#But instead she chose to stay until she was 18 then set out to learn in Limsa Lominsa

[elizabethrobertajones]

Evil AU: raised in Sharlayan as a snob and harasses the mammets about rare books

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Three

(Or Alastor learns it’s never to late learn your kinks, hell welcomes all)

18+ from here on out to be safe.

Warnings: entering smutty content near the end, written by an amateur. No smutty smut, but it’s beginning from here on out. I am opening that can of worms.

__

You really hoped you were harder to kill in hell, because these people simply had no sense of preservation of life in them. First full day in hell and you had been invited to a BDSM club, thrown off of a roof and hid from gunfire trying to keep the creepy little janitor from jumping into the crossfires. Trust exercises were not supposed to be life threatening, but the mania of the day had certainly made it harder for you to focus on your situation for the time being. Back at the hotel you gratefully accepted a drink from Husk as the group recapped the day they had just gone through. For a bunch of terrible sinners, they were pretty alright. Like when you were all alive, the group of you was simply trying to get by day by day.

You had learned that Angel was a porn star in Hell, Nifty’s kinks were both frightening and dangerous (mostly to her, but still), Husk you were certain liked nobody, and Vaggie was an aggressive woman who had no issues throwing you through the fire if she thought it would make you a better person on the other side.

You supposed there were worse people to attach yourself to given your situation. Part of you was grateful that you landed in a place that offered you a place to stay, food to eat with a generous host who made sure you were dressed and comfortable all around. Even though you had processed your death fairly quickly (that was normal, according to Angel) you did know that you could have it so much worse and be dealing with everything alone.

Grateful that everyone was heading to their own quarters when Alastor had returned with the little egg creatures, you made sure to avoid hovering your attention in his direction and ran upstairs after Angel, who had the room next to yours. While passing by Alastors room he had pointed a finger towards his open mouth and gagged, to which you could only respond with a forced chuckle. You waved goodnight to him as you opened your room door and found yourself falling onto the bed and passing out before your head even hit the pillow. Day one, over.

After a few weeks of Hell, you had settled into a comfortable routine. In the mornings you would join the others in the lounge for breakfast and coffee, you would all chat and discuss the next redemption plans before everyone would set off on their own plans for the day if Charlie and Vaggie didn’t have an exercise planned. You still had not left the safety of the building, knowing from your first day that it was strictly mean streets out there. Charlie had grabbed you a few more articles of clothing to complete your meagre wardrobe, and you were not picky in the slightest so you accepted your role as a doll she could dress up. She had picked a lot of modest, but cute A-line dresses, shorter skirts with turtlenecks, a suit - she had a clear preference of clothing seeing as your new items closely resembled her and Vaggie’s overall style. One thing you were grateful for was that the shoes she chose you didn’t require you to wear socks. Like your arms, your legs were black from the end of your limbs until your joint, where the black faded after it passed the knee. So it always looked like you were wearing little stockings. In your time in Hell getting comfortable in your new skin you had also discovered a scattering of black and white freckles on your shoulders and upper arms. You found yourself to be one of the luckier sinners, because your feet were still feet. Many souls like yours had come to hell with hooved feet, but you received a tail instead, which was not quite as common.

Angel had been your link to the world outside, he was constantly on his phone and for some lucky reason the underworld had a similar system of communication like earth. Cell phones, social media, advertisements, etc. It was truly not a far cry from what you knew. He had given you an older phone of his to use, the hotel members being the only contacts in your phone (minus Nifty & Alastor, for which you were grateful) and the two of you texted on the daily, him quickly becoming the closest member of the group to you. Even though Husk was the most recent being to die aside from you, Angel was the most willing to adapt to change. He effortlessly weaved through this complicated lifestyle with ease. He was confident, smart, and an all around great guy. If he would consider easing up on the partying and perhaps manage a way to distance himself from his industry he really would be an excellent candidate for redemption.

Alastor had still not spoken with you since your initial confrontation. Not that you were complaining but it was getting to the point that Angel had noticed his distance from you. It was if he was deliberately avoiding any chance that the two of you would end up in the same room. When asked about the radio, you found that even if you wanted to mention what you thought were unimportant details of it, your tongue snapped to the bottom of your mouth, preventing words from coming out. You had lamely said it was a motel item that got caught in your descent and you really had no idea why it followed you. Charlie had simply declared that possessions must occasionally follow a soul, but usually souls don’t fall in a space with decent people who won’t steal your stuff. It was simply considered an anomaly and after the first week thankfully people seemed to forget about it.

And while Alastor might have prevented you from mentioning anything to anyone about the symbols that were in the radio, it didn’t prevent you from researching the symbols. Charlie had a very extensive collection of books in the hotel library that you had been working your way through. Since you had no job and minimal expectations, you were sifting through the books quickly. And because Angel had left in a rush for a shoot earlier in the morning, your recent hobby started a few hours earlier than usual. You had made your way through a large portion of the ‘Historical Literature’ section before hearing a commotion outside of the library. With your ears being so sensitive it was easy for you to not make a sound while honing in on what was being said. It was more Husk and Angel bickering, but this one sounded worse than usual, ending with Angel storming out of the hotel and Vaggie immediately harping on Husk about his behaviour.

You shot a quick message to Angel by text, getting a read notification but no response. Oof, he was really in a mood. You sent another one telling him you were there when he was ready and a heart emoji, which resulted in a heart being sent in return. Husk had followed him shortly after so you weren’t too worried about how his night would go.

You had started sifting through the next category of books, which appeared to be something of a ‘Human Magic’ section. It appeared to start right at the beginning of humanity’s creation, which meant this was another hefty subject you’d have to filter through. You were only going shelf by shelf because you had started with ‘Runework’, ‘Salem Witchcraft’ and ‘Hell’s Overlords’, hoping to find the information right away with no luck.

Your phone vibrated and you absentmindedly opened the message from Angel, and your stomach dropped.

‘I need help.’

You tried calling and the phone went straight to voicemail, disconnecting as his mailbox was full. You shot out of the library and looked around. With Husk going after Angel, was he in trouble as well? Damn you wished Husk carried a phone. Vaggie and Charlie were also absent from the hotel or at least very very quiet with whatever they were doing.

You decided there was no time to hesitate and you went out the front door, running straight for the Vee’s district in an attempt to remember every bar that Angel had mentioned frequenting in the past. He was a famous porn star, surely someone had noticed the giant spider passing by them on the street. It wasn’t as if he was capable of being a wallflower after all.

You had started into a light jog as soon as you hit main street, the people out and about making you nervous. You were grateful that your new form allowed you to run without any difficulty, the benefits of being a deer hybrid being in your favour today. You ran quickly towards the bright district, making it there in a short period of time, and merging with a larger crowd entering. It seemed dangerous making it obvious that you were out on your own. You were due for trouble after all, it had been a fairly calm life since keeping your distance from him.

The group you had followed went straight into an arcade bar. Great. You were certain that Angel wasn’t here, games weren’t his thing but the giant windows peering into the establishment made it easy to recognize that he wasn’t present. You had made it a few blocks before trying to call Angel again, with it still failing. During your second attempt you noticed that there were a few people heading your way on the sidewalk so you shrunk over to the edge of the building to give them room to move past you.

But you found yourself bumping into one of them who deliberately stayed in your path, and when you looked at their face you came eye to eye with a wolf demon smiling and growling down at you. You glanced around you and noticed that you were surrounded by two additional wolves and your back pressed against the wall behind you in an attempt to create some space away from them.

“Hey baby,” The one you ran into started, “Eager for a good time? Can’t keep your hands off of me?” The other two laughed, one even licking his lips before his friend continued. ”You look cute, how about we find some privacy?” He stepped towards you with his arm reaching for yours and you took a step away, right into the other wolf. Shit. The three laughed at you shoving the one aside and walking backwards to try and make a gap, but they were advancing quickly. Panicking, you threw the only thing you had on you - the phone - with which the corner smacked one of them squarely in the eye, making him shout in pain. Another jumped at you and you quickly dodged his lunge by bracing a hand on his head and leaping over him to start into a sprint once your feet hit the ground.

Note for next time: Heels are super cute, but super terrible to run in, because they caught up to you quickly, despite your quick escape. One wolf immediately punched you in the face, causing your nose to have a minor explosion of blood shoot out of it, which made your brain rattle.

”You might just be cuter like this,” One guy said, pulling your arm so hard you lost your balance and was dragging behind him as the three took you into the closest alleyway. “We could have had a nice night, but you had to go and fuck it up. Now you’ll get what’s coming to ya.” The one who held your arm roughly lifted you back to your feet and slammed you against the brick wall, making your head hit it just as hard. It was getting hard to think about a way out, your head was so foggy.

“Hey this bitch was texting Angel Dust!” One of the guys said, probably the one who had her phone thrown to his face. “She’s got to be a dirty slut! Have you seen any of his shit? It’s messed up man, we got ourselves a wild one here!” He cheered, whooping with the other demon who wasn’t holding you up. You made eye contact with your captor and he was growling low with a sinister smile on his face.

”Lucky us! Prime meat for free? Baby I’ll make your night better than anyone you’ve ever been w-“ his words were cut off, as his neck suddenly had a black tentacle wrapped around it, squeezing so hard his eyeballs were protruding out of their sockets. You fell to your ass, legs bent on the ground, hands trying to steady your swaying head. Looking over you saw the bodies of the other wolves, already separated into a few pieces, some appendages being swung around by the tentacles.

Looking forward you noticed who came to your rescue. It was Alastor, and he was pissed. Thankfully not at you, although you certainly had a concussion so there was a chance you were misinterpreting the situation. He said something to your assaulter about how to be a gentleman and ‘perhaps he would discover how to treat a lady in his next life’ before all the tentacles had wrapped about his and his friends bodies before disappearing with them into the ground. Your surroundings now quiet except for your heavy breathing, you watched Alastor take even, steady steps towards your fallen form.

“Well now! Haven’t you got yourself in a bit of trouble, hmm?” He taunted, entirely too chipper. Closing one eye and squinting the other to avoid seeing double, you noticed that he had blood on his face, under his nose, which you apparently pointed at, because he raised a brow and questioned it.

”Blood on your face.” You said with a bit of a slur, “S’little bit here.” And pointed to your own nose, fingers getting coated in blood. His hand reached up to his face and he touched his nose, only for blood to begin to flow from it. Shocked, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at it while he frowned at you before offering a second handkerchief to you. You shook your head, well tried too, and said something about being sleepy.

”Now, now, sleeping after a head injury is most certainly bad for you!” He chirped, putting his handkerchiefs away now that his face was clean. He leaned over to inspect your injuries, taking note of your head and nose specifically.

“Care to explain why you are wandering about on your own my dear? Itching for a second death?” He asked in a condescending manner. “Quite foolish of you really, to come without an escort - why you are quite lucky I happened to be around, darling!” He waved his hand about in a dramatic fashion before offering his hand to you, lifting you up. On your feet you dusted off what rubble had got on you, found your phone settled on the ground a few feet away and began to try and walk to it only to find that your balance was way off course. With one hand holding your head you reached for your phone, noticing new texts from Angel.

‘with my script later, are you free?’ Followed with: ‘Sorry babe! That first message didn’t send all the way, love ya xoxo’

For fuck sakes.

”Hmm?”Alastor hummed, looking down at your phone, reading the messages. “Oh-ho! So you were on a rescue mission were you? Noble indeed, considering your naivety and lack of knowledge of any part of Hell outside the hotel.”

You shot him a nasty glance. “I was worried.” Augh. Pathetic response.

“Very stupid thing to do, really.” Picking at one of his claws, attempting to be indifferent. “Very stupid indeed, especially since I have just had an unfortunate revelation.”

”Hmm?” You responded, still trying to get the throbbing in your head to settle down. “I know it was stupid,” agreeing with him made him in a good mood, Husk had told you, “But I had to try and find him, I don’t think he has many people to depend on.”

He gave you a look of contempt. He really did not care for anyone other than himself.

“You and I need to have a chat darling.” His eyes narrowed as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, painfully putting pressure on a new bruise from the previous baddie. He dragged you alongside him, holding you so close to him you could feel the heat of his body through his jacket. “Say nothing until we make it to the hotel my dear, there are always eyes on us out here.” He gestured with his microphone cane in a wide sweep, indicating literally every where could be listening. You obeyed him by not responding which kept Alastor in a good mood during the walk home.

However upon arrival, he dragged your sorry ass through his shadow travel again, but thankfully to your room. More specifically your bathroom. He gestured for you to sit down, which you did on the edge of the tub, and watched him gather a pathetic amount of first aid. He removed his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his right hand, almost all the way up to the elbow. You noticed his arms were covered in scars that stood out from his black skin that was similar to your own pattern, except fading away before the joint of his elbow. The scars were all thin and bright white, a stark contrast. However what he was looking at intensely was a large bruise that had formed right below his elbow, right above the fade of his black skin. He then turned to you and grabbed your right arm and lined up the two. You had a much darker bruise that matched his. Weird. Didn’t Pentious say that no one had landed a hit on Alastor before? And that a small piece of coat was all he himself had managed to get? So how did those stupid wolves get up on him? And when?

The room had a massive chill fill the air as Alastor processed what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Could you talk now? Should you? You should at least thank him.

”Thank-“

”Quiet.” he interrupted. No filter on his voice for that one. Just a deep, sharp command.

Your lips tightened into a thin line and you nodded despite your killer headache. He released your arm and went back to the counter. With his jacket off you could see that he, too, had a small deer tail on his backside. It was red and black, much like his hair. It was probably the only cute thing about him, and you’d die before you said that out loud. Alastor came back to you with a warm wet cloth and some antiseptic. He instructed you to wipe up the blood on your face and he wiped a few of your more surface scrapes that were on your legs and knees. You narrowed your own eyes, why on earth was he doing this? It was as if he was trying to memorise every little injury you had received. Once you felt as if you had removed all the dried blood from your face you braced both hands on either side of you as you watched Alastor tend to your wounds. When he was quiet and focused he wasn’t too terribly frightening, but in the way that a poisonous snake might be. Obviously dangerous, possibly venomous, and could certainly kill you given the chance, but still captivating to watch. He released a huff of air when he was done checking out your head, just a bump he said, he moved to your nose. He had gently grasped your chin and moved your head from side to side, where he traced some of the worst damage with his free hand.

“Not broken, my dear, but guaranteed to have a couple of black eyes by this evening.” He announced. “You shall not be leaving your room until you have healed or found a way to cover those up.” Man was he bossy. He put his coat back on and leaned into the mirror to check his own face before tapping the floor with his microphone for your attention. His shadows enveloped the small room, and it was as if you were sitting on a void of nothingness, large symbols hovering around you in green. And just as quick as the dark arrived it disappeared with another few taps from his cane.

“Preventative measures darling, we cannot have anyone listening in on us.”

”Uhh…okay? Okay. Why?” Why are you so creepy?

”Creepy keeps the fear alive darling.” Well shit, that last bit was said out loud. Stupid concussion. “I think it is time to discuss the Radio, because you have proven to be a thorn in my side that I cannot simply be rid of with my usual methods.”

You nod along with each word slowly and focus on the last bit - the usual methods? “Do you mean eating people?” the statement escaped your loose lips, feeling drunk from the head injury .

His smile turned even more wicked if that was a possibility, eyes and teeth glowing like dim lamps. “Among other things…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and being sure to cock his head up in a very proud manner. He seemed pleased you had heard some of the more…graphic methods of dealing with other demons. His cool composure only lasted a moment. Once he opened his eyes, his mood was icy, eyes sharp and narrowed as he came a little closer without overwhelming your personal space and spoke bluntly, radio voice effect gone, “It appears as if you have linked our souls into an agreement that even I am unable to break.” He stared into your eyes, his fury palpable. You frowned in response out of both confusion and fear.

“What do you mean? I don’t even know who you are! I still don’t know who you are, how can we possibly be…like that…?” You ended lamely, hands wildly gesturing between the two of you. He had surely made a mistake, because this sort of thing just didn’t happen. Besides, you had only met him after death, so there was simply a misunderstanding. You shook your head in denial, causing blood to leak out of one nostril.

“A-hem” He said, getting your focus back on his face. His nose, same nostril, now had a slow trail of blood trickling out. He stood straight and a handkerchief appeared in his hand to dap his face while you grabbed some bathroom tissue off the roll beside you. It was hard to meet his eyes as it was obvious he was upset with you.

Attempting to end the silence, you spoke up. “Did you get hit as well? Your nose has been bleeding just as much as mine.” His eyebrows arched so high it was lost within his hairline, the stretched skin the only visual evidence of his reaction.

“No. I do not get hit.” He scoffed. “This is a result of the damage you incurred today my dear.”

Your lack of reaction, compounded with the cold molasses that was currently your brain, made him sigh and begin his explanation.

”The Radio was mine as a young man. It never worked quite right, so I was constantly repairing it. But this was before my Radio Show! So fixing instead of purchasing new was all I could do at the time. I would have kept it forever if I could, it was one of the only things my mother had given me on her own.” He had started picking under his middle finger with his thumbnail, trying to appear indifferent to his admission. You caught on to the way his voice softened when his mother was mentioned but you weren’t inviting death over tonight so you kept a straight face.

“Just before my career took off, I had been dabbling with some other gifts that came from my mothers side. Her ancestors were practitioners of creole magic, something that I am familiar with, but not proficient enough to use in my day to day.” Eyes back to you, he continued on. “The symbols in the radio were a deal I made with it, naively, early on in my practising. I was certain I would become a radio star, first of my kind, and well, sometimes we do questionable things while drinking.” He rolled his eyes at that, resulting in a smirk on your own face. “A friend and I had quite a night out! She knocked my radio over and the back panel came off. I cut myself on a stray piece of metal inside, cutting myself quite deep-“ He opened his palm with the scar to stare into it. “Beyond my better judgement I wrote, in my own blood, symbols I was not familiar with and apparently created unfinished magic that was only completed and sealed when your blood went over my runes.”

Still confused, you gave him a look that caused him to roll his eyes at you, as if you were the malicious force at play here and continued.

”What was a foolish act of an immature man at the end of a bottle of rye has now tethered our souls together. Akin to,” he shuddered, “Soulmates. However where fate might have chosen different paths for our souls, we have become united through dark magic powered behind the power I hold now, which is significantly stronger than when I wrote the symbols within the machine.” His smile was tight, still present as always, but certainly not the smile of a happy man.

But wait - “I don’t have any magic though, so why…?” You started, trying to steer the conversation away from the dreaded admission of the demon.

“Your being has little to no effect, my dear. The deal I was attempting to make with the Radio relied on magic supplied by me and me alone, as one cannot make a Radio respond to such a request.” One hand came up to his temple to put pressure on it, like you would do when you had a headache. “Foolish, foolish man.” He said, quickly and quietly, your ears picking it up as if he made no attempt to remain unheard. “And because the deal was made in blood, with the same instrument, on the same hand, even - I suspect that blood is our tether. Some link love or minds, so they can reciprocate feelings and thoughts to a person of their choice. And due to my being well, dead, the only thing we were able to link was our blood. In layman’s terms, darling - you bleed, I bleed. Your blood rushes to an impact, my blood rushes to an impact. You blush and, augh, etc. Do you understand?”

