#(ignorance is not a problem. Never bothering to even try to learn & refusing self direction is a choice you should keep to yourself)

[kaurwreck]

if you have a question, it is wholly okay and arguably important that you at least sometimes look up the answer. if you aren't sure about information you want to share on social media, you can also double check its veracity prior to sharing. if you still aren't sure after searching for more information yourself, then asking strangers on the internet is fine, but confirm any answers you receive prior to internalizing them. (which you can do by using key terms from others' answers in your subsequent search strings.)

this won't stop you from interacting with others on tumblr dot com. instead, it will deepen those interactions, improve your digital literacy, and prevent me from manifesting as your sleep paralysis demon.

[dragynkeep]

in a way, both Ruby/Oz have their confidence broken when they learn a certain truth involving Salem: her being immortal/hermothersfate but while Ruby does get shaken by salem , she recovers quickly and strives to keep fighting. Ironwood, on the other hand, chooses to act like Ozpin and focus on putting off the problem as long as possible; by taking Atlas into the stratosphere, he is basically running away from Salem and giving her free rein on Remnant, and time to further build up her forces.

Yeah, this is a mad simplified and straight up misinformed ask, anon.

Starting with Ruby/Ozpin, it’s not that their trauma is done different in the same scenario, it’s that Ruby straight up ignores her trauma when it exeeds more than five seconds. Not only that, bu Ozpin never stopped fighting. He literally brought a time of peace by the time the show started. He created the Academies, Maidens, was behind many historically significant events with him being behind the idea of the creation of Atlas according to James in V7.

Ozpin kept fighting and gave the people he was protecting the means to defend themselves. Huntsmen were trained to fight the Grimm, the kingdoms were built to protect the innocent who would’ve been killed out in the undefended villages that exist outside these safe zones, either by bandits or grimm. He locked the relics away so Salem could never get them to rule over the people, he trusted a few close allies with most of the truth, and his flaw was not trusting them with everything, but that flaw is both explained and justified. When Ozpin tells people the whole truth, they either abandon the fight or straight up betray him. 

And he does this all while still trying to believe in the good of humanity. He’s faced with the serious trauma that his wife and abuser literally cannot be killed, that she will forever follow and hurt him (Imagine Blake and Adam but if Adam was immortal and their abuse had gone on for centuries rather than like five years), and yet he still tries again and again to keep fighting. Because if he gives up, humanity will be destroyed by Salem. 

Ruby keeps fighting, but she’s not fighting well. Her brief breakdown over the death of her mother feels unearned because she doesn’t know Summer. Her mother died when she was very young, since she apparently couldn’t even talk yet according to Yang. Summer is more of an abstract figure rather than a direct relation to Ruby, and any moment to help built up Ruby’s feelings and relation to Summer before V7 was a five minute gravescene that felt more like a tribute to Monty, and moments given to Yang. The worst part of that scene wasn’t that Ruby was upset over someone she doesn’t even know, but that Yang, the girl who did know Summer, had hardly any relevence in that scene apart from comforting Ruby. 

And in the end, it didn’t even matter! Ruby got right back up again and starts acting like a cocky little shit in the Ace Ops fight. Where was the sobbing girl from five seconds ago? The one who had her eyes start doing light shows and supposedly stop working? Cause that’s not the Ruby we get right after.

And her keeping fighting mentality? That’s going to get innocent people killed. It’s not a new flaw that Ruby has, she has the tendency to rush into fights without thinking, but the problem is that the show never treats it like a flaw. She jumped at the Deathstalker and nearly gets herself killed? Weiss saves her and that flaw is never chastised, only brought up in what was meant to be a moment of self reflection in V5, only for Ruby to keep doing it. She went to follow White Fang members in V2? She gets trapped underground and captured, needing her team to come and help her. She jumped into the fight with Tyrian despite Qrow repeatedly telling her to stay away? She distracts Qrow who has to save her, and then gets poisoned by Tyrian and almost ends up dying.

In V7? There is no other option. If there was a way for RWBY and their allies to keep fighting Salem’s forces and protect those being evacuated, that would lead to some credit to Ruby’s argument, but there isn’t. Ruby wants to keep fighting, and once again isn’t listening to realistic counters to her argument. They can’t keep fighting with Ironwood’s armies decimated, they can’t keep fighting with the Ace Ops exhausted and one having her Aura already shattered, they can’t keep fighting with the immortal witch that they know can’t be killed coming personally to the battlefield, nevermind the fact that a rogue Maiden and a seriously dangeorus criminal who nearly killed Ruby and Yang are already in Atlas.

Ironwood’s plan is cold and is an unfortunate plan that will get innocent civilians killed, but the fact of the matter is that it’s the only plan they have that doesn’t end in their immediate annihilation. I hate people saying that he’s running away, he’s retreating. He is making a tactical retreat so that they can build their forces and have time to plan a counterattack, time that they don’t have because the immortal witch who wants to kill them all is literally on their doorstep.

If Ruby had figured out that maybe her Silver Eyes could hurt Salem and suggested that, maybe they would’ve had a way to repel Salem even if they couldn’t defeat her. But Ruby hasn’t bothered to properly harness her powers outside of one lecture from Maria and barely beating the Leviathan before Cordovin had to come in and kill it for good. Ruby didn’t bother to further train her powers in the training montages we were given this whole volume, she’d rather be a Huntress and enjoy the benefits while simultaneously lying to her employer about the war he’s fighting in. 

In conclusion, fuck outta here. Ruby isn’t this pure soul who’ll always keep fighting, she’s a flat character who refuses to acknowledge her flaws and gets away with being a wholeass hypocrite by being sad sometimes. 

[charincharge]

Kiss and Cry, Part 5

jurdan figure skating au > masterlist

Jude rubbed her temple, which throbbed with pain from too little sleep and caffeine deprivation. Images of Cardan and Locke swam through her mind, distracting her, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the new choreography. Jude was ready to punch something; she’d never had a problem picking up moves before, and Cardan was making her look incompetent. Not only that, but Madoc was getting progressively more frustrated with her.

“No, it’s crossover with arms, tilt, arabesque then into the lift,” Madoc yelled as Jude fumbled the order of the choreography again. “Try it again.”

Jude marked the arm motion and titled her torso to the side, then lifted her leg and spun toward Cardan, who waited patiently with open arms, ready to assist in the lift, the picture of rested and calm.

Jude was even more bothered by that part.

She hopped up and gasped as Cardan’s fingers brushed beneath her breasts. Jude snapped her head towards his smirking face, and she couldn’t help but jab her elbow into his shoulder. The small smile disappeared quickly as Cardan hissed in pain and let Jude wriggle out of his grasp. She breathed deeply, brows furrowed as she glared daggers in his general direction.

“What the hell?” He rubbed at his tender muscle.

“That’s not my waist, Cardan,” Jude hissed. “Watch your hands.”

Cardan rolled his dark eyes. “You’re just so much shorter than Nicasia,” he explained seriously, but Jude could see the amusement in his eyes. “I just need to adjust.”

“Well, adjust faster,” Jude seethed. She knew he was doing it on purpose. And it was pushing her to her limit. Cardan held up his hands in apology.

“Take five,” Madoc sighed, clearly exasperated with the pair in front of him.

That was fine by Jude. She grabbed her empty water bottle and walked out into the hallway to fill it at the water fountain. Cardan slinked up behind her as the water poured into the bottle, and Jude could feel herself tense at the feeling of him hovering behind her.

“Can I help you?” she ground out, refusing to look over her shoulder.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Cardan retorted quicky. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts,” he continued.

“I didn’t sleep well,” Jude replied, screwing the top onto her bottle and taking a long sip.

“Funny,” Cardan said. “I slept like a rock.”

Jude couldn’t help but grimace, remembering why Cardan was so well rested. Images of his lithe body in the throes of ecstasy flashed through her mind. She didn’t know why it irritated her so much. But it did.

“Gross.”

“Hmm,” Cardan hummed, his dark eyes slowly perusing Jude’s form. She suddenly felt self-conscious.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t realize you were such a slut shamer,” Cardan retorted, his eyes suddenly amused with his own realization.

Jude knew he was trying to rile her up – but she was too aggravated and exhausted and couldn’t help but take the bait.

“I’m not,” she said, jutting her chin out stubbornly.

“I mean, you’re clearly judging me. So, either you’re offended by my sexual activity, or you’re homophobic,” Cardan prattled on, circling the water bottle in his hand with his hand, moving it up and down the cylinder in the most phallic motion he could imagine. Jude cringed again. “Neither is a good look.”

“I just think sex should be private,” she replied, her face warming slightly as she continued to track Cardan’s hand’s motions around his water bottle.

Cardan barked out a loud laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the girl who barged into the men’s locker room.”

Jude’s blush deepened. He had a point, but Jude had no idea what she’d be walking into when she’d gone to confront him.

“You know what I think?” Cardan took a step toward her, infringing upon her personal, and Jude inhaled sharply as his finger twisted itself in one of her chestnut curls. She held her breath, her body going still beneath his touch. “I think you’re jealous.” Cardan’s lips twitched upwards into a wry smile as fury overcame Jude.

“In your dreams,” Jude bit back, pushing his hand away from her face, out of her hair. She needed space.

Cardan bit his lip and his dark eyes became somehow impossibly darker. “Oh, dear Jude, you have no idea how right you are. The things you do with me in my dreams would positively shock you.”

“What, like stab you?” She mimed attacking him, her arm poised with an imaginary blade in her hand.

Cardan laughed, his head tilted back as the joyous noise reverberated through the hallway. “That wouldn’t be shocking to either of us, now would it?” he said, taking another step closer to her. Jude instinctively took a step back, needing to maintain her space.

As if challenged, Cardan took another step forward, until Jude had backed up into the wall. She hadn’t realized she’d inadvertently trapped herself. With no escape, Cardan hovered over her, looming tall and far too interested in her. She’d never been the object of his attention like this before, and it was unnerving. Jude shivered, feeling his warmth radiate between them.  

He leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he whispered, “If you need a teacher, just let me know. I’d be most happy to educate you,” he smiled again, and Jude suddenly wasn’t so sure he was making fun of her or not. “With proper instruction maybe you’d finally see that sex isn’t evil.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jude breathed. She attempted to inject some vitriol into her tone, but it was hoarse and husky even to her own ears.

“Ah yes, there’s that frigid exterior I’d love to thaw…” Cardan ran his finger down her cheek, watching the color bloom beneath his touch, but it was short-lived.

“Frigid?” Jude froze, a proverbial bucket of ice water spilling down her back. “You sexist piece of shit.”

Jude ducked under his arm, breathing hard. It wasn’t the first time a man had used that word against her, and it stung. As if being more interested in skating than physical intimacy somehow made her unworthy of romantic attention.

Cardan’s confident face faltered for a second. “I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t mean to call me frigid?” Jude scoffed. “A commonly sexist term used to describe women who are more sexually conservative? Asshole.” Jude was sure their break was over, and she didn’t want to stand here having this conversation anymore. She began to head back into the studio.

“Jude, I’m sorry,” Cardan apologized as he trailed after her. “I wasn’t thinking.” He reached out and brushed his hand against his shoulder, retracting it quickly when Jude flinched under his touch. “I meant that you’re cold, icy…not that…”

“Whatever, Cardan.” Jude pulled her hair into a fresh bun, tightening her elastic and securing her loose strands. She wouldn’t show him how his words hurt. Instead, she placed on a ferocious mask, ready to attack her choreography.

She stood in front of the mirror and ignored the way Cardan’s dark eyes continuously sought hers out. She’d look anywhere but at him.

His hands remained respectful as she learned the routine, sticking to the safe spots of her waist, hands and calves.

Jude dug into the choreography, refocusing and letting it fill her body until it became second nature. She refused to let Cardan get under her skin, into her head.

“Much better,” Madoc sighed, relieved, as they finished their final run through of the morning. “Let’s call it.”

Jude was anxious to get the hell out of there, and away from Cardan, but Cardan stopped her again with another apology.

“Jude, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—” he began again, but Jude held out her hand to stop him.

“Listen, we’re stuck with each other for the next month during practice,” Jude said. “I can’t get out of that. But, the rest of my life is mine. So, just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

Cardan’s gaze hardened as he nodded, acquiescing to her request.

“Cardan, Jude,” Madoc shouted from back inside the studio. They both walked back to the doorway, waiting expectantly for their coach. “I’m being honored at the Champions On Ice benefit Gala this weekend. As the placing leaders of this team, I’d like you both to introduce me.” Cardan and Jude glanced at each other tentatively. “Please work together to come up with an appropriate tribute. And, yes, it will be black tie, so dress accordingly.” Neither Cardan nor Jude said a word to their coach, so he continued. “Is that going to be an issue?” They shook their heads. “Great.” Madoc clapped his hands. “See you tomorrow.”

Jude glanced over her shoulder at Cardan trailing after her. “I guess we’ll be spending more time together, hm? Should we grab lunch?”  he asked.

She spun around, watching a surprised Cardan pause his pursuit. “Nice try, Cardan. Just draft something up and email it to me, and I’ll do a pass and send it back.”

She turned around again, not seeing Cardan and his sagging shoulders in the middle of the parking lot.

~*~

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[justrandomselfships]

Little steps- my self insert Fic (S/I POV) with a bunch of silly illustrations! Oh did I mention that this involves Kaeya? Well he's the main focus here even though Lisa is mentioned shit ton of times! Might write something for her focus too someday.

I finished it ages ago but I was afraid to post it- I'm not anymore and also✨ it's my birthday ✨

~~

Ever since I joined the knights I decided to write in a diary, it helped me keep track of time. Lisa told me that it can help me in various ways, like for example remembering names of the other knights, or checking my personal progress. Now that I think about it, it was long since I checked my old entries. Nothing interesting happened today anyway so I might as well read some. I don't really remember anything that was going on when I started so I suppose I could refresh my memory.

Today Lisa wanted to introduce me to someone- she probably wanted to help me by looking for training partner for me, however I had to refuse. You probably remember why was that, I got scared of meeting someone new again. I couldn't get that mess on her shoulders when she has so much to do as it is! And there was no way I'd meet them alone it'd be too akward for both of us!

I remember the exact moment I tried to come up with an excuse for future me... It kinda made me giggle how stupid I am sometimes, but let's look at something else...

I've never felt as lonely as I do now, I don’t even know why. I don’t miss anyone nor I ever craved any interactions... But to make that feeling go away I thought about talking to Amber but when I left the house she was talking to Noelle and I got scared to approach them... Instead I decided to sketch something and stay inside for the rest of the day.

I immediately looked at my sketchbook, I don't even have to look inside, I was drawing what's outside my window like always. Maybe I'll find some better memory if I keep looking?

During my patrol I got a bit lost... It was scary... But I wasn't alone, an Adventurer found me... However he got lost too. It was a bit unlucky day since I picked the wrong maps, we also got attacked a few times by monsters. I kinda feel bad for him since he tried his best to cheer me up but I stayed silent. It should've been other way around a knight shouldn't le

Bennett! How could I forget his name when I was writing this? He was such a sweetheart I obviously had to mess it up and make him feel uncomfortable... But I did make up for it! Maybe I'll finally read something positive? I somehow can't remember how exactly that went... Or if I was daydreaming about apologizing?

I decided to bake something for Bennett as thank you and apology for acting so cold towards him. But I had no idea on how to find him... Or what to say... So after thinking for few minutes I decided to talk to Katherine and ask her to give it to him. After "talking" to her I locked myself in my room out of embarrassment, I messed up again. I just said "Bennett" placed my pastries and left. Now I probably won't be able to face her for at LEAST two months.

I cringe at the memory... Gosh now this will keep me up at night for sure... I finally forgot about it and now it'll haunt me.

Wait a second... Did I really not made any progress at all!? I was trying so hard to socialize with others and get out more but I seem to still not be able to do it right. No, it's impossible. I'm good friends with Lisa! So I definitely made any progress... Or is she just so easy to talk to? Time to take a final look at something recent for a change...

Capitan Kaeya Alberich wanted to talk to me outside work... It might not sound like a big deal but somehow I just froze... I wasn't able to respond properly and he probably guessed what I was going to say, not that he ever can't do that... I might be too predictable. Either way I feel bad, my behavior was really disrespectful and I knew better than that to just ignore someone like him. I still have much to learn and I'll need to properly apologize for staying silent.

I only ever failed... There is no mistaking it. Great way to note down progress huh? Too bad there is none.

Think, what do I need to do to finally do better? I am the problem for sure but what do I really need to change? Maybe I should just start observing how others act... After all I never bothered to do that. It might help in one way or another...

Obviously there's only one place where there is a lot of people and I won't look like a total creep if I'll just listen in the conversations and look at random people... It's no other than the tavern. I'm scared to go there alone... But I don't have to!

Lisa would be willing to go right?... Then again I rely on her a bit too much and going out like this could be an opportunity to break the ice with someone else...

Jean is always busy, Amber will be way too distracting and we might end up somewhere else, Eula is too scary, Venti... I don't even know why I'm considering him.

Maybe that offer from capitan Kaeya still stands? It's from bearly 2 weeks ago so maybe if I get lucky and he happens to still be interested, I can actually go...

What am I even thinking!? I didn't even apologize for the last time... But being around so many drunk people is terrifying... However I can't bet on the fact that he won't drink too much... On the other hand he seems to handle people and I'll definitely learn something.

Screw it. It might be scary but I need to do it. Tomorrow I'll ask him! That's for sure! He's the most respectable and trustworthy person who isn't always busy and will not distract me.

~⏳

I'm scared to do it but I have to! I need to... Did I really say that I'm gonna do it today? Or should I just pretend that I never thought of it. He's probably busy today. Yup definitely that no need to feel stressed.

I haven't seen him back at the headquarters nor did I see him around town when I was coming back from my patrol- that's a good sign. It's still pretty early but I don't think that I'll see him today... What a relief!

Before I left the headquarters after finishing some paperwork I hear a voice that belongs to a beautiful librarian I am lucky to be able to call a friend.

"Hey there cutie, are you okay?"

"Just a little bit nervous that's all, nothing new haha"

"Do you need me to pass a message again?"

"No need! It's something I need to say myself..."

"I see..."

"But if you happen to see capitan Kaeya it would be nice if you could tell him that I was looking for him" out of habit I grab my hair and begin to play with it. Lisa's warm soothing voice blessed my ears as she said "No worries darling, I'll let him know" before she left and giggled to herself...

Wait... Oh no.

Why did I say anything!? Is she that magical that I can't say anything but what's on my mind.

If she happens to meet him my request will be unavoidable! Even if I tried thinking of something else Kaeya will know that I'm lying. I can't avoid him either... Can't waste his precious time...

How do I even ask him!? Do I need to change from my work clothes before I go? What should I do...

I didn't realize that I started walking in circles before someone approached me.

"Heather?"

I turn around and see the man I was thinking about all day. Dammit... I have to say it. I can't think of an excuse and staying silent is now unacceptable.

"Oh-uhm... Greetings Capitan Kaeya"

"Lisa informed me that you were looking for me"

"Oh right!... That... Haha..."

"I don't want to rush you, however I do have some business to attend to"

"I'm so sorry! I mean- since you're busy then my silly request is irrelevant"

"Come now, I believe that I should be the judge of that" his smug look made it ever so slightly more challenging to say anything.

"I just... Ugh..." I took a deep breath "Look as you know I was trying to loosen up recently and well I realized that I wasn't making any progress at all. So I remembered that one time you asked me to go to the tavern with you and I refused... I mean ignored you, which I am VERY sorry about but now I think that it was a mistake and today I wanted to ask you to accompany me but since you're busy let's just forget about everything" I felt relieved getting that off my chest.

"I don't think that will do, in fact I was heading towards the tavern so if you really want to I suppose you can join me" Oh right... I forgot about him gathering some information there from time to time. So it might work after all! He won't pay too much attention to me and I could investigate without tons of distractions.

"Let's get going then capitan" I say before he smiles softly in response "Wait do you want to get going now or-"

"Yes" he cut me off, which was fair and I'm glad he did it before I said something dumb.

We're almost there. Before we get closer I suddenly stop.

"That reminds me!" I realized I spoke out loud, as he looked at my direction my confidence dropped dead "I've never actually tried any alcohol so would you be so kind to recommend something for me? I figured that since I'm already getting out of my comfort zone might as well try something new" I said under my breath but he definitely understood what I meant judging by his facial expression and well... response.

"Absolutely" my heart skipped a beat. I desperately tried to start a conversation topic... But choosing alcohol might be something I'll regret...

Kaeya started listing few drinks I could enjoy his words were poetic as he described the beverages, however the names of the drinks went over my head. It wasn't that bad but I just felt stupid over how clueless I was. He definitely knew what he was talking about and I'm more than interested in hearing more. The more he talks the less likely I am to say something I'll regret.

"Obviously since I don't know how much you can handle I won't be forcing you to try too much too soon" he paused "Your father probably wouldn't be happy either if you returned drunk" he said teasingly. It invited me to respond less seriously.

"Oh no! This means that we'll have to do it again, how awful"

"We didn't enter yet so you can feel free to leave now before you regret spending time with me of all people" his voice was now suddenly much more hostile... Did I mess it up!?

He laughed softly "I'm sorry did I go too far? While I don't want to force you to do anything, I won't lie... I'm a bit curious to learn something new about you tonight"

We were still outside standing right in front of the entrance to the tavern if not for chatting we could hear from the inside there would be total silence.

"I'm sorry for being quiet again! It's just that you caught me off guard haha" I look away "There isn't much to know about me so I feel like I'll only disappoint you"

"I'm not so sure about that part"

"Wait... Did my father tell you anything about me!?"

"Look let's just get inside, We'll discuss it later"

Nervously I followed him yet again. The atmosphere was warm and I could see different kinds of people all over the place. We sit down.

"So did he tell you anything?" I ask immediately.

"Relax, he didn't" he seemed amused by my desperation to know. It's understandable... And I'm probably overreacting anyway. I collect my thoughts "I'm sorry"

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm just making this into some big deal for no reason. Maybe the reason is the huge amount of respect I have for you that makes me freak out"

"I see, well I don't see the reason to be so formal now. We aren't working after all" his soft smile was enough for me to calm down.

"Thank you" Maybe it was all I needed to hear, after that everything went smoothly.

I start feeling proud of myself... Maybe I can change after all? Either way it only shows that I have to write it down! And once I was back home I did just that.

Today I had enough courage to take a step in right direction! I went to a tavern with capitan Kaeya. It was fun and for the first time in years I wasn't that scared. It wasn't totally perfect but it was definitely worth it.

[purplellamanator]

I saw your prompts and I actually liked them a lot and it was hard to choose one, but can you write the soulmate au for Heizuha? The color one? I love your writing and I’m a writer as well and I aspire to be like you one day 💗💗

A/N~ So sorry this took so long! It's pretty long for a drabble because I still have no self control. Since it has been so long, I hope you are able to see or are interested in this still and are able to read it! Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request as well as your very kind words! Also please ignore all my mistakes -_-  I’m sorry if this seems a bit messy towards the end <3

Color~ Only once you meet your soulmate can you see colors. Until then, your vision is grey

oOo

Admittedly, Hattori could be a bit dense. Especially when it came to the emotions of girls that apparently had a 'thing' for him. He'd almost argue it was because he simply didn't care about that aspect of his life. And something he'd be less vocal about- if it wasn't the attention from a certain person then he didn't want it anyway.

But this-! This was not his fault. No one had told him. There was really no way he could've just known this.

That he had known his soulmate the entire time.

Just thinking about the stupidity of it all had him placing an embarrassed hand to cover his face.

Because finally seeing the world in color was the sign. And seeing as meeting Kazuha was his earliest memory, he had completely missed it. He had no recollection of a moment in his life without color. He didn't even know it was a thing until junior high.

And now that he was thinking about it, people had tried to tell him before then. On the playground and his friends were making guesses about how bright the sakura blossoms really were.

Heiji had thought they were stupid; playing dense. "Are you blind? They're pink."

The moment the comment had left him though, his friends looked at him as if he were crazy before rolling their eyes and saying they knew he was lying. That they knew the flower looked the same bland and boring gray hue they could see.

It frustrated him because they didn't believe him and on top of that, they were acting like he was the crazy one. If they really couldn't see it was pink then they needed their eyes checked!

