#I mean it does occur to me now that I should have had either Victor or Smiler set the table

[victorluvsalice]

-->And with that, it was Grand Breakfast Time! ...okay, more accurately, it was Leftover Grand Breakfast Time, as I still had some just-still-good Grand Breakfast from Harvestfest. And also it was more Leftover Grand BRUNCH because they ate at 1 PM in the afternoon. But hey, all that the game requires to fulfill this tradition is that a Sim EATS a grand meal, sooo... XD

Anyway -- Grand Breakfast! Alice called everyone to eat up these leftovers before they went bad, and everyone grabbed a plate. Including Smiler, who took their usual bite before I was able to get them to stop because, well, I guess they always feel like they should TRY the food despite their Withered Stomach. *pats them* At any rate, I was able to have them join in by drinking a plasma fruit at the table, and everyone had a lovely time sharing the holiday spirit and complimenting each other and whatnot. Smiler even brought Kelly in on the fun by bringing her in for a big old hug near the end of the meal! How adorable, right? :)

-->And then, just as everyone was wrapping up and Victor was being entertained by the kittens, I looked over and saw Kelly nomming on the now-very-spoiled Grand Breakfast leftovers. XD Yeah, uh, both Victor AND Alice came in quick with a "hey, don't eat that!" lecture for her. Victor's didn't seem to have much effect, but Alice must have taken a sterner tone, as Kelly stopped after that. I'm not TOTALLY against Sim pets occasionally getting human food, but I'm PRETTY sure spoiled pancakes are not good for a Sim kitty tummy, any more than they're good for a Sim human's!

-->With the cat removed from the stinky leftovers, I decided that the trio should have some fun in the snow -- after all, if the game is going to give us a white Winterfest, we might as well take advantage of it! So once the dishes from the meal were all cleaned up, everyone went outside to make snow pals! Smiler made a fancy man with a monocle; Alice went very traditional with a cute bobble hat and carrot nose; and Victor decided to go punk with a two-ball pal sporting an icicle mohawk and shades. Perhaps they're the rebellious teenager of the family. XD But everyone had a lovely time making their snow pals, and I was very pleased with the results. So far, this Winterfest was going great! :D

[r3almellow]

MLQC Boys Being Horny For A Pregnant S/o

Thanks so much for the request!! This almost turned into a big pregnancy headcanon HC, but I fought through the urge! You guys should be proud of me!

Warning: Pregnancy sex, oral sex, and lactation

Click “Keep Reading” for the goods!

Kiro

Kiro was in pure bliss while you were pregnant because your sex drive was practically through the roof.

The two of you had sex quite a few times a week and Kiro was in absolute heaven.

At first, you would have sex in your usual places. (Home, dressing room, recording studio, broom closet ect.) But as the months went on, your intimate moments mostly occurred at home or in a hotel room with a nice comfortable bed for you to be on.

Even before you got pregnant Kiro had a thing for your breasts. Biting, sucking, titty fucking...the whole nine yards! 

There wasn’t a moment that went by where Kiro didn’t find an opportunity to slip hands under your blouse just to squeeze “the girls.” 

He immediately notices how big they’ve gotten and booooy did the sight of you going up two bra sizes have his mouth watering.

Seeing your nipples poking out from your shirt was just... *chefs kiss* 

If you complained about clothes irritating your sensitive nipples he’d jokingly say that you should walk around the house topless. But he’s actually not joking and would sell his soul if it meant you’d actually do it.

His favorite position is missonary and cowgirl because they give him the best access to your breasts, so he can caress and fondle as he pleases.

However, the former was mostly doable during your first trimester, so spooning has become his go to mainly because he doesn’t want you doing all the work. 

It was also a win because he could hold you from behind while placing kisses along your neck while taking in your scent. He'd have a hand massaging your breast while the other between your legs, drawing circles around your clit as he slowly thrusted into you from behind. 

Once the baby is born, you always have to remind him constantly that your breasts are extremely sensitive to the point where they're too painful to touch. 

When you begin breastfeeding...oh boy...

He can feel the way his dick strains against his pants as he watches you. He was excited for all the naughty things he planned on doing when you were ready.

You can feel his eyes on you sometimes and you often have to give him a playful glare.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” How could he stop thinking about how erect your nipples looked?! Or how badly he wanted to leave bite marks all over your breasts?! Oooor how much he wanted to feel them rubbing against his cock?!

And when you accidentally start leaking? You’ll be so embarrassed, but Kiro?! Your man is losing it! He didn’t think something like breastmilk leaking through your shirt would be hot but he’s been wrong about a lot of things. 

Kiro will always respect your wishes to wait but once you give him the go ahead your boobs are not safe from him. 

Gavin

There was something about you being pregnant that really got him going. 

He will always kneel before you to press small kisses against your stomach and has a habit of trailing down to what he calls “dangerous territory.”

Out of fear of hurting the baby and not wanting to put you through any unnecessary stress because he couldn’t keep it in his pants, Gavin will opt for taking care of his “problems” on his own.

He'll be super conflicted too! Poor thing just wants to make love to you, but not at the cost of hurting you!

Whenever you want to have sex, he tries to turn you down. Emphasis on TRY! Somehow things end either with his head between your legs or you giving him a hand job. As nice as that was, it wasn't the saaaaaaame!

“The sight of me is such a turn off, right? I wouldn’t want to touch me either...”  

Gavin will look at you like you just slapped him in the face. Never in his life has he ever been turned off by you. No matter what state you’re in, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

You'll notice his "lack of interest" and naturally start to doubt his attraction to you.

“Babe, its not that! I never thought you could look any more beautiful, but you looking like this proved me wrong. I’ve never wanted you more than I do right now, but I’m trying to protect our baby and your pussy from me. Its been so hard for me to control myself around you.” 

You can tell he’s been going through it when you cup him through his pants and feel just hard he is. Poor thing.

You have to tell him being intimate while you’re pregnant wasn’t a bad thing and that the baby would be perfectly fine. 

It won’t take long for you to convince him, especially when you’re slowly pumping his dick with your hand that “magically” slipped itself down his pants.

He loves having you on top of him so he can look at your beautiful body as you ride him. 

When Baby Bai arrives, Gavin goes back to doing things on his own because he knows you need rest.

You only have a certain number of positions to choose from since you’re carrying precious cargo, but Gavin’s absolute favorite position is cowgirl. 

Will caress your stomach while he's eating you out. He's not exactly sure why but it's become a habit.

Won't pressure you at all and will patiently wait until you're ready.

Sometimes, gets worried when you start bouncing on his cock and the slapping of skin starts to echo throughout the bedroom. He's just like, "B-babe, maybe we should... slow down...ah...what about...shit!" You're gonna have to shut him up somehow. Clenching yourself around him might do the trick.

Victor

You had a certain glow about you during your pregnancy that Victor was in awe of. 

Victor is very observant of how much your body has changed throughout the course of your pregnancy for obvious reasons, however, said reasons have become a bit, in his opinion, perverse as the months went on.

Just the sight of you made him want to ravish you in ways he has never thought of before. But why? 

Was it the way your maternity clothes perfectly outlined the curves of your body? Maybe how swollen your breasts have become? 

Or maybe...just maybe it was how good you looked in the various lingerie he bought for you. Babydoll lingerie that perfectly highlighted your stomach were his personal favorites.

Sex with Victor during your first two trimesters was pretty normal until half way through month six he becomes a bit more hesitant and by month seven stops completely.

Another one who doesn’t want to harm you or the child. 

It takes you and three different doctors to tell him that having sex while you were seven months pregnant was perfectly normal.

Even with that knowledge he’s still pretty hesitant, but not even a day after confirmation does his resolve break and with the utmost care you two enjoy a night filled with passion.

He’ll be in the middle of giving you a foot massage as you sit there in your bathrobe and he subconsciously places a kiss against your ankle.

He catches himself trailing kisses up your leg and abruptly stops. That was probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Doesn’t help that you’re looking at him with blush coated cheeks as you spread your legs ever so slightly for the hem of the robe to fall from your leg, revealing your upper thigh. 

When Victor puts his mind to something he sees it through without fail, but you always manage to throw him through an an unexpected loop.

So...yeeaaah...two seconds later he has his face in between your legs, tongue pressed against your clit, and hands firmly holding you in place as he continued to take from you. This is one failure he will accept with pride if that means he can have you in every possible way.

His all time favorite position during your pregnancy is definitely spooning. It makes him feel closer to you.

After the pregnancy, sex is out of the question for the next few months which you don’t complain about, because parenthood hits you and your body hard. 

Victor understands that you need time to heal and that your sex drive isn't as high as it was before. Plus, the baby required your attention 90% of the time.

That doesn’t mean Victor doesn’t fantasize about having you under him again. He does miss being intimate with you and has been holding back quite a bit.

He’ll catch you looking at yourself in the mirror, pointing out all your “imperfections” and all he wants to do place kisses all along your body.

You’ll just be like, “I don’t know how you can stare at all of this and still be attracted to me.” 

Victor will wrap his arms around you stare at you sternly in the mirror.

“I don’t know where you got such foolish ideas from, but you’re perfect the way you are and when you’re ready I’ll remind you of that fact.”

You can’t even fight him on that, not when his erection is firmly pressed against you. 

Lucien

Already researched all the best sex positions for pregnant women. 

You two have a healthy amount of sex for most of your pregnancy, so Lucien and you are never left feeling “parched” for one another. 

It's not until your final months does Lucien take a few steps back.

Prefers to focus on giving you the most pleasurable experience when you two make love. You deserve to feel good especially when you’re carrying a life inside you for nine months. 

So you’ll expect a lot of him eating you out, fingering you, toys; just about anything that can bring you pleasure.

Has definitely done things with you while he's trying to help you around the house. And he's so slick with it!

In the middle of helping you shower, his fingers will gently caress your stomach and you're just like "Awwww!" and then they're suddenly caressing your clit.

While the father-to-be is understanding and all about your sexual experience its definitely a challenge when he wants to have sex with you. Especially when you're so tempting!

You could be in the middle of talking about baby names and he'll have the biggest smile on his face as he looks at you. So wholesome, right? Wrong! His mind is definitely somewhere else!

But it'll take more than your ample breasts, an unsuspecting smile thrown his way and your very existence to make him falter.

While you love the way he tends to you and makes sure you’re getting the most out of this, you'd rather to do things together. 

He dares not admit the amount of times he's thought about bending you over the kitchen counter and pounding himself into you with little to no restraint.

Toys are great and all but you’re trying to feel his dick.

Once you tell him what you want, Lucien will graciously comply and mentally thank you for saying something, because he was on the verge of breaking.

Of course, sex takes a backseat once the baby is born so Lucien won't turn into some sex crazed monster after two months, buuuut he will spend quite a lot of time "handling business" on his own.

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

Done!!! Kinda posted this with little to no editing, so I'm sorry about that. I still hope this was enjoyable to read!

Want to read more of my MLQC stuff? Check out my masterpost!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 276: Our Turn to Save You

Previously on BnHA: In a refreshing change of pace from the usual “the adults refuse to tell the kids anything” shtick, Deku and Kacchan flew around trying to get Tomura’s attention while refusing to explain jack shit to Endeavor! Deku eventually thought to ask Kacchan why he was getting in on this, and Kacchan launched into a two-page Denial Speech which seemed expressly designed to prime him for losing his quirk any fucking second now! Tomura then showed up and the two of them were all “KJSDLFK” but thankfully Gran dove in to rescue them from dying INSTANTANEOUS HORRIBLE DEATHS, and reminded them that there are practically SIX WHOLE GROWN-UPS left who can definitely still fight Tomura and won’t die at all!! And one of those grown-ups is Aizawa! Who’s getting ready to fight Tomura now! Listen Horikoshi you fucker, when I asked for more Aizawa angst and badassery this ISN’T WHAT I –

Today on BnHA: Tomura is all “THIS QUIRK WON’T STOP ME BECAUSE I CAN’T READ” and sort of shrugs it off and continues to kick ass even though his Decay and AFO powers aren’t working. The pros all try to stop him with Endeavor taking the lead, and because THEY ALL SUCK, APPARENTLY, nothing they do is effective in any way whatsoever! Meanwhile Gran dumps Deku and Kacchan off and is all “YOU’LL BE FINE HERE” which is the most ridiculous thing anyone in this manga has ever said, and then pretty much as soon as he says it at least nine more High Ends (excuse me, NEARLY High Ends) just POP UP OUT OF NOWHERE and are all “RARR” and the heroes are all “oh shit” and Tomura is all “lol yeah I actually had more High Ends this whole time” and Ujiko is all “it’s true!” and, fuck. The chapter ends with Tomura charging in to kill Aizawa only to be intercepted by MY TWO PRECIOUS BABIES, MY DARLING LITTLE HERO HATCHLINGS, and...!! I blame Gran for this.

gotta say, my sense of time is distorted enough as it is these days without chapter leaks coming out A WHOLE ENTIRE DAY EARLY out of nowhere. not that I’m complaining, because I want to see Aizawa kick some ass & immediately lose his fucking quirk as much as anyone, but it is disorienting

anyway time to dive into this chapter which I predict will be titled “everything instantly goes horribly wrong.” I’ve had a lot of time these past two weeks to think about what is going to happen next, and I’m pretty sure I nailed it you guys

so we’re opening with a familiar sight

I like that Horikoshi thinks that helicopters go “chop chop.” well, close enough

anyway, so yet again we have a scene in BnHA of a town in the process of being destroyed by villains while a helicopter whirs (WHIRS, Horikoshi) and chuffs (SOMETIMES THEY CHUFF TOO) anxiously nearby. I wonder if this helicopter is going to fucking disintegrate. that’d be something new

ARE YOU GOING TO DIE, MISTER LIVE REPORTER SIR. OH MAN. OH GOD I’M ANXIOUS

dozens, you guys! there are dozens of them left! not to worry then. the good guys definitely still got this

oh hey it’s that news anchor with the cutely fucked-up backstory of chopping off his own horn so as to more handsomely report the news

oh god don’t tell me this whole thing is going to be broadcast live. that’s all we fucking need right now. I wonder what’s going to throw society into chaos more, the reveal of just how powerful Tomura is now, or the exposure of what the government-mandated child soldiers get to do during their super-educational practical on-the-job training! no coffee-fetching for these kiddos! we’ve got ‘em rolling up their sleeves and getting their hands good and dirty!

oh hey and it looks like this means that All Might will get to watch protege #2 lose his quirk live on TV -- HEY WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

BAD BABYSITTER!! MY GOD MAN, I KNOW YOU’RE THE INDULGENT GRANDFATHER TYPE, BUT MAYBE CONSIDER CHANGING THE CHANNEL TO DOC MCSTUFFINS FOR THE TIME BEING??!

also I know this is just a perspective thing probably but lmao his hand on her shoulder is fucking huge. All Might you been working out again

but seriously this is not good for either of them to witness. they don’t need more trauma in their lives! All Might doesn’t need yet another thing to blame himself over! and he has conflicted feelings about Tomura still on top of that which I’m sure isn’t going to make this any easier. ANGST ALL AROUND. EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK, EVERYWHERE YOU GOOOO

MOTHERFUCKER I --

is Mitsuki looking at fucking baby pictures of Kacchan. reliving the memories of the good old days, thinking about how far her baby boy has come and how proud she is. that’s just great you guys. that’s just fucking great. these aren’t even red flags at this point these are red fucking tapestries

(ETA: and this basically goes without saying, but I’m sure the fact that not one but THREE Todorokis are represented in this little montage means that Endeavor and Shouto are also going to be just fine.)

:)

HE’S SO HAPPY just fucking try and tell me he doesn’t have a mental fucking link to Tomura and Deku you guys. this bitch knows exactly what is going down right now and he is LIVING FOR IT. that does it. someone please save my spot in the chapter for me I am going to go take a quick walk to calm down

and of COURSE that’s a fucking lie though, god -- [frantically clicks to next page]

LOL HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

FUCKING MANUAL IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY LMAO. YOU CAN ALL FUCKING RELAX NOW. and fuck me, I’m so fucking happy RockLockRock is still alive as well but WHY ARE YOU STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO AIZAWA IN WHAT I LIKE TO CALL THE “CAUTION: YOU WILL GET SHOT” ZONE. swear to god Horikoshi THAT MAN HAS A FAMILY don’t you even think about -- !!

sigh, anyway so then the rest of the page is panels of Gran & The Boys, Endeavor, and Tomura, along with the text “WHICH SIDE IS THE VICTOR”, which is not helping matters any! also the title of the chapter is “Cheating” which I assume is a reference to both the erasure of Tomura’s quirk, and the soon-to-happen permanent removal of Aizawa’s. I’m just an optimist like that

oh hey and Tomura’s sending out some quick orders to his squad as well

and to think this homicidal maniac is in my top ten favorite characters. sob. I do love you kiddo so please don’t take it personally that I have to unequivocally root against you here. maybe if you listened to me once in a while and would even just consider my radical alternate plan of not killing anyone in sight

anyway lol but here everyone including myself thought he was going straight for the bullets and instead he was pulling out his phone. shows what we know. [braces myself for the follow-up panel of him putting the phone away again and THEN reaching for the bullets!!]

meanwhile we’re being introduced to some new sidekick of Endeavor’s who’s probably going to set the record for shortest time in between being introduced and dying horribly. sorry Kido. I’m just jaded

don’t mind me I’m just putting up emotional walls in between myself and any new lovable characters as a means of self-preservation. mmhmm. he can manipulate the trajectory of things. that’s nice. he seems nice. wouldn’t that be a nice quirk for Tomura to steal and then trajector a bullet straight towards Aizawa ffffff

(ETA: watch this space, everyone. Endeavor’s Sidekick Kido. gonna fuck everything up for everyone, mark my words.)

so I can’t help but notice that now that Tomura can’t use his quirk anymore and is helpless, they have all decided to just sit around doing nothing again?

like. far be it from me to openly wonder why they are not immediately knocking him out or setting him on fire again or whatnot. I am just a lowly civilian. it’s not my job to question these things

(ETA: I must learn to be patient.)

also lmao at Manual saying Aizawa’s ankle is “twisted”, similar to how Deku is constantly “twisting” all of his arms and legs all the time. or did he mean “twisted” in the sense that his leg was pretty much literally wrung out like a fucking towel

anyway so Manual is waterbending liquid into Aizawa’s eyes like that’s supposed to help him NOT close them

has Horikoshi ever had water splashed into his fucking eyes. he and I have had very different experiences as to the effects of this apparently

there we go!!

at least someone out here is fucking trying. for a second there I was honestly worried we were going to see a repeat of “oh well he seems dead enough, let’s just leave, see you at the victory party this weekend, X-Less”

LMAO WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE

[GRABS THESE PANELS AND WAVES THEM IN FRONT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS HAWKS] DID YOU HEAR THAT. DO YOU SEE THAT, BOYO. FACTS. BEING WEAK TO FIRE IS, IN FACT, 100 PERCENT A CHOICE. IF YOU HAD JUST DONE MORE PUSH-UPS AND TRAINED HARDER YOU WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW. SMDH. YOU FUCKING WIMP. YOU RECREANT. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED

hooooh man. hokay. whew. has anyone seen my suspension of disbelief. I’m so used to having it on me at all times when I read this manga that I must have let my guard down and now it seems I’ve spaced it out. well we’ll just keep a lookout for it

so now we’re cutting to Ujiko who is gleefully bragging that Tomura’s strength is on par with All Might Prime’s, which is just great. and now he’s also starting this sentence and then just... not... finishing it

that’s fine. you just trail off, then. hang those implications. whatever dude

meanwhile RLR and Manny are helping Aizawa limp away while he awkwardly has to twist his neck around to be able to still keep Tomura in his line of sight. I feel like there was probably a better way for them to do this but whatever

anyway thanks for confirming that Ujiko did make Tomura into a Noumu in addition to giving him AFO, though, Horikoshi! that’s very nice of you to unsink one of my theories like that. appreciate it

and hold up, so it occurs to me that “Being Fireproof” could still be a quirk, but just a mutant-type quirk rather than an activation type, meaning that Erasure would have no effect on it! aha! oh, there’s my suspension of disbelief lol it was in my pocket the whole time!!

anyway so Endeavor and Tomura are tussling but I really wish they’d be more careful because if Tomura is still capable of super strength and super speed then he could propel himself out of Aizawa’s line of sight really easily and I feel like this isn’t really helping

is it just me or do they look like they’re TRYING to jump in between Aizawa and Tomura, like?!?! GUYS

LMAO now Gran is just

SHUP. toss. dusts off hands. well that takes care of that

and apparently he’s under the genuine impression that a mere “now stay put you dumdums” is going to have any effect on these two whatsoever. lol okay. we’ll see

anyways YESSSSS, KACCHAN MEET GRAN, GRAN, KACCHAN

meanwhile Kacchan falls silent as he mentally tries to work out who tf “Toshinori” is lmao. I’M SO CHUFFED ABOUT THIS. YES THAT’S ANOTHER USE OF THE WORD “CHUFFED.” VERY VERSATILE AND REMINISCENT OF HELICOPTER BLADES WHIRLING

and now here’s a convenient map showing how far away Deku and Kacchan are from safety!

thanks for that. that’s so reassuring to have this nifty little visual

OH MY GOD GRAN

DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?? DOES EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING ARC HAVE A DEATH WISH. MY GOD

“BUT FAR BE IT FROM ME TO LEAVE WITHOUT ANY OMINOUS FORESHADOWING!!” NO INDEED WE CAN’T HAVE THAT!!!

rather than focus anymore on how goddamn foreboding that is, I would instead like to take this moment to call attention to the fact that Gran apparently knows Bakugou’s name but not Present Mic’s. that’s amazing

sob

what good indeed. imagine if they couldn’t even do that. I imagine that would have some far-reaching consequences which might even be interesting to explore as part of a story

:O

I made the same face as them just now fyi

fucking Schrodinger’s High Ends. they only exist when the plot says it’s convenient for them to exist. maybe they’re like fairies and if you say you don’t believe in them they drop dead. where the fuck did these things actually come from?!