”Yes. But that honestly sounds ridiculous, and would be hard to believe if I didn’t die and land in hell a month ago. But I will admit, my knowledge of creole magic is absolutely zero, straight up nothing, so this was honestly just an unfortunate…mistake, that we can possibly undo?” You said with hesitancy at the end, but Alastor shook his head before you were even done speaking.

“I have looked into it extensively, and I am afraid it is not something we can separate - not even with Death. You die, I die. And I have far too much unfinished business to bow down to death just yet.”

“Oh, super duper!” You replied, chipper like Charlie. His face dropped at your tone, frowning down at you.

“No, not ‘super duper’, finger quotes around his snarky repetition, “Quite terrible for me actually. You have become my greatest liability. I am not worried I will get either of us in any kind of danger, but as we have both learned this evening, you are incapable of even walking on your own without getting into trouble.” His microphone now bracing both of his hands in front of his body.

Well excuse you for being a basic, simple individual without knowing everything about everything in the whole wide world, and also not knowing anything about the thing that Alastor told you not to talk about? This guy was an asshole on so many levels that you missed when he just left you alone.

”Well, I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, because it was totally my plan for this to happen.” Giving him a deadpanned look that made him smile tighter out of…well, you didn’t really know. He wasn’t that easy to read when he wasn’t angry.

“That is quite enough funny business for today, I am afraid that your galavanting around Hell will stop immediately. You will stay within the confines of this hotel. You will stay in your room during the extermination-“

”This is bullshit! I am a free person to do whatever! You can’t control me like this-“ He was growing again, filling the small bathroom with his demonic figure.

“Foolish girl, I can do whatever I want with you!” He growled, tendrils coming up from the shadowed ground to wrap themselves around your calves and wrists, another wrapping itself in your hair to control your head, forcing you to look right into his demonic eyes.

“I have been kind, considering your unfortunate and pathetic self has been on my nerves since the moment you arrived. You are a senseless creature who-“ he choked on his words, pausing as his smile lowered. You were breathing much harder now, and suddenly it made sense why you were so unbothered by the BDSM club Angel brought the group to. This was turning you on, being helpless and controlled by such a force like Alastor. Still staring at each other face to face, you could see a blush start to spread like a brand across his cheeks. His breath began to match yours, and you shifted your ass that was still seated on the bathtub edge in a vain attempt to get comfortable. In record time you had become wet from the situation. You were turned on, girl, and he was feeling the same effects. Wherever the blood rushes was no lie.

You started to laugh at the situation, manically as you realised what had happened. He was still frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He needed to teach you a lesson, to know who was in charge of this unwanted union but obviously this was doing nothing but cause your blood to rush to your cunt, because he felt a pressure almost unfamiliar to him below his navel. He was disgusted that you were causing this reaction from him, he was an elevated creature with no need for carnal pleasures. And now you were laughing at him.

The tendrils released from your person so quickly that the movement caused you to slide back into the tub, hitting the bottom of the tub with your ass, but catching the sides with your elbows to prevent your head from smacking backwards. Alastor had returned to his usual form, blush still visible on his cheeks but definitely going away as you yourself had woken from your horny stupor.

“I believe I have made my point. Perhaps I am being far too protective of you, we will have to discuss a proper method to exist in spite of our situation. I expect reasonable suggestions when we revisit the topic. For now I will leave you be, as your injuries have been attended to and have already begun the healing process. Does all of this sound reasonable to you?” Wow, how quickly the tables have turned, being turned on was obviously not something he had thought of dealing with, and it was easy to get you going. Certainly more so now that you had so much more peach fuzz on your skin as a deer hybrid - you were extra sensitive to any touch. Perhaps that was why Alastor disliked physical touch as well? Your smiling of this thought clearly made him wary of you at this moment. He repeated his last sentence again.

”Yes, Alastor, it sounds reasonable. We can talk about a game plan later, and I promise I will try to make it as easy as possible.”

He nodded at your answer and narrowed his eyes with a slight smile, “Good Girl.”

You felt the shocking return of arousal at those words and released a very small “oh!”, and he sank into his shadows immediately, leaving you alone in the bathtub bruised and turned on.

Well, turns out you had a praise kink too.

***********

First three parts is over 11K word wise. I can’t stop writing, I’m at 32k now, I just keep plugging away editing/writing/thinking. I’m so grateful for all the likes and comments.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo! 

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day. 

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort. 

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much.  Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock. 

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such. 

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile. 

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus. 

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear. 

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know. 

 But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn. 

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick. 

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.” 

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly. 

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!" 

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly. 

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both. 

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most. 

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind. 

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. 

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process." 

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars. 

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.  

You hoped he did. 

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment. 

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest. 

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice. 

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role. 

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were. 

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more. 

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of. 

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart. 

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed. 

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same. 

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride. 

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet. 

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon. 

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it. 

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to. 

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him. 

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head. 

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight. 

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin. 

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised. 

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far. 

People were weird when it came to shit like that. 

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary. 

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket. 

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down." 

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?" 

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity. 

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants." 

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” 

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as. 

It made your heart flutter inside your chest. 

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner. 

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar. 

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot. 

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake. 

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further. 

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric. 

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.” 

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara. 

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold. 

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?” 

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?” 

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.” 

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.” 

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity. 

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked. 

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely. 

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it. 

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.  

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on." 

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!" 

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough. 

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror. 

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain. 

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace. 

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours. 

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach. 

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party. 

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't. 

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it. 

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out. 

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!" 

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?" 

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve." 

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting." 

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?" 

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning. 

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance. 

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself." 

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought. 

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know." 

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before." 

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like. 

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head. 

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both. 

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?" 

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?" 

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off. 

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude." 

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did. 

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides. 

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment. 

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!” 

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked. 

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it. 

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it. 

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced. 

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you. 

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight. 

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points. 

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you." 

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return. 

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—- 

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.  

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start. 

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude. 

 Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now. 

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either. 

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself -  an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations. 

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element. 

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress. 

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.” 

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.” 

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place. 

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to. 

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat. 

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety. 

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close. 

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily. 

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her. 

“Have you seen Jake around?” 

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?” 

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.” 

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh. 

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.” 

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit. 

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.” 

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.” 

“Ahm...”  

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it. 

“That,” you offered. 

 “I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight. 

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room. 

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another. 

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked. 

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin. 

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall. 

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little. 

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow. 

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his. 

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair. 

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view. 

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight. 

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered. 

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes. 

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you. 

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else. 

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe. 

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this. 

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet. 

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear. 

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

 How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights." 

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled. 

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.” 

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?” 

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier. 

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?” 

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.” 

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.” 

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.” 

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss. 

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.” 

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.” 

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it. 

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat? 

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be. 

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place. 

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right? 

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

 No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had. 

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple. 

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut. 

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do. 

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you. 

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place. 

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

Tag List:

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[solarwriting]

guns and gifts

carl gallagher x fem!reader

request: Hey! I hope I can send you a request for Karl Gallagher of Shameless. Maybe Karl and y / n were a couple before jail, and after leaving jail he came to her to ask her for forgiveness. y / n doesn't forgive him and he starts giving her gifts and apologizing every day. Then everything is at your discretion. Happy ending please💛 from @powerpuffluuvv

genere: fluff + angst

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, ooc carl

posted on april 18, 2021

puppy love. thirteen year-olds holding hands and sharing stolen kisses. it was a sweet relationship that could’ve grown and matured with the two teens as they did. instead carl found himself a job on the corner and when he got caught y/n was done. fiona tried to get through to the boy, asking him to apologize but he brushed her off.

“can i please just talk to him? maybe he’ll listen to me.” y/n pleaded with the lawyer.

fiona stepped in, “it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

“five minutes.” the lawyer relented.

y/n thanked him and rushed into the room where he sat. he squinted at her through the glasses fiona gave him. “i’m not fuckin’ sorry. i wish i was smarter about it. i wouldn’t have used chuckie as a mule.”

“you know what. if you don’t tell that judge you’re fucking sorry and that you’ve learned from your mistakes i will never speak to you again.” y/n exited the room quickly letting the ultimatum hang in the air as the door slammed behind her.

during the hearing her eyes were trained on the back of his head, hoping she could somehow will him to do the right thing. she kept her arms crossed as she leaned back. kev and v were sat next to her, waiting anxiously to see what he’d say.

“i’m going to make juvie my bitch.” as soon as he said those words, y/n sighed, getting up from her seat, shouldering her back and slipping out of the courtroom as they hauled carl away. he caught her eye before she left, she froze for a moment before shaking her head and making her exit.

time passed and she still spent time with the rest of the gallaghers, she lived across the street so it would have been hard not too. she helped take care of liam when needed and she got a job at patsy’s with fiona’s help.

the day carl came back had been a surprise for everyone, y/n was helping fiona with making dinner after a shift at patsy’s. the front door had slammed shut and, thinking it was debbie, fiona asked if she got a message about hamburger buns. y/n’s eyes shot up when a much deeper voice responded, “nah, it’s just me.”

excited, fiona rushed towards the boy, wrapping him up in a hug. hugging back, he looked up throwing a wave to y/n who was rooted in place, “hey, y/n.”

snapping herself back into reality she lurched forward wiping her hands and grabbing her things, pulling her bag over her shoulder and gripping her keys tightly she looked back at the boy as fiona fussed over his new appearance. “fuck you, carl.” she spat, slamming the back door shut behind her.

y/n managed to avoid carl at school the next day, he was too busy with “his boy” nick and his new white boy carl personality and selling illegal weapons in the bathrooms to bother her anyways. she rushed to patsy’s as soon as school ended and began her shift.

she spent the afternoon rushing from table to table, taking orders, passing out food, and pouring coffee. she was pouring coffee for a couple sitting near the front door when the bell twinkled, signaling a new customer.

her back turned to the door and her focus pointed and the coffee she was pouring she greeted the customer quickly, “take a seat anywhere and i’ll be right with you darling.” she smiled at the couple before turning around, finding herself face to face with white boy carl himself. “get the fuck out.”

y/n rushed away from him, pouring coffee for a man sat at the counter. carl followed, “please just talk to me, y/n.”

“she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” the customer spoke up as y/n placed the coffee pot on the burner.

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” carl asked the man.

he stood up, “i told you she doesn’t want to talk. so leave.”

y/n stepped in before a physical altercation broke out, “thank so much, sir, but i can fight my own battles.” she pushed carl towards the door, “out.” she kept pushing him despite his protests, “get the fuck out. go.”

the door slammed behind them, and carl began to speak, “no, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth and listen. i don’t want to listen to you. i don’t want to talk to you. and i don’t even want to see you but that last one might be a little fucking impossible since we’re neighbors and i work with your sister so i’m going to be civil towards you but i will only acknowledge your existence when it is absolutely necessary. clear?”

carl began to protest but y/n cut him off, “are we fucking clear?” carl grumbled an agreement and y/n sighed, “good, now get the fuck out if here. i have to go back to work.”

y/n rushed back into the diner, throwing herself back into work. hoping she looked busy enough to keep the nosy man from before to leave her alone, she poured more coffee, took orders, passed out plates. until her shift ended and she could finally take the l back home.

the next run in with carl happened two days later, she was walking home from school, thankful for the day off from work when carl and nick pulled up on a bike. “y/n! wait!”

sighing, y/n whipped around, “i thought i told you i didn’t want to talk to you.”

“i have something for you.” carl explained as he got closer, y/n ignored him and started walking again, the bike quickly catching up with her. “here.”

y/n scoffed, eyeing the bag, “whatever it is i don’t want it.”

“it’s a book, debbie told me you wanted to read it.”

y/n sped up, “no thanks, already read it.” she didn’t care what book it was, she didn’t want anything from him. she took this moment to cross the street, the passing cars making it difficult for the boys on the bike to follow.

she entered the gallagher house hoping carl would be too busy to come home for a few hours while she watched liam. “i get off at nine, if anyone else comes home you’re welcome to leave but i plan on bringing something back for dinner if you want to stick around for that.”

“of course i’ll stay. me and liam are going to have a great time. isn’t that right liam?” y/n asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. fiona thanked her and rushed out the door.

y/n put on a movie, which liam fell asleep watching about thirty minutes in. y/n got up and stretched when the movie ended, adjusting the blanket she threw over liam when he fell asleep. she walked in the kitchen, stiff from sitting for so long. she pulled out a can of pop from the fridge and leaned her back against the fridge, using to stretch her body more.

the door swung open and carl walked in, “good you’re hear, i have something else for you.”

“whatever it is, i don’t want it.” y/n sighed into her drink.

“it’s a necklace, here.” he opened the velvet box to show her an expensive looking necklace.

she turned away from him, “no thanks.” walking back into the living room. “go somewhere else please, i have to watch liam.”

carl sighed before exiting the house with nick, who had been hanging back by the door during the exchange. he nodded to nick and the two rolled out to go do god knows what.

that night fiona came home with food, the entire gallagher clan plus kev and v enjoyed. there were enough people that y/n managed to avoid speaking to carl the entire evening. every time he tried to speak to her she’d find someone to talk to, she talked lip about something she had to do for school, ian told her about trevor, and her and debbie talked about anything.

v even pointed out the strange behavior when carl was left looking slightly dejected to fiona, who just shrugged in response.

“thank you fiona, goodnight everyone.” y/n called as she stepped out the back door. she crossed the street quickly and made it home, which as usual was empty, the rest of her family nowhere to be found.

she sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge and kicking of her shoes as soon as she made it to her room. she threw herself back on her bed yelping when she collided with something hard. she jumped up only to see the jewelry box and book carl had bought her. she set her beer down and pulled the box open, smiling at the necklace. it was gold, with a small tear shaped pendant that held some sort of crystal or diamond.

she set the box next to her beer, which she grabbed and took sip of as she grabbed the book. it was actually something she’d been wanting, she rolled her eyes before opening it to the first page.

the next fee days followed a similar pattern, carl would stop her at school and work and even his own house to offer her gifts, which she would refuse, which would always end up on her bed at the end of the day. on a particularly rough day, y/n had enough. she was walking home from school, carl (who was alone this time) behind her, like clockwork offering another gift.

“carl, please just leave me alone. i don’t have the energy to deal with you.” y/n said not stopping. carl made a comment and y/n snapped, “god i’m not going to forgive you because you chose to go to juvie. you could have just apologized and gotten parole but that didn’t happen. and i’m not going to be your girlfriend again because i don’t even know who you are any more, this thug personality doesn’t look good on you.” y/n sighed rushing away before he could answer.

she was suddenly thankful for the day off, deciding to spend it all alone at home. it was a friday and her weekend was also free so she spent the next few days home alone. her family was gone of course, they only only seemed to show up once a month just to leave again the same day.

sunday evening y/n laid in the couch watching what was on tv when there was a knock on the door. y/n groaned, getting up to answer it freezing when carl was revealed on the other side. he looked small, he was curled into himself and he looked sad. his braids were out, soft curls in the place. “hey, y/n.” he said softly. y/n wordlessly moved out of the way to let him in.

“i’m done. no more sell drugs, guns, anything. something happened, with nick and i don’t want that to be my life anymore.” his voice cracked and y/n instinctively wrapped him into a hug, squeezing protectively. he cried into her shoulder, holding her tightly, scared to let her go.

“hey,” y/n spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair, “you’re okay. i got you.” once carl calmed down, he pulled away but y/n held onto him, hands on his face.

“i really miss you y/n. and i know i was awful before but all i want to do is be with you. i love you.” he sighed, his hands holding her wrists.

y/n pulled him closer, “i love you, too, idiot.” carl gave her a lopsided smiled before surging forward to connect their lips in a hot kiss. y/n stumbled backwards before backing into the wall behind her. carl bit on her lip softly causing her breath to catch in her throat. she tugged on his hair and he squeezed her hips. she pulled away for breath, pressing her forehead to his, “my room?” breathless carl nodded pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they rushed to her room.

the next morning the front door slammed opened, “y/n! i’m going to kill fiona!” debbie stormed through the house bursting into y/n’s room where she was laying next to a topless carl, wearing only his t-shirt, “oh my god! ew!” debbie shielded her eyes from the sight before her.

“hey, debs.” y/n mumbled, sheepishly.

debbie groaned, “just get dressed, we have school.”

[bts-reveries]

expect the unexpected | 3

“Minseok! Soojin! Time to go!” you yell, checking your phone for the time. With three kids, it’s always a struggle in the morning. But you all manage to get things done and going. 

You turn your head to see if the kids were coming out of their rooms yet but the first one you saw out was your youngest son. He smiled up at you right when he saw you looking and you laughed, pointing behind him.

“Can you call your brother and sister please? They’re going to be late for school.” Haneul turns around and runs to his brother’s room and yells ‘mommy says wet’s go!’ and then runs across to the other room to yell the same thing to his sister. Who you hear scream ‘I’M COMING!’ 

“Are you ready?” Jin says, walking up behind you. You both had a free morning so the two of you decided to take Haneul out on a little date while his older siblings were in school. You haven’t asked him where he wanted to go, but knowing your son, his ideal date would be auntie Sohyun’s bakery and the playground. It’s all a three ish year old wants. 

“I’ve been since 6:30,” you replied. “KIDS LET’S GO,” you yell one more time. Now the two finally came running to the front door with their backpacks on. 

“Got everything?” Jin asks. 

“Yes!” Soojin yells, grabbing the door knob and walking out, followed by her older brother.

“Yeah we got everything,” Minseok replies. Haneul watches the two walk away and looks up at you.

“Where’s mine,” he says in a little voice, patting his shoulders. 

“You’ll grow broad shoulders like mine when you’re older,” Jin says, “let’s go, Minseok and Soojin are going to be late.” Both you and Haneul held the same expression as you frowned up at him.

“Honey, he’s talking about his backpack,” you tell him, pointing to Haneul’s backpack that was hung up by the door.

“I knew that!.. I was just--,” Jin replies, grabbing the bag and handing it to his son, “here.”

-

“Be good like always, we’ll see you later okay?” you tell your kids as you drop them off. 

Minseok and Soojin give you and Jin a kiss before getting out of the van. 

“Bye bye,” Haneul waves, Soojin and Minseok hug and kiss him goodbye too. 

You lowered down the window and yelled, “Love you!” as they walk away from the van.

“Love you too!” They yelled back, waving at you and Jin. Jin leans over you and yells out your open window.

“SOOJIN-AH MAKE SURE YOU STAY AWAY FROM BOYS!” Jin yells. Your eyes widen and you push Jin away. 

“Shh--”

“REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO HANA--”

“JIN!”

“I only like Yeonjun oppa!” Soojin yells back. Jin’s eyes widens.

“YAH!”

“Uncle secretary strikes again,” you laugh. “Calm down and let’s go, Haneul’s getting hungry.”

