea of a relationship she knows she can’t have rather than accepting what will make her happy. 

This theme not the focus of every episode and the series doesn’t beat you over the head with it, but there’s no denying it’s there. In Episode 2, Chummy has to learn to ride a bicycle and overcome her poor self-esteem to deliver a breech baby. In Episode 3, Jenny finds herself looking after a kindly old man named Joe and has to deal with overcoming her own revulsion of his deplorable living conditions to care for him as a person. Episode 5 has Jenny coming face to face with the horrors of the workhouse and the long-acting consequences it has on those who lived in them.

Each episode contains its own self-contained story and themes that bolster that of the series--Jenny learns to see her poverty-stricken patients as “heroines”, Chummy delivers the breech baby and gains the respect of her peers, etc.--that are in and of themselves interesting. Anyone can jump into just about any episode of Call the Midwife and understand the jist of what’s going on, and still have the pleasure of seeing a unique spin on the medical drama format. 

The true genius is how the writers have taken seeds planted early in the series and let them develop organically into plot twists that don’t seem like asspulls. For example, when I introduced the Call the Midwife to my roommates we made it to maybe the second season when one of them remarked “Wow, Trixie sure drinks a lot.” And it’s true. Trixie has always been the fun-loving girl who, though extremely skilled, is always looking for a good time. It makes complete sense that given the stresses in her personal and professional life she would develop into a functioning (and later on not so functioning) alcoholic.

But when you look back on these early seasons Trixie’s drinking habit isn’t really mentioned. It’s just...sort of there, and an accepted part of her characterization without being commented on until much later in the series. The show never goes out of the way to emphasize Trixie’s drinking until it starts interfering with her life, which makes it feel both like a natural consequence and an unexpected plot-point at the same time.

You can have this natural growth only by treating the characters as characters, and not glorified mouth-pieces that for the soap-box special of the day. Going back to the example of Trixie, we get to learn eventually that a large part of her bubbly personality is a front, see her struggle to be taken seriously as a midwife and a woman, fight through a relationship with a good but ultimately incompatible fiancee, and mature into a better person and health-care provider because of it all. It’s a testament to the quality of the writing when during the Season 6 Christmas special set in South Africa that I 100% believed that Trixie could and would be able to preform a C-section without a doctor present and that her coworkers would trust her enough to pull it off.

(I kind of hope Trixie becomes the 1960s English version of a nurse practitioner, but that’s beside the point).

There are seeds like this sprinkled all throughout the series: Sister Bernadette wistfully letting her hair down after the non-nun midwives go out dancing, Cynthia Miller’s tendency towards depression and anxiety after the death of the Kelly baby, Jenny showing an interest in end of life care multiple times before her departure of the series, the list goes on and on.

Which brings me back to Sister Evangelina.

Tying Together Character and Theme 

As previously stated, Season One of Call the Midwife is a classic fish out of water scenario, and if you’re going to take a fish out of water it stands to reason that you’re going to have someone who wants to see them flounder.

That person is Sister Evangelina.

Now I’m not saying that Sister Evangelina isn’t a good character, but out of the main cast she’s one of the ones who gets the least development. Her main duty in the show is to give voice to other character’s insecurities and act as a sort of antagonist that they have to overcome. She’s the most staunchly traditional character in a series pioneering modern liberal idealism who’s most definable character traits are her sharp tongue and unyielding nature. Some quotes include:

“The East End will eat her for breakfast”

“I’ll tell you what the problem is. You young girls do too much book-learning. You sit for months in classrooms, filling your heads with loads of codswallop, when simple practical tasks are beyond you!”

“She may be my sister in Christ but I swear, she would drive a Methodist to drink!”

“If you’re suggesting that a few deep breaths and not thinking about what’s for dinner is all there is to labor, you’re leading your patients up the fairy way”

Sister Evangelina cares, but she is not by nature kind. She’s an action first, my way or the highway, suspicious of newcomers because they don’t know what they’re doing kind of character. She fits perfectly as an obstacle for the younger generation of midwives to overcome and a voice against new-fangled nonsense such such as gas and air for pain relief during deliveries, and updating to a freaking Rolodex.  

Yes, even a Rolodex is reasonable cause for a fight with Sister Evangelina.

And that’s not to say that she’s an evil or nasty woman, just a hard one, born and shaped by a life filled with hardness to the point that’s all she really knows. We understand where she’s come from and why she thinks the way she does, but at the same time by the time Season Five rolls around the series has outgrown her. 

One of the major themes for Season Five is change: change in how medicine is practiced, change from an the old generation to the new, and irreversible changes in society as it marches forward. The young, inexperienced midwives aren’t so young and inexperienced, and the introduction of Nurse Crane has taken Sister Evangelina’s status as the “tough but fair” one while being a more relatable and progressive character overall, thus fitting better with the evolution of the series and where it wants to go.

At the same time, Sister Evangelina was relatively beloved by the fandom, and a complex and deserving character in her own right. When Pam Ferris decided to leave the series, how were the writers going to let her go with grace and dignity, as befitting of her status in- and out of universe?

By killing her off in the best way possible.

Early in Season Five Sister Evangelina is confronted with the fact that her dismissive attitude towards formula versus breast milk has caused serious harm to a mother and baby. She’s rightfully called out by Barbra Gilbert, one of the newer nurses (this is important, remember the theme of the changing of the guard) before going off to the Mother House for some serious self-reflection. 

She comes back much later after it’s revealed she’s had a stroke. Sister Evangelina, a woman who believes she best serves God through direct action, is rendered unable to do just that. While able to do some nursing cares one-handed,  she gives up handling babies because she might, you know, drop them, returning to her rightful place at Nonnatus House a humbled woman.

This would have been good enough, but the show takes the time to give her a renewed purpose before killing her off. I think it’s important that she spends her last delivery with Barbra, imparting her knowledge and unique brand of home-spun wisdom to the very person who drove her into exile. Her journey comes full circle when she picks up a baby for the final time, shouts a bit for old time’s sake, and dies peacefully in her sleep with her character arc completed. The tear-inducing funeral montage is just extra icing on the cake, giving the audience a greater appreciation for her impact on the community she served for so many years. 

I’m not going to say that every single plot thread is handled with such deftness, and some characters pop into and out of the series with more grace than others. But when you treat your characters as characters, and let them grow, and change, and suffer, and overcome organically then you don’t have to throw screwy plot twists or derail a character to stay “relevant”. If you can’t trust your characters to be interesting without major outside intervention, then maybe you just need better characters.

It’s difficult, but it can be done. I know, because I and many others have been invested for over six seasons now, and I think I can speak for the fandom on this one and say that we don’t plan on stopping any time soon.