WAY TO DROP THE BOYS OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF NOUMU FUCKING CENTRAL MY GOOD MAN. MAYBE WE SHOULD SCROLL BACK UP AND UPDATE THAT MAP. GOOD JOB LMAO

WHAT THE FUCK

welp. they deleted Tomura’s quirk and then sent the strongest guy they had after him, annnnnnnd he went and beat him anyway in like two fucking seconds. so that’s. ... wowee. ...so do we have a plan b, or...

like, holy shit though?? and can you imagine the kind of psychological impact this is having on everyone watching this live on TV right now?? this is literally the anti-Kamino. holy fucking shit. also did Tomura lose an arm or am I just not understanding this image right?? NOT THAT IT SEEMS TO BE BOTHERING HIM IN THE SLIGHTEST??

(ETA: somehow I missed the fact that he is even calling attention to it lol. “I’ll raise [the other hand] when it’s back.” fucking look at Mr. Transcendent here who’s so powerful that when you tear his arms off all it does is make him more sassy. is he secretly related to Mirko.)

idk guys I really think my original chapter title was better

at least Endeavor isn’t fucking dead just yet. four more pages and you might actually make it out of this chapter alive my good man

blah blah blah flashback to Ujiko explaining that the Noumu could be activated by an electric current flowing through them, and that they’re programmed to move only on Tomura’s orders. you know. just more good news

oh hey but at least these ones are mindless so I guess it’s okay for the kids to kick their asses without feeling too conflicted. it’s just too bad “their strength is higher quality than the others” but you win some, you lose some

OH GOOD, THEY’RE GOING STRAIGHT FOR AIZAWA

I’M SURE THAT MIDORIYA “MY BODY MOVED BEFORE I COULD THINK” IZUKU AND BAKUGOU “I’M THE ONE WHO’LL GET PAYBACK FOR THAT DAY” KATSUKI WILL TAKE THEIR GRANDPA’S SAGE ADVICE AND GO AND HIDE WHILE THEIR TEACHER IS IN DANGER. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE LITERALLY GONE TO SCHOOL FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR EXPLICITLY MAJORING IN NOT DOING THAT. YES THIS IS FINE THIS IS FUCKING FINE AND GREAT

NOW WHAT’S HAPPENING THERE’S LOTS OF RUBBLE FALLING AROUND AND STUFF MOVING AND SOMEONE IS TALKING

OH IT’S HIM

excuse me. EXCUSE ME. no, you are NOT. going to fucking die, Aizawa Shouta. HORIKOSHI KOUHEI!!! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE CRIME OF DRAWING THIS FUCKING PANEL. THIS ONE, RIGHT HERE. YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING. HOW DARE YOU. how FUCKING dare you sir

and if anything happens to RLR I SWEAR TO GOD!! you know what?! you know what?!?

STOP IT

[sitting curled up into a little ball with my knees drawn up to my chest, drawing little finger circles on the floor] I see. so he’s not even concerned about himself at all. it’s his two tiny little hero eggs, his problem children, and the fact that if he dies here there won’t be anything preventing Tomura from finding and killing them. ahh. okay. it’s okay. that’s fine

and goddammit what is he pulling out from his belt. everyone is on the same page here, right? Aizawa’s Not Allowed To Die. that was the deal. WHAT HAS THIS ALL BEEN FOR OTHERWISE

(ETA: yeah but he seriously did just pull a knife out of fucking nowhere though like the kid in that fucking vine lmao. APPARENTLY HE’S HAD IT THIS ENTIRE TIME?? “what if I just stabbed him” lulz. based on the way things were trending, I’m willing to bet it would have literally bounced off of Tomura’s chest at this point, but I’ll give him credit for making the effort.)

NOPE NOPE NOPE NO

(ETA: Shinsou being in the bottom corner... ;_; )

is anyone listening to me!??! I’m over here screaming myself fucking hoarse??! AIZAWA ISN’T FUCKING ALLOWED TO DIE??!! HELLO!?!?!

lol well at least RLR didn’t get steamrolled over

well everyone. we’ve reached page 18. one more to go. what are the odds we end with the boys arriving in the ta-da nick of time to defend their teacher. just who is watching over whom

THERE IT IS!!!

OH NO OH GOD AM I CRYING??! YOU HAD TO GO AND PUT THOSE FLASHBACK PANELS IN?? HIM SAVING DEKU AND CO. AT USJ, PLUS THAT ONE TIME HE DEFENDED BAKUGOU DURING HIS MOST VULNERABLE MOMENT IN FRONT OF A NATIONAL AUDIENCE??? “IT’S OUR TURN TO SAVE YOU”???

and they look so determined and desperate?? and the “Aizawa-sensei!” echoing in both their minds?? and meanwhile Aizawa looks fucking horrified though, because of all the... [gestures] you know? the Terrible Danger?? sob??

anyway. I really let this manga do this to me every damn week. let it just have its fucking way with me. at least Horikoshi didn’t end up breaking the law after all. I don’t know if I could continue to support a mangaka who is willing to commit an actual war crime. no touching Aizawa. OKAY?? OKAY

[hutchhitched]

Social Commentary in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

I haven’t written a lot of meta about The Hunger Games trilogy. When I first read them, I devoured the entire set in three days before I was part of tumblr or writing fanfiction. My own metas were in my head and part of things I taught my classes and discussed with my friends, but not something I generally put on my blog. I don’t know why. (I do have a meta about Peeta’s hijacking that I’ve been meaning to write for a while. Maybe once I’ve finished this book. Hint: It has to do with George Orwell’s 1984, which I used in my classes last year and was performed at a theater in Houston right as the pandemic hit.) I don’t know if reading this book when I’m a decade older and after a really rough few years of my own has anything to do with it or just that I’ve been exposed to so much by being in this fandom, but I’ve got a lot of thoughts about The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. I’ve only read Part 1 so far, but here are some observations. (It’s long, but at least read the last one—even if you have to skip to get there.)

 Spoilers below:

Reaping day is July 4. We already knew it was during the summer, so that’s not a huge stretch. What intrigues me is the symbolism of July 4 for Americans since it’s Independence Day. For those of you who aren’t American or aren’t sure why that struck me, here you go. Independence Day represents the day the Declaration of Independence was signed (although, it was actually two days later, but whatever). The Declaration of Independence was issued 14 months AFTER the beginning of the American Revolution in April 1775 at the battles of Lexington and Concord and was not the cause of the Revolution as so many believe. Penned by Thomas Jefferson (at least colloquially), it famously discusses the celebrated (but sadly, not practiced) phrase that “all men are created equal.” That’s the phrase that’s trotted out and waved about, but the Declaration is mostly about tyranny and the role of government. In fact, the Declaration doesn’t start with “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” Instead, it begins with this: “When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…” In other words, the Declaration of Independence does indicate that all humans are created equal. It also discusses what the government is supposed to and not supposed to do. Having Reaping Day occur on July 4 is a brilliant jab that adds an entirely new level to what Independence Day means and how it’s celebrated—with lots of flag waving and fireworks and BBQ (and very little knowledge of what the document itself actually says).

 Which brings me to Sejanus Plinth. Bless him. He’s the voice of compassion and reason in part 1 as he speaks up about treating other humans with respect and dignity, about the humanity of those in the districts, as he feeds the hungry, as he challenges the inhumanity of the Games. In short, he’s the Peeta Mellark voice from the final council of the tributes in Mockingjay. I have no idea what’s going to happen to him in the rest of the book, but he’s the humanity I’m craving as I read. A note on his name: Sejanus was a close friend and ally of the Roman Emperor Tiberius. Sejanus worked to improve conditions in the Empire and served as a proxy to Tiberius when he was absent. He was strangled to death in 31 AD/CE. His last name is what makes me stop and want to hug Collins. Four years ago, I had no idea what a plinth was. I’d never heard the word, but I was the prop mistress for my church’s summer musical, and it was on the list of things I had to find. I googled it and found out it’s a base on which a statue (or something else) is displayed. In Mary Poppins, it was used as the base for a statue that came to life and talked to the characters in the park. In other words, it’s a place on which someone can take a stand and deliver a message—a platform, if you will, of the character’s compassion and humanity.

 I don’t remember if we got that Tigris was Snow’s cousin in the original trilogy or not. What I do remember is that she was a former stylist who Snow thought was no longer useful and had her removed from the Games. I haven’t figured out yet how I feel about her in this book, but her banishment and desire to see Snow destroyed are even more intriguing to me as a result of her inclusion as his relative. I would not have pictured her as a Snow before reading the new book. I’m still waiting to be convinced. “Snow comes out on top” is awesome. I wish I could write half as well as Collins.

 There’s so much Holocaust imagery in this book, it’s terrifying. The cattle cars, the inhumane treatment of the tributes, using a veterinarian to treat the tributes instead of a doctor, the numbers, the cages, the rats, separation into districts and restrictions on travel, the hunger and starvation. Ugh. I’ve spent the past several years studying the Holocaust with some of the leading Holocaust and genocide scholars in the world both here in Houston and in Israel. I’ve traveled to Germany and Poland to see the death camps and headquarters of the Gestapo and Nazis and so on. The Games themselves are genocide, by definition, as an attempt to reduce the population of undesirables by targeting the children so they cannot reproduce. Hearing Survivor stories always reminds me of how Collins discusses Victors. There are no winners, only survivors. Survivors have never forgotten the Holocaust, nor should they. It’s what helped so many of them find compassion and humanity and forgiveness (and equally what causes such despair and depression in so many, as well). During my time Yad Vahsem in Jerusalem last summer, one thing was repeated over and over and over. The real triumph for Survivors aren’t the children; they are the grandchildren and then the great-grandchildren. In Panem, there can’t be too many grandchildren if the children are killed before they reach child-bearing age. (There’s also something in there about Snow being raised by his grandmother, but I’m gonna let that one rest for now.)

 In one of the seminars from last summer at Yad Vashem, a scholar of Holocaust music taught us about the role of bands and singing in the camps (all levels, from death camps down to prison camps). First, there are some achingly gorgeous songs (the lyrics of one which were preserved on a child’s shoe in the death camp of Majdanek). Second, she asked us what we thought were the purposes of songs and music in the camps, and we all gave the standard answers—an attempt to distract themselves, holding onto humanity, finding beauty in the midst of horror, and hope. As a faithful fan of The Hunger Games and the saying “Hope is the only thing stronger than fear,” I was just as astounded as others when she said, “There was no hope. People died in death camps. They were starved and covered in shit and piss and lice and filth. They wanted revenge.” I don’t think revenge is what music represents in this book or in the original trilogy, although I think that argument can be made with the use of the Hanging Tree song in rebellion in the movies, but I can’t get that woman’s statement out of my head when I read this book. Not everybody has hope. Katniss didn’t when she first volunteered. I think there’s something to that.

 Lucy Gray Baird is not Katniss. I haven’t exactly figured out who she is, yet, but she’s not Katniss in the first part of this book, which I think some people were hoping she was (as an analogy, obviously). Her flirtations with Snow are fascinating, and her outgoing and peculiar behavior at the reaping in District 12 was my first indication that the title was not as clear cut as Snow=Snake and District 12 female tribute=Songbird (alluding to Katniss). She puts a snake down the dress of the daughter of District 12’s mayor. She also sings. Is she both? Is she the songbird only? If so, then why the snake? And Snow doesn’t appear to be the snake either. My bet’s on Dr. Gaul. She’s a piece of work. Or maybe it’s Clemmie. Interested to see where that goes, too.

 Lucy Gray’s insistence that she’s not from District 12 is fascinating. She insists she’s Covey, which by definition is a group of birds. The Covey are a group of traveling performers, who were stopped in District 12 and not allowed to leave. Trapped birds—interesting. Also, besides the Jews, the Roma/Sinti were targeted during the Holocaust. This group was commonly and derogatorily referred to as “gypsies,” people who moved about frequently and were suspected of crime, stealing, and a myriad of other issues. The Roma and Sinti immigrated into Central and Eastern Europe from India. If Katniss and others in District 12 are descended from Lucy Gray, then that covers the non-white argument about her ethnic makeup. I have no idea if that was Collins’ intention, but it makes a lot of sense in my brain.

 As for Snow, he’s not a villain in this book. At least he’s not yet. So far, he’s the hero (or maybe anti-hero is better), but he’s definitely not the villain. Since we’ve read The Hunger Games, we know he’s the ultimate villain later, but he’s not so far in this book. He’s got ambition and cunning, but neither of those are ultimately villainous. He mourns his mother. He loves his cousin and grandmother. He’s proud of his father’s military service. He’s sad about his friends who die. He’s interested in, if not attracted to, Lucy Gray. We know what he becomes, so it’s hard to read about him as a person with hopes and dreams and struggles. Why? Because it humanizes him, and when he’s humanized, it’s harder for us to say, “He’s evil, and that’s why he did those things.” This is much the same way people blame the Holocaust and World War II on Hitler. “Well, he’s evil, so of course he did that.” Or how we dehumanize gunmen in massacres—“Well, he was clearly a sick individual, so he shot up the place.” Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying these crimes are excusable (in real life or in Collins’ works). What I am saying is that knowing Snow was a child shaped by war, hunger, poverty, and loss makes it harder for us to distance ourselves from this “evil” person. His characterization is uncomfortable because it makes us face that we could also do terrible things in specific contexts. Evil people are rarely born. They are almost always made, which means any of us could be a villain. That is what’s really terrifying.

 A couple of other notes before this gets way too long for anyone to read.

 The role of the government: Sejanus argues it’s the government’s job to take care of its citizens. This is an argument that’s raged in the US (and other countries) for a long time. The question is how do governments take care of the citizens? By feeding them and giving them health care and making sure everyone has enough? Be protecting them with a huge army? By allowing broad civil liberties (e.g., choosing whether to wear face masks during a pandemic)? By instituting restrictive liberties (e.g., gun control, wire taps, screenings at airports)? It’s a really interesting point Sejanus makes early in the book. Not surprising not everyone agrees.

 Mention of the three other book titles (almost): The Hunger Games are mentioned several times. There’s a reference to something that “really catches fire.” And then there are the jabberjays. There are no mockingjays yet. Probably because there is no mockingjay yet. Seriously, Collins is brilliant.

 The role of war: War is not good for those who live through it. Snow is traumatized by the war, as are the rest of the Capitol’s citizens. It makes most have little empathy for those in the districts who rebelled against them. War has destroyed the city. It’s weakened the economy. It’s destroyed the Snow’s fortune. And then it also leads to the Hunger Games. This book is anti-war just as much as the original trilogy is. It is not anti-soldier, but it is anti-war.

 The role of children: Suzanne Collins lives in Connecticut, right? Yes, she does. You know where? Sandy Hook. More specifically, Newtown. Where children were shot to death in their classrooms by a gunman a few years ago. A ton of gun control people thought the slaughter of children would be enough for gun control to be implemented in the wake of that mass murder. It did not. Since then, there’s been a meme that’s circulated (taken from a tweet) that says, “In retrospect Sandy Hook marked the end of the US gun control debate. Once America decided killing children was bearable, it was over.” On page 60 of the book (right at the end of chapter 4), Snow insists the Hunger Games are to show how much people care about children when Dean Highbottom asks what the purpose of the Games is. And then there’s a paragraph in which Snow wonders if people really do care about children. He concludes that children don’t seem to be quite as important as we claim they are. I don’t think that’s a coincidental commentary on Collins’ part.

 So, that became a lot longer than I planned, but wow. This book is fascinating, and Collins is a genius. I’m so ready for more. Part 2, here I come.

Hey, @everlarkedalways, does this count?

[thelazyhermits]

Haunting Memories

Here’s that Fortune angst I promised. I hope y’all enjoy it! XD

Once again, you’re back in the fighting ring. This time you’re up against a large man with a mutant Quirk that gives him the appearance and abilities of a rhinoceros. 

That means he’s not only strong but incredibly thick-skinned. To say you’re nervous about this match would be a complete understatement. 

While you are definitely faster than him and will be able to predict his movements thanks to your Quirk, that can only get you so far. Just like with some of your past opponents, the only chance you have of winning is by wearing him out to the point that he can no longer move. Although, something tells you that this feat will be much harder with this particular opponent.

Most likely, it’s because you could tell he was being serious when he was taunting you yesterday about defeating you. He claimed that your usual cheap tricks wouldn’t work on him and that no matter what you throw his way he will be the victor.

Of course, that wasn’t the first time you heard words like that from an opponent. However, unlike previous opponents, this man has the power to back up his words. His past matches were proof of that.

In addition to claiming that he’d be the victor, your opponent said he’d beat you down until you couldn’t move anymore. According to him, the pain you’ll experience at his hands is going to be worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. 

So, you think your nervousness is perfectly understandable. You do not want to experience whatever kind of pain the rhino Quirk user has in store for you.

That’s why you’ll have to push yourself to your limits to ensure that doesn’t happen. No matter what it takes, you will not allow your opponent to prevail. 

It’s at that moment the sound of a bell ringing reaches your ears. However, rather than signal the start of the match, the bell becomes a harbinger for a much more horrific nightmare. 

All you can do is stare with large, horror-filled eyes as your opponent literally explodes, covering the surrounding area with blood and gore. Naturally, due to your close proximity to the explosion, you get covered in blood.

Dimly, you’re aware of the screams coming from the crowd as you slowly look down to examine your trembling, blood-covered hands. You don’t know how long you remain in that position, too shocked to do anything else.