“That’s it, I’m grounding her until she’s married.”

“You’re letting her get married?” You ask. “I’m surprised you’re even going to let her date.”

“She can date.”

“And when will that start?”

“After she’s married of course.”

Haneul tilts his head. “What?”

-

“Auntie Sohu!” Haneul yells as soon as Jin opens the door to the very iconic, 24/7 Heaven. 

“Oh Haneul you’re back!” Sohyun happily says, stepping out of the counter to greet you three. 

She kneels down to Haneul’s level and he runs to give her a hug.

“I have money,” your son says with a smug smile, slightly pulling away from Sohyun to show her his ₩10,000. Sohyun laughs, standing up straight. 

“Wow! Go ahead and get whatever you want then,” she says, Haneul immediately runs off, grabbing a tray from the counter. 

It was a bit high for him but with some tippy toeing and a few jumps, he was able to grab one on his own. 

“Wah, I wonder where he gets that appetite from,” Jin says, shaking his head. You look at him, furrowing your brows as you see him with a tray of his own, already piled on with a few pastries.

“When did you get that we just got here?” you ask. Sohyun laughs, walking away from the two of you and following Haneul. 

“Is there anything special you want Haneul-ah~” she asks, bending down to Haneul’s height as he looked through the glass case filled with pretty and cute cakes. 

Your son smiles and points to a chocolate cake.

“Haneul I don’t think your money can pay for a whole cake, maybe just a slice?” you say, walking up to him.

“Just one?” he asks you, looking up at you with those puppy eyes. You smirk, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“Those eyes don’t work on me any more buddy, your siblings overused that already.” He pouts, turning back to the cake.

“Just a wittle one please,” he tells Sohyun. She laughs, getting up to go get his little request.

“You got it,” she says.

“Is Yoongi in the back?” Jin asks, putting his tray on the counter, ready to pay. Sohyun shakes his head.

“He’s at his studio. He might be busy for a while, rumor has it, he has a popular celebrity that came by the other day that wants to work with him… but you didn’t hear that from me,” she winks. You put your hand over your mouth.

“Omo.. is it someone we know?” You ask. Sohyun, disappears behind the counter to get the cake slice for Haneul.

“Yeah I want to know too,” Jin says, you both wait for Sohyun to answer. She laughs when she turns around and faces you two, seeing your dumbfounded expressions. 

“I would love to tell you,” she says and you both lean in to hear what she says next. “But that jerk won’t tell me either,” she rolls her eyes slightly. “All he told me was that he won’t be working as often in the bakery because of it.”

“Aww,” you pout, “that’s so cool though, imagine being surrounded by a celebrity all the time?” Jin frowns down at you.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he replies, “so is it just you right now?” The bakery wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t busy either. So you weren’t too surprised that it’s just Sohyun working this morning. As of now, it’s just your family, a couple sitting by the window, and a couple of university students. 

“No, Rina is in the kitchen and Taehyung should be coming in soon,” she says. 

“Oh Rina is here?” you say happily, stretching your head to the side. Sohyun smiles at you nodding. 

“Auntie my cakkee~” Haneul whines, placing his tray on the counter as well. You and Jin got caught up with your friend that you forgot why you were there in the first place.

“Oh, sorry baby,” you say sheepishly. Jin bends down to pick him up, having him sit on his hip.

“You have your money?” Jin asks, looking at his son and brushing his hair back. Haneul digs into his pocket, taking out his money, waving it around.

“Let me just ring this up,” Sohyun says, she then looks up at you, “do you want anything Yn?” 

“Oh, yeah, just a mocha latte please,” you say, your best friend nods, punching in the numbers. 

While Jin and Haneul pay for their food, Rina comes out from the kitchen and instantly lights up when she sees you three. 

“Auntie Rin!” Haneul yells, pointing at Rina.

“Hi buddy! Are you having a date with mommy and daddy?” Rina asks. Haneul nods his head, smiling at her.

“Hey, can you make a mocha latte for Yn?” Sohyun asks as she packs the food into boxes. 

“Sure thing, what size?”

“Just a regular,” Sohyun responds, handing you the box full of the pastries your boys chose.

“Thank you~”

-

The three of you were now at the playground at the kids’ favorite park, the one by the bakery. You and Jin sat on the bench, eating croissants and drinking coffee while Haneul made friends on the playground. 

“Can I have a bite?” You ask your husband, already opening your mouth. He brings a hand up to brush your hair away, before giving you a bite of his croissant. 

“You literally have one for yourself in your hand,” he says, as you take two big bites of his. 

“But yours is ham and cheese, mine is chocolate,” you say, mouth full. 

“After 18 years of being together, you’d think I’d learn to buy two of each,” he says, eating the rest of his food. You crinkle your nose.

“Saying the years make us sound so old. Our dating anniversary is a whole adult,” you say, eyes widening. Jin laughs at you, turning to grab a napkin. 

“Well I just like to remind myself that we started dating young and that we have a three year old to not make it seem like we’re so old,” he says, putting a hand on your chin and wiping the sides of your mouth. “I feel like I have another child,” he mumbles. You frown at him pushing his hand away.

“Says you.”

“Daddy!” Haneul calls as he runs to the two of you. It looked like his friends had left with their parents already. Jin dusts off his hands and wipes his mouth as he gets up from his seat.

“What is it buddy?” he says as he picks up Haneul when he gets to him. 

“Swings!” He says, pointing to the empty swing set. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

As the boys left for the swings, you got up to throw all your trash away so you could join them.

Jin puts Haneul on one swing as you come running to sit on the other.

“Push us,” you say, looking up at him with a big smile. 

“Yeah yeah yeah!” Haneul yells, kicking his feet. 

“Okaay~” Jin says, walking up behind you and pushing you off of the swing.

“Jin!” you yell as you stumble onto the floor. He doesn’t help you but instead walks over to Haneul and does the same. 

“Hey!” he says, pouting and you don’t know if he’s about to laugh or cry. 

“Yah, you said to push you so I did!” Jin says, backing away as he says this. You go over to Haneul and help him up.

“Let’s chase daddy,” you whisper to him. Haneul’s pout turns upwards into a mischievous little smile.

“What?” Jin says, looking at his youngest.

“IMMA GET YOU,” Haneul yells before sprinting off, you run after and the two of you start chasing Jin around the playground.

“Yah, you really think you can get me,” Jin laughs, running faster around the slides and jungle gym. Physically, yes, he’s much taller, has longer legs than the two of you, but was he smarter?

As Jin runs away from Haneul, you run the opposite direction to meet him at the other side as you three are just running in circles. 

He wasn’t even looking forward, but laughing as Haneul tried to catch him with his little legs.

You managed to get in front of him without him seeing and you immediately wrap your arms around his torso, pushing your weight against him and bringing him down.

“Mommy got you!” Haneul laughs. Pointing at Jin as he caught up.

“What should his punishment be Haneul?” You ask, sitting on top of your husband. The whole scenery actually was quite strange now that you think about it. You were sitting on top of your husband… near a slide of the children’s playground… asking your three year old for punishment ideas.

Let’s just say good thing the other kids left and it was just you three at the moment.

“Tickle tickle?” Haneul says, his knee bent as he slowly walks towards his dad. Hands up and fingers wiggling. 

“Y-yah, don’t get close to me,” Jin says, squirming beneath you. You laugh at Haneul as he creeps closer toward his dad.

“Tickletickletickle,” your son mumbles, tickling his dad’s sides. While Jin is distracted, you slip a hand into his pocket and take his wallet.

“Haneul quick, take this and run!” You say, handing the wallet to your son. You watch Jin’s eyes widen and he pushes you off as soon as Haneul runs off, screaming with his dad’s wallet.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” Jin yells, running after Haneul. You sit there on the floor laughing as you watch them run off, knowing darn well that Haneul was running towards the bakery. 

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

expect the unexpected

♡ part three: tickle tickle? ♡ 

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: sorry for the super late update! still struggling in school lol, this update has helped me destress tho?

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @nightapple4jk  @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @shinyplaidbagellamp @catspancake  @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Name: Aylin Kaplan Species: Hunter (Ranger) Occupation: Student at UMWC Age: 18 Years Old Played by: Emily Face Claim: Hafsanur Sancaktutan

“I was meant to be more than this. And now? Now I’m just not sure what to do.”

Parental Death TW

Everything about her was predestined. First and middle names connecting her to the moon, to her family’s heritage. Aylin’s parents trained her from an early age, though ensured her safety as well. That was the way the Kaplans worked. Her parents were the light of her life, and she was the light of theirs. Having your whole life all set from birth didn’t seem so bad - in fact, it helped reassure her, let her know what she’d do with her life, and what she was meant to be.

She never had to go to school - her parents told her that if anyone asked, she was some combination of homeschooled and unschooled - and she was never happier than when she was outside, or cozied up with a pile of books next to her. It allowed her to learn however she wanted, about whatever she chose - or what her parents chose - and even if she didn’t understand some things the other kids in the library talked about, she did her best to not let it get to her.

It didn’t get to her, because she knew that she was part of a much more exciting world than they would ever be, and she delighted in it. Delighted in knowing she was going to serve a greater purpose in life - like a superhero of sorts, she supposed, even if Aylin couldn’t name a single one of them no matter how hard she thought. That sort of thing didn’t matter though - she could talk about books for hours, and she knew how to hold a dagger before her fourth birthday. She’d memorized all of her parents’ journals before the age of ten.

Still, she wasn’t to hunt until she turned sixteen. It was a time-honored tradition in her family, something that had been the case with both of her parents, and their parents before them. Practice until you were sixteen, and then, once the first full moon hit, go on the first hunt.

Aylin had spent hours choosing what she was going to wear - leggings, a new sweater, and her new gold ring that she’d gotten for her birthday. What made the hunt even better was that one of her parents’ closest friends, Ceyda, was coming along. Ceyda was someone who Aylin had admired for years, and she felt incredibly lucky to have her along.

Any luck she felt dissipated not too far into the hunt. It was a rainy day, which wouldn’t have been a problem if the wolves hadn’t been lying in wait, too. Before she was even fully able to register what was happening, she felt Ceyda grab her, but not before she saw them torn apart, and heard a scream that she could hardly register as her own.

She and Ceyda took off soon after that, grabbing only a few bags’ worth of stuff, before setting off. Aylin could still remember begging Ceyda to turn around, telling her that her parents couldn’t be dead, before finally falling asleep in the back of the car from sheer exhaustion, only to wake up and discover that what she’d thought was the worst nightmare was, in fact, her new reality.

Aylin only knew that she couldn’t even think about hunting. The very thing she’d dreamed about since she was a toddler seemed impossible, now. Thankfully, Ceyda didn’t push it, and the two of them traveled for a couple of years before finally arriving in a new town - White Crest - one that set Aylin on edge from the moment they crossed the town lines. But it was a place to stay, and Ceyda had told her it would be safe (though the frequent nightmares told her otherwise). Still, she felt a general sense of anxiety whenever she walked around the town, and on each full moon it got worse.

Hunters didn’t run. Kaplans didn’t run, but there was a part of her that wanted to beg to go on the run again, to be anywhere but here. She started college, instead - something that had never even remotely been on her mind before - and it served to ground her, somewhat, even if she felt out of place a lot of the time. But feeling out of place was better than feeling guilty, wasn’t it?

Character Facts:

Personality:  Anxious, compassionate, paranoid, guarded, obedient, meticulous, timid, gentle, angry, sheltered

Aylin has frequent, recurring nightmares of the night her parents died. In the worst ones, she looks down to see her hands covered in their blood, and Ceyda is nowhere to be found. She hasn’t told anybody about those nightmares, mostly because she worries it’s some sort of terrible premonition. 

She has a stuffed rabbit from when she was a baby that she still sleeps with. It’s rather worn down now, but it’s still one of her most prized possessions. Its left ear is especially worn down because Aylin has a habit of rubbing it between her fingers whenever she is nervous.

Once read that sour candies help with panic attacks, and so she has a store of super sour sucking candies that she keeps on her person nearly at all times, just in case. Since moving to White Crest, she’s had to use them, even as a precaution, more often than she’d like to admit.

She got her golden ring (inscribed with ‘seni seviyorum’, or, ‘i love you’ in Turkish on the inside) for her sixteenth birthday, and she hasn’t taken it off since her parents died.

She trusts Ceyda unconditionally - her word means the most to Aylin, always, and she holds them above all else.

[doubleleoenergy]

The Chain

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night. Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, passionate sex, LOTS of angst

Word Count: 2414

Author’s Notes: I wrote this for @buckyblues/@edenslibrary 4K Writing Challenge. The prompt I chose was the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, I absolutely LOVE Fleetwood Mac so this was a no brainer choice. I hope you all like it!

“Are you SCARED?” It’s a relatively normal question to ask after the events that have occurred over the past few days. They’d won, they’d really WON against Thanos, all forces joined together to retrieve the stones and make everything RIGHT. Of course, they hadn’t expected the victory to come at the expense of Tony Stark. He was a friend to them, a husband to Pepper and a father to Morgan. Tony was part of the many losses they’d endured from the moment Thanos snapped his fingers, and frankly, Steve was tired.

Tony’s funeral was set for the next morning followed by his MISSION to return all of the stones and Mjølnir to their EXACT spots in time. Steve was the first to offer up his services to return them, they’d already all lost so much and it just felt appropriate for him to bring them back. If anything went wrong, it was on him. And that was fine, he would lay down his life for the cause, just like Vision, Natasha, and Tony had done.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts by the delicate fingers wrapping around his chest from behind, the smell of her vanilla lavender perfume wafting through his nostrils. “Hm?” He asked, head turning over his shoulder to look at y/n.

“I said, are you scared? You know, for returning the stones.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Y/N HERSELF was nervous, but they were one mission away from the conclusion of the nightmare they’d been living over the past FIVE years. Although there’d be more missions to come, as always, she was looking forward to enjoying at least a few days of alone time relaxing with Steve.

Her question makes Steve shake his head, turning around where he sat to meet her gaze. “No, I’m not scared.” He was being honest, he wasn’t scared. More so, he was CURIOUS. He had learned that going back to return the stones would be quite simple, as long as he followed the same rules he had when they had originally retrieved them. However, there was one thought that crossed his mind about going back in time.

PEGGY. 

Peggy Carter had been stuck in his brain ever since he’d gone back in time with Tony and saw her, saw her in the FLESH. She was right there in front of him and he couldn’t do anything about it, given the mission at hand. Running into her would’ve changed EVERYTHING, but just seeing her for that brief moment in time made that familiar warmth for her grow in his chest. It was clear she still loved him when he’d seen the picture of himself on her desk, and of course, he still loved her. He always WOULD love her.

But then along came y/n and suddenly he had opened his heart to ANOTHER woman. They had met when he was running about his nomadic life, she was a pleasant surprise and a great ESCAPE for him. She’d been with him ever since, and he truly did LOVE her. And although he loved her, he still couldn’t get the scenario of returning the stones out of his head. What if he stayed in the 40’s with his first love Peggy Carter, living out the life he had once hoped they would have?

“Then what’s got you so deep in thought?” Her hands move to cup his face, moving him to look at her. “We don’t keep secrets, remember? You can tell me ANYTHING.” It was true, they refused to keep secrets between them; their relationship was built on communication and trust from the start.

Steve sighed, it’s not FAIR to keep his thoughts to himself, especially if it meant hurting her in the long run. He pulls her hands from his face, moving to hold them in his lap. His eyes stare at their hands together, unsure of how to start the conversation. “I’ve just been thinking about tomorrow, about returning the stones…” He pauses, furrowing his brows. “I told you that I saw Peggy when I went back with Tony to retrieve the tesseract. Of course I’m going to go back and return the stone to that point in time, and I can’t help but think about...WELL, about what life would’ve been like if I didn’t go into the ice. What would have happened if I made it back to her…”

Y/N’s heart is breaking at his words, she COMPLETELY understood how he felt about Peggy, and she had never minded when he spoke about her. It didn’t bother her of course because it was all related to the past, not related to the present or the FUTURE.

She’s distracting herself from crying by listening to the wind blow through the open window. She turns her head towards it, noticing how the night came down and enveloped the sky in the moon and stars. They sat in silence like this for a moment before she turned her attention back to him, letting go of his hands.

“I can’t believe you’d even THINK about that as a possibility.” She’s frustrated, getting up off the bed and running her hands through her hair. She didn’t LIKE this feeling, the feeling of being second best. She didn’t deserve to feel like that. “After all we’ve been through, after the YEARS of pain and suffering, after finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel...you want to throw all of this away...throw ME away.” Her voice is rising now but she can’t help it.

Steve doesn’t know how to respond, taking a few deep breaths to keep his composure. “I was just saying I was THINKING about it, nothing is set in stone.” Y/N can’t help but scoff at the words, her arms flailing as she speaks. “Nothing is set in STONE? I SHOULD be set in stone, this shouldn’t even be a discussion.” She hissed, fighting back tears once again. 

“I know, I KNOW okay? You asked me what I was thinking and I was being honest, as I have always been with you. There has always been a part of me that wondered what if with her, and then I met you and things have been INCREDIBLE, but the thoughts have never left” Steve admitted, a part of him wishing he hadn’t even been honest.

“This is it, Steve. Tomorrow is THE day you take those stones back so you’re going to have to make a decision.” She moves closer to the bed, arms crossed against her chest, her eyes locking on his blue hues as the tears that she had been keeping at bay start to fall down her cheeks. “If you don’t love me NOW, you will NEVER love me again.” She declared. “It’s me or Peggy. If you choose her I’m gone.”

Her tears pull him back to reality, what was he even THINKING? Was he really about to go back in time, return the stones, and go back to Peggy? What if what they had wasn’t enough to keep them together? He’d end up stuck in the past, unhappy with the decision he made, wishing he had chosen y/n instead.

“Babygirl…” The words are soft and she practically MELTS at his pet name for her. He stands up, pulling her into his chest, caressing her tousled hair. “I’m sorry...I DO love you, alright? I told you I wanted you forever and I do, I would NEVER break the chain.” The chain is how Steve liked to refer to their relationship, their BOND. ‘You and I are stronger than string, you’ve got me tied to you by a metal CHAIN babygirl..’ He had once said, back when they’d first gotten together in the nomad days.

Y/N slowly relaxes into his chest, the words loosening the pain she was feeling in her heart. “I love you SO much.” She leans up to press a kiss to his lips, rushed and sloppy and with EVERY bit of passion she had for him. Steve’s lips melt to her own, hands trailing down her back until they reach the bottom of her ass, tugging her up into his arms. Her hands are roaming through his hair, only breaking the kiss when they both have run out of AIR.

Steve wastes no time in tossing her gently against the bed, both of their hands clawing at buttons, zippers, and fabric until their clothes are thrown in a pile on the floor. “I love you too.” He whispers against her lips, fingers rubbing in circular motions against her clit. Y/N’s nails claw at Steve’s chiseled back, ARCHING her own as his lips place hot kisses to the skin of her collarbone.