"That!" Heiji pointed sharply at the tree above them. "What color are those blossoms?"

He had dragged Kazuha all the way over to the park just to check if maybe it was him that was the insane one. Kazuha wouldn't lie to him after all. And though he was embarrassed to say it around his other boy friends, she was his best friend.

With her hair in a short ponytail, she tilted her head slightly in confusion as she looked where he was directing her. "Pink. . ?" She had answered slowly as if she was being tested and she wasn't sure if she was giving a correct response.

"I knew it!" Heiji jumped with his small, five year old hands clenched in a fist. And when he saw his other friend was confused he explained the previous incident with his other friends.

Like it had made him want to do then, the small girl laughed. "It sounds like they need their eyes checked," she giggled and he laughed in agreement.

Now eight years later, Heiji wanted to punch himself. It had been him that needed his eyes checked. Something was wrong with them- well not wrong . . . but different. They were the weird ones.

In junior high and sitting through that class. Heiji wanted to scream. Because by this point, Kazuha had moved. It had actually happened shortly after the sakura blossom incident. Her father had gotten a promotion and had moved the family to Kyoto. And now he was stuck sitting in this family life class all alone and getting hit with the realization that he met his soulmate- no, that he even had a soulmate. As if having to sit through a class detailing the birds and bees wasn't already bad enough.

Heiji couldn't believe it. And full of rage and frustration, he exploded on his mother the moment he walked through the front door. Because she knew. There was no way his parents hadn't known. They had to teach him what he was seeing after all. They knew what seeing the world in color meant. And they hadn't told him.

He felt like a fool.

"You two were too young to understand at the time," his mother spoke casually as she continued preparing their dinner. "Her parents as well as your father and I agreed it was best to wait for you guys to learn."

Her tone had the same calm bearing quality. In his annoyance though it was sounding uncaring. It was like she was shrugging him off. It was making him mad. But one thing just became glaringly obvious.

"Her parents knew and they still moved?"

"Heiji," his mother sighed giving the only sign she was getting irritated. "Yes, both her parents knew but again- we agreed. It was best for you two to learn about it the proper way like everybody else."

Which was fine. If he would've met his soulmate the proper way. It was practically unheard of to meet one's soulmate so early. An exception should've been made for people like them.

Shizuka could probably see that he was not happy with any of the excuses she gave. It was clear she had been hoping he'd be satisfied with those responses but that clearly was not the case. When Heiji continued to fix her with a pissed off glare, she finally put her spatula down and faced her son.

"When we all found out, us parents got together to discuss over a dinner. We agreed- all of us, that it would be best for you two to be separated. We were worried you would depend on each other too much. Having another half; just knowing about it is heavy. You two were too young," his mother reiterated that firmly and Heiji hated that he thought it, but he was actually understanding.

Sitting in that classroom not even five hours ago and for the first time learning about all of that- it was a lot. It was heavy. It felt like he had a weight on his chest and his head was about to explode. The only problem was he couldn't tell if that was because he just found out he had a soulmate or the fact he already knew who his soulmate was. Not to mention the inexplicable frustration he felt.

Heiji wouldn't lie and say he completely forgot about Kazuha. He hadn't forgotten about her at all. In fact, he had taken it pretty hard when she first told him that she'd be moving to Tokyo. He could remember trying to put on a brave face when his family went to their house to say their farewells. At the time and even now, he never thought anything of it. That his parents brought him to say goodbye. Did he think it was unusual for his stern father that did nothing but work to take off just so they could do that? Yes, but in his young childish mind, they were very close to the Toyama's. Both his and Kazuha's father worked closely together and since their children had been linked at the hip as well, Heiji didn't think anything of it.

Kazuha had been the opposite of course. She hadn't bothered to conceal her tears, which unknowingly to her, made it harder for his 5 year old self to do the same. She surprised him though. She had given him a gift- a charm. At first seeing it dangle from her clenched fist messily, he felt extremely guilty. He hadn't brought her a thing. But she gave him a bright, watery grin and a few sniffles to stop her tears.

"Don't worry about it! I had it for awhile and look!" After practically shoving the charm into his chest, she quickly pulled on something that was wrapped loosely around her neck. "I have one too!" she smiled cheekily.

Sure enough, a charm that was only slightly different in color hung from her two fingers pinched together.

After that scene, it was honestly embarrassing how long he continued to where that charm. When he was just about to reach junior high and one of his old classmates that had remembered Kazuha saw he still wore it, he had gotten the teasing of a lifetime. He had stopped wearing it the very next day.

And coincidentally, he was hit with a bout of horrendous luck. The incidents all ranged from something as small as waking up late for class to failing terribly on a test. That week also marked the worst he had ever done in his kendo matches. Finally when he had been walking home after a rainy day and a car sped by him, successfully drenching him from head to toe in the puddle they just drove through- Heiji had enough. He continued to wear the charm even as he slept and no amount of taunts from his friends would have him taking it off.

Honestly, it was weird how he was able to disconnect the fact that the charm had been given to him. How easy it was for him to not think about Kazuha even though technically he wore of part of her with him everyday. It just felt natural to wear the charm now. He didn't feel right without it and in most incidents would actually refuse to take it off.

Other than the charm, she was like a random memory that would float in at the oddest moments. Those moments usually being when he was laying in his bed waiting for sleep. Admittedly, the amount of time he'd spend staring at that charm at night being reminded of her- that she had given him this, was honestly more than what was considered healthy he was willing to bet. It was like his body and his mind were reminding him constantly not to forget where it came from.

And now he knew the reason why.

It took him a while to cool down after that. It wouldn't change anything. What's happened has happened. In all honesty he was mostly irritated that he was basically lied to for more than half his life. But in the end, he also understood why they did it and if possible, that made him even angrier.

Over time though, he got over it. Or more like he learned how to deal with it. After it was in the air and both him and Kazuha had been made aware of who they were to each other, they were allowed to exchange letters from that point.

The letters felt weird at first. Kazuha used to be his best friend. But the years of separation- it just wasn't the same. They didn't know each other really anymore. It was weird and clearly they didn't really know what to talk about with each other. The obvious topic would've been that they were bonded, but it was clear neither was comfortable or brave enough to start that conversation at first.

Over time and as the years passed by, it became glaringly obvious that they would have to though. They were both in high school now and with that came the obvious flaw in their logic. They could avoid it in these letters but sooner or later, they would hit a point where they'd have to acknowledge it. The two were soulmates and though they hadn't seen each other in person for a very long time, that would eventually have to change. The reality hadn't slapped him in the face till her next letter.

‘I have news (hopefully that is good). Dad just got reinstated in his old position working with your father so I'll be moving back to Osaka by next year. I don't know if you can remember it, but we'll be moving back to our old house again as well. Turns out dad never sold it and we've just been renting it out.’

Heiji wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant.The Toyama's had always planned to move back just like his father always planned to 'reinstate' Kazuha's dad into his old position. It was a temporary move that was done only to give them space.

But all he felt like it had done was make it so they'd have to have an extremely painful and awkward 'first meeting'. None of this 'sudden move' was a surprise but it admittedly was like a gut punch. He was not prepared at all. They didn't know what each other sounded like. What they looked like-!

What they looked like?!

It was embarrassing and quite ridiculous of him, but that one thought threw him into a panic. She had no idea what he looked like now. Obviously she had seen him as a child and he would look somewhat similar to that but. . . he aged. He hit puberty! And though he always thought it had been somewhat kind to him- as kind as that stage of anyone's life could be- believe it or not he also had his fair share of insecurities. Like his dark skin. Though it was something his friends liked to tease him about, it wasn't something that actually bothered him. He honestly didn't really care about it. He didn't have anyone he cared to impress.

Until now. Now he had someone to impress and the anxiety he was pretty sure he never had until this whole soulmate thing, hit the roof.

It was so dumb and immediately something he regretted doing after dropping his mail in the post box. To send a letter accompanied by a picture of him. Granted it wasn't just him in the photo. It was a picture of him with his parents that his mother had somehow forced him into being in. But he knew, he was well aware that Kazuha would know, that the intention of sending the picture was so she would see him.

He wasn't that much of a compulsive dork that he just randomly sent it without some sort of explanation- even if it were technically a lie. In the letter he mentioned that his mother wanted him to send their annually taken family photo. In reality however he sent it because he didn't want her to be disappointed. He wanted Kazuha to know exactly what was awaiting her once she returned. He didn't want there to be any surprises and if she had a problem with how he looked, for her to say it now.

What he had not been expecting was a photo in return.

‘I guess it's only fair that I have to send one as well’, had been her excuse for including it. That and on his photo, she said not a word about how he looked. She commented that his mother still looked as young and beautiful as she could remember and joked that his father still bore such a stern and serious exterior in a holiday photo. But she didn't say anything about him. There was no disgust or ridicule in her letter. Granted that also meant there was no praise but she didn't sound disappointed in her letter and surely she would've if she didn't like what she saw. . . right?

Her family however looked as he had remembered it. They appeared slightly more aged and it looked like her mother had cut her hair much shorter. But all in all they looked the same as he remembered. Not even Kazuha looked all that different. She had the blue eyes- which he could've sworn were teal but still close to the same. Her bangs were parted the exact same way as well as it was pulled up in one of those ribbons he could always remember her wearing. The only thing that was different was that she very obviously was not five years old anymore.

Blushing with a small frown at his thoughts, he couldn't help but think puberty must've been kind to her as well.

oOo

The picture she had gifted him had been a surprise but apparently a welcome one. He had been so focused and preoccupied on what she'd think of him that he hadn't stopped to wonder what she looked like now herself. It was safe to say if she was as worried like he had been, she had nothing to stress about because he was not disappointed. And though he wouldn't lie about it if she asked, he kept the picture of her on him at all times. Of course it was after he cut her parents out of it- which he felt guilty about doing. But carrying a picture of his . . . in-laws? . . . around would just be weird.

He was a real idiot though because no picture would've ever prepared him for seeing her again. The photo didn't do his soulmate justice and he would eternally be grateful for the fact that they happened to run into each other on accident and not in the company of their parents as had been planned. Because the moment they met eyes everything just burst. Color exploded around them but not into anything he hadn't ever seen before. Only something he had forgotten.

Her eyes were teal. He hadn't been mistaken. The color from his vision had been fading- dulling. Now taking in everything around him, he saw the world with a new vibrancy he had unknowingly lost. He saw the world as it really was.

And then after that, he couldn't logically explain what happened. They were both still staring at each other in shock but after taking a moment to look at his surroundings, his hurriedly turned back to her. Only for him to freeze in shock once more. Because he wasn't staring at the Kazuha from the picture. He was staring at the Kazuha he had met twelve years ago.

At first he had to wonder if he was going crazy- if he had lost his mind. The only thing that calmed him down and reassured him that this was normal was that Kazuha seemed as startled as he was. She was seeing it too.

That and-

‘The eyes are the gateway to the soul’, his mother had always told him.

A childlike giggle erupted out of the five year old Kazuha. "You're the same old ahou I remember," she sniffled and for the first time Heiji realized that she was crying.

He didn't like that and stepping forward slowly, he gripped her at her upper-arms, holding her back slightly as if to make sure she were real. To make sure she was really there. The moment he touched her arms however, everything changed again. He was back to staring at the now in high school Kazuha and his eyes blinked rapidly to refocus with the change. And he couldn't tell if she jumped from the sudden feel of his hands gripping her or the fact their vision once again changed as if flipping a slide on a projector, but he knew they were both experiencing the same thing.

They both saw each other as they had looked the first time they met. Something he thought he had long forgotten and could not pull from the deepest recesses of his mind.

The eyes are the gateway to the soul, he reminded himself.

oOo

Things were strange after that. He had wanted to hide the fact from his parents that he had already run into Kazuha again, but it became obvious that would be impossible when he wouldn't stop just looking at everything in awe. His mother had picked up on it right away but he couldn't help it. Though they had departed ways again briefly after that, the vibrancy of everything did not fade and he realized that must've only happened slowly over time from their extended distance to each other. He couldn't even be bothered by the fact that his mother was trying to tease and prod him. It was like he was seeing the world all over with a fresh, new pair of eyes. It took him quite awhile to get over this new reality.

Finally his mother demanded to know what had happened. When he still refused to open his mouth, she gave him one of her calm and at ease smiles. A smile that made him feel the complete opposite.

"I guess that's alright anyway. I'm sure Kazuha-chan would explain it much better over dinner."

There weren't a lot of people that could actually scare him. Even his father's intimidating demeanor had wore off on him. Something he was sure he'd never get over however, was how manipulative his mother could be. He had already been aware that the Toyama's would be joining them for dinner. He was also aware that his mother just threatened to have Kazuha expose the both of them over their family dinner.

With a heaving sigh and a mumbled, "Hag," under his breath, he gave an extremely brief rundown of what had happened between him and Kazuha earlier that day. Of course he left out the part of how suddenly Kazuha turned twelve years younger and how he was also not disappointed with her in the looks department. He did explain however that his colors had unknowingly been fading over time and suddenly things were so bright it almost hurt.

Sadly, the fact that he finally broke down and told her that did not make the dinner any less awkward. Both of their father's seemed content to discuss nothing but work but their mother's had apparently been adamant they would be talking about the fact their children were bonded. That and the witch still somehow managed to get Kazuha to go over her account of the previous evening. All he could do was sit and glare the entire time at his scheming mother whom likely had no intention of holding up her end of the deal.

Kazuha explained everything almost exactly as he had. It seemed that they had both silently agreed that it was not necessary to describe how they were both taken back to the first day they met. It made Heiji smile inside. He liked that that would just be for them.

Overall and besides the fact his mother lied to him, dinner had gone well. Heiji had been worried at first that things would only continue to be uncomfortable between them. They were soulmates but they hadn't known that and had gone years without even talking to each other in person. They had their letters but that still wasn't the same either.

But that dinner had made one thing clear. It seemed the only time either of them had the nerve to acknowledge the other as what they were- soulmates, was in front of their parents. Out in public or even alone, they held what was seen as a normal distance between each other. They could've been mistaken for just friends honestly. Truth be told, he wondered sometimes if that was how Kazuha saw him. A glorified best friend.

It was a little frustrating to him. At first he began to think it was partially his fault for her treating him like that. He hadn't made any efforts to take her on dates. He didn't invite her out to do 'overly couplely' things. That's when Heiji thought it had become clear for him. Sure, on their break he made sure to see her practically everyday. But maybe how they were spending their time wasn't enough. Maybe she needed more and didn't want to ask him for it.

Her family had moved during the break for school. The coming semester she would be enrolled in the same high school as him. She hadn't asked him to but he made it his mission to drive her to school with him every morning.

It was pretty rare to meet your soulmate while still in school. Even more so if you went to the same school. But it was practically unheard of to meet your soulmate at five. Again, at the time he hadn't realized just who Kazuha was to him nor had he or his classmates had any idea that soulmates were even out there. Sadly however, that had not stopped his classmates from making fun of him. Of course at such a young age, he had denied any and all accusations.

In high school now and facing the same taunts however, he realized that it was almost just as embarrassing. Maybe even more so because now it was actually true. Heiji never felt the need to admit that though and when Kazuha always remained silent at his side, he assumed she felt the same. That he wasn't ashamed to have a soulmate this early. He wasn't even disappointed. It was just simply not anybody else's business.

That's what he thought she had felt. But after how distant she still seemed to be, he stopped staying quiet. Most of the time it was his friends doing the taunts anyway so it was likely about time he got them to shut up.

He hadn't meant to embarrass her. He thought he had been doing the right thing- that he had been doing what she wanted. Apparently declaring to the whole school courtyard that Kazuha was his soulmate and if anybody had a problem with that they could answer to his fist, was just as humiliating as ignoring the taunts. Heiji hadn't meant to yell either. He to an extent had also gotten sick of the constant teasing from his friends and it wasn't his fault that his voice . . . carried a little. . .

Kazuha didn't seem to think so however and it was like all of her blood rushed to her face. Her mouth dropped open a few times silently as if she didn't even know what to say. She probably didn't but it was only once her eyes flickered around them that he realized practically the whole courtyard had gone silent and was staring at them.

That was the first time since Kazuha had moved back that she had actually yelled at him. So startled by her actually raising her voice at him, he barely caught anything she was saying to him. He was sure he heard a few 'ahou's and somewhere in there he caught that he was more mortifying than their parents. A little scared of her explosive temper he just stayed quiet and took it, thankful that his mom hadn't been there because she surely would've laughed at him.

When she was done though, she turned around and simply left. Now he was the one at a loss for words because all he could do was stare at where she had made her exit. He still could not believe someone had yelled at him like that.

"Well, you guys sure have bantering like a married couple down."

"Shut up!"

oOo

Kazuha didn't talk to him at all after that. It seemed like she wanted space but Heiji also had the sinking feeling that he should apologize. Which at first irritated him. Why should he apologize? He only told the truth. And to top it off he thought he had done what she would want him to do. In a way he thought he had been defending her because they hadn't just been teasing him alone after all. He shouldn't have to apologize!

Of course none of those thoughts changed the fact that he was going to anyway. The guilt was already eating away at him and if saying he was sorry was what got her to finally talk to him again, he would suck up his pride and do it.

Which all of that was easier said than done. It was quite sad but Heiji was quickly coming to the conclusion that he never really had to apologize for something before. It wasn't something that he actively refused to do. It was more of he never actually felt like he needed to. It was probably not a good thing that he could count on one hand how many times he had apologized. It worried him that he wouldn't seem sincere to her.

Apparently that wouldn't be his biggest problem. He wasn't counting on his soulmate being even more stubborn than he was. It was like she didn't want to give him the chance to say sorry. That or she just wanted to make him squirm more. They never had a chance alone. They usually walked home together but the past few days she always had something to do. Today she said she needed to stay after class.

Two could play at that game however. If she thought she was stubborn, she obviously still didn't know him well enough yet either. He waited for her.

The sun had already begun to set but Heiji refused to move. He had the idea to just wait at her house but he had a feeling that would do more harm than good. When he caught her expression when she realized that he had actually waited for her, he still felt like this maybe wasn't a good idea either.

"What took you so long?"

Her expression had been neutral up until that point. Now it was thunderous.

"Sorry to inconvenience you. I didn't exactly ask you to wait." 

Her tone was dismissive. 

Heiji scowled. "You haven't asked me to do anything. You haven't been talking to me," he accused. Briefly he had the reminder that it was him that should be apologizing yet he was already throwing around accusations.

"Oh, I haven't?" she asked with feigned nonchalance.

Her response had him forcing himself to take a breath. Remember why you came out here, he told himself adamantly. She's trying to distract you to hold onto her grudge. Remember why you're out here.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out but with how frustrated he was, he sounded more angry than apologetic. 

His apology, whether it sounded mean or not, had her eyes widening slightly and her mouth falling open. "H-huh?"

That couldn’t be good. . . 

He didn’t like the sign of that. She sounded surprised. It was embarrassing and already he could feel the tips of his ears heating but there was no way he could take back an apology.

"I'm sorry," he said again only this time calmer.

It was a little annoying how she only continued to stare at him. As if she were still unsure if she had heard him correctly. But when it became apparent that she had indeed heard him right, she nodded her head.

"Okay."

What?

The irritation he had been trying to hold back blew.

"What am I supposed to do with that?!"

To her credit, Kazuha actually looked confused and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. What am I supposed to do with your apology?"

Heiji actually felt a knot start to form at his temple. "You're supposed to say if you accept it or not, dummy!"

"Well how can I accept it if I don't know what it's for, ahou!"

Her response actually made him pause for a moment. Then her words registered.

"What?!" he almost exploded. "Weren't you mad at me?"

Her face was the perfect one of confusion. "Mad? Why would I be mad at you?"

"Two days ago- in the courtyard," he reminded and slowly he saw it dawn on her what he was getting at. When her face began to turn red he knew she definitely remembered. "You haven't said a word to me since!"

When it seemed like it had all finally settled in for her and she still looked confused, Heiji wanted to scream. Then why had he felt all this guilt? All the mental pep-talks he had to do just to get the courage to apologize to her and she wasn't even mad.

"You know what," he finally burst and turned around as if to head to the front gate. "Forget about it." He wasn't going to play this game right now. He apologized. He did what he felt like he needed to do. He reached out. Now he'd allow her the space she apparently so desperately wanted-

"I miss my friends."

So stuck in his head, he almost missed that she had said something. Freezing to look over his shoulder though, he knew he heard her correctly. She wasn't looking at him. If anything he'd guess she was staring at her shoes in . . . shame?

"I was a little upset," she admitted softly. If it wasn't for how somber she looked he would've demanded to know why she hadn't accepted his apology.

"I'm mostly upset with myself so I'm sorry if it seemed it was about you."

How was I supposed to know that if you ignored me for two days, he wanted to grumble.

"I just saw the way you and your friends were interacting and it . . . made me jealous."

"I mean- how stupid is that?" she shook her head as if scolding herself and it looked like her shoulders were trembling. "To be mad at you. Leaving my friends and my home is worth it if I have my soulmate waiting for me." And her voice finally cracked; her voice thick with tears. They started streaming down her face and her arm that wasn't carrying her bag came up to wipe them away hurriedly.

"But I'm sorry. I can't help it. Sometimes I just wanna go home," she hiccuped.

He had not been expecting her tears. He had not been expecting anything she had said. And for that, he felt he could never forgive himself.

How selfish was he? It hadn't even crossed his mind if Kazuha had even wanted to move back. He had always assumed she did. He never questioned if she liked it here. Because in his mind, she had to. He was here after all. If she wasn't saying anything, then nothing was wrong, had been his thoughts.

And watching her break down, arms shaking and voice quivering- the guilt he had felt before was nothing compared to this.

Gently, and slowly so as to give her a chance to pull away, he grabbed the hand that was still swiping at her tears that were still falling. She startled slightly but other than that, allowed his hand to hold hers carefully. When their eyes connected, it made his heart ache all the more.

He was sure his eyes reflected all the pain he was feeling as well. He'd be lying if he said her words hadn't made him feel the slightest bit inadequate as a soulmate. But it wasn't just about what he wanted anymore. His feelings weren't his priority anymore. Hers would always come before his own now.

Clenching his jaw, he still held her hand and he dropped his gaze to it. Her hand was smaller than his and much paler as well as softer. Swallowing the emotion down that was trying to surface he said, "Do you want to go back?"

He didn't want her to. It was strange how quickly the bond took control of his heart but each person experienced it differently. And for the first time he was realizing that maybe . . . she didn't want this yet. Maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge this yet. And she didn't have to. They were only in high school. They had a lifetime after this.

"No!" Her adamant response startled him but what was even more surprising was how her hand was suddenly gripping his back. "I don't think I could ever want that. I just have nobody here and sometimes I feel so . . alone," she whispered the last part slightly and Heiji once again took in her somber appearance.

Something finally struck him. Was she having a hard time adjusting because-

His mind blazed and his eyes narrowed.

"Is someone messing with you?"

"What- no, Heiji. I just don't know these people."

"Don't lie to me," he said sternly and he took another step towards her. The close proximity obviously made her nervous because immediately she was sputtering, going to take a step back. But in her panic, her feet tangled together and suddenly she started falling.

"Hey-! Careful, dummy!" And in his panic to grab a hold of her, one hand grabbed her arm firmly and the other had gone for the front of her uniform at the collar. But his fingers tangled in something and accidentally pulled too hard.

It happened like slow motion. A charm flew from under her shirt; the string that was wrapped around his fingers broke and the charm too went falling. Too wrapped up in the fact that he recognized that charm, he had almost missed the fact something had flown out of it. And almost comically they both watched it flutter to the ground slowly. It fell facing up and he could see perfectly what it was as well as recognize it. It had his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open in shock; the barest tint of pink dusting his dark cheeks.

He never told her he kept the charm she had gifted him all those years ago. Not because he was actively hiding it. It just never came up and like he said before, it was simply a part of him now. But not once had it occurred to him that she had kept hers as well. It hadn't even crossed his mind that she might've thrown hers away and thought he was weird for keeping his. But she didn't.

And even more startling was, she had a picture of him inside it.

He can see the embarrassment and just down right panic as she quickly dropped to snatch the charm up. And almost like someone was trying to torture her, each and every time she went to pick up the picture, she couldn't seem to get a good grasp under it. It stuck to the floor, his smirking face pointing upward as if mocking and he could feel her frustration grow.