You’re eventually drawn out of your stupor by a hauntingly familiar voice. “Ah~ As expected of my beloved Prophet, you even look beautiful covered in blood. Although, I think that it’s a waste that you’re covered in the blood of a fool so far below you, don’t you agree?”

Immediately, your gaze moves to focus on the speaker who’s standing right outside the fighting ring, and you see bright, acid green eyes staring back at you and a large grin that sends shivers down your spine. Pure terror washes over you as your heart beats rapidly in your chest. 

The only thing you want to do now is run, but you can’t. Your body remains frozen in place, so unfortunately for you, there’s only one thing you can do in this situation.

You scream.

Your eyes fly open as you jolt into a sitting position. Immediately, one of your hands flies to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from releasing the scream building up in your throat.

Shivers rack your body as your heart pounds a mile a minute. Tears spring to your eyes and quickly cascade down your cheeks before you can even think to stop them.

Rather than try to fight back against the surge of emotions that’s overwhelming you, you just give in to it and spend the next several minutes crying into your knees after pulling them to your chest. Miraculously, you manage to avoid making a lot of noise since the last thing you want is to wake Eri and have her see you in such a pitiful state. 

Even though there’s nothing you want more than to forget about that horrible nightmare, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about it. As much as you’d like to write it off as just a bad dream, you know that it’s a memory from your life as a cage fighter.

Somehow, you ended up in a match where your opponent suddenly died due to exploding. Unfortunately for you, you can’t remember how that explosion occurred. Obviously, you didn’t do it, and it couldn’t have been the fault of the rhino Quirk user.

So, whose fault was it?

Immediately, your thoughts turn to the person with acid green eyes that seemed like they could look right through you. As soon as you do that, your trembling increases, which is definitely not a good sign since this is the kind of reaction you had after you had that vision of Mumei following the USJ attack.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to stop thinking about the memory, you do your best to clear your mind as you slowly move to climb out of your bed. You know there’s no way you’ll be able to go to sleep on your own after such a horrible nightmare, so that means a trip to Aizawa’s apartment is in order.

So, that’s exactly where you head. However, before you can, you have to make a stop at your bathroom since you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to wash your hands.

For some reason, even though you know it was just a memory, your hands still feel like they’re covered in blood, and you desperately want to get rid of that horrible sensation.

As a result, you end up spending several minutes roughly washing your hands in a desperate attempt to get them “clean”. Even when your hands start turning red, you don’t stop washing them until the sticky sensation you feel finally fades.

Once you’re finally satisfied, you leave your room and take a moment to stop by Eri’s room, wanting to make sure she’s still sleeping in her room. Once you’re sure she’s fine, you take the elevator to go downstairs. 

Much to your surprise, shortly after you exit the elevator, you notice that the lights in the kitchen are on. Either someone forgot to turn the lights off before heading to bed, or one of your students is up despite it being the middle of the night.

While a part of you wants to see if someone else is awake, you’re also reluctant since you know you must look like a mess considering all the crying you did earlier, even though you did wash your face while you were taking care of your hands. 

Just as you’re thinking you should just head straight to Aizawa’s apartment before anyone can see you, a pajama-clad Todoroki appears in the kitchen doorway.

Once you see him, you immediately realize what’s going on. The stoic boy has a penchant for sneaking sweets in the middle of the night, so he’s obviously going after the fruit tarts you made earlier today.

The thought of Todoroki pilfering fruit tarts causes the corners of your lips to quirk upwards. Leave it to your student to put a smile on your face without even trying. 

As you’re thinking that, Todoroki moves to approach you. Rather than make a comment defending his actions like he usually does when he gets caught in the act of stealing sweets, the taller boy remains strangely quiet for some reason.

It’s when he comes to a stop before you that you realize why. Now that he’s closer, you can make out the clear concern in his eyes and the small frown resting on his lips. “Are you alright, Sensei?”

Your first impulse is to tell him that you’re fine, but that would be a lie. And you’re sure that he’d know that. While the last thing you want to do is lie to your student, you also don’t want to tell him about your nightmare since that would mean reliving it which is the last thing you want to do.

Of course, your brain has to choose that moment to betray you by bringing scenes from that nightmare to the forefront of your mind. When that happens, tears immediately prick your eyes as your breath hitches.

Todoroki’s eyes widen slightly after seeing your reaction. However, rather than question you about it, the stoic boy moves closer to you before outstretching his arms.

He doesn’t move to hug you since he’s not sure if that’s what you want right now, but he wants you to know that the offer is available to you. It’s obvious from his soft expression and the worried gleam in his eyes that he just wants to help you in any way he can.

As much as you hate the idea of him seeing you in such a pitiful state, his offer is too tempting to resist. When more horrible memories flash in your mind, you quickly move to embrace the younger boy, hugging him as tightly as you can as you bury your face in his shoulder.

Immediately, his arms wrap around you and hold you close. Remaining silent, Todoroki uses one of his hands to gently stroke your back in hopes of providing more comfort to you. 

For awhile, the two of you remain in that position. Eventually, after you calm down and feel less like crying, you break the silence. “Thank you, Todoroki. I really needed that.”

His arms give you a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad I could help. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

A small smile forms on your lips as you pull away from him so you can meet his gaze. “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to do anything else. I’m sure after your midnight snack run that you’d like to head to bed and get some more sleep rather than stay up with me.”

Rather than release his hold on you like you expect, Todoroki tightens his grip on you, catching you off guard. Your surprise only grows when you see the small pout he’s now sporting. “So, you’re going to see Aizawa-sensei instead?”

Once your shock fades, the meaning behind his words register, causing your heart to melt. To think he’d actually get jealous of the fact that you always go to Aizawa for comfort when you have nightmares. 

The corners of your lips lift higher as you move to softly tussle his two-toned locks. “It’s not because I prefer him over you. I just don’t want to bother you with my problems. It doesn’t seem right for a teacher to burden her students, especially over something as trivial as a nightmare.”

Todoroki frowns, “Anything that upsets you this much isn’t trivial, and you’re not burdening me. You always help me when I have problems, so it’s only right I do the same. That’s what people do when they care about someone, right?”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at his words. “That’s true.”

With a sigh, you press your forehead against his shoulder. “In that case, could you keep me company for a while? I don’t really feel like sleeping right now.”

He softly pats your back. “Of course. Would you like to sit down on the couch, or do you want to do some stress baking?”

An amused huff passes your lips at his question. “You know me so well. I could definitely benefit from some stress baking.”

After the two of you finally pull apart, Todoroki pulls out his phone, catching you by surprise since you weren’t expecting him to have it on hand. Maybe he likes to browse the internet while he snacks. “I’ll invite the others, so they can join us. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be left out.”

Before you can tell him that that’s not necessary since you don’t want to wake any of the sleeping students, you notice that he’s sending the message to a group chat called “Y/N-sensei Protection Squad”, and you can’t help but snort in response. “Protection Squad, huh? Who all is in that group?”

Once he hits the send button, Todoroki replies, “Everyone in the class is a part of the squad, but this particular group chat is just for the members who are familiar with your past.”

Your eyes grow large. “Wait a minute. Then, that means…”

Shortly after those words leave your mouth, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Kirishima come storming out of the staircase near the elevators. While the latter two are wearing worried expressions, the former is scowling and looks like he’s ready to fight, making you wonder what exactly Todoroki typed in his message since you never got around to reading it due to being distracted by the group chat name.

Midoriya and Kirishima immediately run over to you while Bakugou observes his surroundings as if searching for an enemy he needs to fight. After giving you a quick once over, Midoriya frowns worriedly. “Are you okay, Sensei? Todoroki-kun said you needed our help. Did something happen?”

Kirishima dons a similar expression. “He said it was an emergency so it must be really bad. Whatever it is, we’ll do everything we can to help! You can count on us, Sensei!”

As expected of the sunshine children, the two boys do not disappoint. Unable to help yourself, you pull them both into a hug, making Midoriya flush while the redhead quickly moves to reciprocate the embrace. “I’m alright. I just had a nightmare and didn’t want to go back to sleep. Todoroki thought having more company would help me. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

While they both sigh in relief after hearing that you’re okay, Bakugou glares at Todoroki. “You bastard....Don’t go saying it’s a fucking emergency when it isn’t! You wanna die?!”

The stoic boy just tilts his head. “It’s not like I lied. Just see for yourself.”

His words puzzle you, but before you can question Todoroki about them, Bakugou suddenly stomps toward you, catching you by surprise. As you release your hold on Midoriya and Kirishima, the blond comes to a stop in front of you and studies your face for the next several seconds.

When he finally pulls his gaze away from you, Bakugou turns to look at Todoroki again. “I’ll let you live to see tomorrow. Be grateful, you bastard.”

Stoic expression never faltering, Todoroki just blinks, “Thanks.”

As you snort at the exchange, Kirishima grins at you. “So, what do you wanna do, Sensei? Make a pillow fort?”

At the words “pillow fort”, Todoroki’s eyes brighten. “Yes.”

Bakugou scowls, “What you want doesn’t fucking matter, Half-and-Half. This is about Sensei, remember?”

A smile forms on your lips. “A pillow fort sounds like a great idea, but first, I’d like to do a little stress baking. Any requests?”

Immediately, Todoroki and Kirishima reel off what they like while Midoriya shyly mentions a dessert he hasn’t had in awhile. Bakugou just rolls his eyes before saying that he refuses to bake anything super sweet.

In the end, you decide to make multiple desserts, so everyone will be happy. Not only that, it ensures that you’ll be able to keep yourself busy for awhile, meaning you’ll be able to avoid thinking about your horrible nightmare.

It’s not just the baking itself that keeps you distracted, however. The whole time you’re in the kitchen, the students take turns keeping you engaged in fun conversations. 

Kirishima tells you about a movie he went to see recently with Tetsutetsu that, according to him, was the definition of manliness. Midoriya brings up what he’s recently added to his hero notebook and how he’d like your opinion on some of the observations he made regarding his classmates.

Every now and then, Todoroki chimes in with a pun or a meme, making you laugh every time. While he mostly remains silent except for the times he snaps at the others for making careless mistakes with their baking, Bakugou does eventually start talking to you about his training regimen which he’s considering adding onto and wants your input on much to your surprise.

Considering how much fun you’re having with your students, it’s like your nightmare didn’t even happen. While your eyes and hands are still red, it would be hard for anyone to think anything is wrong after seeing the large smile you’re now sporting.

Just goes to show that no foe is a match for your students, not even the haunting memories of a past best left forgotten. 

[veliseraptor]

before you start a war

2.1k, Remember This Cold-verse, Tony POV of his (off-screen) conversation with Thor during we live until we die

Thanks to @led-lite​ and @loxxxlay​ for giving this a preliminary read for me! And thanks to @portraitoftheoddity for suggesting I write this one.

---

This was not, to say the least, a conversation Tony had been looking forward to having. Actually, it was one he’d been actively dreading, and trying to think how to handle, off and on, for a while. Because he’d figured that Thor was coming back sooner or later - he hadn’t let himself really consider that might not be the case - and knew that when he came back he’d talk to Loki, and Loki…

Well, he doubted Loki was going to give him a very fair shake in his version of what had gone down. Steve might. Maybe. But last time they’d seen each other he’d been pretty damn pissed.

And Tony had seen what had happened to the last person who’d captured and imprisoned Loki when Thor got to him. Or, well, hadn’t seen, because whatever remained after Thor finished killing him had been buried under an entire castle’s worth of rubble.

So, yeah. Hadn’t been looking forward to this one.

But now Thor was here, standing in front of him wearing a new eyepatch (seriously, what was the story there? did he get to ask?), and Tony couldn’t help but feel like it was a good thing that things were going to shit because it meant Thor probably wouldn’t break any bones.

“So,” Tony said. “Welcome back to Planet Earth, I guess. Belatedly.”

Thor’s expression remained cold. “I am not here to make small talk.”

“Not even a little?”

Thor said nothing. It occurred to Tony that he had never, not really, been on the wrong end of Thor’s anger. Not even at their first meeting, when Thor had been trying to pound him into the ground with Mjolnir - that had been different. A fit of pique. This was…

If he was in the business of quailing, he thought he would be quailing.

“Right,” Tony said. “Okay. I’m guessing there are some things you want to say.”

“I would rather hear what you have to say, first.”

“Are you going to listen?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “I will listen.” His voice was flat and final, though.

So, what, you’ve already made up your mind? he thought bitterly. You know everything already, is that it? Just walk in after vanishing off the face of the Earth and decide everything’s my fault-

Tony’s jaw clenched.

“You weren’t here,” he said. “You don’t know what it was like. Ross already knew Loki was here, did they tell you that? He had footage from his and Barnes’ revenge rampage, showed him taking me out and then him and Steve getting cozy. He said we either turned the two of them over and signed the damn papers or - or nothing. Or else. It wasn’t like we had a lot of bargaining room.”

Thor still said nothing.

“Then someone went and blew up a bomb, made it look like Barnes did it. Steve went off the reservation and dragged a bunch of the others off after him. We were going to talk things through but then Ross interrupted and things went south - I had to do something, all right? People were going to die. Loki was going to kill people. That would’ve made everything worse. As it was - yeah, I knew Loki was going to get locked up but I figured that was better than dead.”

Still nothing. Jesus. What was Thor thinking? It seemed like he should be able to tell - Thor wasn’t exactly subtle, generally speaking - but he was having a devil of a time right now.

“Are you going to say something?”

“I thought you wanted me to listen.”

Jesus fuck. “Yeah, that doesn’t mean I want you to just stand there staring at me. Thor-”

“Where does Victor von Doom’s technology come into this?”

Oh, great. Yeah. That. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - it still seemed like a good idea, honestly. They’d needed a way to contain Loki. To control him. And it wasn’t like anyone else had found one.

No one else seemed to see it that way.

Big surprise.

“What about it?”

“When did you begin researching ways of cutting Loki off from his magic?”

Tony gritted his teeth. “I was being careful. And turns out that there’s a backdoor in his brain that Thanos can get through, so seems like maybe I was right.”

“Be careful, Stark,” Thor said, his voice dropping even lower. Tony tensed, some deep instinctive part of him telling him to hide in the grass until the big predator went away.

“It’s not like it hurts him,” Tony said, valiantly holding his ground.

“You are right,” Thor said after a moment. “It doesn’t cause him pain as you or I would reckon it. But it is a violation. It is a theft of something intrinsic to every part of Loki’s being. It is-” Thor inhaled through his nose. “It is,” he said, voice brutally, viciously flat, “a kind of rape.”

Tony recoiled. “That’s not-”

“Would you know?” Thor asked. “Are you so certain? Are you so familiar with magic, and how it works, and what it means, that you would understand?”

He felt sick. “I…”

“Then there is the matter of his imprisonment,” Thor said. “You say, better locked up than dead. But I am given to understand that this man, this General Ross - that death is the outcome he desired. And he was the one who had Loki in his hands. Not you. Is that correct?”

The research potential, Tony remembered Ross saying. “He wouldn’t’ve dared. Not with you out there. I made sure he knew that.”

“You believed that the hypothetical of a future threat might sway him,” Thor said.

Yeah. You’re a pretty big threat, especially considering what happened to Doom. But he’d wondered since then, hadn’t he? If Ross might not’ve considered it worth taking the chance, or if he just thought he could control Thor if it came down to it. He would’ve been wrong, but he might’ve been that stupid. “You’re a pretty big threat,” he said aloud.

“That is a great deal of confidence on which to stake another’s life.”

“I’m a confident kind of guy,” Tony said, because he was an idiot. The look Thor leveled at him could’ve killed a small mammal. Maybe a medium mammal.

“Then,” Thor went on, “you say that you acted because Loki would have killed people. I would say that you are wrong there, as well.”

Tony blinked. “Again,” he said, “you weren’t there. You didn’t see what was happening. I know you love your brother, Thor, you want to think the best of him, obviously, but it was a fight and he could’ve killed everyone on that field-”

“You aren’t wrong,” Thor said. “He could have. Easily, even, excepting the Vision. And if he had intended to do so, he would have done it quickly, before anyone he cared about was at risk of being hurt.” His eye bored into Tony, cold and implacable. “That is how he has always been. I might have drawn battles out for the sake of the glory, or because I enjoyed the struggle. Loki’s preference was always to end things quickly, efficiently, and completely. No mercy, and no quarter.”

All the air seemed to have left Tony’s lungs. He thought of the HYDRA bases they’d seen after Barnes and Loki had been through them. No mercy, and no quarter.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tony said. His voice sounded very weak.

“Did you not? It seems Steve chose differently. That would suggest there was one.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Yeah, he wasn’t going to try that one.

“And what about the part where he’s a brain hack waiting to happen,” Tony said.

“Do not tell me that is your rationale. You were working on a means to cripple Loki well before you knew that was a possibility.”

“Because he’s dangerous, Thor,” Tony burst out. “God, it’s like - he might be doing better but he’s still unstable as hell, and violent, and way fucking stronger than most of the rest of us-”

“You are correct,” Thor said, “in your assessment that my brother is dangerous. He is. So am I.”

“You don’t have a history of trying to conquer planets.”

“My father did. My sister did. I had a lack of opportunity.”

Sister? Okay, probably not the time to ask. Tony wanted to sit down. Or put a piece of furniture between himself and Thor. He held his ground. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to apologize,” Thor said. “And I want you to swear that you will never act to cause my brother harm again. Or I cannot promise I will confine myself to words.”

“Thor,” Tony said, “we’re friends.”

“I believed we were,” Thor said. “That is why I am confining myself to words. That, and the fact that Steve asked me to do as much. Because even after what you have done, Steve does not wish harm to come to you. Steve is, as I have always known, a more tolerant man than I.”

Fuck, Tony thought. Fuck. He felt like Thor had just taken his trademark hammer to Tony’s chest. He took a deep breath. How could he promise that, how could he promise when Loki still might turn on them, even if it wasn’t his fault, or what if Thanos threatened Steve, or, or, or.

His shoulders slumped. Realistically, Tony...something goes wrong, you’re not going to be the one to stop it. You’re going to be the first one in the firing line. He’d seen how Loki was looking at him. Like Tony was a mouse and Loki was a cat crouched and watching, waiting.

I will get out of here, sooner or later. You had best hope I am in a forgiving mood when I do.

Tony didn’t think Loki had forgiving moods.

“I’m sorry,” he said heavily. It seemed like the only thing he could say. “I know...this isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

Some of the cold anger eased a little. For a moment he thought Thor looked tired, too. They all were, weren’t they? Worn out, and here they were facing the biggest fight of their lives so far, and at each others’ throats.

“I do not believe you are an evil man,” Thor said.

“Well,” Tony said, with a weak, fake smile. “That’s a relief.”

“And it isn’t me to whom you owe an apology.”

God. Tony wanted to have that conversation even less. He pressed his hands into his eyes. “Guess you’re the only one,” he said unhappily.

“Your oath,” Thor said. Tony found a chair and sat down in it, feeling utterly defeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “All right. Fine. I won’t hurt your baby brother.” The words were bitter. He felt bitter, too.

“Thank you.”

Thor didn’t leave immediately. Tony stayed where he was. He wanted to go home, or call Pepper, or…

“Things went bad so fast. I thought I could keep them under control.”

“For you,” Thor said. “For your friends. But from what I hear...any security you found was never going to be for Loki, or for James Barnes.”

How often had Tony turned that around in his head? Trying to figure out if maybe there’d been some way out, something he could’ve done that would’ve meant keeping the murder twins away from Ross, safe but contained. He’d never come up with anything.

Uncontrollable weaponry is rather your specialty.

The bastard really got in your head, didn’t he? Sucked when he was fucking right. He'd tried to do the right thing, tried to fix what he’d broken, and everything got a whole the fuck lot worse.