Her nails rake down his sides until she reaches his cock, wrapping her hand around it and eliciting a GROAN of approval from Steve. “Need you, Steve...please.” She begged below him, hips rolling into his hand as he rubbed his fingers along her damp folds.

He nestles himself between her thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock against her wetness before pushing inch by inch inside. She’s so warm, so TIGHT around him, rolling his hips forward once more until he bottoms out. Y/N instinctively wraps her legs around him, pulling him as deep as she can, eyes closing in satisfaction. 

“You’re so WET babygirl...feel so good wrapped around my cock.” His hips move back and forth, pulling out until just the tip is inside her before plunging back in again. The rhythm is filled with passion, fucking into her like it was the LAST time he’d ever be able to do so.

“Fuck, Steve I’m gonna…” Her breath hitched as waves of pleasure rolled over her, Steve’s pace continuing as he fucked her through her orgasm. It isn’t much long after she had come undone before he does as well, pumping his seed deep inside, COATING her. They stay connected, taking several minutes to catch their breath before Steve pulls out, rolling over and tugging y/n into his side.

“That was incredible…” Steve mumbled, eyes closing. Y/N’s body calms against his side, her breathing heavy as sleep enveloped her. Steve rubbed his fingers up and down y/n’s back as she slept, the events of tomorrow continuing to play out in his mind until he also fell asleep.

Tony’s funeral had proceeded that morning without a hitch, everyone solemnly suffering as they shared stories of their former Avenger, their FRIEND. It happened to be a beautiful day out for the funeral, the sun shining brightly against the water. Tony wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Shortly after many of the attendees had filtered out, Steve changed out of his black suit and into the advanced tech suit he had worn the last time he went back in time with the Pym particles.

He stood with Bruce (half Hulked out) and Sam, watching the stones glisten as Bruce opened the clasp on the briefcase.

“Remember.” Bruce stated. “You have to return the stones to the EXACT moment you got ‘em or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

“Don’t worry Bruce.” Steve replied, shutting the briefcase closed. “Clip all the branches.” Steve and Bruce talk briefly before Steve starts walking towards the time machine, Sam by his side.

“You know, if you want, I could come with you.” Sam is SERIOUS in his tone, Steve making eye contact with him. “You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me though.” Steve approaches Bucky next, a smile spreading across his face. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” He orders, a matching smile spreading on Bucky’s own face. “How can I? You’re taking all the STUPID with you.” The two embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“Gonna miss you, buddy.” Bucky confessed, eyes twinging with sadness. Steve doesn’t want him to worry, turning his head before walking towards y/n. “It’s going to be okay, Buck.”

Steve’s hand comes up caress your cheek, gripping at your chin to pull you in for a kiss. It feels DIFFERENT from the rest, more FINAL. “I love you, y/n. I always will.” She furrows her brows at the comment, squeezing his bicep gently.

“I love you too, now go on, you’ve got some stones to return.”

Steve turns and walks up the stairs and into the time machine, holding the briefcase tightly in one hand with Mjølnir in the other. “How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks, turning to look at Bruce. “For him, as long as he needs. For us, five SECONDS. You ready, Cap?” Bruce inquired, resulting in a nod from Steve. “All right, we’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.” With that Steve closes his helmet, y/n letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Five seconds. It’ll just be five seconds and he’ll be BACK to her.

“Going quantum. Three...two...one…” With that Steve is snapped away, leaving everyone to look at the empty time machine. “And returning in five...four...three...two...one…” Bruce presses the button, a worried look on his face. He starts to play with a few buttons, y/n’s eyes widening with FEAR.

“Where is he?” Sam questioned, turning his head to Bruce. “I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.”

“Bruce, get him the HELL back.” Y/N snarled, this could NOT be happening. What if he was stuck somewhere in time forever? As y/n, Sam, and Bruce converse Bucky notices something off in the distance, turning his voice to the attention of the group.

“Guys…” They all turn in Bucky’s direction, y/n walking over to him and searching for what he was looking at. Her eyes narrow in on someone sitting on a bench in the distance, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. She jogs towards the figure on the bench, a SMILE spreading on her face.

“Steve, I thought we lost you forever” Her voice trails off taking in the sight of him. Yes, it’s him, but he’s aged SIGNIFICANTLY. She looks over his outfit, noticing a thin band around his ring finger, THE ring finger.

“Y/N…” His voice is frail, turning to look at her, a sigh leaving his lips. “Y/N, I’m REALLY sorry.”

Hot tears start to stream down her face, her head shaking in disbelief. How could he? After last night, how could he do THIS?

“I can STILL hear you saying you would never break the CHAIN...”

Taglist: @turtoix

[rbbalmung]

Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Get to know ______ P3

It’s time for THE BOYS. My biggest conclusion from putting this together is that while Raihan enjoys pushing everyone else’s buttons, Leon is the only person that can fluster the hell out of him. Please enjoy. 

Get to Know: Leon x Raihan (TrueRivalShipping)

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other? Leon. He feels like the type of person whose love language is gift giving (ex. giving Hop Wooloo and Grookey, giving Gloria Scorbunny, Yamper, and Charmander, ect.). That being said, he’s terrible at getting gifts. He can tell exactly what type of Pokemon a person would want and catch it, but presents? He once got Raihan a charmander watch made for kids without even considering it wouldn’t fit him. 

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Leon. They’re both tall, but Lee’s the smaller of the two. 

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? Raihan would definitely strut around just to get a reaction out of Leon. Half the time his intentions are to get him into bed, but the other half? Embarrass Leon when he’s on Rotom calls with his mum (don’t worry, he wears pants for those instances). 

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? They’re both night owls. They stay up either playing video games or watching Netflix (or whatever the pokemon equivalent to that is). They had to invest in a bigger couch due to how often they have passed out on it. (When I say bigger couch, I definitely mean a futon. They just straight up by the closest thing they can to another bed). 

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? Hop inherited their mum’s cooking skills. Since Leon spent most of his young adult life as a champion who never really had time to stay at home and cook a real meal, it is up to Raihan to provide. Lee was permanently designated to cleanup duty after nearly burning the apartment down. 

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”? Leon would say,” Oh, that’s us!” and Raihan would say,” Eh, not really?” just to spite him. There is a lot of teasing and playful banter in their relationship. 

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes? Raihan, but only because he would literally murder Leon if he borrowed one of his designer sweatshirts. There’s also the added benefit that Lee’s clothes are a lot comfier. 

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?” Leon isn’t allowed to run errands by himself because he’d get lost, so Raihan is usually the grocery-getter. Raihan will be in the checkout line and almost always get a last minute text from Leon asking for one more item. It drives Raihan bonkers. 

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? Leon is the driver, and Raihan is the “direction giver” (let’s be real, he’s more focused on what song they play next than getting them to their destination). If it’s a group road trip, neither of them are allowed in the front because they’ll just end up getting everyone lost. 

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws? Ok, so I don’t really think one of them would draw the other. They’re much more of an “active, sporty couple” than an “artsy couple”. That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened, though. During one of their dates, they decided to doodle each other on their napkins to help pass the time. They were both terrible and it got really heated when the waitress chose Leon’s drawing as “slightly less worse”.  

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? Are you kidding? They’d both try to out-do each other. Both backflippers. 

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking? I feel like even though Leon has more body mass than Raihan, he’d be the lightweight of the two. Both have been in the League since they were in their late teens, but Leon’s public image had a lot more specifications than Raihan’s. That meant Raihan got to go to a lot more college parties on his nights off and build up his tolerance. Leon’s public relations manager didn’t let him even look at alcohol until he stepped down as champion. He had to “set a good example for his young fans”. (Sufficed to say, Gloria quickly got a new PR manager when she filled his role). 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? Raihan learned that if he used Leon’s last name, he could get special treatment. It’s an abuse of power! Especially when they’re having dinner at the Hoffman house and Raihan casually slips in that he’s planning on taking Lee’s last name once they marry. Leon’s convinced his grandparents like Raihan better than they like him at this point.  

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? Raihan, though he’ll go to an early grave before admitting that. He just doesn’t want them getting webbing on his new shoes! Yeah...that’s it. 

16: Which one gives the other their jacket? Leon. It was mentioned above, but Raihan has to be in a really good mood in order to let Leon borrow his stuff. It isn’t that big of a deal, thankfully: The Hoffman boys are like personal heaters.  

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling? Ok, ok, ok: Raihan is slightly intimidated by Hop. He just wants the best for his big bro! If that means calling Raihan out of his shit from time to time to keep him in line, so be it. Raihan can’t fight back either, because that’s his boyfriend’s little brother! One of the only things Leon gets testy over is people bullying Hop, so Raihan has to do it when he isn’t around. 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Leon. It wasn’t one of those things where they’ve always liked each other, but after being friends for so long, their feelings blossomed into something new. Lee is a big flirt and never officially came out, so Raihan just figured he didn’t mean it whenever he complimented him. Leon literally confessed to Raihan at least five time before it sank in that he was serious. 

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting? I think they’d actually be pretty good! Leon helped raise Hop and he definitely has the dad act down, so adopting children would be something he’d be super interested in. Raihan may struggle a little bit at first (especially with where the line of what he could and couldn’t post on social media was), but he has a big heart. They would always be there for their kids. If Gloria and Hop are the cool parents, Leon and Raihan are the embarrassing ones. Would tease their kid lovingly. 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters? Leon has sent a lot of professional texts because of his former position as champion, so he’d win by default. If they’re texting each other, it is all in numbers, emojis, and abbreviations. Sonia, Piers, and Nessa hate being in group chats with them. 

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? Lee is the more protective of the two, especially when it comes to people bullying Raihan online. Raihan tries to tell him that he doesn't have to do it, but he’s secretly very flattered.  

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun? Leon makes the worst dad jokes in the world. Sometimes he does it just to embarrass Raihan. 

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy? They take turns. Raihan will catch a Hakamo-o to beat Lee’s Aegislash, only for Lee to catch an Azumarill from the Isle of Armor a week later. It’s a never ending game of trying to one up the other. 

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Leon. He’s pretty buff, so carrying Raihan around is nothing. He usually does it without asking if his boyfriend looks tired and flusters the heck out of him. 

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering? Ever since Leon left he league, he makes it a priority to go to every one of Raihan’s matches. He often dons ridiculous disguises in order to not get recognised, but he always gets recognised. There is an online forum just made up of pictures of him in different, weird attire. He might’ve even been able to slip by public notice if not for the fact that he tries to make AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE to cheer his boyfriend on.   

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder? Is there even a possible different answer than Raihan? The man takes selfies as a living. You better believe he has 8 different folders of pictures of Leon. 

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked? Raihan. Leon is so close to having style, but then he’ll throw on his signature snapback and a cape and ruin everything. You know the cape isn’t even a requirement for the champion to wear? Yeah, Lee just chose to wear it. He counts it as a small victory whenever Leon decides to buy something at one of Rai’s favourite stores.  

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of? Raihan tries not to get between Leon and Charizard. It’s a similar situation to the Hop one: Charizard is Lee’s baby, which means Raihan isn’t allowed to tease them.  

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains? Raihan, but he purposely will move the umbrella out from above Leon to get him soaked. It’s payback for all the other stuff he does. 

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures? Like Gloria and Hop, I think they’d travel to all the regions. They’d have to do it on off seasons and couldn't stay long due to their duties in Galar, but they like seeing the new types of pokemon. Once again, Rai would take millions of pictures. He has a photo album per vacation, not just vacation in general.  

[frogsmulder]

Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 3 All The Colours Cannot Brighten

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they  finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.1k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully shuffled awkwardly, walking into the department store, having foregone underwear. Currently, it was at the top of her mental list as she tried to discreetly pull her slacks down to stop the seam irritating her. Mulder's hand was at home on her back, to make matters worse, the usually comforting gesture making it more difficult to shift her pants.

Mulder chuckled quietly, seeing her fidget. She elbowed him to remind him he was in the exact same situation and it wouldn't be hard to exacerbate it if she wanted to. He squeezed her hip in apology, but she could still feel him laughing.

Leaning up, Scully whispered in his ear, "This needs to be quick. There are security cameras everywhere; we don't want to increase our chances of being recognised." Her pulse quickened at the prospect. "So, a set of clothes, toiletries, and we get out."

He nodded. "We should split up to save time."

"Agreed."

They parted without a single word more, Scully heading up the stairs to the women's and children's section and Mulder staying in the men's. She watched him, as she climbed the stairs, grow smaller and out of sight, feeling that gnawing in her stomach swell in his absence. Sucking in a breath, she focused her mind and steeled herself for the rest of the operation.

On the second floor, Scully was greeted with a bombardment of bright colours. Keeping her head low, she ignored gaiety and headed straight to the lingerie section, picking up the first packet of black briefs she found in her size. Practicality over style reminded her of her childhood, her father's strict orders, how she both embraced, and rebelled. She was conscious of that storm brewing in her again. With her plain clothes, she could hide from the world and its prying eyes. Yet a niggling thought told her that no-one would notice if she picked out some lace, no-one would see beneath her exterior armour: she could have something for herself again. She brushed her fingers over the delicate material, daring to imagine the power she could have. A small piece of control regained. Perhaps she could banish her contrition from the bedroom. Take control.

Ultimately, she left the lace behind, opting to match her plain briefs with a couple of plain t-shirt bras; the peril of public exposure was starting to take its toll. Every tick of the clock marked a drip of anxiety pooling in her lungs and the water levels steadily rising. Time was marching on.

Just socks, t-shirts, jeans, a coat, and maybe a jumper. She wondered if it looked suspicious buying a whole wardrobe in one, but was too drained already to consider changing tactics.

She grabbed a pack of socks whilst hunting for some t-shirts and jeans.

Two t-shirts: checked.

One pair of jeans: checked.

Coat.

Scully wandered surreptitiously through the floor, doubtful it would have a waterproof, when she stumbled upon tiny hats and boots.

Her insides crumbled.

It had been so long since she'd set foot in this section, buying small clothes to wrap her small child snuggly in. He would be a year old now, she reminded herself, learning to walk, starting to babble. Walking slowly, as if in a dreamlike state, she found herself subconsciously heading for the 12-18 months; no control over the path her feet chose. She was surrounded by a sea of cotton soft baby clothing: yellow cardigans, baby blue t-shirts, miniature dungarees... She imagined his ginger hair in a red sunhat. He'd be a year old now, Scully reminded herself as she picked up a white whale soft toy. It was something that she could have bought for his birthday and watch him chew the tail off when he was teething; tuck him into bed with and read bedtime stories.

----------

Mulder went upstairs to find Scully, having got all he needed. Not finding her anywhere obvious, he started to panic.

"Sc–" he called, but his mouth closed around her name, stopping himself, aware of the crowd of other shoppers who would easily hear him. Forced into silence, he picked up the pace, scanning all the rows of clothes for his familiar sign of red hair.

 They are coming for you, son...

The sound of his pounding feet was mimicked by the rush of blood in his ears.

 If you want my advice... leave your pretty, little partner...

He felt dizzy and disoriented, not knowing where to look or which way to turn.

 get out of there while you still can...

He heard the giggle of a child cut through his mind with clarity but he dismissed it. After all, this was a department store, not a house haunted by unexplained phenomena; he had left those behind in his past. Yet he heard it again, closer, and he could have sworn it was from inside his head.

He stopped and turned around slowly.

Mulder saw that familiar red hair, peeking out from behind a rail, only it was more of a strawberry blonde and just above knee height. He crouched down to see her properly, but she moved away, only her blue eyes fixing sharply on his through the clothing.

"Em?" he whispered.

She made no response but turned away around the corner.

When Mulder rounded the corner himself, she was already at the other end, turning another, her bob of hair only there for a flash before she disappeared. He followed her winding trail, curious where she was leading him, until she stopped, standing next to someone, trying to tug at her shirt.

"Sc– Dana," he smiled, using her given name under some perceptive veil that it was safer. Emily nodded shyly. "You found her."

Scully turned around, still clutching the white whale. "What? Mulder? What are you doing here?"

"E–" He looked to Scully's side where Emily had just been but now was nowhere to be seen. "... I came to find you," he said, which was true, he just didn't want to unravel the traumatised inner workings of his brain in the middle of the baby section.

Then he realised where they were; where Scully had been; what Scully was holding in her hand.

"Dana," he whispered, a lump of worry caught in his throat, distorting his voice.

Scully looked down at the stuffed toy in her hands like she had her hand caught in the cookie jar. "We didn't buy him anything for his first birthday..." she tried to explain.

He wordlessly took the whale from her grasp and put it in the basket with the rest of his clothes like it already belonged.

She shook her head, searching his eyes for some understanding. "No, we can't... The money... We can't afford–"

"Yes we can," he interrupted her. Everybody grieved in their own way; maybe it could soothe him too. "Toiletries and then we're out of here," he reminded her.

"I haven't got a coat yet. Though, I think we're better off getting blankets for the car."

"You find the toiletries, I'll get the blankets. Meet back... by the stairs?"

Scully sighed.

Mulder stepped closer, wishing he could vanquish her hurt. "You sure you're okay, S–?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing." She brushed off his fussing, feeling like a small, incapable child herself under all the attention.

Mulder held her cheek in his palm and dried a stray tear.

"I'll be fine," she amended.

Trusting her, he gave Scully the basket and watched as she left him, walking quickly like she was running away. Her stiff gait so un-Scully-like and alien it was a physical embodiment of her grief. Himself feeling like cement, stayed, weighed down, swamped by a tide from slowly opening floodgates. Mulder looked at the row of white whales lined up on the shelf, each flopping with individual personality in the way that stuffing could make it appear so.

"Do you think he would like it?"

The bob of strawberry blonde hair nodded out of the corner of his eye before vanishing, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth alone.

----------

Scully was vaguely aware of what she's putting into the basket: deodorant, soap, razors, tampons– she hadn't even thought about those until she saw them. Her hand briefly hesitated over a box of condoms but she clenched it back into a fist. It would just be a reminder, an admittance, an avoidance.

At the checkout, she remained stoic and silent, resisting Mulder's touch at the small of her back. Ignoring the numbers as they flew by on the till, she handed over the money, too much to be paid in cash without raising eyebrows. If the cashier said something, she didn't notice. It wasn't until they were back on the dust-roads, alone, dressed comfortably in their new, plain clothes that Scully lowered her guard. By then, the day was long behind them, Selene cresting twilight in her silver, moon chariot. Night darkened their paths heading south, the chill creeping to tuck them in.

Curled up in the seat, Scully wrapped herself in the scratchy woolen blanket, it in no way kept the cold at bay. The white whale they had bought was tucked under her chin, squished closely to her chest as she held it tightly. She gazed out of the window, turned away from him, watching the last of the colours blur. At first, Mulder thought she was shivering from the cool air, so he rubbed her arm, but when he did so, she gasped and sniffed, retaking air like she would drown.

Mulder clenched his jaw and his fist on the steering wheel, angry with himself for not noticing sooner. They used to trek over the country all the time; long car rides filled with easy talking and comfortable quiet. Times were different, but their silence was a symptom of something more fatal. He wondered how it was so simple to forget that they had changed. He pulled to the side of the road and turned the key on the ignition.