Though he was shocked at first and that made him freeze up, when he realized what just happened, he couldn't help the smug grin that began to creep up on his features. He wasn't that terrible however, and he squatted down next to her, picking up the glossy photo from the floor easily.

Probably before thinking it through, she was already snatching it from his hand and holding to her chest protectively as if praying he hadn't seen it yet- which they both knew that of course he had. Her face was so red and she was refusing to look at him and looking closely, it looked like she was about to cry again from how mortified she must've felt.

He frowned. Why would she cry over that? Shaking his head slightly, he grinned slightly again.

"Kazuha."

Still, she wouldn't look at him at first. She clearly thought he was going to make fun of her, and though that was highly tempting, he knew it would've only been hypocritical. She still was stubbornly refusing to look at him though and he knew she had heard him.

Sighing, he slouched on the floor heavily beside her, hopefully as evidence to her that he would not be leaving. They were still at the school gates and any of their classmates that stayed behind could spot them if they walked by, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to realize that he had all day.

All it did was make her turn her face further away from him. It was clear she wanted to be left alone again after she was probably feeling so humiliated.

But Heiji didn't see anything humiliating about it. He felt giddy. Because she finally gave him what he had been needing. Seeing the way her blush went from the tips of her ears and down her neck, he felt his smile soften.

Dummy. All I wanted was for you to acknowledge this. To acknowledge me.

The rustle from his clothes as he shuffled for the yarn that was wrapped around his throat just under his own collar- he knew it got her attention from the way she tensed slightly. She stubbornly refused to turn towards him until, like he knew it would, her curiosity got the best of her and she looked at him confusedly.

By that point, he was already loosening the string keeping the charm cinched closed and tugging out something else that he cherished closely to him. She wouldn't look away though. He already knew she was probably surprised to see that he still held that charm around his neck. The real shock came when he held the small glossy square in his hand, angling both that and the charm so she could easily see.

"Don't worry about it, dummy. I have one too." The soft grin he gave her was not intentional, nor was it something he could hold back. A smirk or even a joke was probably more like his style. He couldn't deny how warmly she had touched him though. As he was almost positive was the same for her, he had no intention of showing her what was in his charm. He hadn't even thought to tell her he still had it let alone tell her he carried her photo around in it. But to see she did the same as well. . . He couldn't explain the sensations he was feeling right now. The way his heart kept stuttering in his chest- was that normal? Probably not but he liked it and he wanted her to experience that feeling as well.

What he was not wanting her to feel was the trembling of her bottom lip nor the tears that sprung to her eyes. He would've asked if she was upset still if it wasn't for the messy, watery grin she gave him. Her cheeks were still red but this time it seemed more from being happy.

Once she had the charm placed back in the bag, he opened his hand expectantly. After she complied, he began to reattach the string around her neck.

"You can go back if you need to," he spoke softly as he finished tying off the yarn. Her whole body tensed but he continued.

"It'll suck at first but I don't want you to be unhappy here." Throat feeling a little tight he added, "I can wait-"

A small noise of surprise escaped him when suddenly her hand was touching his cheek. Still looking down, he hadn't really paid attention to see she was now facing him. But looking at her now, he wasn't sure if it was the bond acting up again but her eyes felt . . . brighter.

And suddenly she was laying her head just under his chin. Her hand having slipped down to wrap around him tightly in an embrace. 

“I want to stay.” 

[libraribear]

2020 in Review

2020 is in the books. What a year. It seems a given that through life, some years will be good and some years will be bad, and for many 2020 was one of the bad ones. Globally, it feels like it was the worst year ever. Personally, I can’t go that far. So many people have it worse than I do, and I’m leery of writing this post because I don’t want to sound unsympathetic as I count my blessings (before going into the undeniably shitty, but FAR LESS shitty things than what some other people are going through).

Nonetheless, as part of a New Year’s Resolution to create more, I figured I’d polish up this blog and write more, so here’s my 2020: Good, Bad, and Ugly. This is a heckin’ long post so only read on... if you dare.

The Good

I never lost my job.

A lot of my academic colleagues did - basically everyone who had “temporary” or “adjunct” in their title was axed. By virtue of being temporary year-to-year faculty for five years, I was promoted to the tenure-track in 2019. I feel very badly for my colleagues, all who lost their job to circumstance, not merit. Six years ago I took a chance leaving a steady job with a newborn to pursue my goal of being an Academic Librarian.  The job was a one-year temporary position with no guarantee of continued employment, and I worked hard, interviewed for my job twice in five years, and managed to hang on. It’s crushing to imagine what it would have been like to survive all that and get axed because of a pandemic, and I feel very badly for my colleagues who suffered that fate.

I got to spend most of the year working from home with my kids.

Before I get into “The Bad”, namely that keeping a five and six year old on task while working a full-time job is incredibly stressful, the good was that I got to watch one-year-old girl grow and grow and grow every day whereas my two boys were in daycare at that age. I got to spend a ton more time with the boys and my wife too.

My kids live in a school district with resources.

We’ve made a lot of strides in Distance Education, but it still isn’t ideal. I feel like my kids’ school district is doing the best they can to make it work. I feel extremely fortunate to live in a district where that was an option from the start, with full distance, hybrid, and in-person options. Not wanting to expose my kids or their teachers to any risk, we’ve gone full distance the whole time. we chose this to keep our kids as safe as possible, so I hope you’ll forgive me when I go into detail under The Bad as why it sucks for everyone involved. ;)

Ms. Bear and I started Doctoral Programs

File this one under “things I’d have never done if I knew the pandemic was going to be this much of a problem in Fall”, but it’s still a good thing - and definitely not the kind of thing I would do if it wasn’t free through my university. With Ms. Bear it’s more of a life-fulfillment thing and I’m happy that I can help her realize her dream. 

The Bad

Distance Education Requires Training - Students Are Struggling

My college freshmen struggled to adapt to their first year seminar class and I attempted to make it as easy as possible for them to follow along, engage online, have second and third chances to turn in assignments... it didn’t matter. Elementary school students have it worse - my kids struggle to stay on task, and me and Ms. Bear do our best to keep them on task. I feel really bad for those kids whose parents can’t work from home or are too busy to stay on them and help them with distance education. I’m not anti-distance education by any stretch, but the pandemic forced a lot of people to switch to it relatively quickly and since distance education is by its nature very self-directed even with a good teacher/instructor, some people unused to this method really struggle.

I should note that none of this is meant as a criticism of the decision to go for distance education.  Health is most important, period, and those politicians that are like “But think of the children, send them to school” - well, hold them back a year if it’s that bad. I repeated the first grade. It’s better than dying. I worry less about the kids’ educational attainment and more for those kids from bad homes where school is a safe haven/source of food. If you’re that worried about it pass some laws to help. 

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof is leaking water

When you find a tiny leak in your roof, if you can afford it, pay the money and fix it. Don’t wait “because it’s a pandemic and we may need that money”. The money sat in my bank account until the the bedroom ceiling started to drop a few months later. Definitely the decision of 2020 I’d most like back.

2020 Was Not The Year to Reduce Stress.

I think everyone is running on fumes by the time they got to the end of this year. For my wife and I as young parents (can’t help that), full-time workers (gotta eat to live), and grad students (like I said above, if I had a do-over I’d DEFINITELY have waited until 2021, the pandemic represented the steady erosion of all the gains I made the past year. Anxiety? Back up. Overall level of physical fitness and nutrition? I was exercising and eating and feeling really healthy in March, but I eat (and feel) like crap now. 

The Ugly

Misinformation, Misinformation Everywhere... and Politics

Misinformation is nothing new for a US Presidential Election year. But as a librarian whose job it is to promote information literacy, understanding which sources are indeed trustworthy and which are not, this election year was frankly, terrifying for me. I mean, if you know a source is trustworthy because of the standards and norms that are used to govern it, but people simply roll to disbelief it’s trustworthiness... I’m not sure how in the hell you get through to them. Lest this be construed as too political a post (I did get a little political above, hee), I’m going to stress that these information discernment skills that seem to be lacking are skills people on both Team Blue Donkey and Team Red Elephant lack. Add to that the psuedoscience, lack of fact-checking, and the whole “If it doesn’t agree with my worldview, I refuse to believe it” attitude illuminated by the pandemic and I’m not going to lie, this shit is terrifying to me. I’m hoping it’s just a phase we’re going through in America, but geez. I’m not a doom and gloomer, but this year was TOUGH in the whole “Faith in humanity’s ability to reason” department. I’ll listen to anyone’s political opinion if they back it up with well-researched sources and facts, but rather than driving closer to this goal, we’re heading in the wrong direction.

I should note that to me, it’s not just Team Red Elephant that has trouble discerning information, or is duplicitous. I need to make that clear. I definitely lean left and it’s not hard to see why - I mean, I’m a heckin’ librarian for crying out loud. But lying and misinformation or misconstruing facts? Some politicians may be more egregious offenders, but most politicians do that regardless of stripe. I feel politics are more like a teeter totter constantly switching up and down. We do ourselves a disservice when we believe everyone on our team is rational and level-headed and everyone on the other team is evil, stupid, irrational. There was a time when we could have discourse, and through disagreements we could at least learn from one another. I intensely understand the desire to make and justify political beliefs, but they’re not how we progress in a country that’s run the way the US is. Maybe it’s always been this way, but as I’ve aged I notice we have a lot more tendency to anoint a politician of our political stripe as a savior. Whatever happened to the old worldview that all politicians were lying dirtbags and though you might side with them, you could never fully trust them? It seems to have been turned on its head, I’m not sure how, to “Trust my side implicitly, DO NOT TRUST THE OTHER SIDE AT ALL.” That one side could be a bastion of truth and virtue and the other a bastion of evil and ugliness is, I’m not gonna lie, extremely unlikely.

Do as I say, not as I do. I got swept up in the political fervor myself with my D&D Friends - for a time we had a “Just Politics” channel to talk politics. That was a big mistake. Though no friendships were ended, that channel alone intensified my anxiety tenfold (MY FRIEND IS WRONG ON THE INTERNET! I HAVE TO SHOW THEM THE ERROR OF THEIR WAYS!) and... yeah. The BEST decision I made in 2020 was folding and walking away from the political discussion table - but it took me a few months of arguing and stressing to get there. I’ve reverted back to trying to do good for all people in my little corner of the world and the web by treating everyone respectfully and rationally unless they give me reason to do otherwise, at which point I’m far more likely to ignore you than engage with you. I hate that I have to do that, but it is what it is. If I talk politics, it’s privately with someone I know that is sane enough to safely distance from the chaos, or someone I trust implicitly. I won’t deny that it’s a very fascinating subject to me since politics is so ingrained into human nature, but good lord, what a minefield.

UGLY Bonus Edit (I always think of the coolest things to say right after I hit post, after all)

A last thought - whenever we’re confronted with a worldview we disagree with, whatever happened to asking the person why they feel that way or what they meant before immediately labeling them scum on Earth? We don’t even bother to fact check the people we loathe when honestly at worst you’re just confirming suspicions, at best you may even cause them to question why they believe what they believe? I can’t remember the last political or heated conversation I’ve seen where that happened. When I was fighting with my friends on “Just Politics” I don’t think I bothered to ask that often enough myself.   

Anyway, I’m looking forward to making 2021 a better year than 2020. Happy New Year, everyone. Love and hope to you all.

[harryandmolly]

desperado

A/N: a continuation of “she got the moon in her eyes” -- recommend you read that first!

summary: Shawn and Catalina deal with the aftermath of their night together

warnings: Language, NSFW in a big way holy cow (unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it), dom!Shawn comes out to play

WC: 4.4k

-------------

The morning is dark and cold when he leaves her bed, her tangled navy hair, her chapped rosy lips. It’s like the day itself is telling him to turn around and get back under her sheets, nicotine stained and perfume scented. The idea of it sets something off in his gut, a sharp tugging leading in the opposite direction of his heavy stride toward his bike.

He slings a leg across and settles in, pulling his helmet on, careful to avoid his still tender black eye. When he checked in her mirror in the early blue light of dawn, it was starting to go a sickly green-ish around the edges. He’s lucky, he guesses, that Catalina took him home last night before this started. He looks a little gross.

He revs the engine, takes one mournful look back at the little craftsman house and sighs, taking off down Greenfield toward his place.

+

You can’t hear the tinkling bell over the door at Plucky’s Pub, the one meant to signal the arrival of more customers. Catalina doesn’t know why it’s there. But as she’s learned, Plucky’s regulars don’t like change. If the bell was gone, they’d surely notice somehow, the way they notice when Bonnie changes anything -- the price of two fingers of whiskey, the ratty-ass curtains over the south window, even the fucking bar polish they use to clean the damn place.

Catalina doesn’t need the bell, anyway. She can feel it when people walk in, even when the line for the bar is five deep and she can’t see the door. She’s been doing this a long time. Plus, when certain people walk in, you can feel it.

Shawn is the last of his crew through the door. He’s the one they turn to look at. Not even just the straight women -- everyone. He’s just eye-catching. Catalina knows. She understands. He caught her eye, too.

She turns on the block heel of her slingbacks. She doesn’t even want to be tempted to look up at him. It’s been three weeks since she took him home and he left without a word. Things like that just… don’t happen to her.

This one stung. For one thing, she’s not usually the one hosting. She prefers it that way. She can control her exit without the fuss of having to kick someone out. It also means she’s never in the position of having someone leave her to wake up alone.

She didn’t have, like, plans or anything. She wasn’t going to wake up and put on his t-shirt and make him pancakes, for fuck’s sake. That’s so not her style.

It’s the principle of it. He left. He left her. Nobody does that.

Why the fuck did he do that?

She knows it was good. Fuck, she knows it was great. It’s never been like that the first time, not with anyone. She thinks of the way his body stuttered, the groan that sounded like it was coming out of his gut when he came inside her. Her toes tingle thinking about it. She grits her teeth and rocks the cocktail shaker harder in her warm hands.

She does finally turn around because she has to to hand off the drink. It’s admittedly not the best martini she’s ever made. She abused the ice in the shaker for too long, which chips it, which makes it melt faster, which makes it watery, which makes her tip smaller. She grits her teeth, accepting the small bills, tucking them into her bra.

The loud glassy clinking of beer bottles being delivered to a table has her looking up before she can remember to stop. Shawn and his friends are starting with Molsons tonight. Shawn isn’t looking at his bottle as he positions the edge of the cap over the end of the table, slapping the heel of his palm down without flinching.

He’s looking straight at her.

It takes all her self control not to sneer before she turns her gaze down to the next customer. She has to blink a few times not to see his face. She also has to have the poor girl repeat her order three times before her fingers know where to reach to make a gin and tonic.

+

She used to be good at ignoring his eyes on her all night.

Well, that’s not strictly true. She just used to enjoy them a lot more.

She’s not sure why they’re on her now. The curiosity has been well and thoroughly satisfied. He had her, he left. Yes, that makes him a fucking moron of catastrophic proportions, Catalina knows. But why is he still looking?

Every time she glances up, he’s already watching her expectantly. What exactly is he anticipating? Does he expect to see her bursting into tears at the sight of him, or panting over the idea of fucking him again until he comes over and takes her?

If that’s what he’s waiting for, it’ll be a while.

She’s busy, anyway. She has a cling-on tonight.

A cling-on is a term Bonnie uses for guys that latch onto a hot female bartender and attempt to woo her. Catalina’s very familiar with them. She got a lot more when she started at Plucky’s, when her take-no-prisoners reputation wasn’t yet known. But every so often, some poor sap will stumble in and think if he’s persistent enough, he’ll get in her pants. She has half a mind to let him if it’ll run Shawn out of her rattled brain.

But this particular guy is aggressive. She stopped serving him fifteen minutes ago after he knocked over the drink of a biker chick Catalina once took home, but he’s still here, trying to talk to her every time she delivers a drink down to his end of the bar.

She drops a rum and coke onto a coaster for the woman next to him, who looks sweetly concerned. Catalina winks at her assuringly and turns to head for a group of college guys that have just made their way to the bar after a wait.

Before she can move, she feels a tug on the thin strap of her dress. She whirls around, eyes skimming past the horrified look on the woman’s face before she settles on the bleary-eyed fuckwit who just laid a hand on her without her permission.

Then something weird happens.

Catalina’s history of chucking assholes out of Plucky’s for different varieties of bad behavior is long and storied. She’s hardly ever needed help to do it. When she has, it’s been because the losers have had back up, so Shawn and his friends, the de facto security team, stepped in to even the count.

Catalina knows the situation calls for her angriest face, for her to bark “OUT!” loud enough to embarrass the fucker and get him stumbling out the door. She can do it. She doesn’t need help.

But she looks up. Shawn is watching her carefully, beer bottle halfway to his perfect, pillowy lips. She swallows and blinks at him, and it’s enough for him to come running.

In a few strides, he’s there, hustling around the crowd to get behind the bar. His eyes are dark and solid, his jaw is tight. He’s squaring up, looking ready to scream in this guy’s face, but it’s not what Catalina wants.

Instead, she grabs him by the wrist, pins herself to the wall and drags him in.

Shawn doesn’t take long to respond. He sinks one hand into the soft, sweaty hair clinging to the back of her neck and wraps the other around her hip, nipping hard at her lower lip to get a moan vibrating his whole body.

Some patrons cheer. Bonnie casts them a confused sidelong glance from the other end of the bar as she dumps bourbon into a lowball glass. Shawn’s friends exchange amused looks.

Shawn and Catalina don’t see any of it.

Shawn tips his head, pressing his tongue between her lips with a deep sigh that makes his shoulders drop for the first time in weeks. The hand on her hip works his thumb into her hipbone, pulling the loose skirt of her little dress up with every purposeful stroke. Catalina holds him close, massaging her long fingers against his scalp to make his eyes flutter.

She’s the one that breaks away to breathe first. Her lips are wet, parted with the heaving effort of her breath. She looks up at Shawn, eyes wide, expression unreadable. While he stares down at her, she angles her head to look over his shoulder. Her cling-on looks vaguely disgusted, pitching himself off the counter to amble heavily toward the door.

He watches her mask slide back on when she looks back up at him, clearing her throat.

“Thanks.”

The muscle in Shawn’s jaw pulses. He eases off to let her slide out from around his hulking form. She doesn’t bother looking back at him again.

+

Catalina’s not the least bit surprised to see him refuse his friends’ invitation to leave with them after closing time while Catalina is refilling bottles and twirling on her toes to “I Wanna Be Your Lover” by Prince -- one of Bonnie’s favorite post closing time clean up jams.

Catalina is dawdling. Bonnie and Shawn have both clocked it. She’s singing along under her breath, rinsing the funnel leisurely as Bonnie locks doors and gathers cash into a bag for the bank.

Wizened Bonnie with her spiky red pixie cut and her toned, tattooed arms shoots Shawn a look before announcing she’s out for the night. Shawn answers it with a nod. Bonnie hits the stereo on the way out.

It’s quiet. The only sounds left in the dark, empty bar are the splashing of booze as Catalina refills handles and the squeaking of her heels on the sticky floor.

Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath. He runs a hand through his hair and drops the last gulp of Johnnie Walker down his throat before standing, shucking off the Dolly Parton leather jacket. He takes his glass and heads for the bar to return it to Catalina.

She looks up briefly from her careful pour of Jim Beam.

“What’re you still doing here?” she murmurs. It’s gentle, not accusatory. It makes Shawn’s lips curl into a smirk.

“Figured I’d stick around in case that creepy fucker comes back.”

Catalina wets her lips and stands, shaking her hair out over her shoulders. She doesn’t look up from her bottle.

“You know I don’t have a problem handling those losers,” she says breezily. Shawn sees right through it.

“Oh, I know. That’s why it was so cute that you used it as a way to get your tongue in my mouth earlier.”

That gets her attention. Her gaze snaps to his. She tilts her chin up defiantly.

“Some guys don’t respond to my pushback unless they think I “belong” to somebody,” she explains unnecessarily, quirking her fingers in air quotes around “belong.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully, twirling his glass in his fingers before he sets it down on the bar and steps around it to hunch beside her.

“But you don’t belong to anybody, baby,” he purrs in her ear, watching with a rush of heat in his veins as goosebumps pour over her sweet, fragrant neck.

“That’s right,” she snarks back, twisting the cap of a bottle. She turns to put the bottle back. On her way to grab another, Shawn hooks an arm around her waist and lifts her to perch on the edge of the bar counter.

He takes his time looking her over as he makes his way between her thighs. With heavy lids, he watches her breathing quicken. He strokes his broad, rough palms down the outsides of her legs. He pauses. Catalina holds her breath, sure she’s getting another bruising kiss. Instead, he steps back and skillfully hooks his fingers under the ankle strap of her slingbacks, slipping them off and dropping them with a clatter.

“Dunno why you wear those to work,” he comments, gently lowering one leg to focus on the other. He plants her foot at the center of his chest and draws his fingertips teasingly up and down the length and breadth of her moonpale leg.

Catalina grips the edge of the bar and stares at him unblinking. He admires the dips and curves and swells and valleys of her well-used leg, slipping his fingers under the sole of her foot to pluck it off his chest and press his thumbs into the sore tendons.

Catalina’s eyes slam shut. The moan that leaves her throat is beyond obscene. It makes Shawn chuckle. He takes his time, working his fingers with varying pressure around the ball of her foot to the arch to her heel and back again. When he’s satisfied, he lifts her other foot and repeats the massage, intricate and detailed and so tender it makes Catalina’s mind swirl.

“I… they make my ass look amazing,” she answers finally, his question almost forgotten.

Shawn looks up from her eggplant-lacquered toes. “Your ass already looks amazing, Leens. You might as well be comfortable while you look so damn good.”

He lowers her foot and stares up at her. Without removing his gaze, he lifts her claw-like hand off the bar and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss over her knuckles.

“You know, you’re allowed to want to be a damsel in distress sometimes. I won’t think any less of you.”

Catalina balks, her insides twisting. “I don’t need you to save me, Shawn.”

Shawn steps closer, dropping her little hand onto his shoulder.

“I know. But it’s ok if you want me to.”

His lips are soft, plump and whiskey-wet. She gasps into them, her knees falling automatically open to welcome him closer. He takes the invitation happily, pulling her hips tight against his torso as he loses himself in the taste of her sweet mouth. She’s immediately needy, dropping her pretense to take as much of him in her hands as she can. She squeezes the bulk of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, the soft skin of his neck, the curls behind his ears that have him growling into her lips.

She pulls back. He grunts and chases her down, lunging in for another searing kiss. She lets him take it, the wrinkle between her eyes softening as she rocks her hips against his abdomen and gathers him ever closer. Soon, before she can entirely lose her train of thought, she pulls away again, this time to suck on his jaw to pacify him.

Through wet, biting kisses, she pants, “Want to show you… want to thank you…”

Shawn’s intrigued. His stomach flips. He pulls back and holds her face in his hands.

“How are you going to do that?” he coos, cocky and curious.

Catalina inhales and nudges him back enough to slip down to her feet. She turns him, props him up against the bar and lowers to her knees. His head tosses back. He breathes harder in anticipation.

“Remember how hot and tight my throat was for you?” she breathes, her voice already fucked as she unbuckles his belt and skillfully works his jeans open to free his hard cock, “Remember how good and wet I felt when I was sucking you?”

“Jesus, baby,” Shawn hisses. His cock gives a twitch at her words. She smiles and takes it in her soft hand, stroking it firmly. His eyes flutter.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, Shawn,” she tells him, planting a sweet kiss on his tip. His hips shift forward, searching for her.

“Open up then, princess,” he sighs, shooting her a crooked grin that has her squirming.

Catalina, for once in her life, obeys. She lifts her hair over one shoulder and parts her flushed lips, staring up at him. Shawn groans, easing his cock into her willing mouth slowly. He wants her to enjoy this as much as he knows he will, so he doesn’t go shoving in all at once. He rolls his hips gently, letting her adjust, slick him down with her soft tongue. When she gives a short nod, he rocks harder, a little deeper, until he feels her throat restrict around his shaft.

She’s looking up at him like she doesn’t want to miss a second. Her small hands cling to his hips like she’s afraid he’ll bolt if she doesn’t hold on. Fat fucking chance.