“I am glad you are well,” Thor said. “And we will fight together for the same ends now. But I will say this. Unless and until Loki forgives you, I will not consider you a friend of mine. And Loki has a very long memory.” He inclined his head. “I imagine we will speak later, when the others arrive. Good day, Tony Stark.”

He turned and walked away. Tony didn’t call after him. He felt like he’d swallowed a mouthful of rocks.

How do you do it, asshole, he thought bitterly. How do you get people, good people, to care about you that much? To have that kind of loyalty? You don’t deserve it. Cold-blooded, snake-hearted bastard.

Steve’s husband, now. That must’ve been some wedding.

God, but he suddenly felt very, very, lonely.

[grimey--gal]

Whew- @yesiscandyskiller​‘s commission took a lot longer than I’d thought it would. But I’m usually slow at sex scenes anyways, and boy was this a whole lot of fun! Have at it, you dirty girl ;)

In the most technical sense, the word masochist means a person who derives sexual satisfaction from their own pain and humiliation. Chucky knows what the word means, has used it to refer to others and has heard it be used to refer to others. He knows that Tiffany was not this; pain and humiliation made her angry and distant, and whenever he had tried anything of the sort, it had always gone sour and he had not felt very proud of his choice. In the end, typically she had gotten revenge, and had torn him asunder. The way he felt during then, well, he isn’t sure he is ready to talk about it. He has always associated the word with someone who submits or is dominated, and he does not like the sound of either of those.

He does know that he looks forward to conflict, and pain. He has always been sure that it did not really matter, so long as he ended up on top as the victor. He had been sure of this for quite a long time, and then life happened, and particularly Andy Barclay happened. And when Andy Barclay had held a hand against his throat out of anger and frustration and pure authority for the first time, there was an electricity that lay in the pit of his core, and he remembers feeling his pulse so strong, just underneath the hold between Andy’s index and thumb. His heart had fluttered wildly, and there was an uncontrollable rushing. He had not understood it, but he had known one thing for sure: he wanted more. 

He craves more, and it had been what spurred him to continue pursuing Andy, despite not necessarily needing him anymore. Although, when he thinks about the way it makes him feel, when they’re eye to eye, chest to chest in combat, he wonders if perhaps he does need him after all. Deep down, he knows he is not alive if he is not facing Andy, feeling his blood boil with immense heat, charging against him, feeling anger, pain, humiliation. He had always appreciated when he had won against him in any measure in the past, but the first sting of defeat had held such a thrill to him. The first time he had tasted it, he felt as if he had truly discovered something rare and delicious, almost forbidden. And his appetite for the forbidden has only grown.  

There is a constant hunger, for Andy’s hands on him, and not in the way that most would yearn for touch. He wants a hit, he wants a bite, he wants to antagonize and be punished for it. He wants to be throttled and thrown, and broken. He knows Andy will give this to him. He just needs to push the right buttons. 

It is lucky he knows Andy so well, and knows just how to crawl under his skin. Andy is not the most readable person by any means, but with the right amount of care and patience, there is a weak link. A chink in his stolid armor. He just needs to say and do the right thing, and strike him somewhere vulnerable and hot. He needs to flip the switch on inside him, because when he does, he will get what he wants. He will have what he needs. When he turns Andy Barclay, he is never disappointed by the result. He just needs to do it right, and the energy he gives, he will get in return. It never fails to work this way. 

The right moment strikes, surprisingly while Andy is at work, and he has gone down to visit. He has made quite the habit of bothering Andy while he is tending to his shop, to the point that regulars have become used to his presence - and even look forward to it. He can tell by the shine in their eyes. It is entertaining to them, when he and Andy argue and harp at each other. He loves the attention, and leaving Andy bewildered and flustered is merely a bonus. He can feel himself grinning just thinking about it. 

He’s whistling when he enters the shop from the back door connected to the stairs. A little out of breath, but already leering, the hunger for conflict growling in his stomach. Andy hears a customer call his name before he turns to see him, the tell-tale scowl of annoyance already forming on his brows. There is green in his eyes, Chucky can see the light catch it just barely. 

“Don’t panic, I’m here now,” he announces, despite the current residents in the store already aware. He only says it to watch Andy roll his eyes and blow out a hot breath. One that he has felt many times on the back of his neck. He swallows heavily, the longing burning inside him. 

He makes his way to the counter, hopping on top of it despite the physical toll it takes on him. He regains his bearings, leaning back on his hands, and gives Andy a wink, enjoying the way Andy deliberately turns away from him, muttering angrily under his breath. The customer enjoys it as well, smiling to himself and shaking his head. 

“Alright, how much did you fuck up before I got here? Be honest,” he teases, just to begin a small rise out of Andy. But he has merely begun. These playful quips will get him nowhere, he knows. He has to strike where it hurts, and hard. He has to give Andy the feeling of losing control, to make him retaliate. He wants to be bruised for weeks. 

“You do realize that I’ve been running this without you for a while now, right?” Andy responds, no change in his voice. As it usually is. But the fact that he has responded means he has engaged, and the game can begin. He threw the ball in Andy’s court, and Andy had ricocheted it back, as he’d hoped he would. As he’d known he would. They are both in a cycle, and neither of them ever do anything to end it. 

“I don’t want to imagine what it had been like,” he returns quickly. At this, Andy snorts, but distracts himself with work, and Chucky is left with the thrumming. Either Andy is truly unaware, or he is playing him. If it is the latter, it is working, as the silent treatment that follows drives Chucky insane. Beyond the occasional joke directed at his expense (to which customers laugh and play along, ignorant of the opposition that is occuring), Andy does not spare another word towards him for the remainder of his shift. 

This is when Chucky decides it is time to stomp his foot and nick his ankle with a letter opener, to which Andy retaliates by swiping the letter opener and pocketing it, giving Chucky a stiff smile before pinching his ear and tugging him aside, opening the drawer. It stings, but not enough. It is never enough, not until he truly has every piece of Andy’s attention. He is an all or nothing personality, but with Andy, even nothing is not acceptable. He needs it all, and only all of it. 

“Please find something else to do,” Andy says, and he despite the pleasantries, he is not begging. It is a demand. Chucky can hear it in his tone. He is not asking. He is ordering. Chucky grins, giddier than anyone should be in the face of a threat. He kicks at Andy’s shin again, enjoying Andy’s hiss of annoyance. He knows that the cut stings. 

“I did find something to do, in case you didn’t notice,” he replies, a little too smug. Andy stares at him for a minute, and he thinks he may have finally gotten his attention. But Andy leaves his side instead, closing down the shop doors, locking the gates and setting the alarm. Chucky watches, in disappointment and disbelief, as Andy continues to shut down his store, a complete one-eighty from what he had been expecting. The customers are gone. They are alone. He had set the scene. And yet, Andy had decided suddenly that he just didn’t feel like playing. 

He growls in irritation. He tugs at his ear, wanting to feel it again. The brush of aggression, small as it was. The subtle display of dominance. He wants there to be a challenge. He wants to rise to that challenge and lose to Andy Barclay’s hand. His own hand is not enough. It is merely a taste. He wants more than a small sting.

Another useless jab and he is upstairs in the apartment again, drunk and fuming. He can’t stop his leg from shaking against the couch. Which is irritating, considering he has never had a nervous tic before. He blames it on Andy. A lot of problems have been cropping up inside him because of Andy lately. The aggressive frustration builds up on itself and it explodes out in the form of him throwing beer cans at the walls, one nearly hitting Andy straight between the eyes when he walks through the door. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, breathless. He takes a look around the apartment, noticing the mess. His eyes widen in disbelief. Chucky whips around to face him, feeling himself burning to the brim. Seeing Andy in his eyeline does nothing to cool the fever. If anything, it only pours more gasoline on the flame. 

“Mind your damn business,” is what he growls back in response, crumpling up another empty can and chucking it in Andy’s general direction as hard as he can. Andy curses and mutters something under his breath, dodging it at the last second.

“What’re you looking for, Chucky?” he asks, finally. He sounds a bit impatient.

“Why do I have to be looking for something? Can’t you just accept that you’re a little shit and I hate you?” Chucky slurs out. 

The light in Andy’s eyes changes then. A different glow, an animal on the prowl. “No,” Andy persists, head cocked to the side. “You want something, don’t you?” 

Oh and he does. He cannot die the thrill he’s feeling, just from the way the hair rises from the back of his neck because of the change in Andy’s tone of voice. He feels the challenge growing between them again. The gauntlet has been thrown. He has waited and thirsted, and now Andy is finally picking it up. He can feel himself salivating just from the thought of it, and his fists clench instinctually. He can feel his pulse thrumming away, and he swallows. He can practically feel his excitement growing. 

“You could never give me what I want,” he antagonizes, standing up. He takes a step forward. He notices Andy does the same. He finds an irrational joy bubbling up out of him, and he giggles wildly. “Even though I’m sure you want to so badly.”  

“What?” Andy asks, pointedly, but Chucky can see his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, and boy is it mesmerizing. He knows he has struck a nerve. He will not pretend that he has not noticed the lingering glances, the longer touching, or the way they’ve gotten comfortably closer, and closer, and closer. He knows. He just wants to spring the trap. He will not deny he has enjoyed those moments, but they are too slow, too cold. He wants things to sizzle, he wants to be sauteed, and he wants Andy to be the oil, singeing him, stinging him, He want to burn. 

“You know what I mean, and you’re a fucking coward, Andy Barclay,” he spits, watching the rage igniting in Andy’s pupils. But he has his complete attention, and this is what he wants. “You’ve always been a coward. Weak and pathetic. You have no ambition, and no motive, and no balls.”

A lot of things happen very fast, very suddenly. Chucky faintly registers bottles and crushed cans and other items crashing off of the table, and feels Andy’s hand around his throat. His skull smashes against the floor, and he feels his brain rattling around inside. He finds himself frazzled, and a little out of breath, but exhilarated nonetheless. Andy looms over him, a scowl plastered on his face, but he can see underneath, he feels the same addicting excitement. They have both been waiting for this for a long, long time. 

“Say that again,” Andy threatens, and there is so much venom in his voice. Chucky loves how he is finally able to pull the strings. He has sprung the trap, and is caught in it. Andy is the hunter, and he cannot wait for what might happen now. 

“What? The part where you said you had no balls?” he repeats, groaning when his head is slammed against the floor again. Andy slaps him across his cheek, the back of his hand swift and strong, and Chucky cannot help the fact that his blood instantly rushes south. He has been fantasizing on this for a long time. The last time they’d been intimate, it had been rough, but they had been inexperienced, and he had only craved more since. He wants the monster in Andy to come out and wreck him. 

This is what a masochist is, he thinks vaguely to himself, as he eggs Andy on, just to be thrown against the floor once more, just to feel himself be abused at Andy’s hands. He is enjoying every second of it, even though he yelps when Andy lifts him up and smashes him against the coffee table, his lower back sure to bruise from its wooden edge. Andy has a strong grip in his hair, and he feels as if he is being scalped, from the way he pulls so he has to look at him. The satisfaction he feels when he sees that same excitement in Andy’s eyes is more than he had expected. Andy is thoroughly enjoying this as well, although he masks it under a heavyset brow. He can feel the way his pulse twitches. He has  been waiting to decimate him, he had just needed an out. And Chucky has given him the out he needed. 

“Go on, then, do you worst,” he taunts, despite knowing there is absolutely no escape for him at this point. “You think you can break me?”

“I don’t know,” Andy murmurs, hand on his jaw. Their faces are close. He can feel the heat of Andy’s breath against his cheek. “But I’m going to have fun finding out.” 

Chucky sinks his teeth into Andy’s neck, and when Andy gives a low groan and tears away, his grin is much more obvious. He chuckles under his breath, and then Chucky feels his head being lifted by his hair and slammed down again, and he can feel the scratch of Andy’s beard against his neck, and Andy’s teeth against his ear. 

“I hope you last, button,” Andy whispers into him, and Chucky knows he remembers. They both do. It isn’t as if they could forget. This has happened before, and it is happening again. “I want to play with you for a long, long time.” 

He has waited so long for this. They both have. He can feel Andy’s pent up desire now, brushing against his leg, as Andy presses into him, already fumbling with his buttons. He does not kiss him this time, and a part of him breaks just from this, but he is determined to hold out. It isn’t a fight if he does not resist, after all. Andy holds him down by his neck again, and the lack of air makes him dizzy. 

“Is... that… all you’ve got…. Andy?” he laughs, between heavy breathing. Andy is tearing off his clothes now, tossing them aside, and something about how animalistic his moves are is a wild turn on. He has known this. It still throws him off every time. He thinks perhaps it might be because Andy is so gentle in every other aspect of his life. Sometimes, he forgets just how assertive Andy can be. He shivers from the cold air hitting his skin, but also from this rerun revelation. 

Andy does not respond to his taunt, not verbally anyways. He does swing him over his shoulder, carrying him into his bedroom. Chucky is plopped onto the bed, feeling the cushioned mattress and pillows beneath him as he sinks into them, and before he can sit up, Andy is back over him again. He barely catches a glimpse of what appears to be rope, red, before he is flipped over and Andy is sitting on top of him, tying his arms behind his back. He grunts when Andy ties the first knot. It’s tight.

“Ah, so you need to tie me up, a big man like you? I’ve been saying you’re a pussy,” and he doesn’t know why he keeps doing it, but he can’t help himself. The ropes are new, and there’s something about it that strikes a bit of fear into him, but he smarts off nonetheless. 

Andy snorts at this, practically ignoring his prodding. Chucky watches as he continues to tie the rope around him. Andy’s hands are steady but rough, and he cannot help the low hiss that escapes him every time he feels the rope cut into his skin. He can feel everything now. It is a blessing and a curse. He is not sure what it is right now. It does not take long before he realizes what Andy is doing. The criss-cross patterns Andy is forming across his body are unmistakable. 

“Oh, you’ve been on the naughty side of the internet, huh, Barclay?” he says, as Andy ties yet another knot. He knows this will leave marks. He can already feel the way the knots affect his blood flow. Andy has tightened it just enough, which of course he has. He has to admire the amount of dedication; this is not an art that comes overnight. He had no idea either, which only leaves him more begrudgingly impressed and curious as to how Andy had managed this.

He’ll never say it, but his favorite part of letting Andy destroy him is that he knows through it all, Andy Barclay will take care of him. He always has. He always will. Chucky does not like giving up control, and he will fight tooth and nail to keep it, but losing it to Andy always feels alright. Much better than alright, as he continually pushes for Andy to take it, over and over again. 

“You’re one to talk about being naughty,” Andy replies, calmly, and Chucky has already noticed it countless times so far tonight, but every time he looks into his eyes and sees nothing but eager dominance, he feels an electrifying sensation. Or maybe it is just the ropes, marking him. Either way, he can feel the shift taking over in his mind already, of the role he is about to play. “Wasn’t it you that was practically begging for me to do this to you?”

He is saying this as he casually takes each of his nipples and pinches them in what appears to be very rudimentary clothespins. Chucky snorts, unsure of what Andy expects this will do.

“I haven’t the slightest fucking clue what you’re talking about,” he retorts, and Andy is laying him down with his stomach against the bed, a hand running up against his left thigh. The sound of the slap against his ass registers before the sting does, and he inhales, sharply. 

“You know exactly what I’m referring to, button, don’t try and deny it now,” Andy murmurs against his ear, a hand cupping his ass, rubbing at it. Chucky anticipates it before it comes again, another blow that smarts, and then he sees Andy rolling up his sleeves, and god if that doesn’t make him hard, just from the sheer knowledge of what this means. Andy smacks him again, hard, and this time, he grunts. When his body shakes, the clothespins tug at his nipples, and now he understands. He can hear a shuffling, and the next time he feels a sting across his ass cheeks, he distinctly knows it is not Andy’s hand. He can feel the leather cutting into his skin. 

“Now,” Andy starts, and runs his fingers over the reddening marks. He squeezes his ass firmly before smacking it again. “You’ve finally got all of my attention , just like you wanted. But I’ve got all of you, all night. Ultimately, you’re mine. Do you understand that?”

“Fuck off,” Chucky spits at him, and the belt comes down hard this time, and he whines. He shouldn’t enjoy how it hurts. But he does. 

“That’s alright,” Andy responds coolly, whipping him again. “You will.”

 The amount of confidence in the statement shows what control he has gained now in comparison to the very first time they’d done this. It’s dizzying. The first time, they had both been all emotions. Andy had been a novice at it, unsure and reacting from gut instinct. 

This, Chucky thinks - as he’s stricken again by the belt, its whistling penetrating his ears before it lands with another punishing blow - this is something entirely different. The first time they’d done this, Andy might have burned out, if he’d fought longer. This time, he knows merely from the way Andy is handling him that he will go all night, if that’s what it takes. And he will enjoy the entire process of breaking him down. 

He’s lost count of the amount of times his bottom has been offended by the belt when he feels his eyes welling up. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip anyways, just out of spite. And, honestly, out of a morbidly genuine curiosity as to what Andy will do, should he hold out long enough. The tears do fall though, and he is mortified that he has no way to hide it, and Andy catches it almost right away, swiping them off of his cheeks with his index finger. 

“What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, button?” he asks, and it takes everything in Chucky’s power not to sob uncontrollably when he is hit again, and again, and again. Andy pulls back for a moment, and this is the moment that is the worst - when Andy makes that sound with the belt and yet Chucky never feels the hit. He winces for nothing, and the grin on Andy’s face is too much for him to bear. 

He expects a taunt, and then for Andy to ease up, but instead Andy’s hand is on his ass again, smacking with no mercy in sight, and the intimacy of it being his hand again changes things for him. The pins are surely bruising his nipples now, and they add more layers of pain each time Andy lays a punishing hand on him. 

“There, now, don’t give up so soon,” Andy murmurs, and Chucky growls, despite so desperately tempted to call it quits. Andy is squeezing his ass now, no doubt running his hands over the marks he’s left. Chucky can tell from the way his fingers trace across his now hyper-sensitive skin. He’s tracing the lines of where his skin is no doubt bruised and swelling. Andy leans in close, smacking him again, biting at his ear. “I’m nowhere near done yet.” 

“When did I say I was giving up?” Chucky challenges, despite his voice shaky. Despite tears drying on his cheeks. His pride will be the death of him. Andy chuckles, running his fingers in Chucky’s tangled hair before tugging it back, exposing his neck, biting into him. He rolls him onto his back, marking down his throat, and Chucky knows he won’t be going anywhere tomorrow. Not without wounding his pride publicly. Andy nibbles- no, gnaws- at his collarbone, and he inhales sharply, catching himself only barely. Andy laughs against him, mouth sucking, beard scratching, and Chucky feels so sore, from the ropes and from the belt. 

His cock, untouched, reflects the sentiment. Bound in the red, he can see it now, straining against its restriction. Denied. Andy catches his eyes, and for a moment, Chucky believes that this is it, but Andy does not touch him. 

“Well? What happens now?” he asks, struggling in his binding. He is trying to keep his ground, but he can feel his strength slipping out of him. His attempt at a provocation sounds more like a whine, and Andy scrapes his teeth against his earlobe, clearly enjoying every taunt he makes. 

So Andy has even ruined his chances of saving face. His attempts to fight back have only caused Andy immense joy, and if anything, have fueled him to go on longer. 

“It’s so nice that you have such a mouth on you,” he says in response, and even though he is petting his hair, Chucky knows Andy is not planning on being gentle anytime soon. The sound of his fly coming undone confirms his suspicions. Andy taps his cheek, turning him over and pushing him down, pushing his face against his cock. Chucky makes an effort to gag, as if it offends him, but truthfully, the smell and feel of it leave him eager. Breathless. 