"What... are you doing?" Scully whispered, choking on the sound of her broken voice.

He tried to reach for her hand. "Scully, please..." His plead faded into the stillness.

She remained looking out the window, focusing on the darkness. "I'm fine."

It was a knee-jerk reaction, taken from a box of samples she'd collected over the years. Scully cringed when she heard the old habit spill from her lips. It was an obvious lie– she knew it– risking exposure, especially to Mulder, who knew her so well. Feeling she had to was worse. Did she want Mulder to tell her she was wrong or was she only trying to kid herself?

She expected his words to follow swiftly, felt them on her tongue as he was going to say them. Yet they never came; his hand settled still on her elbow, the silence growing louder.

He continued to give her his undivided attention until she crumbled under the weight of his worry.

"I just..." She paused, licking her lips, trying to find the words to explain when her head was an empty void. She turned around to face him, yet she bowed her head, failing to hold his gaze. Huffing, Scully collected her feelings and imagined holding them in her chest. They trickled through the cracks in her hands, slipping as she struggled to understand them. What she had left in her palms was the guilt that tainted everything she touched. She tried again. "... Want to be happy... I'm not sure I can do that again. Not when there's so much missing."

Mulder gulped, running out of words to comfort her. I'm here, he wanted to say, You have me. But deep down he knew it was pointless saying it; it wasn't enough for her, even if it was for him. He couldn't deny that they were different people– very different people– despite all that they shared.

"It's going to come back for us," she stated simply and braved a glimpse at him. "We shouldn't have gone to the store. We shouldn't have stayed in the motel, Mulder."

He melted in her gaze, hating to see her burn herself in penance for all the things she couldn't control. Only that morning had he put a smile upon her face; things seeming hopeful. The way she had giggled wrapped in his arms now a distant dream.

You know she's right, Mulder. How do you save her now? the grizzled man chuckled, but Mulder ignored the voice.

"You said it yourself, Scully, we needed those things: 'practically speaking'." He felt cruel for using her own words against her, but they were the only ones he had.

She didn't turn away like he was expecting her to. Instead, she trained her eyes on his in the darkness. It wasn't a cold, hard stare but it wasn't filled with warmth either. She reached for his hand, locking their fingers together: a last act of hope. Mulder held onto the feeling, closing his eyes to the darkness.

"Maybe I was wrong."

[ailelie]

bakugou becomes a teacher

Okay. So I read a fic in which Bakugou Katsuki of all people decides to become a civilian after graduation. It mostly makes sense in context. And, well, my brain wouldn't leave the idea alone.

Let's say that is what happens.

One day while interning Bakugou saves a class from a villain, but gets stuck in a precarious situation with the class and teacher until other heroes can get them out. His explosions might get him free, but would put everyone else in danger. So he has to sit tight.

And, you know what, let's make it Todoroki Fuyumi's class. They have to work together to keep the kids from freaking out. And she compliments him on being good with kids. And they start talking. She asks him why he wants to be a hero and then says something like never caring much for the rankings, that they seemed a very narrow way of determining worth. Bakugou defends them and she shrugs. "I never needed a number to tell me I was making the world a better place."

(Fuyumi might be trying to hold her family together and may be willing to forgive her father, but she has to blame something and in this AU she blames the rankings themselves).

After they're rescued, she invites Bakugou to visit her classroom in a safer setting. To his surprise, he accepts.

For the first time, Bakugou has an adult (outside of family) in his life who doesn't care about heroes that much and who has a very negative opinion of the rankings. For the first time in his life he is praised for something beyond his ability to explode.

It isn't enough to turn him from his lifelong path, but he does start to question why he wants to be a hero and just what being the best really means.

Then he's in the park one day and there's this kid getting bullied for having a weak quirk and he's thrown back to his past a bit, but he also thinks about what Fuyumi would do and intervenes. Someone on the sidelines, someone who was watching it all go down and doing nothing, compliments him afterward and tells him he's good with kids.

And Bakugou thinks to himself, 'yeah. I am.'

He still gets a thrill from a good fight and taking down villains, but he finds himself lingering afterward to make sure the civilians are all right and checking in with the kids.

His classmates are confused by the changes in him. He's still explosive, but when he's kneeling down in front of kid and showing off tiny sparks along his palm, he's kind.

He's visiting Fuyumi's class again. And she is teaching her kids about heroes and how anyone can be one, even if they don't go pro. "You're a hero when you make the world a better place," she tells her kids.

And it hits home. Bakugou starts thinking about how he makes the world better.

Internship time comes around again and this time he seeks out rescue heroes. He says it is so that he can be the best in all types of heroism, but he knows it is something deeper than that.

(He does eventually figure out Fuyumi and Shouto are related. Shouto is more bothered than he is).

He still spends time in Fuyumi's classroom. He asks her why she became a teacher.

He isn't ready to face what he's considering. But part of him feels more comfortable in her classroom than in the hero office where he's interning.

He can't face what he's considering. Bakugou Katsuki becoming anything less than the #1 hero is unimaginable. Isn't it? After all he's said and done, can he really do anything else?

Fuyumi listens and says he can.

So. Very long story short, after high school, Bakugou accepts an offer from an agency in Tokyo, but spends his spare time taking classes to become a teacher. He keeps it a secret from everyone. He isn't sure yet, but he wants the ability to choose.

And, after a year, he quits the agency and disappears into Tokyo. He's afraid of what his friends will say and so he cuts off contact. Some are easy to stop talking to. Some (Kirishima) hurt. He only keeps up contact with Fuyumi and makes her promise not to mention anything to Shouto.

He becomes a middle school teacher.

Years pass.

It has been 10 years since graduation. He's 28. Still single. Still teaching. His kids are little shits year after year, but he loves them. He doesn't tolerate bullying and teaches kids that being a hero means making the world a better place.

Then one of his kids ends up on the radar of villains. His quirk turns whatever he touches with all five fingers invisible and noiseless. He uses it mostly for mischief, much to every teacher's despair, but he isn't a bad kid. Still. The villains are after him and this means he gets assigned a bodyguard.

Bakugou freaks out a little when he learns a hero is going to be in his school, but calms himself because what are the odds that it will be someone he knows? There are lot of heroes. Not all them are from 1-A.

But then the hero arrives and it is Red Riot.

It's been about 9 years since Bakugou dropped from the hero scene. It has been about 9 years since he's seen his former best friend.

"Ba--" Kirishima cannot draw a full breath. "Bakugou?"

"You know my sensei?" the kid asks.

Kirishima doesn't hear him. He's still gaping.

Bakugou is gripping the back of his chair tightly enough he's afraid he'll break it. "Take your seats," he manages to say, forcing his gaze away from Kirishima's.

Just his luck. Of all the heroes in Japan.

(It could have been worse, he guesses. It could have been Deku).

At least Kirishima has to stay with the kid. Except, another hero assumes body guarding after school ends and Kirishima doesn't go home.

"You teach?"

"Obviously."

"What happened? You--"

"Look. No one here knows about who I used to be and I'd like to keep it that way. So just, don't, okay?"

(His language is cleaner now than it used to be. Still a bit harsh, but he's been in a classroom too long for it to be the same as when he was a kid).

He expects, rather, hopes Kirishima will leave it at that, but apparently Kirishima hasn't changed that much in the past 9 years. He still intrudes.

"What about drinks then?"

"No."

"Tomorrow?" His smile is still blinding like the sun. Bakugou knows himself better than he did at 18 or younger. He knows he'd love to bask in that smile, but he forces a frown and says, "No" again.

"Soon then," Kirishima says, refusing to accept "No" as a final answer.

Bakugou groans and thinks about who Kirishima might tell and says "Fine. But I'm picking where."

He takes Kirishima to a small neighborhood bar not far from his apartment. He feels safer on his own turf. "Look," he says as they walk to the bar, "We're doing this with one condition: you don't tell anybody you've seen me."

"But, Bakugou, people have missed--"

Bakugou stops walking. "Promise me, Kirishima, not a word."

Kirishima turns to stare at him and then his shoulder slump. "Not a word," he echoes.

They get drinks.

It becomes a thing.

Three weeks pass while the heroes scramble to take down the villains after the kid and nearly everyday Kirishima and Bakugou get drinks after school. After the first two weeks, Bakugou reluctantly invites Kirishima to his apartment to continue talking.

Three weeks and one evening Kirishima is called away mid-conversation for a raid. They've found the villains and it is time to attack.

Bakugou waits impatiently back at his apartment and worries. Part of him wishes he could have gone with Kirishima. But that isn't the life he chose.

Kirishima calls him after midnight. It is done. He's safe. The kid will be safe. It is all over.

Bakugou feels...bereft.

Only. The next day (a day with no Kirishima in the back of the room pulling faces, trying to make Bakugou laugh in the middle of his lesson, no Kirishima talking with the kids over lunch, no Kirishima just existing so close in his sphere once more) Kirishima meets him at the gate of the school after classes end.

Instead of going to get drinks, Bakugou leads him directly to his apartment. As soon as they're inside, he hugs him. And Kirishima hugs him back.

"I've missed you," Bakugou admits for the first time since Kirishima walked back into his life. He pulls back just enough to look at his (former?) best friend.

"Same," Kirishima says, his smile soft but no less warming.

And Bakugou wants to kiss him. The thought is terrifying.

Kirishima frowns. "What's wrong?" He skims his thumb up and down Bakugou's side. They're still standing so close together, so entwined.

All it would take is a step back and the moment would end and they'd just be friends again and everything would go back to whatever normal was these days. Instead, Bakugou raises his hand to Kirishima's cheek, sucks in a breath when Kirishima leans into his palm instead of pulling away.

"Bakugou?" Kirishima asks, quiet and uncertain.

"Shut up," he answers, leaning in slowly enough that his intent is unmistakable. He expects Kirishima to pull back at every moment. He expects to wreck everything between them. But he remembers the worry from last night and missing him all day and decides to be selfish and hope.

Kirishima meets him partway.

They end up dating. Mostly secretly. They meet at Bakugou's place for the most part or at the bar. Kirishima stops meeting him at the school gates. Bakugou's colleagues suspect and some tease him for bagging a hero. Fuyumi knows. Kirishima's friends know he is seeing someone, but he refuses to reveal who.

"He's a civilian. He doesn't want involved in hero life and I respect that."

Kirishima yearns to tell them everything, but he promised Bakugou to keep his secrets, so he does. Still, it kills him to keep quiet when Kaminari mentions Bakugou one evening and everything spirals into a "where is he now" game with the most popular answer being an overseas hero or an underground hero. Or deep undercover somewhere.

At some point Kirishima ends up moving in with Bakugou. They're disgustingly domestic. Bakugou cooks with an inspiration he hasn't felt in years. It is different cooking for someone else.

Kirishima brings home case work and discusses some of it with Bakugou who might be long out of the game, but still smart and sharp. Bakugou brings home his grading and works on it while slumped against Kirishima on the couch while the TV plays.

Kirishima updates his personal information making Bakugou his emergency contact. He tells people he's moved, but keeps the location secret.

The emergency contact information becomes relevant a few months later when the villains he'd helped take down before escape prison. He's injured in the fight against them and taken to the hospital.

Bakugou gets the call. And he hesitates before leaving. If he goes to the hospital, he will likely run into other heroes. His secrecy will be out the window. He almost stays at his apartment, rationalizing that Kirishima would understand.

He's literally standing at his genkan, torn between rushing out the door and stepping back into his apartment. His keys bite into his palm, he's gripping them so tightly.

And he remembers kissing Kirishima for the first time before they even got their shoes off. And he wonders when he became such a coward. Heroes make the world a better place and Kirishima's world will be better if he isn't alone.

He steps into his shoes and goes.

The hospital is surprisingly calm. His nerves are haywire and he's expected the world to reflect that, to be just as chaotic. He's allowed into a small waiting room outside of the surgery. Several heroes are waiting there also for news. He recognizes Ashido, but she doesn't look up when he enters. He takes a seat away from the heroes and waits and hopes.

When a doctor enters, everyone is ready for news.

"What's going on?" Ashido is asking as soon as the doctor opens the door. "Is Kirishima all right?"

"I'm afraid I can only release information about his condition to his partner," the doctor apologizes. Bakugou realizes that means him. He stands.

"I'm here. And it's all right. They can hear."

Ashido is staring at him like she's seen a ghost.

"You're the civilian boyfriend?" she hisses once the doctor has delivered his report (surgeries have gone well; they can see him soon).

"You got a problem with that?" he asks.

"Where did you go?"

Kaminari enters then, out of breath, one arm bandaged and butterfly stiches over his brow. "How's Kiri--Bakugou?"

Bakugou feels short of breath, but he forces a neutral expression. "Yeah?"

They question him. And it is annoying. But he can't leave without seeing Kirishima, so he deals.

"Where have you been?"

"Teaching."

"Why did you leave?"

"Because I wanted to."

"Why did you stop texting?"

"Because--it was for the best."

"Bullshit."

He shrugs. They bicker and the questions start again.

Finally the doctor allows them back to see Kirishima.

Kirishima who is surprised, but pleased to see Bakugou. Who realizes what coming cost, but doesn't comment on that, instead saying, "You know what this means, right? Movie night!" Like they were still back in the UA dorms. Like the past decade were nothing at all.

Bakugou has to accept that his friends never stopped caring about him and slowly he starts to socialize with them. Kirishima runs interference, stopping questions that get too close to demanding to know why Bakugou wasn't blasting his way up the hero rankings.

Bakugou isn't ashamed of his profession, but he's clung to his secrecy for so long that letting go feels too revealing. He hates feeling vulnerable.

Then Kirishima breaks into the top 10 and gets invited to a celebratory banquet. He asks Bakugou to be his plus-one.

Bakugou accepts. They go. He talks with the other significant others about their careers until he gets recognized. By Deku. Because of course Deku, the current #2 and soon to be #1 hero is there.

"Kacchan?!"

"Deku."

And this is the moment he's dreaded the most, but now that it is here, he feels weirdly calm.

"Where have you been?" Deku asks, like everyone asks. "What are you doing here?"

Bakugou shrugs. "Teaching. I teach middle school." He nods toward Kirishima. "I came with him."

Deku gapes and Bakugou smirks. There's something satisfying, he decides, about stumping people so hard.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to make the world a better place."

And the banquet goes on. Bakugou finds his way back to Kirishima and claps when he gets an award for being #10 in the rankings.

"How do you know so many heroes?" one of the other civilian significant others asks him.

"I was one for a while. Decided to teach instead."

That knot of anxiety is gone.

He meets up with Fuyumi a few days later and tells her about the banquet and how he's reconnecting with old friends.

"Thinking about going back?" she asks him.

He shakes his head. "Nah. I like where I am."

And that's the fic.

[jojomugi]

A Shred of Altruism for a ‘friend’

Context

This piece was something I had written for myself as part of a fanfiction series with my OC. Since I don't particularly feel too sure about posting it given my OC isn't crazy popular or anything, I figured I could just edit pronouns, names, ect so that maybe someone other than just me and three of my closest friends can enjoy it This takes place way before the events of part three, and before Dio's encounter with Enya AND Pucci. Basically, Reader is the first one Dio has encountered and is learning vauge amount of info on stands from. Spoilers/Content warnings ♡ Minor Stardust Crusaders/Stone Ocean spoilers ♡ Over Heaven book spoilers (would recommend reading before hand) ♡ CW:Dio not being an asshole lmao

♡ Technically not a warning, but their may be misplacements with POV's and pronoun usage. Translating this into an xReader wa difficult. «

Reader is 18+, a stand user (S/N=Stand Name), very SFW, gender neautrual pronouns used

»