Her mouth really is almost as good as her pussy. Or maybe his stupid horny brain just thinks that right now because he hasn’t had her pussy in weeks, even though it’s all he’s been thinking about when he’s alone, his tight fist failing to bring him the same ecstatic feeling. She’s not afraid of what he’s giving her, even when he reaches down to curl his hand around her thick sheet of hair to control the angle of her wet mouth. She seems hungry for him. It makes his toes curl in his boots.

“Your fucking mouth, Jesus fucking Christ,” Shawn pants, shaking his head with a short, overwhelmed burst of laughter. Catalina groans, scooting closer on her knees. The whine that whistles from Shawn’s nose would embarrass him if he weren’t half gone.

“You like this, don’t you, baby? Like the way I fuck your pretty mouth,” he whispers, awed.

She manages to nod, still looking up at him reverently.

Shawn’s fingers curl into his free fist. The hand in her hair eases her back gently until his cock bobs against her bottom lip.

“Don’t wanna come in your mouth,” he grunts, “Need to feel you come on my face first.”

He watches in delight as her thighs tighten under her pretty skirt. He takes her hands, helping her back to her feet.

“How do you want me?” she asks, glancing around like she’s looking for ideas.

Shawn thinks fast on his feet. He grabs a step stool out from under the bar and positions it beside the counter, helping her to stand on top, facing away from him. She looks back over her shoulder when Shawn’s hands lift the skirt of her dress, his thumbs pressing greedily into the smooth skin of her ass.

Catalina’s eyes drift shut. She’s soaked straight through her lacy baby blue thong. Shawn tugs at it teasingly, letting it snap against her lower back.

“C’mon, Shawn,” she hisses impatiently.

Shawn hums from the back of his throat, amused. “Think you’re gonna get what you need by being a brat?”

He pulls at her panties for real now, watching as they hug her close, clinging to her wetness until they drop around her ankles. He steadies her as she steps out of them, kicking them off the stool.

“Maybe if you ask me nicely,” he suggests, lifting one of her legs so her knee rests on the edge of the bar, spreading her open for him, “I’ll give you what you need.”

Catalina’s vision is blurry. Now that he’s got her where he wants her, ready to give it up if she says the words, even her swollen pride can’t stop her.

She keens loud and looks over her shoulder, watching him drop to his knees so he’s level with her slick wetness.

“Please, Shawn. Fuck. Please. Need your tongue.”

Shawn grins wolfishly and lurches forward, using his gigantic hands to anchor her against the bar and press the flat of his tongue to her dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so wet already,” he laughs after his first taste, “Soaked from sucking on my cock.”

She mewls in agreement, wriggling her hips. He lifts a hand to bring it down against the white flesh of her ass, watching her arch, hearing her squeal.

“So pretty,” he groans before nuzzling his lips back where they belong. His tongue plucks at her clit, wanting her as wet as he can get her. She rocks her hips gently against the bar, stretching her arms out to hold tight to the other side of the counter as he starts fucking her in earnest.

Shawn’s tongue is unforgiving. He flicks it hot and fast against her swollen button, his thumbs sweeping in toward her center, flirting with the idea of filling her with his fingers. He concentrates on suckling at her until she’s bucking so hard against the bar that he can’t hold her still.

“Didn’t take long,” he pants, licking his lips, “Gonna come for me already, princess?”

“Please, please, please,” she chants, “Need to fucking come for you.”

Shawn is smug, landing another harsh smack on her ass, a second red handprint to match the first. “Yeah, baby. Come on my tongue.”

He thrusts his stiff tongue in between her pulsing walls, adjusting his hand so his finger can rock tightly against her clit. She can tell by the pressure mounting against his mouth that she’s almost there. He moans in anticipation and it’s the thing that drives her home.

Shawn holds his mouth fast against her, pressing his tongue in and out as she shakes and screams. He lifts his hands up around her hips, letting his palms be the cushion between her hipbones and the bar counter. He revels in it, in just how long it takes for her to even out and bring her crying whimpers down to ragged gasps.

Shawn hesitates, but pulls back when he feels her shivering at his touch. He straightens up behind her, helps her ease her leg down off the bar and climb off the stool to slump in his arms.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are unfocused, and Shawn has never felt so accomplished. He cradles her against his chest, smiling as she presses open-mouthed kisses through his t-shirt.

“Want more, honey?” he rasps, nosing at her fragrant hair. She nods eagerly.

Shawn reaches down to scoop her up, her legs lifting to twist around his waist. Her body is weak and soft against his as he carries her around the corner, pressing her back into the walk-in fridge door. She hisses at the cool steel before the sound disappears between his lips.

Catalina lifts her limp hands into his hair, squeezing when she feels his hips pin hers into the door and cant, driving his still hard cock against her pussy. She tastes herself, warm and heady on his lips. She writhes, desperately trying to angle herself in a way that will get him nestled up against her entrance for when the next rock of his hips comes.

“Shhh, I know,” he chuckles brusquely, holding her up with one arm so he can maneuver them together, spanking her clit with the head of his cock while he’s at it. She squirms, whimpering and tossing her head.

“Tell me,” he pants, telling himself he’s not begging, “Tell me you want to feel me.”

“Oh god, Shawn,” she moans, “Yes. Please. You make me feel so good.”

The tips of his ears go hot. With a grunt, he thrusts up into her, feeling a ghost of the memory of last time shrug around him. He’s never felt anything like her before. He thought it would’ve worn off after the first time, after he came so hard inside her he truly saw stars. But it’s here again and it has him by the throat.

His breathing is ragged as his chest presses against hers. She’s not mocking him this time, though. She’s brushing her nose over his, wetting her lips to speak, quiet and sweet.

“Nobody fills me like you do.”

Shawn’s instincts return and any remaining sense goes out the window. He growls again, vibrating her around his dick as he starts to set a rhythm that has her bouncing between his hips and the door. She gasps, eyes flying open as her head slams back into the steel. In the quiet bar, the sounds their bodies make together are viscerally filthy. Shawn squeezes his eyes shut to try to ignore it for fear of ending it all too soon. She feels too good. He’s had her once and now, as he has her again, he knows he’s addicted.

Her hips roll with his in perfect time, giving and receiving. Her hot breath on his face makes him feel like he’s buried in a cloud with her. Maybe they won’t have to come out this time. He doesn’t want to.

He shifts his hips to pulse the head of his cock against her g-spot. As badly as he wants to hold her here against him forever, he’s desperate to feel her come again. He knows how good she can do it.

“Lina,” he hears himself murmur, his lips so close to hers that they brush when he speaks, “I know you’re close. I can feel you.”

She’s sure he can. Her whole body is throbbing for him. She’s been holding on by her fingertips, unwilling to end it. She knows when she comes, he’ll follow. And then what?

She groans and shakes her head. “I… I--”

“I know,” he pants, “It’s ok. Just come for me. Want you to come so hard.”

He plunges his face into the crook of her neck, licking and sucking at the spot that got her so crazy for him last time. She cries his name, thrusting her hips harder just before the dam breaks. She soaks him, her body sputtering and stumbling through a fierce orgasm. She chokes on breath and grips his hair so hard she pulls some strands free in her fingers. The pleasure-pain she gives him sends him off the cliff behind her, pulsing hot and fast into her welcoming cunt until he’s spent and barely able to hold them both up.

Shawn eases back, tucking himself into his jeans. Catalina adjusts her skirt and clears her throat, sore from crying out for him.

She drops her head, unable to look at him. Her chest feels tight. The shame of it is seeping in through every pore.

She was so willing to spread her legs for him again after he left her naked and alone in her own bed. She put her desire for a good fuck over her pride. She let him know she needs him.

She can’t think of anything worse.

With a jolt, she heaves off the door and grabs at her panties and the purse she left on the counter, leaving the shoes behind -- they’d only slow her down. Without another look back, she hurries out the door, taking off at a run, barefoot and crying.

-----------

Part 3 coming very soon! Please support my smutty ass and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte

[panharmonium]

since i am on the cusp of watching the last four episodes of merlin (again, disclaimer: these are episodes i have never seen, and for which i still remain unspoiled, so please help me continue to stay spoiler-free for the next couple of days), i wanted to try to set down a record of where my thoughts are now, because you can only be in a place where you haven’t finished something once - “once a thing is known, it can’t be unknown,” etc - i’ll never be able to come back to this mindset, so i’d like to be able to remember what i was thinking before i knew how it ended.  if nothing else, this will mean that i can come back here and laugh at my wildly off-base suspicions.

this is relevant to absolutely nobody, since everybody else finished this show eight years ago; so under the cut it goes!

so. 

right now i have a feeling that merlin is going to end...badly.  i’ve never been outright spoiled for what happens at the end of this show, but various little hints of feelings i’ve picked up from people just indicate that...it’s not a good time.  it would be nice to be wrong!  but that is just the sense i have gotten.

with that in mind, my current thinking is as follows:

arthur: i think arthur’s doomed.  i used to think it was going to be merlin, but that was last year, and i’ve recalibrated and rewatched since then, and honestly, ‘the disir’ gives me a real bad feeling.  you can’t just ignore all these people being like “THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!  IT WILL NOT COME AGAIN!”  i’m not sure if he’s doomed now, or if they’re gonna have him survive the immediate crisis and then fast-forward to the future so we can watch him die and get shipped off to avalon later, but either way, i think arthur’s in trouble.  

(and, quite frankly, i don’t think merlin’s going to get his good ending, either.  i’m afraid he’s going to end up dead or living as a hermit or trapped in dragoon’s ancient body or something stupid like that.)

(i would LOVE to be wrong, fyi.  i have absolutely no reason to have these suspicions other than the vague sense from others that the ending of this show made people bitterly unhappy.)

i don’t know how there is a way for them to do this that doesn’t feel like a huge waste or something that doesn’t make sense.  the messaging on this show has always been that the time of albion hasn’t actually happened yet, that arthur is going to unite the land and be the greatest king of all time.  the message has never been that he’s already done it.  like - it’s never been presented as “the three years between S4 and S5 were what we consider to be the once and future king’s glorious reign.”  so it just feels...like it would be very weird to remove arthur without that promise ever being fulfilled.  i’m not sure how they can manage that without pulling the rug out from under their audience in an unpleasant/dishonest way.

i also don’t see how this kind of ending would work without breaking the show’s promise to merlin - that one day he will be known for who and what he is, that he and arthur are destined for greatness, that the appearance of a white dragon “BODES WELL” for them and the world they are trying to build.

mordred: i have no idea what’s going to happen with mordred.  i stand by what i said before, that i like him and don’t care if that means i get burned.  i don’t know if they’re planning on having him either a) be revealed as a traitor with his own agenda (one not necessary aligned with morgana’s) or b) be sincerely trying to be a good knight but doing a 180 and turning on arthur due to...idk, frustration about not being accepted, old grudge-holding from that confrontation with merlin when he was a kid, new grudge-holding from merlin constantly trying to get him killed, etc.  

i have always been concerned that merlin’s behavior is going to drive mordred to do something evil, thus accidentally bringing about the events he’s trying to prevent, so that still looms large in my mind.

morgana: ?????  whatever plan she has is going to blow up in her face, it seems, given the substance of merlin’s vision in 5.01 (not that she appears to have a plan at all, this season - she’s been all about the wacky schemes, lately; she has no allies and no army, as far as we know.  (that will change, though, i’m sure, once we get to That Dread Place, though how, i don’t know.)   “the legends speak of an alliance between mordred and morgana” - so maybe mordred ends up sort of helping her after all, and turning on her in the end (though he’s already done that, it seems, so i really don’t know how that makes sense).  

if it were up to me, i’d want morgana to be released, at the end of everything.  not redeemed, exactly - i don’t think she would cozy up in camelot with everybody and let things go back to normal, but i think she could be more than what she is.  i think it would be an appropriate arc, actually, for us to see her losing her allies and her armies, for her to see people drifting away from her methods, like when annis refuses to help her any further in 4.05.  morgana started off as the voice of moral authority on this show, but she’s descended far enough now that she’s driving people away from her cause.

but i still think she deserves a chance.  i think she’s the kind of person who has the capacity to come back from the brink.  i would like to see further exploration of the conflict she obviously feels when mordred appeals to her humanity in 5.09.  i would like to see the conflict she must feel about hurting people she used to love, and i would like to see conflict from them in her direction, as well.  i don’t believe it would be simple for arthur to ever consider killing his sister.  i don’t think gwen would just give up on morgana without a fight.  i do think merlin, for his part, has hardened his heart against her, and that seems appropriate, given their history, but i also think that merlin’s primary motivator in this world is love.  

i think he could learn.  i think he would realize, after some difficulty, that he owes it to her to try to reach her, somehow.  

gwen: it’s hard for me to say what i expect for gwen, because honestly, she hasn’t had much of an arc this season, and therefore we don’t have much to work with.  i’m not sure if TPTB just stopped knowing what to do with her once she became queen, or what, but if i had been putting down my expectations for her in season 5 as a whole, i would have expected to see gwen kind of like - struggling a bit with her huge change in circumstance (from servant to queen, i mean, that’s massive; there would be so many things she’d have to adjust to, and then dealing with other people as well, not all of whom would be thrilled by her upward mobility - eg nobles who are threatened by the idea that common folk feel like they can aspire to the second highest office in the land, or other servants who used to be her friends and would never wish her ill but are now maybe nervous around her - but none of that happened, so i honestly don’t know what the plan is for her.  i would have liked to see gwen showing up a bit more for merlin, i suppose...they were so close, before, and if anyone would have noticed that something was bothering merlin, gwen would have - but there’s just this gap between them now.

gwaine, too.  gwaine and merlin were tight.  and now they’re sort of…i mean, gwaine is there, and he on his end is still invested in merlin, but there’s a weird distancing happening between them.  merlin is too preoccupied with the all-consuming ‘make sure arthur doesn’t die’ to put much of himself into his other relationships.

to be clear, i’m not actually criticizing that as a writing decision.  i do think it’s something merlin would do.  i think it absolutely makes sense for merlin to be shutting down all the “extra” parts of his life, one after another, until the only thing left is the Mission.  his “destiny.”   he can only focus on that one thing.  he only thinks his life is worth something if he can succeed at this one thing.

it makes me very sad, but i do think it’s something that would happen to him.  it strikes me as an appropriate step for his character arc.  because merlin in S5 is kind of disintegrating, and even in S4 he was starting to pull away from other people.  but i would expect this problem to be addressed as season 5 progressed, and i fully do not expect that to happen now. 

i’m honestly not sure the show actually sees it as a problem at all.  i’m not sure...i can never tell if this show understands that merlin feels like all of his relationships are shams, that he feels that everyone who “loves” him would hate him if they knew who he actually was, not just arthur.  he thinks people only care about him because he lies.  he thinks his true self is fundamentally unlovable, in this particular world.  he doesn’t remember what genuine friendship feels like anymore - it’s been such a long time since he experienced it.

i think that’s a problem.  i expected it to be one of the problems we would address in S5.  but i’m not sure we’re actually going there.

gaius: i was REAL concerned about gaius when we started S5.  i was sure he was a goner.  he’d already survived way longer than i expected him to and i was so pleased about that fact; i loved it; i loved how merlin said “camelot needs BOTH of us” and refused to ever leave him behind.  

i’m still kind of um...worried about him, i guess.  i’m not sure where he would fit in a post-finale world.  though that really depends on where the finale leaves us.  

the dragons: don’t even ask me.  are we ever going to get clarification on how kilgharrah allowed aithusa to get swept up by morgana and then trapped in a pit for two years?  nah?  okay then.

i would really, really like merlin to be able to help aithusa.  it doesn’t matter if aithusa is “with” morgana; merlin is still a dragonlord.  he would still feel responsible.  he would still care.  you can tell how upset he is when he sees aithusa in 5.02.  i hope we can get something to this effect - who knows, maybe he and morgana can connect on this one thing.  

wider concerns: the magical community.  i’ve been waiting for merlin to take a stand for them for a long time, but again, i don’t think we’re going there.  i wish we were, but merlin thinks the only way he can help them is by helping arthur, because someone somewhere once told him arthur was the one who could put everything right.

(and again, that’s something that makes me sad.  why does this community have to wait for their oppressor to slowly, maybe come around?  the fact that we, the audience, are fond of arthur doesn’t make it okay for anyone to tell a group of oppressed people to sit around and wait their turn.  they deserve to be free now.  merlin deserves to be free now.  these people have every right to declare themselves free people, unbowed and unshackled - morgana is right about that much, at least.)

wider concerns: the political situation.  is anyone ever going to actually explain what albion looks like?  the show keeps saying “the five kingdoms” when there are DEMONSTRABLY more than five monarchs introduced across various seasons - are there just five extra-prominent kingdoms, like medieval superpowers?  or what?  this wasn’t really a big deal before and you could kind of handwave it away, but if arthur’s supposed to be uniting these places, it becomes a little more relevant.

and of course, merlin: 

i don’t want to write too much about my many many fears for merlin himself here.  i’ve written about them enough elsewhere, and, as gaius says, “i’m not sure my heart can take it.” 

suffice to say, my biggest fear is that merlin won’t get his good ending.  

for years, people have been telling merlin (and us, by extension!) that one day, someday, if he struggles enough, if he suffers enough, if he is very, very patient, and very, very strong, he will finally be known and loved for who he is.  

i am afraid that these people were either mistaken or lying.

people shouldn’t have to earn their happiness in the first place, but by god, if they did, merlin has done enough.  he has been hiding in the shadows all his life, doing nothing but help people and sacrifice himself for others’ sakes, even as he believes that all the people he cares about would hate the person he is inside.  

he deserves a spot in the sun.

[a-crimson-lion]

A Rant About Katsuki Bakugo

[Katsuki-stans and the like, you should probably steer clear from this.]

[Also, spoilers.]

Before we start, I want to make something clear: you are allowed to have your own opinions. You like Katsuki? Great! You disagree with my post or parts of it? That's fine! You can have your opinions and interpretations, and I can have mine. That's completely okay! Again, if these types of posts make you uncomfortable, feel free to leave. It's as simple as that. These are just my personal observations; you don't have to take them to heart! These types of arguments are... touchy, I'll admit, but they don't have to be a hell-scape. You got that? Good. Now then...

...let's begin.

P.S. Long Post. You've been warned...

I'll start by saying that Katsuki Bakugo never really appealed to me when I got into the series. I'll admit that I've only gotten to Season 3 in the anime (waiting on Season 4) and I've read up to the end of the Shie Hassaki arc in the manga (I have also had the burden of being bombarded with manga spoilets, but eh, c'est la vie). With that said, I still haven't come to like Katsuki. Telling Izuku to kill himself in episode one has only guaranteed that he'll never be far up on my favorite character lists. I will admit that he is definitely NOT the same character he was at the start, but even then, when compared to fellow classmates and other characters, his growth is miniscule. I get that it won't be an immediate overnight change for Katsuki, but when he's compared to characters like Tenya and Shoto, it's clear that his progression as a character really isn't all that. There are a few things that bother me with just his character in general, but let's start with this:

Handling Katsuki's actions and the consequences

One of the many arguments for Katsuki's character is as follows: "Yeah, he hasn't been explicitly punished for his actions, but the narrative makes sure to punish him with karma!" I used to believe this too, and I actually thought it was helping him develop into a better character. Except, it hasn't. 'Cause Katsuki has barely learned anything from those experiences other than "I'm weak," which is another problem for later. Let's review:

The Sludge Villain Incident. Katsuki gets caught and fails to escape, Izuku tries saving Katsuki, All Might ends up saving them both. Izuku gets scolded by the pros for his "reckless actions" (even though they didn't do anything, the lack of a proper quirk is no excuse) while Katsuki gets praise, which he blatantly ignores because he's pissed at Izuku. He then proceeds to follow Izuku home and tell him that he didn't need saving, even though he likely would have died or have been captured by the sludge villain had no one intervened. And before you tell me that Katsuki stopped bothering Izuku for a while, that wasn't because he recognized that Izuku did something right, it was because Katsuki was busy sulking at the fact that he's only getting noticed by being a victim, which he hates, and he proceeds to direct that anger towards himself. Once again, the only message he gets from this is that he's weak, even though most people are, in one way or another.

The Battle Trail. After Katsuki loses the Battle Trail to Izuku, he proceeds to nearly have a panic attack before getting a small pep talk from All Might and later Izuku. He isn't rectified for nearly KILLING, and if not that then nearly SEVERELY INJURING, another student. Katsuki didn't cooperate with his partner, which was the point of the exercise, and instead decided to do his own thing, which ultimately helped bring about their team's downfall. Again, he recieves no punishment beyond nearly losing his cool and self-loathing. All Might's justification for continuing the Trial is also kinda wack (THE BOY USED HIS HIGHLY DESTRUCTIVE FIREARM AGAINST ANOTHER STUDENT AFTER BEING TOLD NOT TO). Then, instead of a proper punishment, All Might tries comforting him, and Izuku even tries telling him about One for All (though arguably he'd be fine not knowing about it, and he hasn't told anyone else). Katsuki's takeaway from the entire thing is that he'll get stronger and surpass his classmates, which in some cases is admirable, but in this case, it's downright egotistical. No one can be the best at everything, not even All Might.

The Sports Festival, pre-tournament. Katsuki is pissed when he gets 3rd in the obstacle course. Katsuki yells like a disgruntled toddler when his team gets 2nd place (even though that means he gets to advance).

The Sports Festival, Round One. Remember that whole karma argument? Well, that goes out the window when Katsuki just makes a bigger explosion to counter Ochako's well thought out plan in order to win the match. I get it, not every plan you'll ever come up with will always succeed in the face of adversity, but where the hell did that big explosion come from any way? Shoto curb-stomped Hanta in an earlier match, but he was pissed at Endeavor, and he even apologizes afterwards. Izuku broke out of Hitoshi's mind control because One for All isn't exactly a by the book quirk. Katsuki... just creates a bigger explosion because he's strong? Really? IDK guys, it just doesn't carry the same weight as the first two examples. Also, yes Katsuki was pushing close to his limit, but that never comes up again in the rest of the Sports Festival or even the manga until he and Izuku are going up against All Might. His "weaknesses" aren't treated on the same scale as his fellow classmates, which, in the series' case, should be on equal footing.

The Sports Festival, Final Round. Katsuki basically wore down Eijiro in the second match (which is what Ochako almost did but of course Horikoshi can't give Katsuki some proper reprocussions), and then because his quirk produces light, Katsuki easily deals with Fumikage in the third match. He then proceeds to beat Shoto in the final round, and loses his shit. Now, I might be able to kind of understand where Katsuki is coming from, had it not been for the glaring fact that Katsuki listened in on Shoto's Tragic Backstory(TM). He knows that Shoto has difficulties using his fire side, but the second he uses it against Izuku, suddenly all Katsuki can think about is how he wants to beat Shoto at full strength, even though Shoto's situation is not an overnight issue. Katsuki doesn't see this however. He thinks Shoto is mocking him, which is simply not the case, but Katsuki is too self-centered to care. He ends up winning the festival, but he feels like he doesn't earn it just because Shoto couldn't get past his daddy issues just yet. When you put it like that, Katsuki just looks downright petty.

Sports Festival Finale. This is where most people tend to take Katsuki's side, but I have my counterarguments about the issue. Did Katsuki have the right to be mad? Arguably yes, but he could have simply sucked up his anger and waited until after the Festival was done to lash out, and we all know he didn't do that. Midnight had to knock him out just so he could get his hands off of Shoto. Should the teachers have restrained Katsuki like they did? Arguably no, but remember, this is a super-powered society. Maybe someone could have held Katsuki back if there weren't quirks, but Katsuki has freaking grenades for hands, and he has no qualms about blowing up Shoto simply because he didn't come at him with full strength. So restraining him, while unsightly, was probably one of the few ways to keep Katsuki from going apeshit at the Festival, considering the circumstances and Katsuki's behavior.

Katsuki's Internship. Best Jeanist is one of the few characters in the series to note Katsuki's less than ideal behavior. He gets a lot of flack for it , though, because how dare someone hurt the precious explodo-boy! Oh yeah, defend the kid with a massive ego and noticeable anger issues that go beyond comic relief. Besides, what did Jeanist exactly do besides this? Ruin Katsuki's hairdo? Make him wear jeans? Give him actually compotent advice on how heroes should act and interact with the public? The first one I might get, but other than that, Jeanist deserves no hate. To make matters worse, Katsuki learned nothing from his internship! Which segues perfectly into our next point...