“Be good now, button, don’t do something you’ll regret,” Andy coaxes. Every time. Every time he uses that endearment, it makes Chucky melt, and he absolutely despises it. Andy should not have any kind of dominion over him with such a simple word, and yet, he does. There are several pet names he has used in their most secretive and intimate moments, ones that he will never disclose to anyone. But this one - this one gets under his skin. It hits him right in places he didn’t know he had anymore.

Andy is pushing his cock into his mouth, and the way it sets on his tongue makes it hard for him to resist. But he does, practically grinning up at Andy, who lets out a sigh, grinning. Chucky doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that his stubbornness is endearing. He opens his mouth to snap at him, and then realizes too late that he’s lost. 

“There, now, no teeth. I promise you won’t like what comes next if you do,” Andy warns him, and Chucky feels the head slide behind his teeth, and he is so, so tempted. He suckles at it for a moment, before giving Andy a look and biting down as hard as he can, enjoying the way that Andy groans aloud. 

“Oh,” Andy gasps out in pain. “Oh.” 

He takes Chucky’s head in his hands, and Chucky does not like the way he is smiling right now. Andy is deep into his hair, and then Chucky feels his throat being rammed, and he gags, tears pricking at his eyes against his volition yet again. He sucks in air through his nostrils, squirming frantically in his bondage, and Andy is just holding himself so deep inside him, and Chucky has forgotten just how large he is…

And then Andy pulls out, and Chucky is gasping for air, and coughing, and his heart is beating in his throat, and his own cock is hurting more than ever. The line of his saliva connects his mouth to the tip of Andy’s cock. Andy pushes back in, and for the first time, he whimpers, because despite everything, he is just a little bit afraid. 

“Now,” Andy says, tapping his cheek. “Let’s try that again, hmm, button? No teeth.”

This time, Chucky does not try him. 

With his mouth around Andy’s cock, gagging and attempting to not do anything to cause that again, he feels Andy’s hand trailing down his stomach, curling around his cock, and he thinks that perhaps now, this will be over soon. He finds out very soon he is mistaken, as Andy only teases him, hands around his balls, only barely rubbing, before removing contact, and he is becoming very frustrated. 

“Andy,” he grits out around the cock in his mouth, and he wants to scream so badly. At this point, it is hurting his entire body just to hold himself together. He does not know how long they have been like this, with Andy toying with him as he likes, and he does not know how much longer they will be like this. There are no clocks anywhere, nothing to give him any count-down. At this point, he does not know how long he will hold out, and this worries him. Andy pulls him off of his cock, running his head around Chucky’s chin and mouth. 

“I like this look on you much better,” Andy says, and Chucky doesn’t even want to know what that means. He doesn’t have much of a choice on the matter, as Andy swivels him on the bed to face the dresser mirror, and he can see just what it is Andy is crowing about. 

He looks debauched. He cannot help himself when he scowls at it, just wanting to challenge it so bad. He can still see the mark where Andy had first slapped his cheek, drool around his chin, his nipples are definitely beginning to swell from the pinch of the clothespins, and his eyes are red-rimmed. He can see the tears welling up, and more than ever, he fights to push them back down. 

Andy is nowhere near concerned as to how he feels about having to look at himself as he’s already adjusting him onto his lap, sucking at his neck again. It’s worse, seeing his reflection, watching Andy’s hand graze over his body, his mouth against his neck. Andy puts a hand around his throat, and jerks his face towards the mirror. 

“You’re not allowed to look away,” he growls into his ear, and just as Chucky begins to retort, Andy rips one of the pins off, and he stops mid-argument and screams from the shock. Andy flicks at the remaining pin, a threat. A tear falls then, and he has to watch it happen. Andy is pinching his free nipple, and Chucky does not have to wonder, he knows that Andy enjoys it; he can see his grin, reflecting at him. 

Andy bites at his ear, and then his hand is trailing down, and the hiss of relief Chucky feels when Andy’s fingers wrap around his cock seems to echo. Andy laughs into his skin, tugging at him, and then he feels the slap of the belt, but on his inner thigh, and he outright screams. Andy holds him by the chin as he whips him, and he watches his breakdown in the mirror, his face crumpling against his will. 

“Oh, what?” Andy taunts him, and if he weren’t tied up, Chucky feels he might have right-hooked him then. But the desperation is hard for him to contain, and when Andy whips him again, the belt staking another claim across his chest, he wriggles against the bonds, despite knowing that it is a fruitless effort. Andy continues, lips against his ear, sending shockwaves down his spine. “You thought there’d be a little bit of foreplay and you’d get what you wanted? So soon?” 

He slams Chucky’s body against the bed, hand on his face, forcing him to stay with his eyes on the mirror. Chucky, despite his pride and judgment, finds himself mesmerized and unable to tear his reflection away. Something about him smashed into the mattress, tied, bruised, with Andy above him, is much, much more arousing when he can see it. He can watch his defeat, and finally see what Andy sees. He can be the surrendered and the victor, all in one.

He watches as Andy sinks his teeth into the flesh of his ass, and he feels the gurgling laugh before it comes. “Come on, Andy, enough with the theatrics,” he says, despite bucking from the feel of Andy’s teeth scraping and drawing blood. “You and I both know you can break me, so do it already.” 

“Ah, so now it’s I can break you,” Andy responds. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “How disappointing.” 

He slaps Chucky’s cock, and Chucky growls and twists against the bed. “Rest assured, I will break you,” Andy mutters. He runs a finger down his spine, down across his ass, until it is poking at him. Prodding into him. “But it will be on my terms, button.” 

Andy pushes two fingers into his mouth, a hand clenching his jaw open. He knows he would try to bite. And he would be right. His fingers are all knuckles in, and Chucky gags around him, squirming under him, just trying to breathe through his nose. No sooner have Andy’s fingers left his throat, they are jammed into his asshole, thrusting just as forcefully as they had been when they were in his mouth. Chucky begins to pant, a soft whine starting in his throat. 

“Andy, c’mon already,” he goads, to no avail. They’ve done this enough times before that he knows that Andy knows how to touch him. The fact that Andy has not hit him just right means that Andy is doing this intentionally. He is merely stretching him out, making him burn, just because he wants to. And because he can. 

And he is not planning on changing his agenda anytime soon. Chucky knows this when he starts whistling, digging through a bag on the floor. 

“Jesus, you really spent time and money on me, huh?” he wheezes at the sight of the dildo. It is not as large as Andy, but its size is intimidating all the same. Andy starts fingering him again, curling his fingers only once, and Chucky feels lightheaded, and then it is only more pain. He chokes back a scream, and Andy guides the dildo towards his mouth.

“Open up, button,” he says. His voice is low and gentle, but Chucky knows better than to fall for it. There is a trick somewhere. “As soon as you do what you’re told, you’ll have everything you want.” 

He touches him again inside, just so, and Chucky cannot help the moan that spills out then. Andy slides the toy into his mouth. Another gentle stroke, and he finds himself suckling at it, just to feel Any touch him that way again. Anything to keep Andy’s fingers right where they are. There is no point in fighting or biting at this point, seeing as the toy will feel nothing. There is no winning consequence for him if he misbehaves. 

Andy chuckles, clicking his tongue. Chucky feels a wave of humiliation and defeat, but it doesn’t stop him from following his own desperation. Andy grabs him by the ropes along his arms, and Chucky feels the dildo be pulled from his mouth, only for Andy to shove it into his ass, thrusting it in and out roughly. It is cold, and hard, and it feels nothing like Andy’s fingers, or his cock, and it leaves him void of satisfaction. 

He turns his eyes back to the mirror, desperately hoping to see Andy preparing to enter him soon, but he sees Andy settling in, seemingly content to fuck him on this toy. He holds him over his lap and shoves his head into the mattress, changing the angle, and Chucky can feel the plastic phallus going deep inside him, harsh and unforgiving.

“Andy…” he tries to grit out, and he had a biting comeback, he swears he did, but he feels the thrust of the dildo again, and Andy pulling at his hair, and he forgets what he was going to say. “Please!” 

“What do you want, button?” Andy asks, but the wolfish grin on his face gives it away. Andy knows what he wants. He just wants to hear him beg for it. This was the trick. Andy had given him a little taste, just to yank it away. 

Andy Barclay is cruel, and he knows it. And Chucky loves it, whether he’ll admit it or not. At the moment though, it is only causing his desperation to rise. His body is aching, and his cock is straining against the rope, and there is no mercy for him. 

“You know what I want, so just hand it over already!” he screeches, feeling himself go feral. Andy whips him, and it comes by surprise, and he screams. “Ah!”

“That is not the way to ask, and you know that,” Andy reprimands him, and the belt smacks against his already injured ass again, and Chucky hisses. “Try again.” 

He pushes the toy back in at that, and Chucky knows Andy will not budge until he gets what he wants. He is not bothered by having to continue this way either, Chucky can see that in his eyes. His panic grows. He wriggles in his bonds, buckling against Andy’s lap. 

“Fuck me, you piece of shit,” he growls, whining. 

Andy hums disapprovingly. “Aren’t I already?” he asks, pushing the dildo in deeper with his thumb. He taps at it when it pops up, and Chucky feels the burning each time it rubs in and out against the rim of his hole. “Are you saying you want my cock inside you, button?” 

Chucky inhales, just trying to steady his breath. Andy cups his cock and strokes gently. He feels the pressure building in his stomach. “Come on now, button, don’t be so stubborn,” Andy coos in his ear, and Chucky shivers. He’s panting into the mattress, his arousal about to explode out of him. “All you have to do is ask nicely.” 

“...Andy…”

He grits his teeth. The dildo pushes in and out. Hard, unfeeling. 

“...please…” 

Andy does not change course. He just snickers and continues to fuck him with the toy, his hand now removed from Chucky’s cock. Chucky presses his face into the mattress, angry and humiliated. His cheeks are burning with embarrassment. 

“...I want you to fuck me.”

No change. He growls, feeling his eyes welling up. 

“I need it to be you, Andy. Please, please … fuck me.”

Andy slides the toy out. Chucky feels his entire body shudder in relief. He is already lifting his ass up, and he swallows heavily, trying hard not to break. He is sure he has made it through the worst part now, and finally, he can have what he wants. Andy angles himself, pushing in without preparation or warning, and Chucky shouts as Andy sinks into him, deep and punishing. 

“A-Andy!” 

Andy snaps into him again, drawing another cry from his throat. “Is this what you wanted, hmm?” he asks, leaning over him, his body warm and strong against his small body. “You wanted me to fuck you myself? Nothing is quite as good as me, isn’t that right?” 

Chucky grunts, just trying to adjust, but god does it feel right. It feels more than right; it is perfect, it was wanted, it was needed. He can’t move at all, and there is no escape. He can feel Andy deep inside him, warm but firm, and he wants to cum each time Andy hits his prostate. 

“Yes,” he relents, and it’s true, nothing is quite as good as him actually having Andy inside him, and he just wants Andy to bring him to completion, he’ll do anything to get it. Andy rams him again, but he has not released the ties around his cock, and Chucky can only feel the growing pressure, and even as he waits, the relief does not come. Andy bites his shoulder, fucking him hard, and he is throbbing from head to toe. He chokes, and then he begins to whimper. Andy slams harder into him, stretching him out and filling him up, and drawing out tears.

“A-A-Andy…!” he cries, feeling his body fall into the mattress each time Andy thrusts inside him. He squirms, helpless, bound. “I-please… I… I can’t. It’s too much...” 

“Oh, no, button,” Andy murmurs in his ear, snapping his hips. The table has officially been turned, and Andy is teasing him now. “You can and you fucking will. You wanted this so bad. I’m just giving you what you want.” 

He pumps into him, harder, and Chucky sobs, beyond broken. Pleas spill from his mouth, and he begins to babble, in so much pain just from wanting to feel release. 

“Andy, Andy,” he begs, helpless. “Please! Please… it’s so much - it’s so much, fuck! Just let me cum, let me- ahh, ahh!” 

Andy turns his head so he faces the mirror again, and he can see his hair mussed and his cheeks stained with tears. He scowls, but then he’s sobbing again, and he sees himself, with Andy fucking him, breaking down in his reflection. 

“You want to come, button?” Andy asks, thrusting into him, punishing him just right. Chucky nods, crying against the mattress, feeling and seeing his nose start to run. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you, button?”

“Yes,” Chucky whimpers, and he is desperate beyond imagination. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything, Andy, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I promise, please…!” 

“Fuck,” Andy is moaning, and Chucky feels him throbbing and stretching inside him, releasing. He pants against Chucky’s ear, not moving. Just still. Chucky can feel his rapid heartbeat against his neck. He feels each time Andy twitches inside him, more warm liquid filling him. “You’re irresistible when you talk like this, you know that?” 

Chucky is sniffling, the intensity gone, save for his cock, which is still red and swollen and needy. “Andy, please,” he begs weakly, squirming against him. “Please - touch me. Touch my cock, please. I can’t hold it anymore…” 

“Of course, button,” Andy replies, his voice soft. “I told you all you had to do was ask.” 

He rolls over, turning Chucky’s body around so that he could cradle him, a hand around his cock. He gently strokes at it, tugging, and Chucky feels his senses rush back, and wants nothing more than to cover his face, but that is not an option. He bites his bottom lip until it bleeds, and then he is coming into Andy’s hand, moaning loudly despite his efforts to save some small amount of pride. Andy leaves for a moment, presumably to clean up, and returns with a wet cloth.

“There, there,” Andy murmurs, as he wipes Chucky down, cleaning the mess they’ve made. He wipes stray tears from his cheeks. Tears he hadn’t even realized were still there. “That’s my good guy. You did so good, baby.”

He begins to undo the bindings, and Chucky feels his muscles screaming with relief as each knot comes apart. Andy rubs at his arms and legs, bringing the tingling rush of blood back into his veins. Chucky can hear his heartbeat in his ears; he feels his adrenaline coming down, slowly, and the need for validation creeping in. He sniffles, and when Andy finally kisses him, pressing his lips against his forehead, he cannot stop the tears, no matter how hard he tries. He never can, at this part. 

He loves to be broken down by Andy Barclay, and the truth is, it is because he believes he deserves it. He knows he has done Andy wrong, time and time again, and he will let him down in the future, again and again. Nothing feels better than when Andy breaks him down, leaving him ruined, drawing cries out of him, bruising him. 

But, now that his thirst for pain has been quenched, nothing feels better still, than when Andy pieces him back together, and this is a feeling that is so good that it hurts. Because this part is hard for him to believe he deserves. Andy positions him down on the bed, stomach against the pillows, and Chucky winces when he feels a warming oil being rubbed into his sore bottom. He can see the marks now, looking in the mirror, and he knows the marks will be there for days. 

It is so hard to accept this part. He cries, face in the pillows, trying to hide it, knowing there is no point. He knows Andy can tell, from the way his body is shaking. His strength has been exhausted beyond him being able to pretend right now. It is easy for him to accept punishment from Andy, he is a glutton for it, but it is hard for him to accept love from him. This part is hard. Harder than everything Andy had just done to him.

“Hey, hey,” and now Andy is cooing to him, and Chucky is sobbing again, but for an entirely different reason. Andy turns him over, rubbing his knuckles against his cheeks, touching him gently. Kissing him gently, his beard only lightly scratching his skin. This only makes things worse. “You know I love you, don’t you, button?” 

“Don’t,” Chucky growls, defensive despite his tears. He shoves at Andy’s hands, a scowl etching into his face. “Cut that shit out, Andy, you know I hate it.” 

“Button,” Andy says. He pulls Chucky into his arms, and as much as Chucky wants to pretend he doesn’t want it, it doesn’t take long before he melts, nose pressing into Andy’s chest, crying his heart out. Andy’s fingers run up and down his back. When he starts to stroke his neck, Chucky whimpers softly, and he holds onto Andy, finally surrendering.

“You held out for so long,” Andy says, kissing him. He laughs into his hair. “I was really expecting to see the sun go up before I finally had you.” 

Chucky feels one of his hands slide down against his sore bottom, rubbing at it tenderly. He shifts in Andy’s arms, unable to look at him. Not yet. This is always hard for him to come to terms with. Andy has to touch his chin, and carefully tug his face towards him, before he finally looks him in the eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “it’s okay,” and Chucky rolls his eyes, but he grins, before tucking his face away again, his entire body pulsing wildly. 

“I hate you,” he mutters. He knows they both know he doesn’t mean it. Andy snorts and pulls the covers over them. “Yeah, hate you too. Now, if I’m tired, I know you are.” 

“As if you know anything,” Chucky quips, but Andy is already falling asleep, arms cradling him as if he is the most precious thing in the world. Times like this, Chucky finds himself believing he actually is. He can feel Andy’s breathing deepen against him.

His body is weary, he’s weak, and Andy is right - he’s exhausted. He is only going to be all the more sore tomorrow. He knows he’s going to feel this for the next week or so, and something about that is exciting to him. Having Andy stake his claim on him kindles a fire inside him. Now that he has finally gotten what he’d been yearning for, he finds himself contentedly falling asleep, still replaying everything that had just occurred. The pain, the pleasure, his ultimate defeat,  and Andy’s aftercare (and more truthfully than anything, this part makes his stomach warm the most). He falls asleep with a contented grin on his face, the masochistic side of him finally satisfied. 

For now, anyways.

[dat-paw]

The Victor’s Laurels

[In which a drop-off occurs...]

It's early evening by the time the party arrive at the Prima Vista, with scarcely any time spent in Kugane at all. Suraja Solveig has been talking Lif Silverlode's ear off about how pretty Kugane is since they arrived, having never seen anything like it. Lif Silverlode happily listens to Suraja Solveig's wonder and passes along as much information as she could about the city's history and culture, most of which was learned from books. Kiri Kha hangs by Lif and Suraja, listening to them chat and throwing in a few things she's learned specifically from living nearby. Suraja Solveig: And now this place! A theater ship?! Sure I'm an entertainer an' all, but nothin' like this...

Suraja Solveig can only wonder what it was like to be part of a traveling theater. Ivan Amov is mostly fiddling with equipment he brought with him. One of the thespians of the Majestic, who seems particularly chatty with Priscilla, starts gossiping to the group at large about Malla Velius. Malla Velius departed /in the middle of costume week/ and hasn't been seen or heard from since. Worse still, their new tailor has been horrible at their job, but that's not important: most everyone has recognized in hindsight that Malla had some connections with the Dalmascan Resistance during her time aboard the Prima Vista, and several factions at that. A couple of those people have even tried to contact the ship since her departure, all of them calling in great need. More than anything else, though, there's a sense of worry for Malla among the crew - the sense that despite all that transpired with the stones, despite the highly inopportune timing of her departure, the Majestic greatly miss her, and hope to have her back. A'zaela Linh smiles gently at Alaq'it Moks. Alaq'it Moks slinks in closer by Priscilla Scaevola to listen to the intel. Jude Paw blabbers to anyone who would listen about the intricacies of blitzball. Nivelth Ajuyn forgot her hat, and she's angry about it. Priscilla Scaevola would be glad to chat up and flirt with the thespian to get as much information as possible. Alaq'it Moks wrinkles her nose at hearing about Malla's involvement with the costumes. Orella Steelhand: Can't say I'm filled with confidence... Ingvald Bloodhound manages to extricate himself from conversations with the dancers, and goes over to find Orella Steelhand, knowing this will be the last time they're together in person for a few weeks. Priscilla Scaevola would retell the information she found to anyone who inquired. Priscilla Scaevola: I worry that if the resistance is trying to communicate with her means she might not be with them? Ingvald Bloodhound considers, and nods. Priscilla Scaevola: Oh I almost forgot! Priscilla Scaevola hands over a few communication jammers for anyone she thinks could operate one. Priscilla Scaevola: This should help with people trying to listen in. Rosenheim asked for them. Orella Steelhand: Good thinking.