The battle between you and the other user finally came to an end when you used all of your remaining energy to defeat him. S/N ability managed to bring them into retirement. All the while this happened, Dio could see just what was happening, how the two stands fought one another. He could only really feel the energy. However he was all around useless in that particular situation, seeing was one thing, but Dio did not yet have the stand—At least not yet. Dio had two options now that his companion was left unconscious. Leave you and be done with having to keep extra weight, or bring you back to the small hotel you had the both of you staying at. Dio obviously chose the latter. It was not out of altruism, or at least not in his mind, it was all simply done out of respect for all your efforts, sacrificing your chance of a ‘normal’ future to run off with him. Besides, in his weaker state you were his best bet to survive and learn about this new world quickly. Dio reached for your exhausted form, there was still a pulse, good. However, you were still out cold from the overexertion. When he finally was able to sneak into the hotel, he gently placed your body onto the bed. Technically speaking, his work here was done but his subconscious—The few times what shred of humanity he had—decided to take over. You were more than just a mere fling, or some kind of phase, your soul was what drew him to you like a moth to the flames. You had become his over your guy’s short time together, whether Dio was self aware of that or not was a different question. Dio manipulated your form around until he was able to get you under the covers. Thankfully he didn’t manage to disturb your rest. The blonde hastily scanned around the room. Water! You would probably need water whenever you’d awaken. He yanked a small rinse cup from the bathroom and set in onto the night stand beside you. Food. What did you have for food? Apparently not much given all he could find was an apple and banana. Not even an assortment of fruit in a bedroom for an upscale hotel? What a mockery. The vampire bit the side of his lip back and let out an exasperated huff. It had been years since the last time he worried about human nourishment like this. For him nourishment was far more simpler. This mere mortal of a human. How dare y/n make an omnipotent being like him do such humbling things for you. Who were you? However, none of that truly mattered when it came to his inconspicuous admiration for you. Even if he didn’t quite understand what it was, your power drew him to you. Y/n was angelic, beautifully devine in his eyes. The grace that radiated from you when you used that strange, raw power. It was something beyond what he even imagined being in the realm of possibility. It was very close to what he dreamt about during his time in his century long torpor state. But even with all y/n’s physical features, you were still knowledgeable and fascinating nonetheless—y/n was not one to boast about their knowledge demeaningly—but like a friend. However, even if this ‘feeling’, this ‘attraction’ was something of love or romance, Dio surely never felt such a thing in his life, at least not in a long time. The audacity of this human—A being below him—Having such an impact to make him so emotionally vulnerable just made his stomach turn. What nerve you had. And yet...He strangely didn’t mind this, this exotic feeling and emotion for him was somewhat of an indulgence. It was more or less as if y/n was the worthiest of his affections in the few times he did allow himself these moments. Y/n was holy, and he was obligated to give you that kind of credit. Dio took in a deep breath and sighed, glancing back down at your tired form. He scanned around, thinking of what else may help. He spotted your messy hair draped over your face and leaned forward, trying his best to wipe them from your eyes without awakening your. Just because he occasionally enjoyed being sweetly intimate, doesn’t mean he was good at it. Typically he lured in his prey sensuality, but tenderness and endearment were not things he often brushed up his skills on. ༺༻ Even if it was only a couple of hours, the silence was tedious. He really was missing having another person to speak to. He’d just spent far too long in silence, the thought of it drove him mad. He didn’t even notice himself tapping his foot in the air as he flipped through the glossy magazine pages. He knew that this power of theirs often resulted in a physical consequence, and the severity of that physical result was dependent on how much power you exerted. Dio could feel this power, but alas he could not see it. Not yet. Even though this was a setback in their plans, it was minor really. The battle brought them one step closer towards Dio finding the one who held the ability to grant these powers to the ones who weren’t naturally gifted like y/n was. Fortunately, Dio was able to force information out of the opposing user before he met his demise. Y/n’s e/c eyes softly fluttered open with a tired groan to follow. You tiredly threw a hand over your eyes with a deep breath. Dio perked up before you even had a chance to collect where you were and set down the cup of wine. “Y/n.” He said, an ounce of enthusiasm lacing his tone. It was almost as if he had completely just set aside his inner turmoil about his feelings in favor of your company again. You paused and turned your head. All Dio was met with was a disgruntled expression, as if they had been woken up out of nowhere during a deep sleeping session. “Dio…? Are we back at the hotel?” The wild blonde nodded. “Despite your unfavorable condition, you were victorious. It was quite a thrill to watch really.” Quickly you sat up and rubbed one of your eyes, almost a bit surprised. Y/n never really went up against another user per-say. You were fortunate enough to have grown up sheltered enough to not have many encounters with another due to an altercation, even with how un-glamours your youth with your parents was. It was also a fascinating discovery for someone like you who was curious about the functionality of stands. They really were an enigma; a shame however that other users were more or less aggressive. Y/n’s smile lasted for a moment until the realization hit them that they may have missed out important information for Dio. A long groan escaped you. Y/n pinched the bridge of their nose. “My apologies Dio...I got ahead of myself...we could’ve tried getting a lead and instead I-“ The corner of his lip lifted, the vampire dismissively waved an arm. “Do not worry about that. I was able to pry details from him before the final blow.” Y/n blinked and let out a sigh of relief, throwing their legs to the edge of the bed. “I must’ve blacked out because I don’t even remember that. Hm, but that doesn’t matter really.” They shrugged. Dio assumed a spot beside them, crossing his arms and throwing a leg over the other. “You got what we needed to know, that's what’s important.” You knowingly smiled up at him. Dio nodded in agreement. “You’re correct.” Dio lifted a finger up. “Anyways, you’re going to need to make preparations for us to embark to egypt as soon as you’re back to complete health.” “Egypt?” You tilted your head. “Yes. That is apparently where I will find the one who can grant others these ‘stands’. He said that she is an old witch of some sorts named Enya.” Y/n raised their brows in surprise. How in the world was he able to get so much precise information without fighting. Then again, this man was supernatural, perhaps he had his own ways of making one talk. Then again, if he did what point was there in making you do all the dirty work. Unless perhaps he wanted to just seize the opportunity to see what he could do and use your opponent as fodder. “Huh...Well. I suppose I was starting to get tired of this country anyways.” Y/n yawned, stretching their shoulder up to their cheek. “Luckily you have me around. Stand users tend to attract other stand users from my knowledge, so finding this woman shouldn’t take too long once we arrive.” “Perhaps. In any case, it may be best to be negotiable once we find this woman.” “Certainly, of course. And if she is an old woman, surely her power may be weaker. Despite today, I don’t particularly care for using my strength against someone weaker. Unless of course they instigate it.” They nodded. “Hm.” Dio glanced down at you for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Part of me hopes we run into other users. As you know I cannot exactly see what is happening, I am still fascinated by what you can do.” Subconsciously your smile grew a little. You were a sucker for any kind of praise, but they had to keep their contentment dampered. “Thank you...I’m glad I can share my gift with you. When you have a stand as well, I can’t wait for you to fully experience what S/N can do. To be able to see it like I can see it.” Dio re-adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, sitting sideways to put more attention towards their conversation, leg still crossed over the other. “Oh yes, of course. I would be honored to further understand this power of yours more. If it wasn’t for you, I certainly would not be used to this body enough to even function without continued rest.” You shuddered a little internally, it was still a little strange that body was someone else's, even though you were used to this fact, you certainly did not need to be reminded. Y/n forced a smile and chuckled. “Thank you. I’m glad we’re friends as well.” ༺༻ ‘Friends’ that phrase echoed in Dio’s mind. Maybe he was their friend, but Dio did not have friends. Dio always had subjects. Pawns. Harems. Followers. Not that he couldn’t make friends but such relationships were beyond him. And with a human? He could just scoff at the thought. Most humans really weren’t nothing more than pawns, food, or a source of pleasure. Your relationship was not sexual, nor would he use someone who was doing such a big favor for him as food. But if you weren’t either of those, then what were you exactly? A guard dog? No. That was just insulting. Your relationship felt deeper than simply a subject or a pawn. Whatever. ‘Friends’ would suffice for now. The vampire cleared his throat between the silence. “Ahem. Yes. Friends.” Dio glanced at the food he left for them on the nightstand. “You should eat, dear, as I said, I wish to start our journey to Egypt as soon as you are feeling better.” Y/n peered back and took the banana. they opened their mouth to offer him the apple but remember he did not need that. “Right.” They nodded, peeling the banana. “By the way, I’d like to thank you. You could’ve just left me, but instead you tended to me when I was vulnerable.” They paused and continued to quickly eat their banana. “This may be a bit strange, being you’re a vampire, and above me on the food chain but…” Y/n paused and collected their thoughts, thinking how to word this without completely disinteresting him with their sentimentality. “I feel safe when I’m around you. I’m the one who is helping you but honestly? I suppose emotionally I feel secure around you. You’re the only person who seems to understand me and appreciate me.” Dio thought for a moment and scoffed. Not at you, but the fact that someone as smart, clever, and beautiful as you could go unappreciated. His legs uncrossed quickly. “Those who don’t appreciate you are simply putz.” He huffed and shook his head. “Fools. Utter fools.” Y/n froze, watching him place his hand over her head and pat it. “You are possibly the most useful person I’ve come across since my time out. I am uh…” Dio admittedly had faltered. “Grateful...For you as well.” “Really?” They smiled a bit, their gaze drifting up to his hand. “Here I was worried I’d gross you with all this sentimentality.” “No. I suppose even the most superior of beings need to express a bit of tenderness.” He nodded, continuing to gently pat your hair;It was quite soft really. “And if I am to express these sorts of emotions, it should be to one who is worthy of it. Someone I can trust not to use this as a weapon against me.” “Certainly. I know I would expect the same from you as well, Dio.” Your smile became a bit softer. The pair of you fell silent for a moment. The male hadn’t realized it but his hand had drifted down to feel your smooth locks. Y/n blinked and their eyes averted to the side. “Dio? What are you doing?” He quickly caught just what he was doing and pulled away, trying to play it off. Dio cleared his throat and got up from bed,, completely ignoring the subject. “In any case. Go rest. I’ll find some way of entertaining myself, don’t worry.”

[ofstarsandfireflies]

Tonight was going to be a movie I’ve been putting off for a while but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it so I chose this one instead.

It will probably be the last one I do for these movie nights.

Stephen would have been an amazing doctor.

He’d have been an extraordinary vet if he hadn’t set his aspirations so high.

But life gives and takes away, and while it has given him the opportunity to learn everything he could, it had taken the only tools he needed to complete his work in that car accident.

Homeless, penniless, and with nowhere to go, Stephen finds himself walking along the train tracks until one comes by, jumping on it in search for a new life.

This train, however, is a circus.

And with a circus, comes animals.

Maybe life was giving him something new.

Wong doesn’t immedietly throw him from the train, seeing how young and willing to do just about anything to stay on this runaway is, despite his hands.

So he lets him stay and finds a few things he can do, all the while teaching him a little magic as it seems to be the only thing his hands are capable of and he’s always wanted an apprentice.

Stephen probably would have forgotten all about his studies as a vet and even as a doctor when he sees the man leading the five horses around with simple commands.

Both he and one of the horses are limping.

Stephen tries to introduce himself to him, to get a look at them both to see if he can help, but is quickly called away, watching the two in need of his help move away from him as quickly as possible.

When he tries asking Wong who he is, he learns his name, and more importantly how the leader of this circus views him as he views everything.

His name is Tony Stark, and he ‘belongs’ to Steve Rogers.

Many great performers have gone missing between stations when they show the slightest hint of attraction to Tony, who keeps to himself to prevent this from happening.

But it still does.

And if Stephen values his life and his life here in this circus, he’ll do the same.

It’s hard to do this when Rogers hires him on as a vet to keep his animals healthy and he runs into Tony soothing the horse who had been limping, now unable to walk at all.

And Stephen can’t help but notice Tony’s ankle is going to go the same way unless treated.

But when he brings up both of them to Rogers, he gets this look in his eye.

Scrutinising and cold, as if he suddenly doesn’t trust Stephen’s judgement on either matter.

So he makes it very clear that the horse, and Tony, will not be getting out of the performance, and Stephen is to do everything possible to make sure they’re ready for it.

But Stephen can’t.

The horse is suffering and Tony is too. He can help Tony, but there’s nothing he can do for the horse that will relieve the pain for him.

He has to be put down.

He goes to Tony with this, who agrees with Stephen, not wanting the poor animal to suffer any longer under Rogers, Tony knowing that his performers will dance until they drop, at which Steve would probably increase the ticket sales to see the bodies.

Their decision almost leads to Stephen being thrown off the train that very night, but Rogers is lenient because Tony isn’t limping anymore.

He also knows that Stephen’s magic is far surpassing that of Wong’s, so he can’t very well get rid of the new blood when Wong isn’t bringing in the crowds like he used to.

With an act all of his own, Stephen goes to Tony to tell him the news and to try and work out an act they can do together, utilising their combined skills.

Tony would love to, but he’s been on the receiving end of magic when it’s failed and doesn’t want anything to do with it.

Stephen never knew Tony to be scared of anything.

Tony’s not scared, he just doesn’t like almost being sliced in half thank you very much, and he’s lost a few animals to bad timing too.

Stephen promises to help Tony get over his very small fear which he may or may not have of magic, he has a week to put together a small act after all.

Tony smiles, and holds Stephen to that promise.

If he can help him, then Tony will be part of his act.

The spend every moment they can together without Rogers knowing.

At first, Tony needs to be lead by the hand through the portal.

Then he tries by himself.

Then with the animals, one by one.

They practice and practice until they get it right and until the animals are moving through the portals opening and closing around them with ease.

Tony is excited to show Steve their new act, but when he sees that Tony has been working with Stephen behind his back, he flies into a rage, attacking Stephen only for Tony to throw Rogers off of him.

Stephen quickly gets back on his feet and wrestles Steve off of Tony, opening a single portal and holding his hand out for Tony to take, just like they had practiced.

Tony doesn’t need his help through them anymore, but he takes it anyway and they leap through the portal, the circus, and more importantly Rogers, disappearing behind them.

They’re free.

Free to find out whatever their life together has in store for them.

Free to be together, to allow the short touches to linger and to kiss long and deep without looking over their shoulder first.

To love, and to feel love, for as long as their night lasts and as long as they can.

Quotes -

“Hey, Camel, who’s the woman who works with the horses?”

“That ain’t no woman. That’s the boss’s wife, Marlena. She’s a star attraction and she don’t talk to nobody, and you don’t talk to her. She’ll just high-hat you anyway.”

Wong explaining who Tony is

“When a circus begins to die and the animals eat garbage, you know what men eat? Nothing. You’re heart goes out to an animal suffering and that’s noble and that’s good but all that tells me is you’ve never saw men suffer. So, before I get back from town you do whatever it is they taught you in that Ivy League sandbox to get that horse ready for the parade. As long as we can walk, we play.”

Steve to Stephen

“It is a lovely song.”

“I’m confessing that I love you.”

“Hmm?”

“Uh, it’s the name of the song.”

“Oh, right, of course. Louis Armstrong.”

Tony and Stephen bonding over music in a flirtatious way.

The Show Must Go On

The Circus is in town, and their star attraction is very attractive.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20

Day 21 Day 22 Day 23

[senotsuri]

Way back when, I posted an image of an OC, who fairly recently got a full name (she only had a surname back then.) So, with Eliza’s name finally figured out, I realised I hadn’t actually given my overview of the game that spawned her; Champions of Vestroia.

Time to lose my mind, I guess.

Some fore-knowledge before we get into this.

I am, by all means, a legacy bakugan fan, not a reboot fan. I’ve only seen one double episode (the become-smaller-child episode, which was cute, and Outer Demons, which has a super good premise, but the execution is. something.) By all accounts, CoV is essentially my introduction to the world of the reboot, and I’ll come to this later.

I played both the first game (Bakugan Battle Brawlers, specifically the Wii edition), and the... third game (Defenders of the Core, shortened to DOTC, also for the Wii. The second game, for anyone curious, is Battle Trainer, a DS exclusive.) This will come up later, of course, but I want to point out these two as they’re basically my control group for the quality here (not for the battles though; different battle system and all.)

I am incredibly stay-at-home. A lot of people I know irl I don’t have contact with, and most of them don’t live in my city. This is only important when it comes to the protagonist and literally no one else in the game, but I thought I’d mention it anyway.

So the game begins with the character creator. This is pretty standard stuff, honestly. My one issue with it is just-- this is probably my fashion sense speaking, but the fashion in the game is very... for lack of a better term, naff. There aren’t many options that look good, personally speaking. This is ignoring the issues where the protagonist loses their name, mid conversation, or is referred to as if I chose the male option instead of the female option. These issues are likely just oversights, by all accounts, but talk about jarring.

The first time you see your character is where 3. comes in. The protagonist, no matter what you chose (I have two save files, in case there was a difference. There isn’t), will always be a football/soccer player. Are you one of many, many people who isn’t sporty, who is trying to play as themselves? Sorry, your character is sporty, and you can’t do anything about it.

In the legacy games, this was never really a problem; your character was never seen doing anything other than brawling and interacting with other characters. Whether they played sports, or stayed indoors and wrote fanfic, the game let you decide on that for your character, by not having them do either of those things: your character only battled, or snuck around in DOTC’s case.

Once you stop playing football, you get to run to your best friends, and I guarantee you, you won’t immediately guess who they are unless you somehow already knew.

I mentioned BBB and DOTC being my control group on quality. Bringing the character creator back into this, the NPCs are laughable in quality. Any character who has the same model as you (older child. There are only two other model types: adult, and younger child) will look like a remixed version of your character. Had it not been for some characters having special eye shapes, you could practically cosplay any character in the game, because they were made the same way you made your character.

This includes your two best friends.

You could easily make the same character (minus clothes) as one of your best friend characters, without knowing it until you saw them.

While, yes, BBB and DOTC had the characters from the legacy anime in them, the fact that your best friends are nigh indistinguishable from any other character in the area, because you could easily make any of them in the character creator, isn’t... great.

Speaking of that. Characterisation is questionable, to say the least. Whatever bakugan you have in your first slot will answer to you the same as any other bakugan you have in your first slot. If you started off with Howlkor in the front of your party, and you replaced him with, say, Barbetra, Barbetra will act the exact same as Howlkor did, and it’s really something.

There’s only (?) Armoured Alliance bakugan in the game, other than Dragonoid, Pegatrix, Trox, Hydorous, Nillious, and the afforementioned Howlkor. That’s a small roster, by all accounts, so having varied dialogue depending on the bakugan would make sense.

The characterisation of the other characters is also a little funky in places. Your best friends don’t brawl, and I honestly forgot about them for a portion of the game. The tournament brawlers are practically as faceless as the villain minions, and the villains- oh the villains...

Preston. I don’t like Preston, at all. He’s a villain from the moment you see him, and the whole “try to find Preston” section in Helena Heights makes me want to punch someone. When you fight him in the Parasol HQ, his dad being the CEO, it’s fairly clear that Preston is little more than a tool for him. Sometime later, you fight Preston again, this time as the final tournament’s final battle, and he’s laughably weak compared to the other challengers. Remember, this kid fights you with Leonidas.

You’d think Leo would be good, but I’ll get into the butchering that happened to my death dragon later.

Anyhow, he fights you, assuming his dad will enjoy him defeating you. With the power of you’re the player character, you beat him, he hands all of his bakugan to you, and gives up on brawling for good. Kinda.

The next time you see him... hoo boy. In Old Town, on the way to defeat dear detestable dad, you come across Preston. He offers you help, and when player character is understandably suspicious, Preston complains that... one of his toys was taken away because you beat him, and now he wants Revenge On Dad.

I wish I was joking. His revenge, by helping you defeat his dad, isn’t because he’s obviously neglected by his dad (company taking priority over him, the CEO’s son), and then is used as a minion to try and get rid of you. It’s not out of bitter feelings because his dad doesn’t care about him, no, it’s because his dad took his ball away.

What’s worse is how player character reacts: “Oh! :) You’ve learned that bakugan aren’t just tools! :) Yes you can help me, despite the fact that you learning this sounds less than genuine and definitely not last minute! :)”

This is a level of stupidity I’ve only seen in DOTC Mira when Spectra tricks her into giving him Drago. He’s literally sulking and moping about over his ball, and then he sees the player character, immediately being manipulative so that player character can take down his dad for him. 

Leonidas also forgives him, and has the same reaction as the player character.

Speaking of Leonidas! I think everyone’s been excited for Leonidas in general - we all love a shark headed death dragon, and we wanted one in the reboot for ages.

I refuse to call reboot Leonidas Leonidas. This is like the Shun Kazami debacle, but one I’m substantially more angry about.

Leonidas, in BBB, was untrusting of everything, wanted to throw down with everything in sight, had no fear of anything because “I don’t fear weak [humans]”, and literally came from hell. He eventually grew to trust you and others, to calm down and enjoy himself at his own pace, and was willing to have help from others, showing anyone around him that his origins aren’t the be all and end all about him.

Leonidas, in CoV, is immediately trusting of the first human who showed a hint of kindness, has a weakness to all attacks in the game, comes from Vestroia (not the Doom Dimension), and forgives the human who threw him away when he didn’t win the battle against you for him.

Ignoring the fact that Leonidas just doesn’t look good in CoV, I’d say he got bastardised. That’s not Leonidas, it’s just a dragon with the same name.

The main villain is the CEO of Parasol, an energy company that, assumedly, used to use solar power. Upon finding out that bakugan battles give off incredible levels of power, they turned to using bakugan, forced to battle, to generate power. These guys literally dug into someone’s house to try and get Leonidas. They’re evil.

On the topic of the battling for power generation; this has a decay effect on Vestroia, as it happens, as battling energy would usually go back into Vestroia, which would be recycled and reused.

The CEO doesn’t bend the knee to you until you break him, which is undoubtedly nice for a villain; I was honestly expecting him to give up, but he doesn’t. You beat him into a corner.

But as my introduction to the world of BP, through CoV, is lackluster at best. Obviously the game is meant for those who have seen the reboot, and don’t mind being completely disconnected from the story, because CoV is self contained, and Dan only shows up to be the tutorial giver (as a jpg, no less).