Racing Assessment Post-Internships. Once the kiddos get back from their internships, All Might has them do another hero exercise, and the rest of the class gets to see how Izuku has improved. My problem with this is that they immediately compared his improvement to Katsuki's style. I personally don't see it, and I'll admit that Izuku probably borrowed fundamental bits of Katsuki's strategy, but all in all, Izuku came up with Full Cowl on his own. It shouldn't be linked directly to Katsuki the way it is in the series. We also get a nice quick monolouge from Katsuki about how he wasted his time during his internship, even though that was Katsuki's fault! Geez, what an ego...

Final Exams. I won't sugar coat it: Katsuki gets his ass handed to him by All Might. He comes out of that experience with injuries, but you know what? So does Izuku. And if I remember correctly, Katsuki was the only one who wasn't initially willing to cooperate. By God, Katsuki smacked Izuku with his gauntlet just because he was trying to talk. Even though getting through the escape gate is considered a legitimate way to pass the exam, Katsuki is too engrossed with beating All Might (THE NUMBER ONE HERO) to see that, and actually contemplated losing just because he was working with Izuku and refused to accept his help. It took Izuku decking Katsuki in the face for him to start remotely cooperating with his teammate. Izuku was the real MVP in all of this. And what does Katsuki get for his actions? He just passes. No talk afterwards. No reprimanding for his refusal to cooperate. No remidal lessons at camp. Nothing to help better Katsuki. What's worse is the reason for pairing up Izuku with Katsuki. Look, I get that the teachers don't know about their past, but Katsuki doesn't get along well with anyone in the class, except maybe Eijiro, and even that relationship is flimsy! Izuku would be willing to work with anyone, even with Katsuki. So what's the friggin' point!? Just pair Katsuki and Izuku with literally anyone else in the class besides each other! Maybe then he'd learn a thing or two about teamwork, yeesh...

Deku vs Kacchan 2. The Training Camp Ambush happens. The Provisional License Exam happens. Katsuki is not treated well through either, and he ultimately takes his growing frustrations out on Izuku. Now, I was glad that Katsuki didn't pass solely because he didn't approach the later part of the exam with what would be considered a hero's attitude. But then his fight with Izuku happens. It ends, and they both get punished, but Katsuki also learns about OFA, which I personally believes is unnecessary since there are virtually multiple candidates who deserve to learn about it more, and it actually does nothing for Katsuki as a character, but that's a discussion for another day. What really gets me going is on how Katsuki is portrayed during the fight. If you've seen the anime or read the manga, you know the scene where he asks Izuku why he was the reason for All Might's end. I'll admit, it actually got to me the first time through; Katsuki actually appeared human to me. But I think @itsclydebitches said it best in their own post analyzing Katsuki, which you can read here. Here's an excerpt:

"Now let’s make something clear: Bakugo obviously has feelings beyond anger and disdain. Of course he does. I’m not arguing that he’s a sociopath and like I mentioned back during the sludge incident, you can be scared and upset and still be a terrible person. So many people read this scene and immediately jumped on the ‘hug Bakugo’ bandwagon. The poor baby! He’s been blaming himself for All Might’s retirement this whole time!

Is that awful? Does it need to be addressed? Yes. However, you know who else is carrying misplaced guilt? 

Literally everyone else in 1-A. 

Izuku also blames himself for All Might’s retirement. We get a whole internal monologue on how if he hadn’t crushed his arms again he might have reached Bakugo in time and then none of this would have happened. Todoroki and Shoji also blame themselves for not reaching Bakugo in time. Tsu blames herself for not stopping her friends from walking into danger. It’s implied that other kids blame themselves for not tagging along. Everyone wonders what else they could have done to change things. 

I could go on. The point is, misplaced guilt is horrible but it doesn’t make Bakugo special. It’s not a free pass to excuse his behavior, especially when this all just happened. All Might’s retirement has no bearing on everything that came before that. When Tsu felt guilty about her roll in all this she called everyone together to speak with them. Bakugo drags Izuku out to try and pummel him. Everyone is suffering in one way or another, but only one of these kids is dealing with that by hurting others."

When put into perspective, Katsuki's guilt is nothing special, nor is it an excuse. Eijiro felt guilty when Katsuki was kidnapped. Tsuyu felt guilty for reprimanding her friends for wanting to save Katsuki. Hell, if we go back to the Two Heroes movie, Izuku is shown to feel guilty about the fact that All Might's quirk is fading and David Shield doesn't know because he was never told about One for All. The list goes on, but I think we've covered most of the bases.

Plus, even after that entire fight, Katsuki proceeds to regress back to his initial behavior before and during the Shie Hassaikai arc. He doesn't want anyone getting ahead of him, so he expresses glee when the work studies might be cancelled. He wines and covers his ears like a toddler when he hears about Izuku getting ahead of him. Sure, he has a few soft moments, but they seem to be "one step forward, two steps back" sort of deals. They signify his character development, sure, but again, compared to others, it isn't much.

Well, I just finished covering why even the narrative hasn't properly handled Katsuki. Now let's move on to:

The Faulty Relationship Between Katsuki and Izuku

Now, their entire dynamic is arguably hot garbage, but I'll specifically be discussing the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku when it comes to being heroes: "Save to win, win to save" and all that stuff that happened after Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Let me just start of by saying that Katsuki has done virtually nothing to understand this logic, at least during the beginning. While I will admit that Izuku and Katsuki's initial goals of saving and winning (respectively) are on point, in both their actions and some of their representation in the story (Katsuki only getting villain points, Izuku only getting rescue points), their development from that point is unfortunately unequal.

The thing is, Izuku has been actively working at winning part of being a hero. That's where the problem starts: if Izuku has been trying to learn how to win, Katsuki has learned virtually nothing on how to save. We can see this as early as the Entrance Exam Arc.

Let's look at the chronology of things from Izuku's perspective. He manages to pass the exam in resuce points by saving Ochako (save). He learns to slightly control his quirk during the ball toss, and manages to stay in U.A. even though he was dead last on the rankings (win). He manages to win the Battle Trial, albeit succumbing to his own injuries (win). Izuku is just trying to save people left and right during the USJ incident (save). Izuku dominates the Sports Festival Obstacle Course (win). Izuku helps his teammates during the cavalry battle, who in turn help him and the team advance to the tournament (win/save). Izuku manages to beat Hitoshi Shinsou (win). Izuku convinces Shoto to use his fire, and proceeds to lose the match (save). Izuku learns Full Cowl, allowing him to stop breaking his bones and use OFA more effectively (win/save). Izuku and company take on the Hero Killer (win/save). Izuku helps Katsuki pass the Final Exam by going back for him and dragging him out of the escape gate (win/save). Izuku manages to beat Muscular in order to save Kota (win/save). Izuku devises a plan to help save Katsuki, and later on helps encourage All Might (win/save). Izuku learns Shoot Style to ease the strain on his arms (win/save). Izuku passes the entire Provisional License Exam (win/save).

This is all before Deku vs Kacchan 2. Now, let's look at Katsuki's record:

Dominates the exam and gets first place by gaining 77 villain points (win). Gets thrid place in the Quirk Apprehension Test (win/loss(?)). Loses the Battle Trial while also refusing to cooperate with his teammate (loss). Tries blowing up Kurogiri even though Thirteen already had it covered; later on manages to corner Kurogiri just so the villains have nowhere to run (win/loss(?)). Comes in 3rd during the Sports Festival Obstacle Course (win/loss(?)). Barely knows his teammates and proceeds to act on his own interest while ordering his teammates around with a very small amount od human decency (win). Gets second place in the Cavalry Battle (win/loss(?)). Dominates in the tournament bracket, but is not satisfied with the final battle (win/loss(?)). Learns virtually nothing during his internship out of spite (loss). Refuses to cooperate with Izuku during the Final Exam, only passes because Izuku saves him (win/loss(?)). Refuses to head back to camp during a villain attack after being instructed to do so, ultimately gets captured (loss). Gets saved from the villains by his friends (win/indirect save). Learns AP Shot technique and its Auto Cannon variant (win). Passes the first half of the Provisional License Exam (win). Fails the second half due to his lack of concern for the "victims" (loss).

Which brings us back to Deku vs Kacchan 2. From what I presented above, it looks like Izuku is already dedicated to learning how to win. The problem is that Katsuki isn't learning how to save. That's probably because he's still learning how to lose. He's terrible at it, but Izuku has experience with losing because up until U.A., that's all he's been doing in the eyes of society. A loss doesn't bother Izuku unless he feels like he could have won/saved whatever his priority was at the time, like when Katsuki was kidnapped. Often when Izuku wins, it's tied with saving something. When Katsuki loses, it's either an offhanded win or just a straight up loss. That's something Katsuki isn't used to, and something the narrative hasn't managed to ammend. Mostly because Katsuki often wins more than he should if he wanted to get a better worldview, but that's only part of the problem.

As I said in a previous post, Katsuki's initial focus is solely on winning. Izuku's initial focus is solely on saving.

In Izuku's case, he also has the benefit of being open minded. If you tell him, "You have to win if you want to save," Izuku will understand that. Heck, most of his battles are often initiated because he wants to save something! Katsuki's winner mentality, however, isn't as open-ended. He wants to be the number one, end of story. No one can be stronger than him, and he'll get pissed at anyone who's "weaker" than him for whatever reason. Even if you tell him, "You have to save if you want to win," Katsuki won't fully understand that unless saving means winning Number One. That's the disconnect. Izuku will save in order to win anything. Katsuki will only win if the saving gets him to number one.

Izuku has possible standards. Katsuki's standards aren't possible, even for him.

Well, that's all I got for tonight. This post took a while, but I feel like I did good on my part. Before I completely sign off, let me leave you with this:

I honestly hope that Katsuki improves. But the thing is, I want to be shown that, not TOLD. I don't need Izuku or Class 1-A or Eraserhead or even All Might him-freaking-self telling me "Yeah, Katsuki's great!" and then proceed to see him still acting like a passive-aggressive (and sometimes flat out aggressive) asshole. I don't want him to be "soft" one moment for character development and then proceed to see him act like his usual jerkish self several moments later. I want to see Katsuki's improvement with my own two eyeballs, and for him to stick to it. I want him to progress, even in spurts, with virtually no regression. I want people to acknowledge his development, yes, but they shouldn't have to state or overstate it so many times that it feels fake. I want him to finally come to the conclusion that Winning Isn't Everything, and take that to heart.

When that happens, then I won't hate Katsuki. I might not like him significantly more, but I will have more respect for him. Until then, I'll just be here, enjoying the other parts of My Hero Academia that actually keep me invested in the story, like the protagonist, Izuku.

That's all from me. Have a good day/afternoon/evening, everyone.

-Crimson Lion (7 August 2019)

[imnxtsorry]

important notes: this is my about and my main verse, v. free woman, and because I am canon divergent I have to ask you to take the time to read at least the bolded parts of ‘before and during the trilogy’ and all of ‘after the trilogy’ so you know what to expect. I’m not happy with her canon finale, so I will not be writing her raising Will’s child as a single mother, and characters from following movies would have to interact with Elizabeth after a bit of plotting/changes in timeline, thank you.   There are other verses all of you can check out at the bottom, to explore different aus/canon divergences/what ifs scenarios, knowing that everything can be changed/plotted so that your muse doesn’t feel goodmodded..

BEFORE AND DURING THE TRILOGY

Elizabeth's mother, Rose, was happy with her ordinary life as a lady, mother and wife. She was also curious, a day-dreamer, who encouraged Elizabeth to dream too, and to learn whatever her heart wished, as long as she would keep in mind that she’d have to follow society’s expectations when older, at least enough not to bring them shame. Rose also loved traveling, so whenever it was possible and appropriate she'd visit new places with her family - which was led her to an early death at sea. This is one of the reasons Elizabeth, who took a big interest in pirates, was allowed to read every book on the subject she could find, to the point of knowing pirate songs by the time she moved to Port Royal; that and her father being so loving and soft to her. Her mother is still a big influence in her life, a drive to do what she thinks is right and not only what she's told, and Elizabeth has warm memories of their life as a child and of how much her parents loved each other. Which is also why Elizabeth does not hate everything about her life as a 'lady': she did show genuine happiness at the sight of the new dress her father gifted her (until she tried it on and it was too tight), there is no reason why she shouldn't like social events involving dancing, or for some decorum to not be appreciated. On the other hand, a woman living in those times had limited options, too limited for Elizabeth, who expected Will to address her by name and not titles, who finds intimacy in breaking protocol, who does enjoy the freedom that comes from ignoring rules that mean nothing to her and have no real use (and of course in following her own rules and morals, for example waiting until the wedding night to be with Will despite clearly wanting it that badly). She enjoys adventures, swordfighting, leaving propriety behind in favor of honesty and closeness.

For these reasons Elizabeth never got close to other ladies growing up, feeling they wouldn't understand, and why I believe she never truly saw James Norrington for what he was, the qualities of him she could have appreciated, or not until it was too late. 

After the Curse Of The Black Pearl, Elizabeth and Will find out that they have too many communication problems to work, not sharing their deepest thoughts and pains, not knowing how to end fights - defensiveness, leaving the room in the middle of an argument. So they end up 'breaking up' before they ruin their relationship entirely. This sends Elizabeth down a spiral of self-doubt and self-discovery, because something she believed certain was gone so easily, and because she found herself unable to lean on the man she thought she'd love forever. Who was she meant to be? Could she be good and rebellious, true to herself and happy, but also make her loved ones happy? Once Beckett arrests them, things progress the way they do in the movies except for her and Will being romantically together, and any deviation from canon beside that will depend on our threads. It’s unlikely that Jack and James would know about the breakup before she tells them.

AFTER THE TRILOGY

If everything has gone like in canon, and our threads are set after, Elizabeth has taken her belongings from her father's house, which she can't inherit because she's an unmarried woman and will go to her cousin. He'd be willing to let her have it but she can't imagine living in it without her father, so she uses her pirate king title to get a smaller place on an island nearby, from where she can be given a ride to Shipwreck Island when needed there.

Thing is, Elizabeth's idea of freedom feels limited as pirate king too, since she has to stomach horrible acts the other pirates do, and would find no happiness in attacking people who haven’t attacked her first. She has only been able to give a new rule: to leave women and children alone (unless the women are warriors attacking them). Anything more, like asking pirates to leave good people alone, is just not possible without a mutiny. Teague supports the king and most are terrified of him but there is only so much that can be imposed, and Elizabeth has to ignore other bad acts to keep his 'subjects' appeased enough to follow the few directions she gives.

So now Elizabeth is having little adventures there and then, involving secret treasures and legends, nothing to do with pillaging innocent villages, and trying to find compromises that will let her sleep at night, while also refusing to start a new life as a lady somewhere else, because she'd be suffocated by expectations and protocol. She will still do whatever it takes to survive, she’ll scheme and not even involve other people in her plans unless cornered or due to exceptional reasons, but she will still despise the idea of leaving someone behind if there is another choice, of not trying everything to save others, to be honorable even at personal risk. She certainly does appreciate affection and some gentleman acts in her direction, she just doesn’t want to be bothered with the “coldness” that comes from being proper.  And yes, she still intends to wait until married to have a ‘wedding night’, her moral compass matters to her no matter what people expect of her as a pirate or as a woman. And her moral compass says she must keep fighting until she feels she has found the perfect balance between everything she wants and what life will give her.

little headcanons: -her father has a brother in London, who married and had two children, Mary and Anthony. Anthony is the older cousin who approved of Elizabeth’s ‘odd’ behaviors when they were kids and is now married to a woman who would also like her. For this reason he would help her with money and shelter if ever needed. Mary is determined to be proper and quite judgy, and will embarrass her to death if given the chance. -Elizabeth loves dancing, walks, reading, watching plays and playing boardgames.  -she has some pretty mundane wishes when it comes to her future family

OTHER VERSES

v. mrs turner. for will rpers only: they don’t break up after the first movie, and events can follow the next movies or be completely different in threads. Point is they stick together and navigate this new relationship - which after all is a big change after years of keeping proper distance.

v. hold on. she doesn’t break up her engagement with James Norrington even if she does help Jack escape his hanging - whether because not in love with Will or because Will never confessed his feelings. In the second movie she’s likely looking for James in Tortuga on top of wanting to free Will, and ends up joining Jack anyway.

v. follow the compass. threads about random plots like ‘soulmates au’ and the like. The events of the movie can or cannot happen depending on what we’ll decide.

v. fine woman. threads where the movies haven’t happened (or not yet and will happen later than in canon), and Elizabeth is living her life as a lady and growing sadder, longing for more. The stories will start from there. This includes threads with Will or James where their relationship develops in a different way (slightly younger Elizabeth etc.)

v. bring me the horizon. threads where the movies haven’t happened or not yet but one way or another she runs away looking for adventure. May or may not be kidnapped and brought to Tortuga. Her reputation ruined, she has to make a life there.

v. gilded ship. after the events of the movie, regardless of other differences from canon, she can’t return home because she has been ‘outed’ as pirate in most lands, being the king and all, and has to adapt to a pirate’s life and/or look for other options because she doesn’t want to be trapped that way either.

v. captain. one way or another, it’s Elizabeth who succeeds Davy Jones. Threads can be set before, maybe during, and of course after, when she comes ‘home’.

[coll2mitts]

#65 Beauty and the Beast (2017)

I’m burning through my Disney+ subscription, and instead of this forever cursing my drafts section until I work my way through the other lower movies on this list, you’re getting this one now.

Beauty and the Beast was my favorite Disney movie as a child.  Belle was smart, she read a lot, and she was a bit of an outcast, which were my only identifiers as a wee lass (other than being obnoxious and constantly having tangled hair).  I'm going to bet that this movie is the reason so many girls my age went through a Paris phase in their tween years.  I did take 3 years of high school French that I have almost no memory of.  

The original's animation is gorgeous, the songs by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman are iconic, and the romance between two people who learn how to trust and support each other... it's probably the reason why I've stayed in terrible relationships for way too long.  My father took me to see this movie in theaters when I was 6, and it is the first movie I remember crying during out of sadness.  There I was, while the Beast was dying, trying to hide the fact tears were streaming down my face because I didn't want my dad to see I was crying and not take me to see another movie again.  When they adapted it for Broadway, I listened to that soundtrack over and over...  "Home" was my favorite song, and the end still makes me cry like a 6-year-old.  It's perfect.

I had attempted to watch this remake once before.  I hated it so much I started drinking, and then peaced out so hard when Lumiere started moving that I had to watch Moana to normalize myself.  Visually, this movie is what happens when the Uncanny Valley turns into the fucking Grand Canyon.  Little did I know that this movie gets worse... much worse... as it goes on, and that Stephen Chbosky, the author and director of The Perks of Being a Wallflower made it this way.  A man who wrote one of my most beloved novels and movie adaptations helped in creating this narrative monstrosity, and that, out of all of this, was the deepest cut of all.

I'm not rehashing the plot, because I have too much to say about why this remake shouldn't exist, and I’m going to guess you’ve either seen the movie or are familiar with this almost 300-year-old story.  It took the source material and just murdered it in its attempts to update it.  I'm going to start positive and work toward the biggest issue I had with it, because I'm currently writing angry and that never turns out well for me.

Things I liked:

This may be controversial, but I did like Josh Gad's performance as LeFou.  I'm not saying what LeFou did made any sense (he suddenly was upset Gaston was making things up again?), but as an actor, Josh Gad was working with what he had, and I think he owned it.

Chip's introduction to Maurice - I actually paused the movie because I was laughing so hard.

The piano playing the funeral march when it tackled LeFou.

When Mrs. Potts said Chip smelled good when he turned back into a little boy.  It was a cute little detail.

The guillotine joke in "Be Our Guest" and the Les Miserables barricade reference.

I actually thought Cogsworth was adorable for being a CGI nightmare.  I don't know how much of my opinion of this was influenced by the voice of Ian McKellan.

I really liked the costumes, except for Belle's gown, which was definitely a downgrade.  Micarah articulated the issues with it perfectly.

Celine Dion singing the credits song was a nice homage to her cover of "Beauty and the Beast", although it sucks she's associated with this nightmare of a remake.

Little quibbles:

Whatever they did to Emma Watson’s voice made her sound like a robot.

Almost all the CGI, especially the Beast, was completely unsettling.  The wardrobe was the worst of it, holy shit.

They went out of their way to explain plot holes like "Why don't the villagers remember the castle?" or “Why is it snowing when it looks like the middle of summer in the village?” or "How did Belle get the Beast up on that horse?" when none of that really matters to the overall narrative.

The reaction to Belle teaching a little girl how to read was unbelievably eye-roll inducing.  Lindsay Ellis' video on this is so fucking good, watch it now - You don't have to read the rest of my ramblings if you do. #beastforshe

Ariana Grande slurring her way through "Beauty and the Beast".

It was nice to see Maurice updated from a manic inventor to a level-headed, sweet, competent, reserved man who treats his daughter like an equal.  Clock-maker Maurice that actually takes care of Belle reads better to me, and I like how they had him wander into the garden to get a rose for her - it's a nice callback to the original story.  The problem with doing this, however, is it negates the "crazy old Maurice" narrative that plays heavily into why the villagers don't believe his tale of the Beast in the first place.  If Kevin Kline, a put-together man (up until this point), wandered into the tavern looking disheveled and conveying a story about his daughter being kidnapped, I'd be like, "Shit, Maurice, what did you see?!".  But instead, the story goes out of its way to put him at the mercy of Gaston, and shoehorn in an attempted murder plot to really turn everyone against him - it's bizarre.

Medium quibbles:

Gaston went from being a well-liked, athletically inclined dude to a literal predator and murderer.  Belle was a beautiful status symbol in the original movie, but she becomes literal game to Gaston in the remake, as he refers to her as prey, or something to be hunted.  When Maurice gets in-between him and Belle, Gaston punches him in the face and leaves him out in the forest to be eaten by wolves?!  What does this add to the story?!  Gaston wasn't right for Belle because he wasn't kind and didn't intellectually stimulate her, but that nuance is wasted on the remake, turning him into a full-blown vengeful villain that will literally kill Belle's family to get what he wants.

The first time Belle is brought to her room, there is this long panning shot showing off how nice it is, and she comments, in wonder, how she thinks its beautiful.  They had the fucking nerve to play “Home” in the background of this scene, completely ignoring the original context of the song is sadness and despair.  But go off, I guess...

The Big Enchilada:

This is where my notes went from eh????? to WHAT THE FUCK, so be prepared.  How someone with enough emotional maturity to write Perks can make the Beast into such an abusive asshole is so fucking beyond me, I'm still trying to process it.

Beauty and the Beast is a romance at heart, which you would never know by watching this movie, as Belle and the Beast have so little chemistry it's painful.  This might be because the Beast is abusive to Belle at every turn in the beginning, making the pivot from enemies to lovers so completely unbelievable it's shocking.  The remake is already at a deficit as the CGI Beast is terrifying, in contrast with the cartoon, which has the ability to make the Beast cuddly with big eyes and an expressive face.  But they still decide to take all of the Beast's inner conflict out of the remake, remove his agency completely out of the relationship with Belle, and make him supremely unlikable in every interaction they have together.

There are a few scenes that illustrate this, starting with the dinner invitation scene:

In the original, the Beast sees the pain he's inflicted by pulling Belle away from her father, and offers her a tour of the castle and a bedroom instead of a prison cell.  He also invites her to dine with him, although he could have gone about it wayyyy better.  He confides in his staff that she is beautiful, and he realizes she can break the spell, but he doesn't know how to appeal to her.  His staff give him tips on how to be charming and not so intimidating.  He is receptive, but overwhelmed, because he hasn't had to interact with any other human in years.  When he discovers she doesn't plan on eating with him, his anger takes over because she refused his hospitality, and he's a king, so how dare she?  The staff try to help him appear genteel, cause again, HE expressed interest in being appealing to her.  When this doesn't immediately work, he throws a massive tantrum and tells them not to feed her.  When he looks at Belle later in the mirror, he hears the direct result of his actions as Belle is ranting to the wardrobe.  He laments she'll never see him as a human because his actions have pushed her away.