Jude Paw sidles up to Jenesis Labariel and whispers under his breath. Jude Paw: Is it me, or does it seem like we only ever meet when we're heading off into another fight? Jenesis Labariel smiles lightly, barely visible beneath the helm's visor, but he would hear it in her voice. Jenesis Labariel: An astute observation, my friend - one that, I fear, has been far too accurate of late. Lif Silverlode graciously takes one of the jammers, looks over it with a surprisingly familiar, appraising eye, and slips it into her pocket. Nivelth Ajuyn gives Pris a quick nod of thanks, tucking her own into one of her pockets. Nivelth Ajuyn: Thanks, Priscilla. Jude Paw eyes the jammers warily. No mind for technology, this boy. He takes one, assuming that maybe Jen or A'z would know how to operate it. Jenesis Labariel holds her hand out toward Jude, open palmed. Jenesis Labariel: Here, I can take care of that, she assures him, noting his expression. Jude Paw: Oh thank Rhalgr. I'm hopeless with these things... A'zaela Linh spends most of her time going over maps and making sure she has enough parchment for more. Her old maps of Rabanastre are there, but she isn't sure she trusts their accuracy. There's no way to get into Bozjan territory directly, the shuttle pilot explains: the area is either dotted with imperial castra or forests too dense to navigate from above. But there's a spot along the coast that appears relatively sparse... Orella Steelhand: Time to go make nice, I guess. Orella Steelhand shrugs. Suraja Solveig: Hope y'don't mind me stickin' with you, Lif. Don't wanna be a burden. Orella Steelhand reaches for Ingvald as the shuttle comes to a halt; before he can extricate his hand from hers and slip away, she pulls his head down to hers, pressing their foreheads together. In plain view of all. And she murmurs in Ala Mhigan. Orella Steelhand: Be /safe/. Orella Steelhand kisses him, before letting him go and striding off to leave. Kiri Kha paces a lot. She has not been in airships often and is not super comfortable so high in the air. Her feet on something solid or not. Nivelth Ajuyn looks over at Orella Steelhand. Nivelth Ajuyn: You're with me, right? Or at least, Hel said so. Orella Steelhand glances over Nivelth Ajuyn and nods. Orella Steelhand: You must be her sister. Lif Silverlode offers Kiri Kha a reassuring smile and tries to make small talk with her in an attempt to distract her. Kiri Kha smiles and engages in the small talk as much as she may. Happy for the distraction. As the shuttle touches down upon a sandy tropical beach, half the Riskbreakers aboard depart quickly and quietly; within mere moments, the shuttle departs for its next destination. Using the map which Priscilla sketched, the Riskbreakers make their way into the desert under the cover of night, avoiding all imperial outposts in the region. Suraja Solveig steadies herself as the airship takes off again. Kiri Kha tenses up a bit again as the airship takes back off. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before laughing at herself. Kiri Kha: I'll charge into a fight no problem, but airships fuckin get me everytime. Ingvald Bloodhound nods in understanding. Jude Paw: I don't like airships, either… Unnatural, to be this high off the ground. Jude Paw: Uh... No offense to our resident dragoon. Jude Paw gives a quick glance at Jenesis. A'zaela Linh also quirks a brow. Jenesis Labariel grins. Jenesis Labariel: None taken. Airships are almost like… a second home. How else do you think we learn to handle the strain? Suraja Solveig: Never been on one m'self so this is a new experience... Fortunately, the airship soon lands, leaving the remaining Riskbreakers to depart into the desert. A pilot from the Prima Vista takes back over and pilots the shuttle back to Kugane, leaving the Riskbreakers alone in the sands. Priscilla Scaevola waves and gives a kiss goodbye as the ship leaves them.

[run-in-the-shadow]

My Unnecessary Pitch of the New Hunger Games Prequel (a book that has already been written)

So I’ve given a lot of thought to the new Hunger Games prequel that Suzanne Collins is releasing next year. While there’s always some risk in resurrecting older properties, I’ve decided that I am excited for this. 15-year-old me rise.

But I’ve also been wondering, how could this story work? What will Collins do to make sure this isn’t just a Hunger Games 2.0? What will make it new and unique? How can it add to the existing story in a necessary way?

So I’ve basically come up with the format, characters, and basic plot that I think would be really cool in this potential prequel. Of course I’m not expecting any of this to actually be in the new book, but on the off chance that I actually do predict something right, I just want to write all of this down for the record.

If you’re at all curious about what I have in mind, read below. It’s long. Whoops.

Why it won’t be Hunger Games 2.0

The first Hunger Games novel has a fairly familiar formula, no doubt because the Games themselves have followed the same formula and traditions for 74 years at that point. There’s the reaping, tributes being picked, the training, the ceremonies, the interviews, the Games, the killing, and finally, one victor. Katniss, being the revolutionary that she is, broke that when both she and Peeta shared the victory.

But in order to have Katniss in the 74th Games, there can’t really be a Katniss-like character in the 10th Games. I’ve thought it over, and I just don’t think the narrator/main character (assuming Collins continues with 1st person POV) will or should be someone who is reaped as a tribute. We’re too familiar with that experience. We know the motions; we know the feelings. Additionally, it would seem all too predictable to assume that the main character we follow will end up being victor of the Games. Unless Collins does make the bold choice to kill them off. But then what? Would that make an impact on the overall story? One kid’s death among hundreds over the years?

I then thought, what if the story were told be someone at home, someone witness to the Games through the TV, the same as everyone else in the country watching? Meanwhile, they have their own fight to survive or take care of their families or whatever. Perhaps it’s someone they know, a friend or a relative, who is fighting in the Games. Basically if the Hunger Games were told from Prim’s perspective.

But we know why this won’t work. It’s boring. We are the Capitol. We enjoy the spectacle. We need to be closer to the action. Can you imagine a movie adaptation of someone just sitting, watching the Games from their home? So no, we can’t have that. Not for an entertaining story.

But if I don’t think it should be someone competing in the Games or someone watching in the districts, what does that leave...

The Young Mentor

(Sorry if the gender-neutral pronouns make it confusing. I just don’t care if these characters are gendered one way or the other.)

So here’s my pitch: Our main character is a previous victor of the Games, winning within the last couple of years (7th-9th Games). Perhaps they won when they were 15, so for this book, they are 17. Through brief flashbacks, we can discover details about their particular Games without having to go through the whole routine again. Not only that, but we can explore the aftermath, the PTSD, the shock, the changes in their lives, etc. And being a previous victor, they now have to take on the role as mentor for their district’s tributes.

Other details: they should be from a district other than 12. I just think it would be important to explore more areas of Panem, especially early Panem. Was the inequality from district to district just as extreme as it was in Katniss’ time? What if our main character was from one of the Career Districts? Or would they even be Career Districts that early on in the history of the Games? Maybe our character’s actions or experience contributed to those districts basically cheating the system. I really don’t have a particular district in mind at this time, but I just don’t want it to be 12 again.

What I especially love about this character’s age is that they would have memory of “before” the Games. The first Games would have occurred when they were 7. They could remember the distinct shift in the country, and they would be able to remember the adjustment to that life. Those are just very interesting topics to explore, since we’ve never seen life in Panem at that time, especially from the firsthand experience of a child.

The General Plot (& inevitable romance?)

So our main character is a mentor to their district’s 2 new tributes for the 10th Hunger Games. Perhaps this is their first time mentoring. Perhaps it is not, and the past year’s experience was either traumatic or just didn’t go very well. They probably still weren’t over the shock, and perhaps, like Haymitch, they were just too cynical to seriously mentor. Or maybe there is an older victor from the district who took on most of the mentorship roles. I like the idea of that relationship between 2 very new victors who don’t have any idea what they’re doing. Would it be antagonistic? Sibling-like? Would they just avoid each other? On the other hand, I also like thinking of our main character being the first victor of their district, and they have to deal with all that responsibility on their own.

Anyway, our character is a mentor, and one of the tributes reaped just happens to be someone they know very well. I’m thinking either a best friend or love interest. I also thought that they could be someone they don’t know well, but through the course of mentoring, they get to know each other and become friends/love interests/people who care about one another. But I think I’d rather they be invested from earlier on. There’s always potential for friendship at the start to turn into romance later. And one that feels slightly forbidden at that, between a mentor and a tribute.

(I don’t mean to over-emphasize the romance aspect. I noticed a lot of people looking forward to the potential romances in the new book, while others criticizing those for missing the main message of the story. I’m just trying to be realistic. This is YA, after all. There most likely will be a romantic storyline at some point. But I am trying to avoid any love triangles in this pitch.)

So our main character and their tribute friend are plotting for how to survive the Games. Obviously our character wants to keep their friend alive, ideally to victory. While in the past, they might not have cared as much, disillusioned to the whole ordeal, this time they have a reason to care about the circumstances of these Games.

As for the other tribute, the one who’s not the friend? Who knows, who cares? But really, the other tribute will probably be the focus of the other mentor (if there is one), or else will notice the favoritism toward the other tribute and feel resentful. That could brew conflict, especially once we’re within the Games themselves.

The Games Themselves

It being the 10th anniversary of the Games, you know they’re gonna make it special. Like the clock design in the 75th games, I figure this one will have some kind of special theme to it. What might that theme be, you may ask? I don’t know. I’m not writing the book. But really, I can’t worry about the specifics right now. Let’s just settle on...an arena in which you can only travel up, eventually meeting in the middle at the peak of a mountain with nowhere to go. Imagine a vertical-only course in which you have no choice but to climb, since there are cliffs and maybe even rising floodwaters that force you to keep moving. There’s a concept. I just made it up as I went. I guess that was specific.

Anyway, our main character is only concerned about the wellbeing of their friend within the arena. We get to see the behind-the-scenes of trying to connect with sponsors and influence the Gamemakers. Sure, there will still be some of that watching-the-Games-on-TV stuff, but our main character will still be much more directly involved with the action than if they were just stuck in their district. Also, we might see more daily life in the Capitol while our main character deals there.

Within the Games themselves, you know how it goes. People die, get killed. Our character’s friend will do all right for themselves, making it pretty close to the last few tributes in the arena. But I do expect that the friend will die. I know, tragic. But again, it just feels too predictable to make the tribute we focus on the most win the game. The circumstance of the friend’s death could be as simple as slipping and falling. They could’ve been killed by someone from another district. But now I’m liking the idea that they could be killed by their fellow tribute, the one ignored by our mentor. This tribute might end up actually winning the Games, causing a conflict of emotions in our main character as this new victor (who they’ll regularly have to be around from here on out) is the reason their friend is dead, yet they are expected to be proud that their district has yet another victor.

And now I come back to the idea of the main character being from a Career District, before the “Career” part even became a thing. Maybe seeing their friend die and feeling like they could’ve done more makes them feel guilty or responsible. Maybe they see that their mentorship wasn’t good enough. Something triggers them to want to be better, to make sure that deaths like their friend’s don’t happen again. Maybe they institute the “Career” ideology and promote it through the district, preparing the children there to fight to win. And there you have the start of a beast of the Hunger Games.

Other cool things that could be included

As I’ve said, I think a look at life in the Capitol would be interesting. Who’s leader/president at this time, and what are they like? Surely it’s not still Snow. I’ve had thoughts that he could be older than he looks, what with all his surgeries. But according to the wiki page, Snow was 1 when the 1st Games took place. That would make him 10 in this book. Possibly a cameo of a weird child in the Capitol? Maybe. (Imagine the book being narrated by him, a 10-year-old kid who would grow up to be a dictator, having no concept of life before the Games existed...scary.)

I wonder where their technology is at this point in Panem’s history. During Katniss’ time, it is quite advanced, but what about 64 years before that time? Where are they in technological and biological advancements? Do they even have forcefields around the tributes’ living quarters so they don’t jump and kill/hurt themselves? Maybe something happens in this book that gives them the reason to install those...

Speaking of Katniss, I know it would be cool to tie it back to her in some Skywalkerian way. But I actually don’t think that’s necessary, and I just don’t want a rehash of her same story. Perhaps some allusions are fine, but there’s enough time and distance from Katniss that I see very little reason to make it about her.

It’s late, and I really don’t know what more there is to say. I’m excited for the story, regardless of what it will actually involve. If it’s anything like my little prediction, great! But I’m not the author. And I trust that Suzanne will tell the story that she feels is the most necessary to be told.

[random-red-ramblings]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean Characters: Javert (Les Misérables), Jean Valjean, Cosette Fauchelevent, Toussaint (Les Misérables), Rivette (Les Misérables) Additional Tags: Post-Seine, Javert Lives, Slow Burn, old man virgins, Eventual Porn, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, guys getting through their issues, tentative friendship, Friends to Lovers, Javert using slurs to describe himself, wet dreams, Masturbation Summary:

Javert's moment with the Seine is interrupted but his confusion and uncertainty remain. Life continues to be difficult for him with these new trials of conscience, but perhaps it gets somewhat easier in the presence of a friend.

Friendship is the last thing either of them expected and maybe, in the end, it's a bond that runs far deeper.

Chapter 7

Javert had not made contact with Valjean, or heard from him, in over two months. Javert ran out of reasons why he had not visited - his last letters at the end of November had skirted too close to lying for him to be comfortable maintaining such correspondence. Javert ceased to respond and Valjean eventually stopped writing. Javert had allowed their relationship, whatever it was, to dwindle into nothing.

Autumn ended, Christmas passed and a New Year began. Javert had no care for these dates and no reason to celebrate - he never had done. There was still no sign of Thenardier, which only soured Javert's mood further. He had hoped the blackguard would have attended the execution of his fellows in a sick fascination but Javert and his men had hidden in the crowd and did not catch sight of him.

It was a cold February to reflect his mood and he heard news of the Pontmercy wedding in the form of gossip overheard on his patrols. The lower classes always liked to marvel about the rich, although they often found their misfortune most gripping, sometimes a positive story conjured fantasies they could escape into for a moment. Folly, Javert thought, a beggar woman imagining a Baron might whisk her away and present her a fine white dress. It would only pain them more to open their eyes and see the reality of the hard, wet cobblestones where they resided.

Little did they know it but that was almost precisely what had happened. Not that Cosette was a beggar (Valjean might not ever let him set foot in his home again if Javert said such a thing) but she was an orphan, born with the lowest in society. Perhaps she did not even know she was an orphan, Javert mused; Valjean would want to protect her from all the bad things in the world. She called him ‘Papa’ readily enough, with all the affection it was meant to have.

He considered writing a letter of congratulation to Valjean, but that seemed foolish. What would he be congratulating Valjean for? If he were to send congratulations it would be to the happy couple and he could not bring himself to do that. Time rolled on and the opportunity for such a message passed.

He still saw Valjean in his dreams. They occurred less often now but he still could not manage to get through a week without one. Valjean would whisper how much he had missed him and Javert would apologise with all the care and dedication he could.

Sometimes he thought he saw Valjean when he was out on patrol, but whenever he looked back it always turned out to be someone else. Part of him wished that their paths would cross, that fate would bring them together once more and Javert did not have to choose not to see him. He patrolled Valjean's regular haunts in the hope of catching a glimpse of him but to no avail. He was likely in his daughter’s home, doting over her as always, gaining joy from her happiness. As it should be. Javert had no place in such a life.

The Spring sunshine chased away the winter frost and blossoms bloomed in the Luxembourg. Javert tried to prevent his gaze from lingering on the flowers and the bench on which he had sat with Valjean in the last of the Summer heat. It was as if the last days of April were making an extra effort to inject good cheer into the city but to Javert it only felt as if it were mocking his heavy heart.

“Sir…” Rivette said cautiously as he lingered at the edge of Javert's desk.

“What is it?” Javert snapped.

“Well, I know it's not my business but I was wondering… that gentleman friend of yours… When did you last see him?”

“He is not-” Not a gentleman? Not his friend? “He is not your concern.”

“I used to see him talking to you sometimes that's all.” Rivette continued regardless. “He's that charitable old fellow isn't he? A good man. And… well, I think he's the one who took you in after the barricade- so anyway,” Rivette hurried on before Javert argued, “I saw him yesterday and… He didn't seem quite right, Sir.”

“How do you mean?” Javert leaned towards him, all of the denials on his tongue forgotten.

“He seemed… lost, Sir. Just lingering around Rue Saint Louis. I asked him if he needed any help and he looked so afraid, he said he was sorry, even though I told him he wasn't in any trouble, and he just… ran away.” Rivette frowned at Javert's desk. “I'm just worried for him is all, he seems a good friend to you. It's not my place to make assumptions but he is old and I wondered if he was… quite in his right mind. He seemed awfully vulnerable.”

“That is concerning… Thank you for bringing it to my attention. The amount of money he carries around…” Javert said to justify his concern as a man of the law being concerned for a good citizen and nothing more. “He’ll be an easy target.”

“When was the last time you saw him, Sir? If you don't mind my asking.”

Javert sighed. “It's been months. Four or five months! I will check on him, Rivette. I fear I have been neglectful.”

“I hope he is alright, Sir.”

“Thank you Rivette.”

Javert collected himself and left for Rue des Filles du Calvaire. He hailed a fiacre in his urgency and sat consumed with ideas, each worse than the last, about what could have happened to Valjean. He jumped out of the fiacre as soon as it pulled up, thrust the necessary coins into the driver’s palm, and rapped on the door of Number 6.

He was about to pound his fist on the door again when it opened to reveal a startled looking maid.

“Where is Va-Fauchelevent?” He demanded.

The maid frowned at his rude manner of speaking. “That's Madame or Baroness Pontmercy to you Sir. What is your business here?”

“I am Inspector Javert and I have pressing matters in regards to Monsieur Fauchelevent. He is not here?”

“No, Inspector. Haven't seen him in a long while.”

“Then I must speak with the Baroness.”

“I will fetch her,” the maid inclined her head, motioning for him to step into the hall and closed the door behind him. “Wait here.”

Javert stepped inside and tapped his foot with impatience until Cosette arrived, looking just as anxious and harried as he felt.

“Inspector! Come in, come in!” She ushered him into a lounge, gesturing for him to sit but Javert shook his head.

“Madame-”

Cosette shook her head, aghast. “Oh no, Inspector, please, we are friends. Call me Cosette. I will not have you say all of these silly things like my Papa does. Can you believe he insisted that I call him Monsieur Jean? Monsieur Jean! What is that? It is not even his name! Oh tell me Inspector, how is he? I did not like how he was behaving in his last visits.”

Javert's heart plummeted. Monsieur Jean: the name he should have always possessed and yet Valjean wished it to be spoken by the one person who should have used that most beloved name - Papa - instead.

“And when did you last see him?”

“Oh… It has been weeks! He told Marius that he was going away on a journey.”

“When will he be going?”

“Why, he has already gone! Quite some time ago. Did he not tell you? When did you last see him?”

“My associate saw him on Rue Saint Louis only yesterday.”

“But that is so close! Why is he not here? What is going on Inspector? Where is my father? Please, you must tell me what is happening.”

To see her so distraught reminded Javert of Fantine and of how he had remained cold back then, denying her desire to be reunited with her family. It unnerved him and he risked lightly resting his hand on Cosette’s shoulder. He was different now, there was no doubt. His heart ached for Valjean and for this loving child who had accepted that quiet, kind man so willingly in a way that no one else had. Javert had the power to make things right, to give this woman her father and save Valjean from his martyrdom.

“I will. But your husband must join us so we can see everything clearly.”

“I will fetch him right away,” she said as she hurried from the room.

Javert was more certain than he had been about anything since the barricade. He knew what he must do when he found Valjean and he was sure he knew where to locate him.