From what the game tells me about the setting; bakugan are often exploited by adults, bakugan do not like adults because of this, but can’t tell when a human child is manipulating them, unless another child removes them from that situation (the lack of agency here is somehow worse than in the legacy series, who knew).

Despite bakugan being around for 18 years in the setting, no one seems to be aware that they’re living beings, other than the main charcter, as if BP humans are equivalent to Legacy’s Vestals. I was already aware of Vestroia and Earth sharing a location in space, but the fact that drilling deep enough causes bakugan to appear on Earth seems... really weird? Schrödinger’s Bakugan Summoning Pit, but they exist on every digging site possible. Bonus points to all bakugan being able to speak, and they do speak a lot, but only to the player and whoever is around the player in a cutscene.

I’m missing a lot of things, such as battle items being the worst sometimes, I’m aware, but at this point I’m tired of rambling, so let me end off in a comparison.

CoV has, in my opinion, the same replayability levels as Pokemon Shield; I couldn’t replay either game to the end, and I wouldn’t recommend either to anyone unless they were desperate for a new game to play, and had nothing else to chose.

[mythologyfolklore]

101 Greek Mythology head-canons that have little to nothing to do with the “canon”

(These headcanons merely involve my own interpretation of G.M. and the way it’s depicted in my story. It’s okay, if you don’t like them, but please do refrain from nagging into my ears about it, because these are headcanons!)

1. Ares is both Zeus’ oldest and his only legitimate son (Hephaistos is Hera’s son alone, so he doesn’t count). Sometimes he rubs it into his half-siblings’ faces out of spite. The only ones excluded are the Horai (Eunomia, Dike and Eirene) and Athena, because they're (kind of) older and have been born (or conceived) in wedlock.

2. Ares and Zeus have kind of a parental love-hate relationship. Because ... well, it’s Zeus.

3. Athena has a bitter rivalry with both Ares and Poseidon going on. But they do get along sometimes.

4. The Kronides (Hestia, Hades, Demeter, Poseidon, Hera and Zeus) have a feeling of reverence towards Athena’s mother Metis. It’s one of the reasons why she’s Zeus’ favourite child.

5. I went with Hesiod’s Theogony on their family tree, so Aphrodite is the sole daughter of the sky Ouranos (or more specifically of his privy parts). That makes her the half-sister of the Titanes and aunt to the 1st-generation-Olympians. Thus she’s the oldest member of the Olympian Twelve (the Dodekatheoi).

6. Aphrodite dresses in pink or red most of the time, but her favourite colour is actually blue. Only Ares, Hephaistos and Athena know this.

7. Every time a god/dess is born, the Moirai (the Fates) and the Protogenoi (primordial gods) come to attend the birth, determine their later life and tasks and grant them the powers required. Most of the Protogenoi typically attend births invisibly, so that only Zeus, Hades and Hekatê can see them.

8. Hera and Zeus have a cold love for each other. They’re still married, because he needs a queen and no one else wants to be. And Hera can watch over the family better this way.

9. Hera is in retirement from being a jealous psycho wife. Now she just gives hell to Zeus, as annoying him is fun, if you can get away with it. Nowadays she’s a bitch for other reasons.

10. Poseidon isn’t the wisest of the three brothers, but he often mediates between Hades and Zeus, when things get bad between them. Over time he has gotten really good at it.

11. The Olympians have three collective no-goes: violation of the laws of hospitality, family murder and cannibalism. For obvious reasons.

12. Hephaistos, Ares and Aphrodite have long moved on from the golden net incident. Hephaistos has divorced Aphrodite and remarried. The three have a platonic affection for each other and joke about the shipwreck that’s Hephaistos’ and Aphrodite’s failed marriage.

13. Aphrodite is secretly a badass. She also has a more of her father in her than anyone could imagine. She keeps it from everyone, because she’s too afraid of what Zeus might do, if he finds out. The only ones who have a hunch are Hephaistos, Ares and Athena.

14. Ares was actually supposed to become a god of vegetation and fertility, when he was born. But no thanks to a curse from Gaia, he got bound to become a god of war instead. He does have green fingers though and secretly likes gardening.

15. Aphrodite had no serious relationship with any other than Ares, but Adonis came pretty close. Ares killed the poor guy out of jealousy, which obviously made Aphrodite upset.

16. Metis still exists. She lives on inside Zeus’ subconsciousness and has born the prophesied son that is destined to surpass Zeus. But they can’t get out, because Zeus placed a seal on his mind, after Athena broke out of his head.

17. Demeter wasn’t actually upset about Persephone marrying Hades. She was angry that it happened without her consent; she’s Persephone’s mother after all. But since things have been cleared up, she gets along with Hades comparatively well.

18. If you make Hestia, Hebe or Harmonia upset, the Olympians will collectively hunt you down and fuck you up.

19. The Greek pantheon is in contact with other panthea. Zeus does most of the international politics.

20. Dionysos once wanted to make it rain wine during Athena’s birthday party. But he messed up the spell and it rained pineapples instead.

21. Ares is possessed by a demon. To be specific by Polemos, the personification and spirit of war itself. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so crazy, but he has learned to deal with it. To him, Polemos is mostly that annoying voice in his head. He can allow the Daimon to take over, but rarely does, because he doesn’t want anyone to know about him and because he fears, that Polemos might harm his loved ones.

22. Hephaistos likes to set people’s hair on fire, if they piss him off.

23. Hermes is a kleptomaniac. Nobody likes this.

24. Ares and Demeter had a one-night-stand once. Their offspring was two serpentine dragons and a warrior, because that’s how hardcore they are. Ares loved his monster babies and was very upset, when they got killed.

25. Hades and Persephone have one of the most functional marriages in the pantheon. Persephone is the boss.

26. Ares’ daughter Harmonia is the only goddess, who has given up her immortality for a mortal husband. She was cursed by Hephaistos, who wanted to get back at Aphrodite, and lived a miserable life, before she and her husband were turned into snakes (in my version it was Ares, who transformed them both). They were sent to the Elysion after finally passing on. Hades allows Ares and Aphrodite to visit their daughter from time to time.

27. Despite being brash and loud, Ares is one of the few gods, who actually get along with Hades. He earned a few points with the King of the Underworld by getting along famously with Kerberos and by increasing his number of subjects more quickly.

28. Artemis is asexual, but in a romantic relationship with Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth and oldest daughter of Hera. Hera only tolerates it for Elileithyia’s sake, as she and Artemis really dislike each other.

29. Apollon used to have a one-sided crush on his twin. It was nothing sexual (he takes her virginity very seriously), but more than brotherly. Artemis knows and was really freaked out at first, but forgave him after learning, that he didn’t want to get creepy. When Zeus found out, he helped him to get rid of that love, and his affection for Artemis returned to being healthy brotherly love.

30. Hermes and Dionysos once tried to prank Hephaistos. His wife Aglaia caught them. They never tried again afterwards.

31. Zeus' mental state alone can affect the atmosphere and weather. If he’s calm or composed, so is the weather. If he’s furious, it’s like a hurricane, even if he tries to keep his temper - the weather just gives away, what he’s feeling. Zeus finds this really damn annoying.

32. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades didn’t draw lots to get their domains. They didn’t even choose them. Their domains chose them.

33. The Protogenoi, aka the Primordials, are to the gods, what the gods are to the humans, although the gods don’t worship the Protogenoi. However, the gods respect some more than others. Like the gods, each Protogenos has epithets given to them by the gods.

34. Each race of deities (Protogenoi, Titanes, gods, Daimones, Nymphai, etc.), has their own language. Only a few of the gods are fluent in all of them. Especially the language of the Protogenoi is often hard to decipher.

35. Aphrodite really hates her father Ouranos. Then again, everyone does.

36. Each one of the Olympians has their own mental issues.

37. Hephaistos was born with one deformed leg, but otherwise would have been able to walk. But after falling off Olympos, his left leg was hopelessly damaged and he needed a crutch. Then Zeus threw him off the mountain in a fit and he’s needed a wheelchair ever since, as crashing into an island has left him paraplegic.

38. Dionysos often gets called “baby of the family”, as he’s the youngest Olympian by far. It irritates him a lot.

39. Persephone wasn’t kidnapped. She went into the underworld by herself, because she was sick of everything and wanted to be alone. And as the underworld is really huge, Hades only found her months later by accident. She stayed with him for a while, they fell for each other and got impulse-married. But when Hermes showed up and explained what was going on in the upperworld, Hades decided, that she had to go back at least for a while. They had a dispute with Demeter and Zeus, arrangements were made, they got officially married and ever since then Persephone spent half the year up and half the year down-under.

40. As the goddess of spring, Persephone brings it wherever she goes. So when she leaves the upperworld, she brings spring to the underworld. However, as the queen of the dead, she also has the tendency of taking the influence of the underworld to wherever she goes in the upperworld. Persephone tans easily and is therefore very dark, when she goes down to the underworld. But the lack of sunlight in the underworld makes her grow pale quickly. Then she goes back up and the cycle starts again.

41. Persephone wears her hair short, because she liked it on Ares, when they first met. When she found out, that mortal women had the custom of shearing their hair as a sign of mourning, she was like: Huh ... what a coincidence. Demeter needed a while to get used to her new hair style.

42. Ares remembers the birthdays of all of his (half-)siblings, even those he hates. It’s one of the few nice things he does for them.

43. Aphrodite usually appears to someone as the type of person they find most desirable (x1000). That applies to mortals and used to apply to the Olympians too, until Athena asked her to choose a fixed shape for the gods, because she and the other virgin goddesses couldn’t see her. Aphrodite found this hilarious, but complied.

44. Hephaistos once grew a beard, hoping he’d would look less boyish and less like his mother Hera, but shaved it off again, because he was sick of it catching fire and sparks.

45. Out of all marriages in the Greek pantheon, Zeus’ and Hera’s marriage is only the third most dysfunctional; it’s surpassed by that of Kronos and Rheia and that of Ouranos and Gaia. Most other divine couples have more or less functional relationships.

46. At some point Aphrodite asked Ares to marry her, but he only knew the disaster that is his parents’ marriage and refused.

47. Poseidon has a tendency to make sexist jokes. Athena finds it really unfunny (so do the other goddesses, but they’re not subject of his bad jokes often, so they grin and bear it). Ares also takes offense at sexist jokes, which pleasantly surprised Athena and Artemis, when they found out.

48. Literally every member of the Olympians is LGBTQ+ in some way (even Ares; he’s heterosexual, but demiromantic).

49. Aphrodite loves pinching Hephaistos’ cheeks. He finds this really annoying, but tolerates it, because resistance is futile.

50. Hekatê is powerful and knowledgeable even for a Titan. The Protogenoi blessed her even before she was born. The premature blessing, plus her father being the Titan of destruction caused a mutation. Her eyes are not on her face, but she has several dozens of them magically floating around her head, like an ever-shifting halo. She also ages throughout the night (she’s a child in the evening and an old woman in the morning) and regresses during the day.

61. It doesn’t matter how much at odds the Olympians are, they will stand up for each other and stick together, when push comes to shove.

62. Apart from the 3 top tier taboos (violation of hospitality, cannibalism & family murder), each Olympian has at least one thing they would never do. Be it because they have suffered it first hand or just because they think it’s wrong and it’s below their standards.

63. Zeus is an early bird. The only others on Olympos are Apollon, Ares and Hermes. The others are either night owls or just constantly sleep-deprived/hungover.

64. Ares has a twin sister named Enyo. She’s been banished from Olympos after the Gigantomakhia for remaining neutral instead of supporting her kin. She’s crashing at his home in Thrace and mostly accompanies him into battle, together with Eris.

65. If Hephaistos was able to stand up, he’d be as tall as Artemis (she’s the third tallest goddess).

66. Hera couldn’t handle Ares, when he was a baby and asked Eris to be his nurse. Eris agreed and became his nurse under the fake identity of Thero. A few years later , he was kidnapped by Titanes at the age of seven. Hera gave him back to Eris to protect him, appointing the goddess of strife to be Ares’ guardian. When he was ten, he heard, that he had now a little sister (Eileithyia) and wanted to go back to Olympos. By that time the war was over, so Eris allowed it.

67. Eris sees the bonds between people as golden strings. She carries a sickle on herself. To damage a bond, she grazes it with the sickle, to destroy it completely, she cuts it. The stronger the string, the harder it is to cut.

68. The duty of Harmonia (Eris’ opposite) is to repair the bonds Eris has cut or damaged. She performs that duty even in Elysion.

69. Hera and Aphrodite have one thing in common: They both look like Japanese horror movie ghosts, before their morning coffee. Zeus and Ares both make sure that it’s ready, when they get up. Zeus because his wife creeps him out like that, Ares because he loves his girlfriend.

70. The Moirai, or the Fates, are daughters of Nyx. Klotho (Spinner) has a childlike appearance, Lakhesis (Alotter) is a matron and Atropos (Inevitable) is an old hag. Atropos is mute and speaks sign language, while her sisters translate what she says. Klotho is paraplegic and wheelchair-bound. Lakhesis is the caretaker of both. They’re usually incorruptible and pitiless in doing their duty, but sometimes a god manages to elicit a favour from them (for a price, of course). The thread of life of each living being is a glowing string coming from Klotho’s white hair. A mortal’s life thread is white, a semi-divine thread is silvery, a divine thread is golden.

71. Zeus never really cheated fate, when he absorbed Metis. He’s fully aware, that one day his reign will end and has everything planned out. He simply doesn’t want to step down just yet. Not even he can go against the Moirai and they never spared him his fate - they only accommodated him by giving him more time.

72. Only the Protogenoi have the power to really alter someone else’s fate, but it comes at a hefty price. For example, Gaia changed the fate of Ares, when she sealed Polemos inside of him and cursed him to become the destructive god of terrible war. This led to the child being captured and tortured by Kronos, who hoped to make the personification of war bend to his will (because he’s evil!). The irate Moirai retaliated by granting the original Olympians and their allies a devastating victory over Kronos and sentenced him and his allies to everlasting torment in Tartaros.

73. The Titanomakhia lasted for ten Olympian years, which by mortal standards is a century. By the time it began, Zeus was already married to Metis, so his siblings got to meet both of their saviors. But when he found out that she was pregnant, he panicked and absorbed her. Shortly after the war began, he married Thémis, the Titanis of divine justice and heavenly order, who had joined his side immediately. Together they had the Horai, but broke up, when she learned of Metis’ fate (i.e. Thémis got outta there, while she still could). Afterwards Zeus married Hera, so their first child Ares was born a few mortal decades before the end of the war.

74. Zeus and Hera are a complicated set of parents: one day they don’t give a crap about their children and the next day they would tear the universe apart to keep them save. The feeling is mutual.

75. Apollon isn’t actually that unlucky in love. His failed attempts at romance are just more well-known.

76. Ares is actually quite intelligent. The problem is, that he’s extremely emotional and volatile, has no impulse control and is really hostile as a result of his unpopularity and the things he has gone through.

77. The four virgin goddesses (Athena, Artemis, Hestia and Hekatê) are all asexual, but Athena and Artemis are demiromantic, while Hestia and Hekatê are aromantic.

78. Although Athena is demiromantic, she has never been in love as in she has never formed an emotional attachment other than Storge (familiar love) or Philia (deep friendship). She would, however be capable of Agape (unconditional, selfless love) or Pragma (enduring, grounded love). What she isn’t capable of is Eros (passionate, physical love), Ludus (playful love) and Mania (obsessive love).

88. The incident with Medusa getting raped by Poseidon inside Athena’s temple never happened. I went with the version in Hesiod’s Theogony: Medusa was a Gorgon from birth and together with her sisters a daughter of Phorkys and Keto, two ancient marine deities. She was the only mortal Gorgon, probably because of a mutation. Her affair with Poseidon was consensual. The rape account is a late one and comes from Ovid, a Roman writer, who wrote his Metamorphoses as a jab against the authorities (the Metamorphoses portrait all mortals as hapless victims and the gods as bigger dicks than the Greeks themselves saw their gods).

89. Most of the gods have lived for ten thousands of years. So even though to us it looks like they have one tryst after another, for them there can be centuries between each affair and the next. Of course, a century is almost nothing to them, but you get the idea.

90. The Olympians are very hypocritical. Nothing new here.

91. Hermes is closer to humans than all of the other Olympians. He is also the fondest of them.

92. Ares on the other hand is extremely misanthropic. Which is unsurprising, because he presides over the darker aspects of war and gets to see the worst side of humanity all the time. He considers it a kindness to make them kill each other.

93. Since Ares is Zeus’ only legitimate son and therefore his heir, he has to perform a lot of duties outside of his function as god of terrible war. The duty he hates most is going through his father’s mail, because nobody likes paper stuff. The upside is the confidential information he gets out of it. The other gods are unaware, how much he knows about his father or how much Zeus actually trusts his son with.

94. Zeus threatens his family to send them to Tartaros every time they piss him off too much. But he would never actually do it, because that would mean locking them up together with the defeated Titanes. And despite everything, he loves his family too much to do this and he hasn’t forgot, what they did to his son.

95. Though he has no qualms doing this with his demigod children, if they murder their sons and serve them to the gods for dinner (you know who I mean), or with trouble-makers, who kill their guests and capture Death itself, or people who harass his wife and children.

96. Aphrodite is fiercely protective of her boyfriend and children.

97. Once Aphrodite and Athena had a yelling contest. It was so terrifying, that the others (except for Zeus, who does this with Hera all the time) hid under the table and huddled together in fear. The two women only stopped screaming at each other, when Zeus told them to calm down.

98. Persephone and Hades have no children, mostly because she only likes children, if they’re dead (because they’re quiet). The only reason she agreed to raise Adonis together with Hades was that she doesn’t trust Aphrodite as far as she can throw her.

99. The scythe Demeter uses to reap her corn is the very same one Kronos used to castrate Ouranos. But the only thing that would prompt Demeter to use it as a weapon is, if her family was threatened (like in the Gigantomakhia).

100. Hera and Herakles buried their strife years before Herakles’ deification; when he helped the gods against the Gigantes and saved her from being assaulted by one of them. This is why she agreed to let him marry her daughter Hebe, after he became a god himself.

101. There is one deity the gods hold more sacred than all the others: Kháos, the Primordial Mist. Ze is the most hallowed of the Protogenoi, the Void that predates creation itself. Zir presence is felt in the invisible air we breathe and seen in the gloom of fog and mist. Ze is the atmosphere encircling the earth.

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Seven

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

After not getting much writing done over the hectic (and rather awkward this year) holidays, the muse finally returned long enough for me to finish this latest chapter of my @cssns​ story.  (It also didn’t help that my old laptop finally gave out on me so I had a 2 week delay while waiting to get a new one and get all of my files transferred.) This chapter sets up the coming climax as there are only two more chapters planned and as you’ll see by the end of this chapter, it’s not going to be fair sailing for their blossoming relationship. We left off in chapter six with a stunned Killian learning more about Emma's past and the history surrounding the only known human who'd ever been deemed worthy to avoid the siren song. There's still a lot of uncertainty for this pair as confrontation with Regina looms - and things are going to get very stormy.