In the remake, it's not the Beast’s idea to give Belle a room, or to invite her to dinner - it is his staff's intervening that puts him in that situation in the first place.  He doesn't even want to get to know her because she's a daughter of a thief, and that's somehow below his current social status of recluse animal/human hybrid.  His staff persuade him to give Belle a chance as they're all invested in breaking the spell because they'll turn into furniture if they don't!  They give him tips to manipulate her into opening the door, he tries it, it fails spectacularly, he gets angry and he leaves - but not before calling his staff idiots...  I appreciate he's not as physically violent in this version, but he just acts like he couldn’t be bothered with Belle.  He does spy on her from the mirror, but she looks bewildered.  He doesn't know if she's lonely, or missing her father, or what...  There's no indication that how he treated her in that moment has pushed her further away.  Then he just stares at the rose like, "Well, shit, this ticking time bomb is still ticking!".  It's completely self-focused.

Oh, and then Mrs. Potts tries to handwave the Beast’s behavior away with, "People say a lot of things in anger.  It is our choice whether or not to listen," which, excuse me, WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!  You are in charge of how to interpret someone's actions, and you could just choose to ignore when they are being abusive??  I CAN'T.  She also tries to gaslight Belle into seeing how great the Beast is when Belle has had zero positive interactions with the dude since she's been there.  The wardrobe brings it up in the original, but this is after he's offered Belle a room and invited her to dinner himself, not by his staff...

The west wing scene and the Beast turning into less of a dick:

In the original, the Beast himself tells Belle not to go to the west wing.  Her curiosity brings her there, because she wants to understand more about him and what he is hiding.  She's invading his space knowing full well that she is invading his space.  When she is discovered, she's about to fuck around with something that is literally tied with the Beast's livelihood.  His anger is disproportionate, but justified, and you see that he immediately regrets his reaction after she runs away from him.  That’s why he goes after her.  Belle watches him risk his life to save her even though she broke a promise to him, so she decides to repay the favor by bringing him back.  They fight while she's trying to clean his wound, and they're both right in their perspectives, but the Beast acknowledges that yes, his temper got the best of him - he realized that the moment she bolted.  Belle then rewards his selfless act by thanking him, which sets his entire transformation in motion.  

He gives her the library because he expresses interest in doing something to make her happy, and he vocalizes he's falling in love with her.  He's delighted by her reaction.  During the ballroom scene, the way he looks at her, you can see he absolutely adores her.  He asks, "Are you happy here with me?" because he loves her, and her well-being is the most important thing.

In the remake, the staff tell Belle not to got to the west wing because it's a storage area.  She wanders over there anyway, for whatever fucking reason, and takes a glance at the rose behind the glass.  The Beast finds her looking at it and gets mad at her, even though he never told her not to visit him in the west wing, and she didn't fuck around with the rose.  When she runs away, he doesn't even look like he cares.  There is no reason for him to go after her, and there is no reason for her to help him back to the castle other than the plot told them to do it.  She doesn't help him with his wounds, and the staff are the ones to thank her for returning him.  She even asks the staff why the fuck they care about him, because he's such an asshole.  They justify his behavior because he had a cruel father, and damn themselves to his fate because they didn't stop a literal monarch from raising his son.  Belle continues to take care of him because she pities him?  He repays her kindness by insulting her taste in literature.

He doesn't even show her the library because he knows she likes books, he does it because he wants her to read "better" books.  Then he makes one joke about not reading Greek and THAT IS WHAT MAKES BELLE SWOON.  THE FUCKING GREEK BOOK JOKE.  I mean, I sort of get it, I fell in love with my ex because he made a bread pun, but he hadn't been continually abusive to me up until that point.  Belle starts to read out loud to him, and that's supposed to be the event that incentives the Beast to be better?  Even while Belle is singing about how much he's changed (he hasn't), he throws a boulder of snow in her face. The cherry on top of this sundae is his stoic question after they dance, "It's foolish, I suppose, for a creature like me to hope that one day he might earn your affection?" which not only sounds like complement fishing, it is primarily motivated by breaking the curse!  Only after she gives an indifferent answer does he ask if she'd be happy at the castle.

Oh god, and the death scene is cut off in the middle because we have to watch 2 minutes of the staff members permanently turning into furniture, which, like, I wouldn't think they'd want to castrate the emotional climax of the movie, but this whole thing is an exercise on how to fuck something already good up.

This movie fails so spectacularly at this basic love story, I can't begin to justify its existence.  I wouldn't recommend this to anybody.  If you want to watch new Alan Menkin content, watch Galavant, because this movie just pissed me off.

It was bold of Disney to end it with a beastiality joke, though.

[ofheroesandvillains]

Changing Gears 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark/Fem!reader Words: 3.8k Warnings: None really, mentions of “The Cave”. Summary: I said one for each movie and I lied. Don’t trust me…ever. Here’s another for Ironman 1! It’s kind of all over the place. Let me know if it’s trash, it’s been a loooong time.

(not my gif!)

Fear.

Fear wasn’t foreign to you. Your earliest encounter with it came at age 4. Now remember, you stay where I can see you, your father had said, and under no circumstances are you to go in the water without letting an adult know. He’d given you a stern look, one that seemed more at home on Howard’s face than his own. Understood? He’d asked, and you’d nodded.

But things never really go the way they’re supposed to. One minute you’re on the shoreline, digging a little pool into the wet sand, the next, the water is sweeping you away into its cold embrace and you’re left bobbing between the waves. The floaties kept you up, sure, but with each passing second the tide had carried you further and further from the shore, and your desperate cries for your father went unheard.

Or at least you thought they had.

“Hey, it’s alright, I got you. Just- just hold onto me, okay?”

He had no idea how to comfort a wailing child, but even at age 12, Tony Stark did the best he could. What seemed like miles to you (and was more likely a few feet), was quickly wadded through by the boy you’d only met once before.

He didn’t tell your father. It was a lesson learned and you were just a kid, he’d be damned if anyone punished you for their own neglect. You looked terrified and clung to him like a koala, he hadn’t left your side for the rest of the day. That was the day you became his friend. That was the day he became your hero.

---------

That seemed so silly now…drowning. How could the fear of drowning possibly compare to this?

If you took every fear you’d ever felt, stacked them on top of each other and played them in a never-ending loop in your mind for the rest of your life, it’d be a welcome change to the absolute terror that had seized your heart the moment you’d been notified of Tony’s disappearance.

Naturally, the media had lost its mind as soon as a statement was released. Posters, social media, tabloids, the news; everyone was talking about Tony Stark - the billionaire, the genius, the national icon, in the hands of ‘the enemy’. Activists were saying ‘good riddance’, and weeping fans littered the daily news channels, mourning a man they’d never known…a man who you couldn’t -wouldn’t- believe was really gone.

He’s Tony Stark, you’d remind yourself, there’s nothing he can’t do.

Realistically, you knew that the chances of his survival were slim. Your overactive mind had already tried to calculate the odds before you forced it to focus elsewhere. There was still a company to run, reporters to avoid, a billionaire to find.

Pepper took care of the first two for you, but only you could help with the last. She’d been great, Pepper. A godsend. There were hardly any fumes left for you to run on. Sweeping the planet for any sign of Tony was draining; mentally and emotionally. If Pepper hadn’t been there to all but spoon-feed you and tuck you into bed, you likely would have ended up in the ER weeks ago. I’m turning into Tony, you’d wryly thought. But the thought itself just made you miss the man even more.  

If anyone had it worse than you, it was probably Rhodey. He’d been more distraught than you’d ever seen him, and after all he’d experienced in his life and his career, that was certainly saying something. But it gave you someone who understood, someone who’d work long into the night with you to try and find a man you both refused to live without.

---------

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so drunk that night he would have understood what you meant. The alcohol never bothered you, not really. You’d scold him for it, take him home, tuck him in, leave Advil and a glass of water on his bedside table, and then repeat it all the next weekend. He’d take advantage of your kindness, because that’s what he did. He hurt the people closest to him.

He loved them, he’d do anything for them…but sometimes his self-depreciation outweighed that love. His whole life had been built on money and fame. He was used to getting what he wanted and the moment something threatened the status quo, he lashed out.

Years later, he would look back and barely remember that night. You hadn’t spoken to him for days afterward and that was the only reason he even cared to remember it at all. There were snippets of memories in his head; a man - a good-looking one, standing a little too close to you at an event, an irrational anger, an argument, and a bruised jaw the morning after.

He’d made excuses and begged for forgiveness, how could he not? Deep down Tony knew what emotion had fuelled him that night, and it was one he’d never expected to feel when he looked at you with someone else. It didn’t change anything, he told himself. In fact, he was hellbent on ensuring it didn’t. You’d told him to stop bringing his flings home, and he’d tried, he really had. But if he didn’t have them then he’d think of you, and he couldn’t ruin you like that.

So, he ignored your warnings and descended even further into his playboy lifestyle. The less he saw you, the more distant you became, and while it tore at him day in and day out, it was for the best. You’d both drifted from each other, but alcohol was the band-aid he slapped on that particular bullet wound.

You were the straight-laced, responsible one. You worked hard and saved face in the media when he inevitably screwed up. You looked after him even if it made your life harder.

Tony was a lot like you in the early days. He wanted to make his parents proud, but that all changed when he realised that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough for his father.

Somewhere along the road you’d both diverged from each other. A fork in the road that led you closer to heaven and him closer to hell.

But after that night, Tony had realised that this was more a crossroad than anything else. You were too good for him, he’d never hurt you by pursing a relationship. He didn’t do relationships. But god, did he hate the thought of you with anyone else.

He’d be okay with not having you, as long as nobody else could have you either.

“What the hell is your problem? What did you say to him?”

“I dunno what you mean…we were all ou’ here havin’ a good time, weren’t we girls?”

His entourage chirped like silicone baby birds, desperate for their mama’s attention. Your jaw clenched so hard at the smug grin Tony shot your way, that you almost chipped a tooth.

Ten minutes ago you’d been so close, so close, to finally taking that first step out of the hold he had on you and agreeing to a date. He was a nice boy, a handsome boy, one your mother would have gushed over. But like a vulture circling its next meal, Tony somehow knew just where to find you. His hold was iron. Sometimes you thought that his heart was too, because no matter how much it hurt, he’d never release you.

“Oh come on, sweetheart…” Tony tried rolling his eyes but his entire head followed. “What, you think you were gonna live happily ever after with the baby-faced real estate agent? Really?” He scoffed. “You could do better.”

“Sometimes you can’t help who you love, Tony.” You’d snapped. You’d said too much, but he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Tony barked a laugh, and his baby birds followed.

“Love? Who’s talkin’ about love? There’s no love here, no ma’am!”

They all laughed again.

Your shoulders dropped, your lips pursed, and you felt the familiar sting at your eyes. You felt broken.

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

--------- Time was a funny thing. All of those nights he’d spent drinking and partying and hunting his next bedmate seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye. But here, in the dark, in the cold, in the wet, he could have sworn that it had been years since he’d arrived.

He’d wasted so much time.

The pain in his chest hadn’t eased up, he didn’t know if it ever would. The Doc had done an incredible job considering the circumstances, and Tony struggled to think of a single one of his own employees who would have had the brains and balls to do what Yinsen did (mainly because he didn’t deal with his employees, but the sentiment was the same). Yinsen had saved his life, and if all it cost him was a bit of pain, then that was a pretty great deal.

The only problem was, that this place was hardly a place he wanted to spend the rest of his life in - however short that may be. The trauma was there, physical and mental, but he’d wrapped it up in chains and thrown it into the deepest pits of his mind. He didn’t have time to fall apart, not when they had a plan.  

“I have this friend…”

It was dark, but Tony could still see Yinsen’s head turn in his direction. So far when they settled in for some sleep - if either of them could even manage to muster a few hours - it was Yinsen who had done most of the talking. He spoke of his wife, his children, his home…better days. If anything went wrong the following day, then it was likely that one or both of them would be killed. If ever there were a time to remember what was waiting for him at home, it was now.

“Oh?”

“Yeah…she’s, well, the only real family I have left now that I think about it.”

Yinsen was silent for a beat.

“Do you love her?”

Tony huffed a derisive laugh.

“No. No, it’s not- not like that.” He shook his head, even if Yinsen could barely see it. “She’s different, y’know? Better than this, than- than me.”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken. 

It was silent again.

“I’ve known her my whole life. She uh, man…”

Yinsen smiled softly. There was a genuine smile in the billionaire’s words.

“She’d know exactly what to do. She’s smart, focused. Probably searching the whole damn planet for us.”

You. Yinsen didn’t bother correcting him.

“She sounds special.”

“She is…I still hear her sometimes. That little voice inside my head, you know the one?”

Yinsen nodded, his eyes slipping shut as he pictured his family.

“I do. I call it hope.”

Tony heaved a shaky breath. “Yeah…hope.”

He smiled. If he closed his eyes he could see the pleased look his words would give rise to.

“She’d get us both out of here with a paper clip and a double A battery.”

Yinsen chuckled.

“I’m sure you’d do the same for her.”

Anything. I’d do anything…

Yinsen hummed thoughtfully, and Tony had to wonder if he’d said that aloud.

“Do you love her?”

Another silence stretched between them as Tony looked over to their workspace. If he squinted he could make out the shape of their creation. The suit of armour that would take them to safety, to freedom…home. Or, maybe it wouldn't.

“Yeah.” He inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I do.”

--------

Tony had taught you many things in life, but this was one of the most important lessons.

You remembered your first day at high school. A child genius, they called you.

A prodigy, that kid’s goin’ places, I’m tellin’ ya!

They were right and you were young, but they also seemed to think that despite the label, your age must have brought with it a certain degree of naivety. The only way they could outdo you was with experience, and they used that to their advantage.

“Watcha doin’?”

“Homework,” you’d answered, tiny hands moving a mile a minute to finish up before dinner.

Tony had frowned then, not that you could see it. You didn’t see him all that often, and when you did, he could barely go to the bathroom without you trailing after him. This was…new.

Even more unusual were the papers strewn all over the desk beside you. Louisa, Thomas, Jake, Allison…Homework, huh? Tony’d thought dryly.  

“Woah, slow down there, Speedy Gonzales,” He’d plucked the pencil out of your hand, and couldn’t suppress a smile at the wide-eyed look you’d given him.

“Tony!” You’d shouted, launching yourself at him.

He’d laughed; you hadn’t known it at the time but that was a rarity in those days. You wouldn’t understand it until you were much older, the way he changed around you, even then. The way he hid his sadness, his anger, his bitterness, from you. His childhood may have been miserable, but he’d never allow himself to be the reason yours suffered too.

He would never let anyone hurt you. Except himself, you’d both go on to realise.

“What’s all this?” he’d asked, finally prying your little arms from around his neck.

“The kids at school said that the only reason I was moved up was because my daddy paid for it. They said if I was really that smart, then I’d be able to write their essays and get A’s for all of them.”

You’d looked down at your feet. Why did it suddenly feel wrong? Why did Tony’s smile suddenly look so forced and bitter. He’d scrubbed his expression clean before he looked back at you.

“Did you doubt you could do it?”

“No, I knew I could!” You’d defended.

“Right…so why prove something you already know is true?”

His eyes had softened when he noticed your sad little pout. Decades later it still had the same effect on him. That damned look, I swear it’ll be the death of me one day.

“Hey, look…I get it. I really do,” He’d squeezed your shoulder. “It’s hard, and big kids are assh- ehem, they’re meanies,” his lips had twitched upward, “but you don’t have to prove a damn thing to them, okay? The only person I want you to worry about impressing in this world is you. Can you do that for me?”

You’d nodded.

“Promise?”

“Yes, Tony.”

He’d cocked a brow.

“What, you think I’m going to take your word for it?”

Your fist had shot up immediately, pinky finger at the ready.

“That’s right,” he’d nodded. “You break this very official agreement and that’s it, it’s all over for us.”

---------

So, when he decided to put an end to the weapons manufacturing sector of Stark Industries, you gave him your full support. It was his choice and the world would have to deal with it. Tony had been different since his return. There was a certain blankness that would settle in his eyes sometimes and he seemed more aware of the world around him. He didn’t talk about what happened to him, and you wouldn’t force him to, but the effect it had was evident.

When he’d landed on that tarmac, looking worse than you’d ever seen him, you’d told yourself that it was okay. That he was safe. He was alive. It was more than you could have ever hoped for. Then you’d proceeded to burst into tears, and clung to him the entire way to McDonald’s, like you had that day at the beach so long ago. A press conference was called and he’d left you in the car with a wink that was entirely too confident for a man who’d been through hell.

I promised you a souvenir…

The stoppered tube he’d given you almost sent you into another bout of hysterics. But you were quick to get it together when you’d heard his announcement. You spent the next few days turning off the news whenever he entered the room, but despite your efforts he knew all about the world’s criticism.

“You okay?”

You lingered in the doorway of his bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head hanging between them. He straightened at the sound of your voice, but the charade was already broken.

“Peachy,” he didn’t even bother forcing a smile. You made your way over to sit beside him.

“You ever just…? I mean, am I doing the right thing here? I gotta be, right?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes. They’d take in every inch of you for signs of a lie, or eagerly lap up your reassurances. You’d seen those eyes before; eyes desperate for direction, for a guidance he usually didn’t need. He was Tony Stark and he paved his own way in life…but the world was so far behind him these days, that he sometimes needed the only thing tethering him to it - and that was you. It always had been, and it always would be.

“You are.”

He’d released a sharp breath, relieved, but irritated. He’d been watching the news again.

“Then- Then why are people treating this like some kind of PTSD-induced phase that I’m supposed to snap out of?”

Did you see that? Those are your weapons…

“People are dying-”

In the hands of those murderers…

“-I know-“

Is this what you want?

“-my weapons are killing them-“

Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be?

“-I know-“

“Do you?!” He snapped. “‘Cause I had no idea!”

His chest was heaving, anger simmering beneath the surface. You’d let him have this, this moment to just yell and vent and get it all out without having to worry about who would see or who he’d hurt with his words. He’d never hurt you, not really.

Slowly, the stern lines of his face evened out, his shoulders slumped, and that familiar look of regret bled into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry...I just…” he drew in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing, no matter the cost.”

“You know why they want you to doubt your decisions? Why they want you to ‘snap out of it’?” you asked.

“It’s not because you’re wrong, but because admitting that you’re right doesn’t work in their favour.” You grasped his hand. “People will never value life as long as they continue to profit from death, Tony.”

“It’s not their names stamped on the shell…” his jaw clenched.

“I know, hon.” You offered a sympathetic smile. “But you’ve taken the first step in a direction even Howard wasn’t brave enough to take. So, we’re going to do what we always do. We’re going to fix this, okay?”

His dark, glassy eyes met your own and you smiled softly at the first trace of a small spark in them.

“Huh…”

You forced a shaky laugh, almost squirming at the foreign look in his eyes.

“What?”

He just smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. Just…I missed you, y’know?”

“Right back atcha,” you huffed a more genuine laugh this time. “I mean it, Tony. I’ve never been more proud of you in my life.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, and by the time you’d pulled away and risen to your feet, a pained look had clouded his features.

“Tony?” You couldn’t help but worry.

“I’m fine,” he smiled. It was entirely fake.

“Do, uh…do you mind just…” He glanced down at the floor as if ashamed to ask, waved his hand to the other side of his bed, and looked back up at you through his lashes. “Stay with me?”

The question caught you off-guard, but you couldn’t blame him for asking. When was the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep? Probably the night of the Apogee Awards, and that seemed so very, very long ago. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Of course.”

He’d settled into bed like a skittish animal, eyes darting to his bedroom door and to the wide expanse of tinted windows that lined his wall. The cave had been claustrophobic, but all he saw now were too many points of entry. He’d have to fix that.

Your head settled on his shoulder, and all -most- thoughts of kidnapping were tucked away for later.

“Y’know…Pep told me you barely slept while I was gone.”

“Snitch,” you mumbled, and he chuckled. “Yeah, I was a little stressed. Didn’t take care of myself as much as I probably should have.”

“I’m sorry…”

You squeezed his side, a silent reprimand.

“Don’t. You’re the last person who should be apologising. You have no idea how relieved I am, Tony.”

He was quiet for a beat. Usually he’d fire back a quip to lighten the mood, but not this time it seemed.

“I’m happy to be home.”

And he was, he just couldn’t quite voice that it wasn’t the safe and warm mansion that he’d considered home while he was in that cave. There were arms he wanted wrapped around him. There were eyes he imagined shining up at him. There was a smile he wanted to trace with his lips. There was a woman, right there at the forefront of his mind, begging him to come home…and he never could deny her.

It was jarring. He was supposed to be smart. He was supposed to be smarter than smart, and it had taken a kidnapping, a haphazard surgery in a dank cave, losing a man -a friend- worth more than any of the snobs he’d met Stateside, a fire-fight with terrorists, and a crash-landing in the middle of the desert, to open his eyes to the world around him.

Don’t waste it…don’t waste your life…

They could take his money, and his fame, and his company, and even his brain. He’d still have all he ever needed. Yinsen had lost that, it was why he urged him not to do the same.

But no, he couldn’t say that. Not to her, not yet. So he did what he always did.

“Pep also said that you slept in here most nights.”

You hummed absentmindedly.

“Kinda hoping you never outgrew that habit of sleeping in your underwear…”

Your brows furrowed, eyes snapping open to spy a grin out of the corner of your eye.

You slapped his chest lightly, mindful of the new addition.

“You’d only be so lucky, pal.”

Feeling his chest shake in silent laughter brought a smile on your face, and though you thought you heard his response, you were too far gone to care about it in the moment.

“Don’t I know it…”

[luki-fanfic]

A Kingdom For a Book: Part 2

I’m having way too much fun with this idea...

With one failed attempt under their belt, they end up having lunch in Chinatown before heading back to the hotel to regroup and debrief.  Tsuna and Gokudera end up sitting on one bed, Gokudera nose deep in a laptop, while Yamamoto leans back on another, and Ryohei slumps the wrong way round in a chair.

“I see why the Ninth didn’t want us to come here,” Yamamoto says.  “Do you think the owner knew who we were?”

Tsuna shook his head.  “No, I think he would have treated us that way even if we weren’t Vongola.  There was something about that shop...it just felt wrong.”

Ryohei frowns. “That’s strange to the extreme.  This could be challenging.”

Gokudera is nodding, digging up the research he’d been tinkering with even before they arrived.

“Okay, so that building?  It’s been there since the 1700’s,” he explains. “That’s when Soho was built up for the aristocracy, and the book shop’s been around since then.  Which is pretty damn impressive considering the wealthy all more of less fled mid 1800’s when there was a cholera outbreak and the neighbourhood took a serious dive.  I don’t think there’s a lot of business in London that have been in the same building that long, and if they did, they’re a lot more successful.  At this point, A.Z.Fell & Co should be a historic monument or tourist attraction just due to it’s existence, but it’s only reputation-”

At this he tosses his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“-Is a handful of websites for rare book dealers bemoaning it’s existence!  There’s a 3000 word essay on here that’s just analysing the opening times! I’ve never seen a white noise spot as bad as this outside of the mafia!  It shouldn’t even be possible without mist flames!”

“Are we sure they’re not?” Yamamoto asks, head tilting.  

Tsuna shakes his head.  

“No,” he insists.  “I don’t know what it was about that building, but flames weren’t involved.  Besides, it’s too obvious in its refusal to sell.”

Everyone gives a slow nod at that, and Tsuna bites his lip.

“What we need it witness accounts,” he says.  “We need to know what doesn’t work.”

This quickly results in Gokudera frantically tapping on his laptop again and setting up a video call with Dino in Italy.  When he learns where they are, his face flinches – as if he’s just watched a man belly flop from a high dive.

“Reborn sent you where?” he asks.  “The Ninth can’t possibly have approved that.”

“He wasn’t happy about it,” Tsuna admits.  “But...it’s Reborn.  You don’t really tell him no.”

Dino grimaces.  “I feel for you little bro.  I wish I could help, but I’ve never tried my luck against the devil of Soho.

“The devil of Soho?” the four repeat, and Dino chuckles.

“Oh, it’s kind of an in-joke among people who’ve tried,” he explains.  “The shop is on a crossroad, and someone one suggested you’d probably have to sell your soul in exchange for a book from A.Z. Fell, and it kind of caught on.  Plus, according to Christianity, devils or demons are supposed to be fallen angels, and they guy is called ‘Fell,’ so...”