Cosette rushed back into the room. “Inspector! What on Earth is going on? Marius tells me I must be mistaken and you cannot be here because you are dead! What is the meaning of this?”

“You,” Javert growled as Marius Appeared behind her. When he had assisted Valjean in returning the boy home after the barricade, he had not recognised him beneath the muck. “You owe me two pistols.”

Marius did not respond, only stared at him, pale and wide-eyed. Javert tutted in frustration.

“Explanations are in order. Sit.”

They obeyed, sitting side by side on the couch.

“But Inspector-” Marius began.

“Enough. You will speak when spoken to. We do not need any more confusion. Now, you will tell me what V- your father has been doing from December until now.”

“We were living how you knew us to - at Rue de l’Homme-Armé.” Cosette said. “He helped organise the wedding, which happened in February.”

“And presented us with Cosette's dowry. A large sum,” Marius added, staring intently at Javert as if he were trying to tell him something else.

“Did he attend the ceremony?”

“Of course! He took me down the aisle but he had injured his arm so could not sign the papers.”

“Did he indeed?” Javert muttered.

“I insisted he visit every day when I came to live here. I wanted him to live with us but he would not have it and…”

“And?”

Cosette frowned at her lap. “He behaved very strangely. He would only receive me in the dusty little basement room. I made sure it was cleaned for him, and as nice as it could be with a fire in the grate and comfortable chairs… But then he started to refuse those things and…” Her eyes sparkled with tears and she paused to collect herself. “And the last time it was just a cold, bare room!”

“And ‘Monsieur Jean’.”

“Oh do not remind me! It is awful!”

“And then he stopped coming altogether. Monsieur Pontmercy,” Javert refused to call him by his ridiculous title, “what did he tell you? That he was going away?”

Marius shifted uncomfortably. “You must understand Inspector, I thought you were dead-”

“And what does that have to do with anything? Speak plainly man!”

“But,” Marius cast a sidelong glance at his wife, “he told me to keep his secret and that Cosette mustn't know.”

“He would keep secrets from me even now,” Cosette whispered to herself. She wiped her eyes. “I won't have it Marius. There are no secrets between us. We need to help him and you will tell me.”

“Very well.” Marius sighed and turned to Javert. “At the barricade Monsieur Fauchelevent took you, the captured spy, away to execute you.”

“Execute!” Cosette cried. “Marius! As if my father could ever do such a thing!”

“Evidently he did not.” Javert interrupted before an argument ensued.

“But how was I to know! Cosette has never mentioned your name, I had not seen you since, and when he told me his story it explained why he would wish an inspector dead. When I questioned him about it he did not deny it! Why would he allow me to believe him to be a murderer?!”

“And believing him to be you stopped him visiting your home.”

“Marius! Tell me you didn't!”

Marius hung his head. “We agreed it was for the best,” he held up his hand before Cosette could interrupt. “You do not know the things he told me, my darling.”

“Then tell me! I told you that he saved your life! What could possibly outweigh the gratitude you should feel for him for that act?”

“I think,” Javert interrupted once more, “that it is your father's story to tell. We shall go to him and hear what he has to say.”

“Oh yes! You know where he is? Can we go at once?” Cosette was already out of her seat but Marius remained frozen, looking terribly anxious.

“Do not worry yourself,” Javert told him. “I already know his story.”

“You do?” Marius frowned in disbelief, likely thinking Javert could not know the whole tale otherwise Valjean would be in the bagne.

“I do. Now come. We will clear this matter up.”

They left immediately and Javert hailed a fiacre. The Pontmercy’s no doubt had their own means of transportation but he did not want to wait for the driver to be summoned and the horses haltered. Javert barked the address and held the door open to hurry Cosette and Marius inside.

Cosette recognised the street they headed towards. “But this is… Inspector, are you telling me my father has been at home this whole time?”

“We will find out.”

keep reading

[80srockher]

Yuri on Ice Re-Watch and Live Commentary, Episode 12: Final Skate: Gotta Super-Super-Supercharge It!!! Grand Prix Final Free Skate

It.  Is.  FINISHED.

You know that feeling when a fan-nish project is projected to take only a few weeks, during the Summer, mind you, but ends up spanning, oh, about three months?  I do, now.

**Begin rant** 

Me, too, Vitya!  End what, Yuri??

I mean, it's more than a little crazy that he thought this is something Victor would be relieved to here.  It's as if they have been existing on different planes of reality.

Listen. Victor has shed tears a grand total of two times in 12 episodes and both incidents involved Yuri.  Yet Yuri still doesn't think he’s important enough to merit more of his Victor’s time away from skating.  Just.  YURI. AUGH!!!

The actor's decision to read this line as if Yuri's revelation has not stabbed Victor in the heart is masterful.  There's only so much pretending the man is capable of.

This is hella relatable as someone who also doesn't want to be touched when I'm upset by THE VERY PERSON WHO UPSET ME.  Give him a minute to process this, Yuri.

This is just a horrible, horrible cap.  Vitya is thoroughly in kicked-puppy-mode.

Um, did you ignore absolutely everything else that occurred afterwards?  Including when he straight-up said to your face that he wishes you'd never retire?

Don't fire him, Yuri!

Yuri was really out there listenin' to friends instead of Victor.  How many times did Victor ignore the others' entreaties to return to competition to remain his coach?  Don't join that Greek chorus. Yuri.      

I beg to differ.  He's always concerned about your well-being, which is why you gave him an expensive-ass symbol of devotion and put it on his ring finger.  Good God, boy.

This inspiration thing goes both ways, Yuri.  LISTEN TO VICTOR.  He is telling you what HE wants In This Moment.  Not what YOU think is best for HIM.    

Like hell! You two hash this out right now!

**End rant**

Look, a skater who was popular back when I used to watch.  LOL.  Stephane L-l-l-l-lambiel!

So, sports reporter Marooka remarks about how Yuri hasn't been seen practicing in public since the day after the short program, which has worried his fans (see, Yuri, you have FANS.)  You mean to tell me Yuri and Victor have been at odds with each other for two whole days now?!?!

Cartoon!Lambiel picks up on Yuri and Victor's uncharacteristically low energy.

You don't say, Stephane.

Also: Victor knows Stephane, personally.  What a celeb.

At least flag guy has re-energized himself since JJ's short program.

"Don't eff it up."

"Don't eff it up."

"Don't eff it up."

He eff'd it up.

Wow, shades of Yuri from episode one.

Deep, bro.

Aww! The parents in this show are the best cheerleaders.  If only there was time during the season to meet all of them.  I'd def like to see Phichit's parents.

So, JJ's dad is reminiscing on some of his son's past coaches.  Celestino, then played by Peg Bundy, was one of them.

Also…. I'm really curious as to what JJ needed to say yes to.

Damn you, Mickey Lannister Crispino!  Hands off!

Seung Gil! What an awesome cameo.  

I don't know much about scoring in figure skating but this seems a mite high for a program that was mostly jumps.

Yay! No other comment needed.

Phichit's ice-show dreams are as adorable as he is.  Christophe with a hamster cap is utterly, utterly charming.  I would fork over cold, hard blood plasma donation cash to see this in person.

It shouldn't be like this between them; especially not when Yuri plans to end his competitive career, here.

And really, why is Yuri so upset with Victor?  I suspect Yuri's selfishness runs deeper than either of them realize. IMO, he's afraid Victor might come to resent him if he retires from skating to coach him, then regrets it.

But honestly, Yuri should know Victor better than that by now.

Despite everything, Victor is still trying to be the coach Yuri needs.

But… Yuri doesn't want Victor to play coach right now.

So tickle his fancy, Victor.

Um…

Victor has an interesting sense of humor.

Also, he did win the one against the teenagers at the local comp.  Though I have no idea if a qualifier is considered part of the Senior circuit.

Yeah, katsudon's not the only way to celebrate, Yuri.  Victor wants to really give you something worth winning for.

This is just an R&B song waiting to happen.

Hmm… whatever could you mean, Yuri?

I really love how they've cut Yuri's long program with clips of Victor from Yuri's memory.  It's a visual culmination of a journey.

Ahh, that's what he meant about making up his mind about his goal.  And that's why he wanted Victor to stop playing at being coach.  Because he wasn't going to listen to him, anyway.  You know, the usual.

Yuri's internal dialogue during his routine reveals his desire to stay in figure skating with Victor forever and his fear of killing Victor's career if he remains Yuri's coach.  Victor… have you not shared with the man how competition was already slowly killing you? Might wanna do that sometime in the very, very near future.

Yuri… just loves Victor.  He can't always articulate how much, but he can show it.  His program is one big tribute to Victor and Yuri's desire to prove everyone how much Victor means to him as a coach and an inspiration.

And Victor gets the message loud and clear.

Mari+Minako are, yet again, Me.

Something I should've wondered by now is how half-blind Yuri can tell where Victor is standing.

The monkey-on-his-back that is Anxiety.

Seriously, you performed to the absolute best of your ability, Yuri.  Relax.  Relate. Release.  

Wowsa, dude.

Sooooo, Victor has just congratulated Yuri on his record-breaking performance and implies that he might come back to competition in the same breath he confesses his pride in both his pupils.  The possibility of Victor's return delights Yuri to no-end but gives me pause.  A lot of pause.

Victor. My dude.  Are you just trying not to ruin the mood?  Because quite honestly, one of the very valuable lessons you should've learned on this journey is that a little selfishness can be a good thing.  I know you want to make a grand gesture after Yuri's grand gesture but YOU CAN'T BOTH KEEP MAKING GRAND GESTURES.  You'll hurt yourselves trying to show the world your love.  

Moving on... Chris is on the ice, having serious thoughts about how Yuri, who was rumored to retire after the GPF, beat his personal best.  He laments that it won't be as easy for him to win gold as he first thought.

Then he witnesses the happy couple doing their thing.

And gets distracted.  

This is in regards to Victor.  Chris is rethinking his initial calculation of GPF - Victor = gold for him.

Aww, Chris is Phichit's buddy.  Why am I not surprised?

This scene is after Chris decides to change an earlier jump composition to the second half of his program.  Can't say he's not a fighter.

Dawww, Minako.

Really? That's it?!  By my estimation, that program was better than JJ's.  What am I missing?

Boo, this is the last time I'll see my babe, Leo.

But I concur.  Go, Otabek! I'm fond of his music choices, skating, and his costumes.  

So, Victor finds Yakov to tell him he wants to return to competition.  I mean, it couldn’t have waited until after Yurio’s skate, V?

Once upon a time, news of Victor's return may have pleased Yurio.  Now, his first concern is Yuri.  

And Victor is Not.  Happy. About this.  He’s about to cry here, tbqh.

Annnnd he requires immediate comfort.  This is sad. More than sad, when I consider Victor is letting Yuri call the shots, here.  Competing again should be Victor's own decision, as well.

Yeah, that's good advice to pass along, Victor.

I've been debating as to whether or not I should parse out the intricacies of Victor's isolation.  Honestly, I think the writers did a well-enough job of it.  I suppose I still wonder, as many others have, about his family.

I'll go out on a limb and assume he has or had people in his life that taught him to love like he does and to treat other people kindly.  One doesn't learn those sorts of things in a vacuum.  However, I headcanon Victor as having been scouted and, once recruited, moved closer to a training facility, a la these athletes.

So, isolated?  Yes. Friend-less and family-less?  I doubt it, or at least it wasn't always that way.

Meanwhile, Yuri's looking for his man.  Perhaps to tell him that he's already changed his mind about retiring?  In that case, please, look harder Yuri!

Just needed to slide in this cap of Mila getting sprung by Otabek's skating.  Good taste, Mila.

I don't know who JJ has in his pocket on the judging panel, but Otabek just completed a perfect program AND he was ahead of JJ after the short program.  Logic would dictate he'd be ahead of JJ now. But, do as you will, YOI.

This is in regards to Yuri.  In flashbacks during Yurio's routine, we discover that he was actually impressed with Yuri's prior GPF free skate, despite the errors.  It was only after he found Yuri crying in the bathroom stall that he lost respect for him.  Must be Yurio's special brand of encouragement: "Stop crying, get better, or get out of the game!"  Yeah. That must be it.

Anyway, now Yurio has changed his tune and doesn't want Yuri to retire, at all. Cute.

Lilia is so proud of her angry, pseudo- son.

 Yurio completes his most difficult program ever with only one fall.  During his skate, it's revealed that part of his motivation was to become a new goal for Yuri to surpass.  That's nice and all, but not at the expense of your own health, Yurio.

I don't think Yuri would want that for him, either.

Yurio defeats Yuri by a sliver of a margin.  I will admit to initially being surprised by the result before considering (and re-considering, after this re-watch) a few things:

Yurio won because it's entirely possible he may not win again for at least a little while.

His lack of stamina is well-documented, he's in the Senior circuit with grown men who can, and have, beat him already, and he's yet to hit a growth spurt. If the series continues into a second season, then I foresee the writers exploring these very realistic scenarios for Yurio.

This is partially why I don't predict Yurio achieving what Victor has, at least not right away.  There's not enough drama in that narrative to fill up an entire season, IMO.

Or, at the very least, they'll use Yurio to address the conflict over becoming as isolated as Victor has during his struggle to maintain dominance in the sport.

Yurio won because the name of the show is 'Yuri on Ice’.

Also, if the writers decide to have Yuri eventually retire (because he is of that age), then they don't even have to change the show’s title.  How convenient.

Last, and what I think is obviously implied in this episode: Yurio won so that Yuri would change his mind about retiring.

However… Yuri had already changed his mind.  And his biggest motivator in that decision was still Victor, so… kinda wish they hadn't made Yurio go out and suffer like that for no good reason. Honestly, there's little chance of him repeating this performance.

Anyway….

Awww! Yay!

So, Victor's in a teasing mood after Yuri presents him with his well-earned silver medal. Victor insists that he only wants to kiss gold.  So, what do you have that would be a suitable substitute, Yuri?

Eff that medal Yuri just unceremoniously dropped to the ground in preference to hopping in Victor's lap.  Coach me for another year, Victor!

What a lovely step forward for our boy, Yuri.  He didn't win gold but, all joking aside, Victor doesn't care.  Yuri’s next gold medal will be a token to Victor, instead of unnecessary proof that he was worth Victor’s time, all along.

Besides, I think he’s already given Victor the only golden item he truly wants.

But, I mean, only if you WANT to, Victor.  Are you afraid Yuri will change his mind if you change yours?  I hope that's not the case.

 Apparently, this is the only payment Victor will accept for coaching Yuri. Ok, so you're going to compete and hopefully earn some sponsorship money to pay your own bills all while coaching someone else for free?  Do we need to have a 'Victor on Ice,' a show about Victor re-learning the value of doing one thing at a time?

Roll credits!

How sweet!

The serendipity that is cartoon-world.  "I want to coach a skater from another country while also competing for my own country and you can't stop me because I'm animated!"

or

"I want to do a pair skate with my coach for my exhibition.  Know why?  Because the writers say I can!!  Ha!"

Anyway, this is romantic AF.

Cut to this adorbs face...

Running towards this one, here.

And yeah. WE'D BETTER.  Because their story isn’t over!

 The End!

If you managed to get through my all streams of consciousness, full of bad screencaps and even worse grammar, then I humbly and sincerely thank you!  I enjoyed doing it and hope you enjoyed reading it.  

[fiercyy]

We Need To Talk

A Viktuuri and Viktuuriyuri family fic <3

When Yuuri receives a text from Victor one morning, he tries very hard not to panic.

Vitenka (Blue heart, purple heart, gold medal, eggplant, hearteyes emoji): We need to talk tonight after dinner with Yura.

Perhaps Yuuri has been exposed to too much pop culture during his time in the States, but to him ‘we need to talk’ never spells out anything good. He resists the urge to immediately text back a thousand questions and demands about what they would be talking about, if he was okay, what Yuuri did wrong and if he would find his own suitcase packed and left by the door, or would he have to pack it all up himself when Viktor kicked him to the curb?

Yuuri had a really good morning. He woke up on his own, which was a miracle unto itself. To celebrate beating Viktor to consciousness, he kissed his fiancé awake. And maybe they were a little late getting out of bed because of it. “I’m sure my coach won’t mind,” Yuuri had teased and touched his nose to Viktor’s, then kissed his cheek. When he pulled away, Viktor was bright pink, from nose to ears and his smile was soppy and sweet. “You can’t say things like that!” Viktor had complained before throwing his arms around Yuuri, “It’s too adorable, I won’t survive. You’re trying to kill me aren’t you? Is this so I won’t make you do suicides again? I knew it! My Yuuri is so cruel!” All the while, smothering Yuuri by rolling on top of him.

A really good morning. They’d skipped their run because of it, went straight to the rink (where Yuuri and Viktor both cleanly skated their new programs for the first time). Then lunch together before parting ways for cross training.

That was fifteen minutes ago. What could have changed that Viktor could possibly want to talk about?! Or maybe it was about lunch or practice or this morning and he just hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to him yet. Maybe he’s been plotting a way to let him down easy. If so, Yuuri feels terrible about this morning, but also, incredibly glad that at least he’ll have one last time to remember him by.

But maybe it wasn’t as good for Viktor as it was for Yuuri? If Yuuri was doing something wrong, why wouldn’t Viktor just tell him? He could get better, probably. He hears there are advice columns all over the internet. He listens to podcasts on long runs now, there must be one that tells you how to be better in bed so your five-time gold medalist, perfect specimen of manhood fiancé stays in love with you.

“Katsudon, you’ve been in that forward split for ten minutes, are you showing off or did you fall asleep?” Yurio is sharing his ballet session. He hides his worry poorly. Or maybe Yuuri just knows him well at this point. His heart sinks. He’ll miss him so much when Viktor dumps him and he has to move back to Hasetsu and retire.

Yuuri shrugs and hopes he doesn’t pry further. The sixteen-year-old doesn’t. Instead he nudges him into pair stretches.

The anxiety chews on his heart, feral and unrelenting in its hunger. Yuuri’s own mind won’t rest until it consumes him one rending bite at a time.

While he does a pas de bourré into a plié, then saute, he circles back to the way he felt when Viktor first came to Hasetsu. He’d wondered then, how this could possibly be his life. He kept his distance out of self-preservation, because when Viktor eventually grew bored and left, any closeness would be ripped away, taking parts of him along with it. Yuuri could not afford to become dependent on Viktor’s kindness. Or later, Viktor’s love. Except it didn’t matter what Yuuri could and could not afford to feel. His foolish heart learned to beat for him, to the rhythm of the programs they choreographed together.

Yuuri’s stupid soul would suffer now that the inevitable had arrived.

Yurio clearly doesn’t want to leave Yuuri alone. Their cooldown session is quiet and punctuated by the boy starting a sentence and interrupting himself. It’s unlike him. Yuuri wants to pull him into his arms. That’s unlike him too.

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s freaking me out,” Yurio spits. “Why do you look like someone died? Is the idiot—” he means Viktor, “Ill?” he seems unconcerned by the prospect, but then he pales as something occurs to him, “Are you ill? Is Makkachin?”

And because Yuuri does not want to lie to him, but also does not want to tell him the truth at all ever, he throws his hands up and shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just in my own head today.” This is true every day, but it would be impossible to explain the day to day torment of living inside of his own brain. Plus, it might traumatize Yurio and make him second guess his decision to allow Yuuri and Viktor to ostensibly, semi-non-officially adopt him. Oh no… who gets to keep Yurio in the divorce?

Divorce? Oh god. Divorced before they’ve even made it to the altar. Maybe, now that Viktor is feeling inspired and skating again, he doesn’t need Yuuri in his life after all.

Yurio neatly answers the question of ‘who gets custody in the divorce’ by dragging him out the door and declaring that he’s going to drive Yuuri’s car home. Maybe custody is relative and Yurio takes care of himself.