Thanks again to @kmomof4​ for being an amazing beta and cheerleader and to @courtorderedcake​ for her stunning artwork!  

Catch up from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Pause to Reflect

How does one act upon learning that they might be descended from a deity? Certainly there was nothing about his life so far that would have suggested such a divine lineage could be possible. Liam had practically raised him after their mother's passing when Killian was barely walking. Their father had become an increasingly abusive drunkard, rarely gracing his sons with his presence or assistance. Shortly after Killian's 13th birthday, Liam departed home to begin his new life by enlisting in the Royal Navy. By this time, their father had remarried and his new family became more important than his eldest sons.

Left to fend for himself often, Killian couldn't wait until he could enlist as well - going so far as to lie about his age to join at the tender age of 16 instead of the legal 18. It had helped that his brother, then Lieutenant Liam Jones, was the rising star of His Majesty's Royal Navy. The younger Jones was welcomed with open arms and while life on board a Navy ship in the shadow of his esteemed sibling wasn't particularly easy, it was far preferable to life back home. Killian flourished in his new life at sea and began rising through the Royal Navy ranks himself, but had his success in the maritime realm been a small, random clue from the universe that he was a direct descendant of the god of the seas?

What pure, unadulterated rubbish, Killian thought as he absentmindedly raked his fingers through his dark hair. It couldn't even be remotely possible that he was related to a god.

But then how was any of this real?

Days ago, he'd set out to explore an uncharted, cursed island on His Majesty's orders only to end up being taken captive and losing too many of his men in the skirmish. The pirates who'd abducted him had then sailed away, making the fatal error of venturing into waters guarded by mythical sirens. They were sung to their demise, leaving their treasure-laden ship to run aground and sink into the depths - yet their prisoner survived.

Miraculously, Killian Jones was still here amongst the living. He'd survived the battle, survived captivity and survived the supposedly tantalizing call of the sirens only to find his life in jeopardy once again from those same vindictive sirens?

Bloody hell, Jones… What has your life become?

"...We may not have much time to prepare…," Emma's voice brought him back from his mental wanderings. "Killian? Are you even listening to me? This is quite serious…"

"I'm sorry, Love," he replied sheepishly as he scratched at the week's growth of ruddy, wiry whiskers along his jawline. "I guess I allowed my mind to drift off at the absurdity of all this nonsense. All that I have learned today hasn't exactly been the easiest pill to swallow, you know…?"

"What about this debacle do you need to swallow?" she questioned, not understanding his chosen euphemism.

"Saying that something is difficult to swallow means that it's just a smidge hard to believe. Oy, this has been quite the long week…" He cringed the very moment he uttered those words, chastising himself for using another expression she wasn't likely going to understand. "Nevermind…," he sighed. "Let's just focus on what we need to do at this moment."

"So then you admit that you were not listening?" she scolded him as she placed a woven reed basket filled with a variety of fruit onto the sandy ground by his feet while tossing a ripe fig towards him. Well, maybe she'd thrown it at him, he surmised as he caught the fig mere inches before it would have struck his still-healing forehead. He frowned his feigned displeasure but she ignored him, continuing her instruction. "I know Regina. We aren't going to have much preparation time and you will need your strength, so eat. I'll raise a protective spell around the cavern but it may be of little use against the full council - or against the powers of a god."

"I thought you didn't want to use your magic?" he queried, biting into the sweet fig as she'd ordered. Oh, what he wouldn't have given for a huge slab of savory, tender mutton right now…

"I have no choice. If I can provide you with even some brief protection, then I must. I brought this retribution upon myself the moment I rescued you…"

"Why did you?" he interrupted. "Why did you choose to rescue me? If you were aware of the huge risk you would be taking with that act, why didn't you let me drown?"

Her emerald green eyes cast solemnly downward as she stood in contemplative silence for a moment. "My instincts told me I should," she replied after a long pause. "You were injured and weak and my intuition insisted that I needed to save you. I do not regret my decision and perhaps this is why…" She lifted her gaze to meet his as an almost wistful smile stretched across her lips. "Perhaps you were meant to save me."

"Save you?" This time, he was the one who failed to grasp the intention of the statement, but his query would go unanswered as the cavern was plunged into ominous darkness. The midday sun that had mere seconds ago been reflecting off of the surface of the spring had, in an instant, been replaced by the blackness of midnight. "That can't be good…" Killian muttered as his hand instinctively inched toward the grip of his newly acquired cutlass.

Emma's expression hardened as she swallowed back the awful lump forming in her throat while spinning around to cast her eyes skyward at their narrow view of the heavens through the opening in the ancient lava tube ceiling.

"There is nothing good to come from these gathering clouds," Emma stated as she angrily set her jaw, a scowl now deeply carved where the gentle smile had previously graced her visage. "Stay here - and please, do not disobey my instruction this time. My protective spell will stall their actions but I do not know for how long. Allow me to try reasoning with them first?"

"And then what?" he wondered, tightening his fingers around the bronze cutlass, however useless it may be against a god.

"I wish I knew," she sighed as she unconsciously allowed her fingertips to brush across his forearm, a gesture that left his skin tingling and his heart aching as she sprinted away to confront the ghosts of her past.

***********

Emma couldn't remember ever seeing the waters of her typically serene bay so angry. She heard no birds singing from the swaying palms nor did she sense the presence of any of the local sea creatures. Her marine friends had wisely left the cove to escape the wrath of the gods, but Emma had no such choice. Shedding the linen tunic that would only weigh her down and entangle her fins, she darted to the end of the jetty and dove through the choppy waves. Her human legs morphed into her lithe, muscular tail the instant she submerged and with a powerful flick of her tailfin, she plunged into the depths in search of her sister.

Mocking chatter echoed through the seas and filled her ears but Emma chose to ignore it. Insufferable as she might be, Regina was really the least of her concerns if Triton became involved. She could only hope to plead her case to the council and perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to laugh once she proved Killian was a worthy human, deaf to the seducing siren call. They would have to show him mercy and perhaps then she could appeal to Poseidon's mercies as well to grant the wayward sailor a path home.

Sediment stirred from the ocean floor obscured her sight but she didn't need her vision to sense Regina and the council's presence. It surrounded her from all sides, a heavy weight trying to force her down because while she might still be physically one of their kind, Emma had long ago been ostracized. The oppressive atmosphere she felt here beneath the sea she'd long called home only served as confirmation that she was no longer regarded as an equal.

"Show yourself, sister!" Emma shouted, masking her fear with overt bravado. She'd be damned if she would bow to the council's pressure. "Let us settle this matter right here and now!"

The taunting words and laughter drew closer until Emma sensed the feather-light flick of something against her fin. A slithering tentacle skimmed and then encircled her forearm before Emma wriggled free and glared into Regina's grinning facade. She would have loved to have smacked her sister right out of the ocean with a whip of her tail, but Emma didn't dare waste the energy.

Regina, in her favored squid-like form, whirled around her estranged sibling a few times, creating a mini vortex around Emma's body before swirling to a halt roughly an arm's length in front of the beleaguered former siren. With her human arms, Regina daintily slicked back a few stray strands of ebony curls while adjusting her elaborate coral-studded headdress, gestures clearly intended to intimidate and remind Emma who was in charge here. Emma folded her arms across her breast in defiance, not about to be put off by Regina's posturing but still hoping she could conceal her growing anxiety in front of the council.

The remainder of the council began to appear from out of the blue depths, initially as shapeless blobs that she gradually began to recognize. The sirens took a diverse variety of marine forms, each choosing their preference based on individual strengths and morphing ability. There seemed to be a few new faces on the council, at least some she didn't remember after years of trying to put that chapter of her life behind her. The only thing Emma was certain of was that all seemed to be wrapped up in the same little bubble of disdain. Regina's influence may have been stronger than Emma anticipated.

"Erimetha…," Regina addressed her at last. "You have been accused by this council of sirens of violating our solemn code and aiding a human. Well, not just aiding - harboring. We believe you have allowed that same human to live with you. Did you suddenly feel the need for a pet after all of your years in banishment?" Her insult elicited a chorus of chuckles amongst the council members and while Emma's instinct would have been to snap at her snide remark, she bit her tongue and allowed it to slide - for now.

"As I have stated many times before, sister, I was never banished. You can believe that fallacy all you want, but I made the choice to leave entirely of my own volition," Emma stated.

"Semantics," Regina dismissed the argument with a shrug. "Doesn't change the severity of these violations that you stand accused of."

"I have committed no transgression," Emma insisted, "not that it matters to any of you! Every one of you blindly sings your song to entice those unsuspecting humans so you can appease the gods, but why? You're told that all humans are evil and unworthy to traverse our realm, but have you ever spoken to a human? Ever gotten to know one?"

"We were created merely to pass the gods' judgement upon those inferior beings." The statement came from a council member with flaming red hair who Emma recalled was named Zelena. She also recalled that Zelena was one of Regina's closest allies as the redhead continued speaking. "They all submit to our song and then drown themselves. If this act pleases the gods, who are we to disagree?"

"Even the great Poseidon himself said that those sailors who were deemed worthy would be allowed to pass through our realm unimpeded. Why would he make such a statement if he believed that no human would ever be worthy?" Emma countered, but her words were still falling on deaf ears.

"Please…," Regina chuffed. "No human has been determined to be worthy in nearly a millennium. All have surrendered themselves to our siren song and all have perished."

"Not all!" Emma snapped. "One survived your song. One was immune to your seduction. Perhaps the gods had already determined his worth?"

"So - you admit that you have been harboring a human here with you?" Regina demanded, eagerly waiting for Emma to incriminate herself as her tentacles coiled with anticipation.

"It is of no matter to you," Emma responded. "He still survived. I did not make him immune."

Regina stared back at Emma in disbelief of her sister's bluntness. "That's not possible. No human can be immune to our enticing call…"

"Killian never heard your song, nor mine," Emma blurted out, immediately regretting her utterance.

"Killian, is it?" Regina teased, a stomach churning smirk curling up the corners of her ruby red lips. "You gave your pet a name? Aww… how adorable… How about we go find out just how immune your pet really is?"

With a swish of her tentacles, Regina launched her body upward through the waves with Emma following close behind. They broke through and surfaced almost simultaneously but before Emma could speak, Regina let out a hearty cackle.

"A protection spell? Seriously, Emma, you really need to do better than that," Regina taunted, using Emma's preferred moniker as a derogatory slur. With the faintest wave of her perfectly manicured right hand, Regina's magic cancelled out Emma's protective barrier and a bewildered Killian Jones materialized upon the sandy shoreline in full view of the council. "So, this is your little pet human?" Regina regarded his bedraggled appearance from afar, noting his ill-fitting clothing, tousled hair and scraggly beard. "We're to believe that this pitiful looking thing is supposedly worthy of our realm?"

"Stop referring to him as a pet! He's an intelligent being, just as we are, and he has a name - Killian Jones!" Emma cried out in his defense, uncertain if he could hear their conversation from this distance.

"He's still an inferior creature," Regina scoffed. "Why would I ever believe that this - this scrawny human - could be immune to the call of the sirens?"

"Have the council sing. Sing yourself if you must," Emma offered. "You will all see that it will have no effect upon him. He does not hear the melody - not a single note!"

"Oh, I have plans to test your human," Regina sneered, her eyes narrowing and darkening malevolently. "Lord Triton!" she called out, much to Emma's horror. "Deliver me that kraken!"

[promethes]

dumping the horrendous unconventional short story I wrote for my midterm under the cut to get it off my mind bc I do not like it.

ENTRY 1

I think I will make my life’s motif a bird. It shouldn’t be too hard. They’re everywhere and pop out at the most opportune moments. I’ll find a way to tie them in.

ENTRY 2

Stood in line for way too long at the cafe. Can you believe the girl in front of me didn’t even look up to plan her order until she was physically at the front of the line? I knew what I wanted to order before I even stepped foot into the place. They need to change that. I’m on the lookout for some kind of online suggestion box to submit to since they decided to forgo an in-house one for some God forsaken reason. There’s not a lick of common sense in anyone these days. Saw a robin on my way out and flicked it a sesame seed from my bagel.

ENTRY 3

Would you listen to this garbage? They’re planning on tearing down my favorite bowling alley. “Didn’t pass inspection” my ass. It’s an important cultural landmark of our city and I’m marching down to the mayor to set him straight. I can’t stage important life moments around the cardinal themed bowling alley if there is no bowling alley to have a cardinal theme!

ENTRY 4

Mom’s in the hospital. Driving over now, she said it has something to do with her cholesterol. It either spiked or dropped real low, but I can’t be sure. Either way, she’s in the hospital. I don’t know why she chose the one that’s so far away though. The vending machines in the other one have way better stock.

ENTRY 5

Forgot to say. I didn’t run over any birds on the way there.

ENTRY 6

I don’t think I’m spiraling yet but I’m close to it. Mom’s fine, she’s just staying overnight in case anything acts up again. I, on the other hand, am NOT. Car won’t start and I’ve been sitting here in the parking lot for almost four hours now. Embarrassed beyond belief. A weird old man with a huge shiny truck offered to help and he’s been good on his word lending me his car to jump-start mine, but his bumper stickers make me nervous. His truck has custom lettering too. I’m a big guy, so not too worried, but a little concerned. 

Anyway, it didn’t work and I’m calling a tow truck now. I tried to thank the guy and offered to buy him coffee, but he just said “No way, Jose” which was weird. He smacked the top of my car before he left and said I need to “dress this little lady up.” Maybe I’ll get a sparrow bumper sticker online. Everything’s online these days.

ENTRY 7

Starting to rethink the bird motif thing. Not much goes on in my life anyway, and there’s only so much material I can get out of waking up early to chirping. Maybe I should aim lower. I could choose a color instead. Red would be a cop-out, it’s too obvious. Blood! I need something that’s at least a little challenging. We’ll see. I’ll sleep on it.

ENTRY 8

GREAT NEWS! Sister got a BIRD. A real-life living breathing chirping flying bird. It’s a sign and I’m not going to ignore it. My life’s motif is a bird and it’s not going to be one of those unbearably hidden motifs from English class required readings either.

(Although I did like some of them. That spoon in Middlesex…… I want my bird to be his spoon. To take up space in an almost eerie way. I’ll find a way to make it work.)

ENTRY 9

Laying the groundwork. These things don’t come easy, so I’m sowing the seeds (birds do that, right?) Told everyone at work that my great great great grandfather’s name was Starling. Drilled up a lot of curious questions and I even got to know some of the people I always just miss talking to. They were all VERY interested. Tomorrow I’ll bring in a picture of an actual starling. I don’t think Andrew quite knows that it’s a kind of bird.

ENTRY 10

Don’t remember the name my sister chose and I couldn’t remember if I tried even if I squeezed my eyes shut before blinking really fast like I usually do because this bird (Polly I’m going to call it Polly because an annoying bird deserves an annoying name) is so incessantly annoyingly unbearably loud. I can’t believe this thing is my sign.

My sign is chirping me into the basement and into a frenzy. At least I have my old sleeping bag handy until I can figure out how to shut it up. Why must my motif be so unbearably annoying?

ENTRY 11

Update on the car: starter wires snapped. Haven’t seen any birds around lately (except for a crow but I hate crows and I won’t be counting them) so I was hopeful and asked the mechanic if there’s any chance a bird could’ve pecked at the wires until they got so worn down that they snapped in the hospital parking lot.

He looked at me like I was crazy. I know that was what the look meant because he said, “Are you f****ing crazy man? The wires are deep in your car under the hood.” (I’m censoring the language. I don’t want language taking away from my story. If this is to be read in a future child’s English class to teach a lesson about motifs, I can’t be including foul language.)

I’m not f***ing crazy but I am extremely ticked off. Does he not realize how little birds come out in the cold weather? I need whatever I can get.

I’ll just tell people a bird got stuck under the hood of my car. I’ll change this entry later. Mechanic man doesn’t deserve a spot in a child’s English class; he didn’t even have the decency to watch his language for them.

ENTRY 12

People at work are finally starting to catch on! Got called “bird guy” by Kathleen (Catherine? Kristy? Whatever.) when she saw my shirt. I knew it’d be a good move when I saw it on sale at Walmart. I’m thinking of making the cover of my book Hawaiian print, but I’ll tell my future publisher I’m not married to the idea. Can’t be too picky on my first book! I’ll leave that for the second.

ENTRY 13

I will enjoy my day today I will enjoy my day today I will enjoy my day. Sister needs to get control of Polly. I’ve moved down my whole mattress now. I will enjoy my day I will enjoy my day I will enjoy 

ENTRY 14

Can’t believe I overlooked eagles and hawks. Of course sparrows and starlings weren’t doing the trick! Classic oversight, focusing too much on the mundane. I won’t be making that mistake. I blame it all on that incessant chirping. Mom says it’s not too bad but I’m fairly certain that cholesterol has gotten to her ears. She must be going deaf. She’s lucky she’s ill or else I’d be very extremely sore at her for making that face at me. I know it’s a bad face because it’s the same face that f***ing mechanic made and I don’t think he’s ever made a good face in his life so if my mom made that same face then I really don’t like that. She gets a pass for the cholesterol. 

ENTRY 15

I feel amazing. Bought an eagle bumper sticker at a roadside gas station and after a few strategic snips, it’ll be ready to go on the car. I’m dressing this little lady up! The red, white, and blue has got to go first though. Decided a while ago not to let colors mess with my motif, and I’m not going to slip up on that again! Snip snip.

I’m considering this a debt paid. Dressed the little lady up. Two birds, one stone! I’m making that my new catchphrase.

ENTRY 16

Should I make this a love story? I’m thinking about making it a romance. Doves are right there, really just waiting for me to weave them in. On the other hand, I don’t think that’d work to create much of a conducive learning environment for the kids. I think I’ll stick to a Mark Twain type story instead. 

Reread the beginning and don’t think it’s working. I’ll be cutting all that out. I spoke too much about mom’s cholesterol. Too many side characters and not enough focus. Where was I going with this again? 

ENTRY 17

Writer’s block. It’s ok, I still had that major breakthrough with the hawk/eagle thought. Put in my two weeks to dedicate all my time. I’ve found a bird-watching site that I hope will bring me more peace than f***ing Polly.

ENTRY 18

These birds are really working to stay in my New York Times best-selling children’s novel. Knew this would be a challenge, but they really do never stop conversing. If only they could read, I’d write them a best-selling manual on the best ways to speak inwards rather than outwards. Chirp chirp chirp needs to turn into ______ ________ ________.

ENTRY 19

Sister’s going to be f***ing pissed but it was the only thing to do.

ENTRY 20

Honestly, it was just a bird! If it was really part of our family, you’d think that I’d know its name by now.

ENTRY 21

I said that Polly’s in a better place now, but set her off with the “Polly”. Maybe this was a mistake. She said I “begged” her to get the bird but she shouldn’t say that when she’s the one reacting like this.

ENTRY 22

Books should come with suggestion boxes. No more birds. Story’s six feet under just like Gladys. See, I can finally remember it now that I can hear myself think.