Tsuna guesses it’s probably funnier for the Italians, because Gokudera’s openly cackling.  Although that said, Ryohei is also grinning, so maybe he’s a fan of the crossroads story.  The boxer does often enjoy American music…

“You might as well give selling your soul a shot though,” Dino continues.  “Because I don’t have the slightest clue what else would work.”

Yamamoto frowns, leaning back in a stretch that almost looks painful.

“If we can’t buy a book, can we just buy out the shop?” he asks Dino, and Gokudera brightens.

“The Baseball Idiot has a point.  I mean, this is Soho, and that shop can’t be making enough to stay in business.  Can’t we just buy the building, or bribe the owner?”

“You really think nobody ever thought of that?” Dino asks, eyebrows raising.  “The Fell family are loaded; they own that building, and they’ve never accepted a single offer.”

“Then we’ll make it a really good one.  Reborn said our credit limit was unlimited for this-”

“Ten years ago Mr. Fell was offered five times what the building was worth and he didn’t even think it over” Dino interrupts.  “And if you think you can scare him out, think again.  People have tried everything from hiking his electric bills to bribing the council to shut him down for health reasons.  I hear the building was even set on fire once.  Nothing sticks, and it always comes back round to whoever tried their luck. An awful lot of enforcers change careers after a run in with A.Z. Fell.”

Dino sounds a little bitter by the end, and Tsuna frowns.

“That sounds a little personal,” he says.  “Did Reborn try and make you go?”

His self proclaimed older brother suddenly finds it very hard to meet his eyes.

“No, but let’s just say I have it on good authority that one of the reasons my family ended up in such dire financial straights is because my grandfather tried to ah...convince Mr. Fell to move into a building owned by my family so he could have regular access to his collection,” Dino says.  “A week later, there’s a freak accident with our accountant’s computer systems that sees 60% of our assets frozen while a record of all our recent financial dealings was sent first class to the local police department.  By the time we cleared it up the money was gone.”

Gokudera does a full body flinch.

“How-”

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to know” Dino tells him.  “Some of those financials weren’t even supposed to have a paper trail.  When my negotiation trial came up, I told Reborn I wasn’t setting foot in that shop.  That I’d try and negotiate peace in Korea before I went to Soho.”

Yamamoto whistles, and Tsuna’s optimism sinks even more.

“Where’d you end up?” Tsuna asks.

“Guinea-Bissau,” Dino says.  “Came out of it with only two bullets wounds too.”

“...Thats...good?” Tsuna offers, frantically trying to remember exactly where on a map that was, and Dino shrugs.

“Better than Xanxus any way” he offers.  “He was lucky to get out intact.”

Yamamoto immediately lights up.  “Oh yeah.  The Ninth said he’d tried.”

“Lets call the Varia, to the extreme!” Ryohei agrees.

“Not sure how useful he’ll be,” Dino warns as they say goodbye.  “His tactics weren’t really compatible with you.”

That’s hardly news to Tsuna, but a list of what definitely wont work is better than no list at all at this point.  Yamamoto is already punching in Squalo’s number.

---

Two minutes later, Tsuna is wondering how far he can be from a video screen without appearing offensive, because Xanxus is glaring like he wants to reach through the computer and strangle Tsuna for the crime of bothering him.  

Which, to be fair is Xanxus’s general mode of being, but Tsuna hasn’t survived this long by getting complacent.  Given his life, it’s not impossible Xanxus has figured out how to do it.  

At least the Varia commander is taking his question seriously – the glare had almost vanished when Yamamoto had explained just where they were.

“Whatever you do, don’t steal one” Xanxus warns when Yamamoto finishes up, and Tsuna finds himself leaning forward.

“You stole one?” he says.  “I thought the requirement was legal purchase.”

“I was getting desperate!” Xanxus snarls, almost defensively.  “Fell-Trash is impossible to reason with.  Not that it did me any good.  Cost me three months, my body weight in pride and a Lightning Guardian.”

At that Tsuna pauses, and glances to the corner of the screen where he can see Xanxus’s guardians, Levi included, not-so-subtly listening in. Xanxus rolls his eyes.

“Parasol-Trash is number 2” he tells him.  “Huge improvement over Belias, I assure you.  Idiot walked out with some old folio under his jacket, figuring we could negotiate after it was in our hands.  To this day, I have no clue what happened to him, but that folio was on display in the window next morning and Fell’s creepy ass boyfriend was wearing Belias’s shades when we walked in.”

“Boyfriend?” Yamamoto asks, and Xanxus chuckles.

“Oh trust me Trash, you’ll know him when you see him.”

In the background Lussuria is fanning himself with a hand, while Squalo is glowering and inching closer to the screen.  Tsuna ignores both of them.

“You didn’t try to find out what happened?” he questions, and Xanxus glares.

“Of course I fucking did!” he snaps.  “Even had the lightning member’s we brought along tried to put on the squeeze, but both of them are mental steel traps.  If anything, threats just amuse them.  Two of Belias’s closest tried physical violence – the boyfriend has this classic car, beautiful piece of machinery; I’ll give him that – smashed out every window and made it clear we were coming back to finish the job.  Car like that can’t be easy or cheap to fix.”

“It didn’t work?” Gokudera asks, and Xanxus shakes his head.

The trash left the hotel to get drinks, next thing I know the shark trash is getting a call from the hospital about them.”

The Varia boss jerks his head back, and Squalo freezes for a second, before slinking up to his boss, not even pretending to be subtle in his approach anymore.

“Were they still alive?” Tsuna asks, not sure if he wants to know.  Xanxus merely glares at Squalo, who reacts as though it pains him to answer.

“Voi, they lived,” he says.  “Looked like they’d been run over by that stupid car a couple hundred times, but they lived.  Not that it mattered to us, both of them up and joined a monastery in New Zealand the second they were released!”

Yamamoto frowns. “New Zealand?  When you abandon your old life to join a monastery, don’t you usually got to somewhere like Tibet or something?”

“Voi, according to them, they picked New Zealand because there aren’t any snakes there,” Squalo snarled.  “Don’t ask me why, never had a problem with them before.”

“Yeah, and that car come morning?” Xanxus adds.  “Perfect. Condition.  After that, I cut my losses while I still had something to lose.”

“It was their own fault for making compensation jokes about the darling’s car!” Lussuria defends from the back, and Xanxus throws a wine glass in his direction.

The Varia side of the call inevitably descends into a brawl, and little advice is coming.  All Tsuna’s managed to gather is, stay legal, screaming is pointless, and don’t threaten his associates or their possessions.

Tsuna silently vows that Gokudera must never enter that building unaccompanied.

Also, before the screen cut off completely, Lussuria popped onto the screen with one final titbit.

“Oh, one more thing.  Don’t flirt with the boyfriend,” he says with Bel half in a headlock and the screen on it’s side.  “Crowley-darling seems to think it’s funny, but it ticks Mr. Fell off no end.  Not sure how he did it, but I got food poisoning whenever I ate out the rest of the time we were there.  Ciao!”

The screen immediately goes black, and as a group, Tsuna, Gokudera and Ryohei all glance in Yamamoto’s direction.  The teen immediately starts pouting.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he whines.  

“Because out of everyone in this room who would think it would be funny, you’re the only one who’d actually try his luck, Baseball Idiot,” Gokudera snaps, and Yamamoto’s lip quirks, point taken.  After so much time hanging around Squalo and Reborn, Yamamoto’s baseline for appropriate behaviour and etiquette will never recover – not that there was ever much to save, if Tsuna’s being entirely honest.  

In the end, after looking at a spreadsheet of the opening hours Gokudera has on hand, they decide to hold off this evening, and try again in the 40 minute window that there should be just before lunch.

Who knows, maybe Mr. Fell will be more agreeable after he’s eaten?

---

One more part, and think it’ll be ready to migrate to AO3...

[thetunewillcome]

[Fic] Redeemed From Fire By Fire

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Teen

"The dove descending breaks the air With flame of incandescent terror Of which the tongues declare The one discharge from sin and error. The only hope, or else despair     Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre—     To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love."

- T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets, "Little Gidding"

It was viewing Earth from the moon, gazing at home while inhabiting the coveted other.  You discover how your gentle clouds and storm-tossed oceans appear through their otherworldly eyes; you learn the dips and curves of craters you have studied for years at a distance.  You stoop to drag a finger across the surface, marvel at moondust, look back at your footprints, proof that you were here once, though not for long: just long enough to leave your mark.

When Aziraphale borrowed Crowley’s body, he left traces of love everywhere.  Crowley would find them, one by one, as winter unfolded its blanket over London.

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First, the new freckles.  Six thousand years in a body and you know every spot.  These, Crowley thought as he squinted at his chest, definitely weren’t there before.  His vessel was human, but it didn’t age, and it certainly didn’t change the way human bodies did.  Narrowing his eyes further in concentration, he channeled energy to the area, as if healing a wound.  The patch of small, pale brown flecks remained, stubbornly tattooed over his heart.  For some reason, they aggravated him.  How dare his body change without his say-so?  How dare it refuse to bend to his will, as it always had before?  With an irritated huff, he gestured his shirt back on, offending marks hidden by dark, silken fabric, but not forgotten.

Next, the tormenting dreams.  Because Crowley believed he could dream, he could dream.  All it took was a decision to do so and a little imagination to create a storyline, and off he went.  When he was bored or drunkenly fixated, he’d fall asleep and wander the Hanging Gardens of Babylon or watch the Kraken rise from the deep, and, from there, go wherever his unconscious mind swept him.  It was like putting on a record knowing only the first song, and it had especially come in handy in the 19th-century.

Out of self-preservation, he never chose to begin with Aziraphale.  Yes, he was Fallen, reforged in hellfire, tormented and sinful, but he refused to be a flagellant: he knew self-inflicted pain brought him no closer to the one he worshipped.  It was not uncommon, however, for Aziraphale to interrupt his dreams, unbidden, appearing wherever Crowley happened to be just as he had done in reality for as long as they had been on Earth.  If his reservoir of restraint wasn’t dry, he would wake himself at the first glimpse of blue-green eyes and white curls.  He knew better than to indulge.  And yet, some nights, he surrendered and allowed himself to linger in the angel’s company.  Inevitably, lines would be crossed.  He would drag himself out of dreaming, cursing himself for wishing warmth onto his undeserving, cold-blooded skin, knowing he had not been touched but feeling, still, the empty space of a hand withdrawn.

After their world narrowly missed becoming a battlefield, Crowley lost control.  No longer could he choose to dream or not dream.  He would lie down, turn off his consciousness, and find himself in Eden, sheltered under white wings, or in Rome, tempted to try oysters.  Suddenly, he was at the mercy of a revisionist subconscious.  They were dining at the Ritz, and, under the table, a manicured hand slid up his thigh.  They were arguing in a convent, and, against the wall, soft lips pressed to his lips.  They were in bed, and fuck, he couldn’t wake up, and he wanted to, he really did, because the images sept through his pores like slow poison, searing his skin and leaving him sickly in the sunlight, flinching at the sight of the angel’s hands softly picking up a book or fork when they had undone him in dreams mere hours earlier.  To these new habits of his treacherous mind, he was an unwilling victim; even when he swore off sleeping altogether, he found himself dozing on the bookshop sofa and waking, face flushed, body aching.  From the next room over, Aziraphale heard him hissing obscenities, sounding furious and haunted, and peered around the corner just in time to see him whip a pillow at a stack of books and storm out of the shop.  He stayed away for five days after that.

Then, the blinding light.  When downward saunter escalated to a plummet into flaming sulphur, Crowley clung to what remained when the embers had faded: darkness.  Forbidden from seeing Heaven’s golden rays again, he embraced the shadows, shading his eyes, cloaking his body, sharpening his tongue until sarcasm dripped easily from it.  He told himself this was preferable, deserved, his choice (rather than his defense), where he belonged, and after six thousand years of repeating this, he had begun to believe it.  After all, he could sense heat in pitch-black darkness.  The night was tailor-made for sin; this was where the serpent of Eden belonged.  If night also lent itself to contemplation, if only darkness made all the stunning stars visible to a lonely observer, well, those were coincidental benefits.

Given the light pollution, not many stars are visible when you sit on a tartan blanket in St. James’ Park at midnight, after closing down a restaurant, with a bottle of wine and a to-go container of macarons.  At dinner, there had been a conversation about constellations, and somehow that had turned into this, the angel sitting primly upright, the demon stretched and leaning back on his elbows, not much space in between them.  The wine and a minor miracle kept them warm in the chilly wind.

Crowley took a generous drink from the bottle, then passed it to Aziraphale as he stared skyward.  Slurring his words a little, Aziraphale said, “‘m sure you can’t see much through those lenses.”

“I know where to look.”

“Still, just–“  Fingers began to clumsily tug the glasses from his face.  If wine hadn’t blurred the edges of the evening, he would have protested more; instead, he grimaced and glanced away, trying to ignore the nearness of the angel’s hand.  “There,” and he heard the smile that bloomed on Aziraphale’s face before he saw it, “much better.”  The glasses were deposited in his outstretched hand.

Refusing to acknowledge that the angel was right, he tipped his head back again and changed the subject.  “That one’s going supernova soon,” he said quietly.

“Hm?  Which?”

“Over to the right there.”  Crowley knew the names of stars were foreign to Aziraphale, just as the words in the angel’s precious books were to him, so he didn’t bother naming it.  Rolling his head to one shoulder, he watched Aziraphale pop the rest of a yellow macaron in his mouth and search the sky, brows knit in confusion.  Crumbs stuck to his fingers, and his lips looked slightly stained from the blood-red Bordeaux.

A sideways glance and then the slow turn of Aziraphale’s face toward him shook Crowley from his daze, leaving him feeling, like always, a little ashamed to have been caught studying him.  “You see the dipper,” he started, pushing himself up off his elbows and into Aziraphale’s orbit.  “Look to its right.  See those two close together?”  His face hovered behind Aziraphale’s left shoulder, and he used a long, pointed finger to direct bright eyes toward the two stars.

“Ah, yes, I see them.”

“Too close.”  At that, Aziraphale’s head turned slightly and those bright eyes flicked intensely to Crowley, who leaned back an inch in response.  Yes, there is such a thing, Crowley thought, as too close, even in the hard-won quiet after the near-Apocalypse, even in the dark expanses of space.  “Wine.”  Aziraphale passed him the bottle, and he drank to fill the silence.

“Is that a problem, being close?  If you’re stars?”

“For some, yeah.  Depends on how you’re made.  That one, on the left, it’s absorbing all sorts of…”  He gestured absently, like one searching to translate a word from their native tongue to their companion’s.  “…cosmic stuff from the other one.  Taking it all in.  Eventually, it gets compressed, and then, boom.  Goes nuclear.”

A silence fell over them.  If asked, Crowley could have told him all about taking everything you can – every bit of energy, every single laugh and touch and word, even the sharp ones – until you’re pinned under the weight of another’s energy, welcoming your destruction if it means you can have even more.  The stars must choose the fiery explosion, believing it to be better than burning on alone.

“Raspberry.”  The word, spoken with excitement, interrupted Crowley’s musings.  “Give it a try,” and half a purple macaron entered his field of vision, held over Aziraphale’s shoulder.  He accepted it without question, taking a small bite and handing the rest back, well aware that Aziraphale would want to savor the last piece himself.

“’s good.”

A contented hum of agreement from the angel, who was still looking up at the stars.  “How do you know it’s going to explode?”

“Makes a noise.  You could probably hear it, too, if you tried.  Takes some effort.  Lots of space to travel.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had far too much wine for a challenge like that, my dear.  I trust you.”

Crowley laid back down on the blanket.  “Keep sitting like that and your neck’ll be sore tomorrow,” he muttered, ignoring the fact that the angel could simply miracle away the pain.

“At least its matter will be reused, when it goes,” mumbled Aziraphale, not looking away from the star as he placated Crowley by lying down.  “As Eliot wrote, ‘to make an end is to make a beginning…’”  He recited the next few lines of the poem from memory as Crowley picked at the label on the wine bottle, listening.  “‘…And any action is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat, or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.’”  Aziraphale took a breath, bit his lip, and then said, “You never told me, you know.  What it was like.”

“What?”

“Heaven.”

Sickeningly perfect, he thought.  Baffling and ruthless.  “You know better than me.”

“No, I mean when you were there as me.  I told you about Hell, but you haven’t said a word about Heaven.”

“Right, the rubber duck.  Genius.”  He was stalling for time.  Rage burned in the pit of his stomach when he recalled the sound of joy in Gabriel’s voice, the feel of rope around his wrists.  How could he say he interrupted you.  He laughed.  They were excited to watch you die.  Even worse, he expected you to step in the fire at his command, to walk yourself to your destruction just because he told you to, as if you were his pet.  No, he couldn’t tell Aziraphale any of this.  Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Spit fire at them.  Another inch or two and they’d have been done for.  See them again and I won’t aim to miss, I can tell you that much.”

Aziraphale turned to look at him, at first, amazed, and then, concerned at Crowley’s anger.  “I’m sure that was enough to send the message.  They should leave us alone for a while, I’d imagine, and when they do come back around, they’ll be my problem, not yours.”

Human eyes can’t see Alpha Centauri from Earth, but Crowley could make out its faint points of light, and he watched them flicker for a moment, listening to Aziraphale’s breath.  “Ours,” he said quietly, rolling over onto his side to face Aziraphale, head propped up by his hand.  “Our side.  Our problems.”

A loving smile began to form on the angel’s face.  “Yes, of course.  Ours.”  That word on Aziraphale’s lips made Crowley’s breath catch in his chest.

Long minutes dripped away in silence as Aziraphale watched the sky and Crowley watched Aziraphale; they passed the bottle back and forth without words, so practiced that it had become second nature by now.  Eventually, Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze and whispered, “Penny for your thoughts.”

Because of the wine and the stars, because no one was listening in on them anymore, because that expression was exactly the kind of old-fashioned, intrusive, caring thing that Aziraphale would say, Crowley gave voice to his thoughts as they came to him, no filter.  “It looked different than I remembered.  Memories might be unreliable, of course.  So long ago.  But it all felt wrong.  I’m supposed to want to be there, right?  That’s the whole threat in Falling, can’t be in Paradise anymore, but all I could think about was getting back here…”  To you was the end of that sentence, but he stopped short, already feeling like he had said too much.

Needing a reason to break eye contact, Crowley started to lift the bottle to his lips when Aziraphale’s hand, half on the bottle and half on his hand, made him pause.  “It was terribly brave of you.  I can’t even fathom how you did it, how you must have felt.”

“Well, couldn’t break character, could I?  You’d have faced it nobly, kept a brave face.  For all your fretting, when you know you’re right, you’re fearless, even to a fault sometimes.  Even when you are actually wrong but won’t admit it,” he said with a slight grin.  “So I just did what you’d have done.  Save for the fire-spitting, of course.  That was all me.”

Aziraphale, wide-eyed and adoring, looked at Crowley like he had just voiced a secret that Aziraphale had only ever thought to himself.  Crowley opened his mouth to break the tension, make a joke, and found, instead, Aziraphale’s lips pressed to his.  After one frozen second, his eyes fell closed: behind his eyelids, an explosion of light.

It was a lightning strike without the pain.  A sudden burst of brightness, a tingle of electricity humming at his fingertips and dancing on each burnt-ember strand of hair.  As he instinctively kissed Aziraphale back, he could feel light rushing through him from the earth and up into the night sky, leaving him breathless, awe-struck.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the glow and felt the angel’s warm hand settle on the side of his face.  When Aziraphale eventually pulled back, Crowley opened his eyes, absurdly expecting to see the rays of noontime sunlight and finding darkness, still, and the stars and the angel’s soft, loving smile.

His confusion over the origin of that light leapt into the back of his mind as Aziraphale said, “You give me too much credit, I’m afraid.  I have been too fearful to do that for centuries, even after I realized I was right in wanting to.”

A sharp exhale, a silent pause while Crowley shouldered the weight of those words, and then the explosion of thousands of years of self-restraint and hunger as Crowley pinned Aziraphale to the blanket in a desperate, all-consuming kiss.

“Young lady, this is a first edition.  It is over 150 years old!  You cannot handle it so carelessly, and you certainly do not want to buy it for your literature course.”  As any good angel should, Aziraphale tried his best to be polite to the misguided human, but his last two words were clearly laced with disapproval.  “I assure you, Waterstones has a budget edition perfectly suitable to your needs.”

Laughing to himself, Crowley watched the interaction from across the bookshop, gauging the proper point at which to intervene.  When Aziraphale attempted to take the book back and the girl pulled it closer to her chest, Crowley sauntered over.  Without stopping, he flashed her a grin, hissed “it’s not for sale” as he gently tugged the book from her hands, and walked on toward its proper shelf.

As he carefully placed A Tale of Two Cities back in its spot, he ran his hand along the dusty shelf, watching specks float up and into the few rays of afternoon sunshine that penetrated the shop’s cloudy windows.  He thought of Paris, wondering who was on strike these days, if any groups needed an extra nudging to join the picket lines.  Years ago, he had spent some time getting the metro workers fired up, and it had paid off better than he could’ve imagined.  Not only were thousands of travelers just a bit more aggravated and just a bit more awful to their spouses and friends and coworkers, but the workers liked the idea so much, they just kept doing it, long after he had left.  Another spark of brilliance for which he would never be commended.

Warmth pressed against his back, then a hand settled on his waist.  “She finally left, thank Heaven.”  Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear.  “You even knew exactly where it belongs.  Thank you.”

Blinking, Crowley willed himself to relax.  It had been over a week since their first kiss.  They had moved very eagerly beyond that into many other new and intimate activities, and yet these small displays of affection that seemed to come so naturally to the angel still completely wrecked him every time.  Against all impulse, he had spent thousands of years of smothering the embers of his hope that Aziraphale could ever be more than a friend – if he was even that lucky – just to wake one morning and find himself engulfed in an uncontrollable wildfire.  Getting used to this would take some time.  He swallowed and leaned back against Aziraphale’s body.  “Feels like it’s just about closing time to me,” and with a snap and a lazy wave of his hand, he made it so.

“Yes, quite,” agreed the angel.  “After that unpleasantness, I need a good cup of tea and some Chopin.”  Another kiss, then he was gone, off to put the kettle on while Crowley rested his forehead against the bookshelf and collected himself.  He still felt strangely warm despite Aziraphale’s absence; this was becoming a troublesome pattern.  Since that night under the stars, the overwhelming flashes of light had not returned, but he felt this glow of energy, sometimes, when Aziraphale held his hand or touched his cheek, as if he were lying in the sun with his eyes shaded.  In the moment, he couldn’t be bothered by it, but later, when he had a chance to reflect on the sensation, it unnerved him.

Flopping down on the sofa, he stretched his long legs out, feet resting on the arm, and shoved a pillow under his head.  A few minutes later, a nocturne floated delicately in the air and Aziraphale appeared before him, mug in hand.  With an amused eye roll, he asked “May I?” and gestured at the end of the sofa.  Crowley sighed but dropped his legs to the side and off the couch, turning on his side and creating room for Aziraphale to sit.  “Stretch back out again,” the angel said when he was settled.  Crowley did as he was told and was rewarded with a contented “there you are” and a hand on his knee, fingers pressing slightly with the fluttering piano notes.

This, Crowley thought as he closed his eyes, made it all worth it.  And not just worth it, but necessary: all of the missteps and arguments, the declined offers, the centuries with only one or two brief chance meetings, the risks taken to protect him, the return to Heaven.  With this logic, even his Fall must have been necessary to bring them here, to this closeness and peace.  Maybe he had Fallen so he could drag himself out of the pit and volunteer to be swept back up to face Heaven’s divine judgment a second time.  Only, the second time, their words meant nothing to him.  The second time, the rebellion was wholly intentional.  The second time, the flames hadn’t hurt, not at all.  It wasn’t that he had nothing to lose that time.  No, if he had failed, Aziraphale would have been destroyed, and the emptiness of a universe without him had still been reverberating in Crowley’s chest when he had stepped into that column of fire.  The old excuses and side-stepped truths died away: he had Fallen and fallen again and chosen it, and would, over and over, in half a heartbeat, if it meant he could have this.

A glow hovered into his darkness, and his eyes flew open.  “There!”

Aziraphale jumped, nearly spilling his tea all over both of them.  “What?” he asked, scanning the room, alarmed.

“No, it’s– Sorry, calm down, it’s nothing, just– You didn’t see a light, just then?”  Crowley was sitting up now, legs still stretched across Aziraphale’s lap.

“A light?”

“Yeah, bright, felt like it was right here in the room.”

“No,” Aziraphale said, looked concernedly at Crowley.  “I didn’t see anything.”

Running a hand through his hair, Crowley looked around for anything that could have caused the light, but found nothing out of the ordinary.  “It’s happened before.  In the park.  And a few nights ago.  It’s like someone’s shining a torch in my eyes when they’re closed, only it doesn’t hurt.  It’s just bright and weird and… I don’t get it.  Have you felt different, off, since it all almost went up in ineffable flames?”

Aziraphale shook his head.  “If anything, I’ve felt better.  Knowing it’s all sorted, for now, at least, is such a relief.  I’m not sure I understand it all, but I’m terribly glad it’s over.”  He reached out and took Crowley’s hand.  “What else has been troubling you?”

“Dreams,” he said quickly, not pausing to explain, “and, oh, yeah, these are new.”  With his free hand, he pulled the neckline of his shirt over to reveal the cluster of new and offensive marks.  “6,000 years only changing when I told it to, and now it’s gone rogue.”

With a small smile, Aziraphale said sweetly, “I’ve always liked your freckles.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed.  “This is your doing?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t touch your corporation.  Well,” he grinned a little and squeezed Crowley’s hand, “I suppose that’s an inaccurate statement, given recent events.  What I mean to say is I wouldn’t change you.  That’s absurd.”

The wheels were turning in Crowley’s mind.  “When you do that thing where you sense love.  What does it feel like?”

Aziraphale looked away, reaching for the right words to explain.  “Like… love.  Warm.  Bright.  Overwhelming, but pleasant.  The feeling varies depending on how strong the love is.  It can be almost blinding, if it’s strong enough.”

As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley withdrew his hand and pulled his knees to his chest, backing up against the arm of the sofa.  “That’s it.  The light, the warmth.  It was you.”

With a rapid turn of his head, Aziraphale stared into his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

“You did this, to me.  When we swapped bodies.”  He rapidly escalated from astonished to angry, jumping off the couch and standing in front of Aziraphale.  “You must have.  That’s when it all started.  You had no right.  I haven’t slept properly in weeks, and this light thing,” he said as he gestured at his head, “is bloody distracting and not normal, not for me.  I’m a demon.  I’m not meant to ‘sense love.’  You’ve got to undo it.”

Calmly, Aziraphale said, “I can’t undo something if I don’t know how I did it in the first place.  It does sound like you could be experiencing side effects of trading corporeal forms, but, I promise, I did nothing to you purposefully.  I wouldn’t.”

“Side effects?” Crowley spat.  “Come on.  You must’ve done something.  Think.”

“My dear, I was a bit busy swaggering around Hell convincing your bosses I was you and you’d become terrifyingly invincible.  I didn’t have time to contemplate your freckles.”

(If pressed, Aziraphale would have to admit this was a half-lie.  In the early morning hours, after the body swap, after Crowley had left him alone in his cold flat, he had stood in front of the mirror, calming his nerves by practicing different facial expressions until they looked familiar to him on Crowley’s face.  He may have also studied the exposed areas of Crowley’s skin in a way he never could have with Crowley watching him; he may have even briefly rolled up a sleeve, undone a button or two before listening to the voice in his head that told him it was a violation of trust, somehow, even if Crowley never found out.  The half-truth part of his statement lay in the fact that, to an admirer of something perfect, alterations are inconceivable.)

As always, Crowley believed him, but he wasn’t any happier for it.  It all felt unfair, somehow, and wrong: the light, the loss of control.  “Well, what is it, then?  Just what I get for loaning my body to an angel?”

“Possibly.”  Aziraphale took a sip of his tea, thinking.  “We are beings of love and light.  I suppose it makes sense that, after taking over a body unaccustomed to such a presence, trace amounts of that energy remains behind.  You mentioned dreams.  Are they pleasant ones?”

“Uh,” Crowley began, and then he became suddenly very interested in what was happening out the window, hiding his flushed face.  “Yeah, well, er, they’re not, uh, unpleasant.  But that’s not the point.”  He turned and strode back over to the couch.  “I’m not trying to have them, am I?  They’re just happening to me.  And if this is from trading bodies, then you should have side effects, too.  Demonic ones.”  He looked expectantly down at Aziraphale.

“I don’t.”

“No nightmares?”

“I don’t sleep.  You know that.”

“No urges to cause chaos, piss off people, torment customers?”

“No.  Well, other than that young lady earlier, but that impulse was entirely justifiable.”

“No feelings of general, I don’t know, corruption, sinfulness?”

Aziraphale smirked up at him.  “Oh, yes, but for actions I’ve been very much complicit in and desiring of.”

Crowley scowled, but there was a softness around the corners of his mouth that he couldn’t disguise.  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”  He pushed his glasses up into his hair and rubbed at his eyes.  “So, what, you came out of all of that without a scratch and I’m permanently enlightened?” he asked, drawing out the last word sarcastically.

“It may not be permanent.  With time, I’d expect it will fade.”

He dismissed the idea with an unhappy “hmm,” shoulders drooping.

Aziraphale set his mug down and stood, walking the few steps to Crowley and placing his hands on the demon’s chest over the lapels of his black jacket.  Crowley looked curiously into his eyes.  “It’s the lack of control that bothers you the most, isn’t it?”

Crowley’s mouth tightened.  “Just want to go back to normal.”

“I know, and I’m sure you will soon, most likely.  If not, you’ll adjust.”

“Easy for you to say.  Nothing’s changed for you,” he said bitterly.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.  “Nothing’s changed for me?”  He tilted his head slightly and placed a hand on Crowley’s cheek.  “Now, you know that’s not true.  All of this is new to me.”  With a smile, he pressed a quick kiss to Crowley’s lips.  “In fact, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re experiencing isn’t tied to this.  To us, I mean.”  He glanced down at his hands on Crowley’s chest, a little nervous to continue.  “I’ve been thinking that the switch shouldn’t have worked so well, that maybe it did because of our, well, connection, and now, the symptoms you’re describing sound like… As I said, I did nothing on purpose, but,” he shrugged, “it’s possible traces of me, of how I see you, stayed behind.”  He paused, then continued quickly.  “I’m not sure, of course.  Practically nothing has been written on the subject, and it’s not like I can ask the other angels–“

“Apologize,” Crowley interrupted, a smile spreading over his face as he began to process Aziraphale’s theory.

“Apologize?”

“You ruined a perfectly demonic body with your light and goodness. You owe me an apology.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, skeptical and amused.  “I won’t apologize.  It’s not my fault.”

“Oh yes, you will.”  Crowley stepped slightly forward, closing the space between their bodies.

“I will not. I refuse to apologize for loving you, not to you or anyone else,” said Aziraphale, voice quiet but firm.

A slow blink as he absorbed this, and then a low, strangled noise: fingers pressed to Aziraphale’s neck and jaw and pulled him forward into a passionate kiss.  Brightness found him again, and Crowley thought, if this glowing warmth is from him – a reminder that he once inhabited the body I call home, that he willingly walked in my darkness and felt it as light, that he knows my skin and sinful shadows and somehow loves me, anyway – then I hope it doesn’t fade.

Notes: The title comes from the fourth of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets, one of my absolute favorite poems.

[mydearestreaderfanfics]

There’s Love in the Air (Lotor x Reader)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, arguement

Word Count: 1,687

Prompt/Request: Third day of the October Special: Harry Potter.

Summary: Reader and Lotor are both Slytherins meaning they always have potions class together. But when Lotor shows up late to class when they are studying Amortentia, what, or rather who, will he smell?

Author: Mod Alex

Potions class was shared with the Gryffindors. Not that you cared that much, you only wish you didn't share it with one of your fellow Slytherin classmates. Namely, the Snake Prince Lotor. He was every bad Slytherin quality personified. He was machiavellian and more self-absorbed than anybody you'd ever met.

“He's the reason everybody thinks Slytherins are evil.” “So you've said.” “I'm serious, Pidge! It's not fair that there's plenty of us that are actually decent people, but then people like him waltz into the house, act like total jerks, and boom- suddenly we’re the house full of evil people!” You threw your hands up, a sound of frustration leaving your lips. Pidge shrugged nonchalantly. “Why do you care what people think anyway?” “That's not the point, the point is that Lotor is a-” “I’m a what? Thinking about my magnificence as always, (Y/N)?” “Like hell I am!” “Dear, there's no need to be so cold.” You narrowed your eyes, shoving your finger into his chest. “You know what your problem is, you think you're so much better than everyone else, that your mere existence grants you the ability to tower over the rest of us. But in reality, you are just a pretentious jerk who no one can stand.” Lotor’s lips curled into a cruel smirk as he grabbed your hand. “If you really think that, then tell me this: why is it that whenever you see me you've got that cute little blush along your face.” Your features reddened more so but it wasn't because you had a thing for him, it was because you were just that cross. “Look here, you insufferable, self-righteous bastard. I do not, and absolutely will never feel anything short of absolute loathing for you.” “Ah, but haven't you heard love and hate are two sides of the same coin.” You yanked your hand back. “Oh, piss off!” You stormed off, Pidge by your side.

Much to your relief, Potions was the only class you shared with Lotor. Either that or he doesn't bother to show up, you didn't care either way. However, despite Lotor’s presence, Potions remained your favorite class. It was also your best class, you absolutely never missed it, even that one time when you had come from your Transfiguration class with a pinky finger that had been accidentally turned into an earthworm. You were thrilled when your professor told the class that you would be learning the incredibly dangerous Amortentia in the next class. You'd always been a bit more interested in the more dangerous potions than you should've been. Who can blame you, though? The next day and a half felt like an eternity waiting for your next Potions class. You were so excited that you weren't even annoyed for your usual run-in with Lotor. So excited, in fact, that you didn't realize the run-in never came. That Lotor was in fact not even in Potions class today. Well, rather, he had yet to show up.

The class was already halfway through when Lotor burst into the room, looking less put together than you'd ever seen him. Again, it’s not like you cared. He wasn’t even five steps into the classroom when he crinkled up his nose, looking utterly disgusted. Whatever, it wasn’t your problem. You sprinkled in the powdered moonstone, smiling at the iconic pearlescent sheen the potion took on. Lotor, on the other hand, had finally taken his seat after getting chewed out by the professor, costing your house several points. He sniffed at the air, scoffing and shooting you a glare. You glared back. What was his problem? You were minding your own business, he should mind his. You turned back to your potion, trying to ignore the blue eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. It got significantly easier to ignore him when your Amortentia began to emit a soft pink smoke. Curiosity got the better of you and you sniffed. J. Pippin’s Potions, the earth after the first rain of the year, and… a warm, amber tobacco cologne? It was a very distinct smell that seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t quite place it. Regardless, the combination of the scents made you feel warm and at peace. You looked around, Pidge seemed wrapped up in deciphering the scents put out by her potion, and Lotor. Well, he was still glaring at you. You’d had it. “What is your problem?” “My problem? You’re the one that must’ve doused yourself in that ridiculous, cheap fragrance.” “What are you going on about?” “You, you’re reeking up the place. You must’ve poured at least half a bottle of-” “I don’t even use any ‘fragrance’.” You held up air quotes as a jab at his haughty vocabulary. “Then why does the room smell like you?!” Pidge began to cackle. “Hey, Mr. High-and-mighty. You know what potion we’re brewing today?” Before he had a chance to speak up, Pidge kept speaking. “Amortentia. And you know what Amortentia smells like?” “(Y/N)’s bargain cologne apparently.” His response only made Pidge cackle louder. “No, you dunce, Amortentia smells like whatever a person holds most dear. You like (Y/N) more than you let on. Is that why you’re always picking fights with them, isn’t it?” You were stunned into silence, there was no way he liked you, especially not like that. “Absolutely not, I- I don’t owe you an explanation.” He turned away, and- oh my Merlin, was that a blush, was Lotor, Snake Prince, blushing? The rest of class he refused to meet your eye, much less even look in your direction. You wondered if he really liked you; he had to if you were what he smelled from the Amortentia. You felt so confused, he was supposed to be your enemy. And then there was that weird smell that was coming from your own love potion. It was only getting stronger.

You left potions feeling confused and overwhelmed. You felt like everything you knew was wrong and the world you thought you knew was suddenly flipped upside down. You weren’t looking where you were going, so it was no surprise when you tripped, landing into a firm, pleasant smelling wall. Wait, no, that's no wall. “(L/N).” “Lotor! Erm, sorry. I was just going.” Wait a minute, there was that smell again. Amber. Tobacco. Warmth. Cologne. No, no, no, no. There was no way. It had to be a coincidence or some sort of sick joke. “(L/N). (L/N). (Y/N)!” “Wh-what?” He glared down at you. What the hell? He held his hand up to his forehead in a sanctimonious, dramatic pose. “Were you not listening to a word I said?” “Um, no?” “Alright, come on.” He took you by your wrist leading you away. “Where are you taking me? Lotor, let go!” “No, not until you hear me out.” Once you were a safe distance away he finally let go of you. “Listen, what happened in potions. Let’s just pretend none of that ever happened.” He waved his hand around dismissively. The scent came back full force being this close to him and it made you slightly dizzy. “No.” He frowned. “What?” “I said no.” “Just because that ridiculous potion says you are what I hold dear means nothing.” “I beg to differ. I think it’s actually quite telling.” You smirk up at him and he glares before averting his eyes, a light blush over his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones. “Lotor, tell me one thing.” He was fully prepared for you to ask him something that would make fun of him or something that had to do with why he found you so dear to him. “Why are you so cruel to others?” He hadn’t been expecting that. “I knew the feelings weren’t reciprocated, you needn’t rub salt in the wound.” “I’m being serious! You are a great student, so why? Why must you be so cruel?” “It’s in my nature suppose.” You took a step back, realizing how close you had moved towards him. “I see. I guess I was wrong.” “Wrong?” “Didn’t you wonder what I smelled in the Amortentia?” “I didn’t think about it, truthfully.” “J. Pippin’s Potions and the rain.” He looked annoyed and uncertain about what the scents were supposed to mean. “And one more thing.” “Oh?” “Your pompous cologne.” Lotor remained silent, you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “My cologne?” “So it would seem.” “I- You hold me dear?” “So it would seem.” “Is that all you’re going to say?” “So it would- nevermind.” He nodded, still trying to get a grasp on the new information. “Can I try something?” “Depends…” “Can I kiss you?” You blushed. This was not how you saw this day playing out. Hesitantly you nodded. He cupped your jaw, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat. He smiled warmly, it was the first time you’d ever seen him look so friendly. He was kind of stunning when he looked this soft and open. Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned toward you, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. ANd then he was kissing you. His lips were soft and warm and tasted faintly of butterbeer much to your surprise. You could feel butterflies in your belly and sparks in your heart. He pulled away far too soon. When you opened your eyes Lotor was smiling that beautiful smile again. “Wow.” You giggled at his awestruck expression. “Do you want to accompany me to Hogsmeade?” You frowned causing him to do the same. “I do like you Lotor, but I don’t know... You’ve been a huge jerk to a lot of people, including my friends and I and-” “Then I can stop. Or at least I will try to.” You sighed, considering what he was saying for a moment. You tip-toed to press a peck to the edge of his mouth. “I’ll give it a try. But you have to prove that you’ll be kind.” “We have an agreement.” You smiled. Amortentia truly is a love potion.

[shikastemari]

game - b&s&k.

pairing: boruto uzumaki x sarada uchiha; kawaki x sarada uchiha.

request:

word count: 1,829

when it happens: at some point (no idea when it could fit but its ok)

warnings: none

a/n: hi, so this is true, we know nothing about kawaki, so writing it was incredibly hard. and you didn’t give me any more instructions of how you wanted sarada x boruto x kawaki to happen, so i mostly did them all over her. i do hope you like it.

bonus: mitsuki being mitsuki ♥

masterlist in bio

"You are too good for this world, Sarada."

Kawaki's eyes widened in a sudden realization of what just came out his mouth, as Sarada blushed hard, with her red shirt, it almost felt she was trying to camouflage herself. Kawaki got up, walking towards another seat on the motion train, leaving Sarada and Mitsuki's side to sit alone on the back. He did not want all those words to blurt out from his mouth, but he didn't know what to do about these new feelings either.

During his life, he had never had a crush on someone, so when he noticed Sarada made his heart beat a little faster than normal, or how his skin would burn every time she touched him by accident on a mission, it drove him crazy. He, for sure, would do anything in his power to make sure those feelings could just disappear. But there she was, talking about she learned to cook her father favorite's food just so she could see him shot her a grin.

Boruto, who was sitting next to Mitsuki, paying attention at the landscape almost forgot how to breath when the exactly words which was roaming his mind were verbalized, and for no one less than Kawaki. As almost as instinct, his eyes met Sarada and his heart ached in response. The way she blushed was insanely cute, but the reason it bothered him was the fact she didn't blushed because of him. It was because of Kawaki.

Sarada, on the other hand, was honestly so confuse. In the beginning, Kawaki did absolutely nothing but to avoid her. He ignored everything she would say, disobey her in every chance he got until the day he just didn't. Out of nowhere, he started to hear her and abide by everything he suggested him. He had requested permission to go along with her more than one time now, and always took her side when she had a quarrel with Boruto. She always thought it was because the boy just hated Boruto and wanted to show him how he was supposed to be better than the blond one.

But that comment just made everyone confused, except, of course, for Mitsuki, who seemed oblivious to the newly tension in the air.

It would take a few more hours so the train could finally arrive in Konoha. It was the first time the Hokage actually let Kawaki go away without his company. Boruto complained against it, saying he wasn't probably ready, but Naruto told him if there was someone that could stop Kawaki to follow a dark path, it was him. But Boruto wasn't sure if he was the ideal for the task. Of course, he had an amazing way to talk to people, apparently. Except that, looking at Kawaki and the way he was blushing right now, it seemed he could be saved, from whatever happened to him. The sad part was Sarada seemed to be the reason of it.

"You are staring, Boruto," Kawaki said, out loud. "Can you at least pretend you don't want to be me?"

Boruto returned his look to the window, still bothered. He knew that the fact Sarada was the reason Kawaki decided to behave and it should be a good thing, or at least, he could call it a beginning. Boruto just didn't know how to not feel jealous over her. Since Kawaki started to hang out with them, she had to divide her attention to not one, but two headstrong, impulsive, short-tempered personalities and although he knew deep down it was ridiculous, he just hated not having her full attention.

"Oi, Boruto," Kawaki called. "I am talking to you!"

Kawaki was desperate to erase the few minutes before it. He wished he could delete a image of a red cheeked Sarada, even though he thought he had never seen something as cute as her. He wanted to forgot the skip his heart had just done after her eyes met his, painted in surprise, or how Boruto stared at him, knowing what had just happened - just because he was thinking the exactly same thing. It wasn't a shock for him Boruto had feelings for Sarada. Not that he had ever spoken it out loud, but it was just obvious to everyone but the girl herself. Not that he blamed Boruto. Sometimes he did even blamed Mitsuki, since he was the only one who apparently weren't affected by Sarada's smile.

"So? I am listening you," Boruto answered, bored. "I just decided not to pay attention."

"You little brat," Kawaki stood up from his seat and stormed out to Boruto's, seeing the cocky grin playing on the blond's lips. Boruto also moved from his seat, going directly to Kawaki, whose face were now filled with anger. Both of them had their fist ready to throw a good punch, and as they moved them, someone incredibly strong got in the middle, holding both of their hands.

"Kawaki, Boruto..." Sarada trailed off, in a husky tone. Both of them swallowed hard. "If you two don't stop with this shit, I will break both of your hands. You two understand?"

Kawaki nodded as Boruto mouthed a low yes.

Letting both of them go, Sarada returned to her seat, next to Mitsuki, who were watching the whole scene, incredibly entertained.

"You know," Mitsuki spoke after everyone returned to their seats. "I used to think Boruto and Sarada were a good couple, but maybe Kawaki and Sarada are a better one."

"NO WE ARE NOT!" the sentence echoed the cabin, with a "THEY ARE SO NOT!" following it right after, but still a little delayed. All the heads turned to Boruto. Kawaki with his clenched jaw, Sarada with her confused eyes and Mitsuki with his playful smile.

"It almost seems you are jealo-," Mitsuki said, happily, as a pink hue appeared on the blond's cheek.

Sarada's hand covered Mitsuki mouth, not fast enough to keep the idea fill the air between them all. She was always understandable about Mitsuki's no-filter-thoughts, but at that point, she just wished she knew a jutsu to make him quiet until they arrived in Konoha.

"That's ridiculous, Mitsuki. The only reason I refused it was because you should not go around and tell people they look like a good couple," Boruto felt the urge to complete. Especially when it's a terrible lie.

Sarada still didn't take her hand off Mitsuki's face, and she just wouldn't do it. She reasonable it with herself calling it as damage control. Since she could stop Mitsuki from saying anything and Kawaki and Boruto apart, the rest of the trip would go on without any further incidents.

"Why not?" Sarada's eyes moved to Mitsuki, but her hand was still rightfully place on his face, making it impossible for him to say such thing. That was when it hit her. The voice came from Kawaki. The boy was staring Boruto, but differently from before. It was not anger, it was just curiosity.

"Well, someone could find it offensive," Boruto answered, clearly uncomfortable for answering this.

"Did you?" The next question was directed at Sarada, who was unusually quiet today. Kawaki wondered if that what happened. Maybe thinking about both of them as a couple made her hurt - or something close to that.

"Didn't you?" Boruto quickly replied. Part because he didn't want to know Sarada's answer. It was difficult enough to fight against jealousy when he didn't know what was going on in her head. If she said it was okay for her, he would lose his shit.

"No," Kawaki got shocked by the honesty of his answer, so as Boruto and Sarada. Mitsuki only chucked silently against Sarada's hand. "I mean, Sarada is cool and strong, so if I have to picture myself with someone, I would rather be with her," as soon as he finished talking, he thought he was going to explode.

"But, you are not her type. I am pretty sure she would prefer someone who she had known her whole life, and someone she actually could trust, and..." Boruto trailed off.

"So, you?" Kawaki asked in return.

"What? No! There's plenty of guys who fit this description!" Boruto answered.

Sarada had fought something who called itself a Uchiha, it was a tiny white kid who had the sharingan and tried to kidnap her. She dealt with some stronger ninjas, and also an Ootsuki who appeared on an abandoned mine. She dealt with more problems that she could think of. One thing she never even pondered was that her type of guy would be a conversation topic for her male teams who were now making any sense to her.

"I see..." Mitsuki spoke. At some point, Sarada completely forgot about him. Maybe it was between the 'If I have to picture myself with someone, I would rather be with her' and the 'I am pretty sure she would prefer someone who she had known her whole life.'

"We are going to play a game," Sarada blurted out, before Mitsuki could say anything that was running through his head. She wouldn't be able to keep her self control in check anymore. "You all are going to shut the fuck up until the end of the trip. If I hear a single word, I will break your teeth with a single punch. Are we clear?"

Boruto mirrored Kawaki's shocked glance at her, Mitsuki still had his famous grin spreading across his face, his eyes squishing in the process. All the boys nodded, and she felt she could relax on the seat for the first time in this trip.

Kawaki felt more relief than anything. He didn't know how to control his mouth anymore, apparently. All he could think about what the fact he wanted her to like him, to see him as a friend, and maybe, who knows, something more in the future. The only think he knew for sure was that he cared about her, just like Boruto.

Boruto just found the whole situation strange, he knew how amazing and wonderful Sarada could be and how someone could become mesmerized by her strength and brain. She was just one the kind of people that you want to follow, to protect, and that had been his reason to be better than his father, than her father, than literally anyone. Never crossed his mind until that moment what he would do if she married someone who wasn't him. Would he still want to be around to be her shadow?

Both of them didn't know how to run away from the main question: What would they do if she picked the other? Instinctively, they peered over her. She was entertained by her thumbs on her lap, seeming her mind was long gone now, a small grin playing on her lips. That was when both of them knew the answer.

They would do nothing, because all they wanted was her to be happy.