He’s supposed to be supervising said driving since Yurio technically does not have a license, but instead Yuuri stares on the passenger window until he gets nauseous and has to close his eyes. The car stops and he opens them to find they’re at a grocery store.

“Your moron husband forgot to pick up garlic.”

“Not married,” he says and swallows down the bitter yet that gets stuck in his throat.

Yurio groans, “Have you not gotten that over with yet?” He knows very well that they haven’t. They once joked about eloping, which Yurio pretended not to have an apoplectic fit over. Viktor promises they’ll make Yurio their flower boy. Privately, Yuuri eggs him on because he knows that deep down, beyond the fury, he’s actually very touched.

Yurio takes one look at him and rolls his eyes, “Wait in the car,” he orders and slams the door. Yuuri listens and tries to take on the terrible spiralling tornado of fear. He needs to at least find the eye because it’s starting to suck the oxygen out of everything.

We need to talk we need to talk we need to talk we need to-

Soon, the door opens again and Yurio slides in. “Finally, the line was so-“ Yuuri startles and realizes there are tears on his cheeks. “Why are you crying?! Stop it!” He’s still not very good with Emotions™, but he’s doing his best. Yuuri and Viktor just have so many between them, it’s unreasonable to expect him to keep up. Generally, when the tears arrive, Yurio shoves him into Viktor’s arms. Yuuri’s not keen on that option at this moment.

They make it home with only a few awkward glances between them. The teen has his own key so he lets them in.

Yuuri doesn’t know what he was expecting to find upon returning home.

(Lies. As previously noted, he expected suitcases and packed bags and Viktor’s solemn face as he handed the ring back. He imagined kindness and pity but not love in his eyes. He wondered which would be his problem, if he’d be able to beg or be able to stop himself from begging. He knows he’d have cried, he doesn’t know if he’d have been able to speak at all.)

But Viktor is bustling around the kitchen, singing to himself. In the span of this moment, Yuuri exists outside of his worries. Ten feet away, the love of his life is making a family recipe that Hiroko passed on to him. He sings, and Yuuri’s not so far gone that he thinks Viktor a nightingale, but he loves the sound all the same. His bangs are clipped back behind his ear, his cheeks are rosy from the warmth of the stove. He dances around the kitchen, swaying his hips to the rhythm in his head. Then Yuuri realizes that he hasn’t looked up because he’s wearing headphones and hasn’t heard them yet.

Yurio aggressively removes his hat and launches it at Viktor in one motion. The older man startles and catches it, right before it falls onto a burner. “Vot tye na!” But then he sees them and his whole face lights up. It’s like watching dawn break over the mountains back. “You’re home!”

He’s not going to leave him. When Viktor looks at him, it’s hard for Yuuri to deny that he is loved because Viktor lays it all out in the open. He has never hidden his regard or intentions for even a moment. He loves wholly and without reservation.

The moment ends. The demons pipe up. Yuuri has been wrong before.

He tells himself all the things his therapist told him to. That he is safe. He is loved. He can trust the people around him. He’s going to be okay.

Dinner is a trial. Yuuri usually loves these dinners and he’s furious with himself for ruining what might be their last one. Because Viktor wants to talk. He gets quieter and quieter and shrinks down into his chair until he can’t take it anymore.

Viktor keeps the conversation going. He is cheerful and upbeat, but he keeps sneaking glances Yuuri’s way. Can he not wait to get this over with? Is he itching to be rid of him? He’s bad company, he knows it. He should be a better host, for Yurio at least. Who wants to be with someone who’s always sad and anxious, dragging down everyone around them. Viktor asks about Yurio’s day like the proud dad he is. Viktor would make such a good dad. In the vague way that he considers his future after skating, Yuuri hoped he’d get to co-parent with him someday. Again. From the beginning. Not that having a 15-year-old rage monster drop into their laps wasn’t a blessing. Maybe that’s part of it, who knows? He wouldn’t choose himself as a co-parent either.

Viktor holds his phone aloft, loudly reading all of Otabek’s tweets that Yurio has liked in the past 48 hours, while the kid tries to climb him like a tree to steal it and throw it down the garbage disposal. “Give it here old man, at least my twitter’s not some disgusting shrine to Katsudon like yours is-!”

“No, you took down the shrine to Yuuri in your locker when we moved to St-Petersburg!” He teases, “Is the one in your room at your Zaida’s house still up?”

“SHUT UP!”

And that’s all it takes, it’s all over for Yuuri. He starts to laugh and he starts to cry and the two men in his life stop roughhousing immediately, to stare at him in abject horror. They’ve both gotten better at dealing with crying, in their own ways, but they’re still terrible. They glance at each other, then back at him, then back at each other.

“Hey! Don’t cry! Look what you did asshole, you made Katsudon emotional!”

“Yuuri, oh no, are you okay? What should I do? Do you need-?”

Yuuri hiccups and tries to calm down, but he’s suddenly hyperventilating. “I…hic…I’m just…hic… I’m so happy,” he sobs. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Twice in one day? Why are you always crying?”

Viktor looks nonplussed, “You were crying earlier? He was crying earlier? When?” his gaze switches back and forth between the two Yuris, worry blooming like a bruise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yurio doesn’t seem to know what to do. He can’t drive himself home and he clearly does not want to be here for this conversation. He pushes back from the table, and because he was raised right, he takes his plate with him and deposits it in the dishwasher. “I’ll be in the guest room, he better not be crying when I come out.” It seems silly to Yuuri, to refer to it as the guest room, when he’s the only one who ever stays in it.

He was worried before, but now Viktor looks panicked, “Yuuri…”

“What did you want to talk about?” he says in a rush. He wants to get this over with. He doesn’t want to get this over with.

Viktor ignores the question.

“Zolotse,” Viktor switches to the chair closest to Yuuri and scoots it even closer, so he can get his hands on him. “Why are you crying if you’re happy?”

Yuuri accepts the hug, lets himself succumb to it, “Because I want to keep it. I don’t want anything to change. Please just… can we not talk about this?”

Viktor pulls away suddenly, violently, to look him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I just thought…” He closes his mouth and looks grim. “Never mind. It’s fine. Forget I said anything. Everything is fine. I am fine.”

Yuuri is not convinced. Viktor’s pain enables Yuuri to function in a way he can’t for himself. He wants to reach out, to comfort him now. Why is Viktor’s heart breaking before his very eyes?

“Wait,” he orders, grabbing his hand to keep him from running away. “I’m sorry. Anything you need to tell me, you can tell me. I’ll listen, I’ll always listen to you. What did you want to tell me?”

“It’s not about getting married,” Viktor swears, and it’s a crack in poor Yuuri’s resolve to listen. It’s cruel of him, to reject him so blatantly though. “I promise I won’t pressure you. Whenever you’re ready. I know I said when you win gold, but just because you won doesn’t mean we have to. You owe me five after all,” Panicked, “I’m joking! Everything can stay exactly the same. I’m lucky to have that much. I won’t ask for more, I won’t.”

“…So… you don’t want to marry me.” He thought he was prepared, but he was not.

Viktor once accused him of willfully misunderstanding him when they fight. He reminds him of this now. “That is not what I said! I’ve wanted to marry you since the day we met. You can even ask Chris. I said that to him. At the banquet I told him, ‘I am going to marry that man, unless he is straight. Please Chris, tell me that he is not straight because I will cry’, I swear.”

“So you’re not leaving me?” Yuuri is wary of getting his hopes up.

“Leave you?!?!”

The way he says it makes Yuuri defensive, like he’s being ridiculous. “You texted me that we need to talk!”

“Yes. Admittedly, your English is better, but how does that translate to breaking up?”

“Everyone knows that ‘we need to talk’ is code for ‘it’s not me, it’s you’, which is code for ‘it’s definitely you’!”

“What.” Viktor scratches his nose. “This is an American thing?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you say if you really just need to talk about something?”

This gives Yuuri pause, because he actually doesn’t know. He shrugs, “Not fucking that.” He might still be a little hysterical.

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiii!”

He sighs, “You know how my mind can be. I guess when I read your text, it got away from me, I thought of the worst case scenario and I spiralled.”

“Okay,” of course, Viktor is ever on a quest to be accommodating of Yuuri’s mental illness. “Then I won’t do that. I won’t prepare you. I’ll just surprise you!”

Wait. Is that worse? That might be worse.

“Surprise! I want to get a puppy! Thoughts?”

“What about Makka?”

“I think Makka could use a little brother or sister! She gets so lonely.” Upon hearing her name, Makkachin, who is very spoiled for attention, woofs from her fancy premium dog bed and prances over to join them. She drops her chin on Yuuri’s thigh, in an oddly accurate representation of her dad’s pout. “Look at her Yuuri, don’t you want another?”

He can’t believe he questioned whether or not Viktor wanted to co-parent with him. They share custody of a poodle.

“And the angriest kitten in all the land!” Viktor adds, when Yuuri verbalizes this.

“HEY!” They all jump and spin around. Yurio stands in the kitchen, holding a cup of water, peering suspiciously over the rim. “You better not be talking about me!”

They are definitely talking about him.

Later, they’re halfway through a movie and Yurio is asleep on the other couch. Viktor and Yuuri snuggle beneath a blanket and Makkachin snoozes on the ottoman by their feet. “I love you,” Viktor says into Yuuri’s hair, “And I want things to change,” he admits bravely. “But only if you want those things too.”

“More dogs?”

They smile.

“More dogs, more rings, more moody teenagers maybe?”

“Can we get those as puppies too?” Yuuri asks, lips against Viktor’s temple.

“Yuuri!” he cries in delight, “Are you asking me to be your baby daddy?”

“YOU TWO ARE DISGUSTING!”

Oops. The kitten is awake after all.

[antihero-writings]

Lightning in his Eye (A Jacksepticeye and Victor Frankenstein Crossover for Inktober prompt 30: Jolt) (Full fic)

Fic Title: Lightning in his Eye 

Fic Synopsis: A Jacksepticeye (Schneeplestein)/Victor Frankenstein (2015) fusion-style crossover for Inktober (2018) prompt 30 (Jolt)!

Notes: This was my first jse fic, so I hope I wrote the egos well!! Please go easy on me!!

I’ve been a big fan of Frankenstein for a really long time, and I’d be surprised if there wasn’t some part of that Jack that chose the suffix –stein in Schneep’s name because of Frankenstein. I remembered this scene in the movie Victor Frankenstein where Victor revives this pair of eyes, and I thought the scene would work really well with Schneep and Sam! I originally thought about using Robin as Igor, but I eventually decided JJ would probably work better. Also, I know Sam isn’t supposed to have a gender, but I like to think of them as a ‘he,’ and I thought that worked well for this pic! Also, sorry about the inconsistent grammar/accent, I felt like ‘ee’ didn’t always work, and Schneep’s accent is a bit inconsistent anyways! XD

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic:

The eye hangs limp in its covered jar, its lid closed, waiting to be awakened.

The apartment is dimly lit; a fire in its place, candles strewn about, the windows letting in faint light of a bluish hue.

“Follow me! I haf to show you somesing!” the doctor says.

His lab coat swings at his side as he strides into the next room. The newcomer, who is wearing a waistcoat and bowler hat, is at his heels. He strokes his mustache, very expressive in his curiosity, but doesn’t say a word.

They reach the covered jar, and each crouch on either side of it. Beside the jar are other instruments and wires that JJ can only describe as an amusement park for electricity. The doctor leans in close, a certain fire lighting in his blue eyes, his words low:

“I am of ze belief zat death can be made a temporary condition.”

His new assistant crosses his arms and shakes his head.

“Vat?” He leans back, a cocky smile creasing his features, “You sink iit’s imposeeble? No, no, no my friend. Not probable maybe, but when you’re working with ze great Doctor Schneeplestein,” he raises a finger proudly, “you must go for only zee best!”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Life is temporary. Vhy should death be any deeferent?”

He says it like it’s the simplest thing, like life and death are an equation.

“Now, I don’t have time for redeeculous notions like false modesty. Zo, it iz without pride or shame, I declare this an act of—”

Schneeplestein rips the pale curtain off the lonely stage to reveal the jar of green liquid, and the lonely eye within it.

“Genius!” The doctor finishes, like the word is the last note in his show’s final song.

The other man stills, staring. His own eyes flick from the lifeless one to meet those of the doctor.

“I vas looking for applause,” Schneep puts his hands on his hips, looking away and clearing his throat, “but I vill take stunned silence.”

His assistant starts clapping.

“It iz too late now!” he holds up a hand to stop him. “Just…liisten.”

He starts turning some of the dials, preparing the experiment.

“Zis eye is over sree months old.” He explains, “Ze liquid is an electrically conductive jelly of my own device, that serves a double function; to preserve and to…” he pauses, looking up at JJ, “Don’t be getting ahead of yourself liitle Jameseyboy!” He wags a finger in front of him, then turns to the table behind him. “I von’t bore you with all ze technical mumbo-jumbo, you know how it iis,” he waves his hand, “doctor ztuff.”

He pulls a device that looks like a metal fork from a cloth on the table, and holds it up in front of himself—looking at as if he isn’t quite sure how it works either. He then holds it up precariously by one of the handles to show JJ.

“Zee?” he gestures to it with his other hand, “Doctor zings.”

He then proceeds to plug the fork into the liquid, and JJ crouches back down to get a better look at the upcoming experiment.

Schneeplestein begins spinning the wheel beside it, haphazard metal spinning, pumping in an effort to appease its maker, who has an almost maniacal gleam in his eye as he does so—(fear and awe mixing in JJ’s). It sparks lightning, which startles his new assistant, but crackles like the low laugh in the doctor’s throat. Green smoke like the breath of some dragon forms in the jar beside it. He flips the switch and the lightning storm dives in the liquid, sputters and frays, making it smoke and bubble.

The eye awakens. It opens.

It looks around, but cannot move, due to its tail being clamped down.

In a fluid motion the doctor takes a match from the tiny pot beside it and holds the fire up to the eye. It shies away from the light.

“There, do you zee?” A small laugh bubbles in his throat. “He lives.”

The look of awe, concern, and curiosity in Jameson’s eyes shifts to inquisitive at the word ‘he.’

“Vat? You sink I’m just going to call him ‘it’? No no no my friend. I just said hee’s alive, I’m not going to call him ‘iit’ like zome barbarian! You’re working with Doctor Schneeplestein, as I said, you haf to expect the best! In fact, let’s giive him a name! Vat do you sink ve should call him?”

JJ shrugs. Clearly he is out of his depth.

Schneep strokes his beard, leaning back, looking at it.

The eye stares. He has seen this doctor before. Whenever he awakes, he’s always there, and he always has this gleam in his eye. Something like pride but…darker. He isn’t quite sure how he feels about him. He hasn’t seen the other one, but he seems nice enough.

“Sam!” Schneep suddenly exclaims.

JJ jumps slightly.

“Zats vat ve’ll call him! Sam!”

Why? JJ’s expression asks.

“I don’t know! Am I supposed to explain everysing? I am a doctor James—Jack—whatever your name is! I don’t haf to explain everything to you!”

JJ raises an eyebrow.

Schneep turns up his nose and walks out of the room, as if to make a dramatic exit, but which simply seems like he left a question hanging unanswered in the air.

Jameson stays to observe the experiment, marveling at the miracle that has occurred before him.

Sam tries to swim closer, but his tail tugs at the clamp. Without asking the doctor, JJ stands and opens the clamp, releasing him.

Alive. Jameson marvels, watching the eye move freely now, gaining his bearings. How could this eye be alive without a body to be within? How could some lightning and metal create life? It was…beautiful. And terrifying. But Schneep didn’t seem like a bad guy. A little crazy, maybe, but that was a discussion for another time. He had saved his life, after all.

And, he had to admit, Sam was a pretty adorable name.

The eye learns to move in a matter of milliseconds, floating along in a way one might mistake for being happy.

JJ taps the glass.

Sam shies away at first, then, as JJ waves at him, decides to swim closer. For a moment they simply watch each other, two blue eyes meeting one.

Jameson then holds up a finger, telling him to wait, and proceeds to write ‘Sam’ on a spare piece of paper nearby.

Of course, Sam has no idea what the paper says as he holds it up, but the man seems pretty happy about it, pointing to it, then Sam, and beaming.

He may not know what it means, who exactly they are, or who he even is, but he thinks he’s going to like being alive.

[randomisedgaming]

Tomb Raider Sega Saturn, how does the unfinished PAL version compared, with the NTSC release.

In recent years there's been a lot of discussion around the Saturn version of Tomb Raider regarding which was the best release. As is the case with these type of discussions, facts often get ignored by people putting out myths and rumours. Often it's the case someone talking about something they know nothing about or using a ten year old memory as their source.

After, slicer1000 started a topic on version changes over at the Sega Saturn UK website, he had a number of people mention Tomb Raider to him. Some claiming many differences between versions, others none. Following this slicer1000 asked me to look into this and so I have and these are the early results so far we've found. Which have turned out to be very interesting and for us it's opened a real can of worms on the console versions of Tomb Raider.

We've seen other people talk and video about the different Saturn versions of Tomb Raider before. However, most seem not to have dug that deep into the issue and missed many of the changes between them.

The original PAL European UK cover for Tomb Raider on Sega Saturn

First a short history lesson, Core Design agreed a deal with Sega of Europe to release the PAL Sega Saturn version of Tomb Raider ahead of both the PC and PlayStation release. This deal, meant Core Design had to badly rush the Sega Saturn release, which many of the development staff of Core were against. This decision badly impacted on the Saturn version as that version had to be rushed to market as a result, corners cut, bugs not fixed, engine optimisation never occurred on the Saturn code.

Some of the telling signs that this may have been the case, include the fact that the handstand move added in by animator Toby Gard, seen in the PlayStation and PC builds of the game, isn't present. Another is the lack of sound options seen on the main menu. Neither are present in any version of the Saturn release either PAL or NTSC. While Randomised Gaming hasn't tested the Satakore release, it seems doubtful in this case it would have any extra bug fixes over the normal NTSC/J version. As by the time it came out in Japan, Core Design and Victor had just released the Japanese version of Tomb Raider II. Most likely the Satakore release was Victor the Japanese publisher trying to earn some extra cash by re-releasing the original Saturn game around the same time the sequel arrived on PlayStation.

While without being a fly on the wall at Core Design in 1996, we will never quite know the whole story. It's been over twenty years since the team made the original and even their memories might be a bit foggy. It would be great, if someone could get the developers together again for a full interview, but so far that hasn't happen.

The Japanese cover for Tomb Raiders, the name change is meant to reflect the fact that Lara Croft and Jacqueline Natla are the raiders in the game.

With that in mind, I was surprised in the amount of changes between the European PAL and the Japanese NTSC/J Saturn version. While we can't say anything for certain on the American NTSC/U version due to not having a copy, it's likely somewhere between the two.

So the first thing any PAL Saturn gamer will notice, after booting up the Japanese NTSC/J version aside from the localisation changes such as the title screen and name change to Tomb Raiders. Is that memory cartridge support has been added to this version. To the untrained eyes these might be the only changes you spot in the game.

On the in-game performance front the game speed of the NTSC/J version at 60hz is just about the same as the PAL version when being forced into 60hz. By default the PAL version is roughly about 17.5% slower at 50hz. While we need to run some more tests the NTSC/J version only seemed to be a single frame faster, than the PAL code forced into 60hz, but this could be down to a frame drop on our capture unit. In short it appears at 60hz the PAL and NTSC/J versions both run at the same game speed on Sega Saturn.

The rather bland Japanese title screen image.

Tomb Raider was designed to run at 30fps and while the Saturn version can't quite hold a stable 30fps it got pretty close in our non-combat comparison with the PC version. Being about eight frames behind, in a twenty five second run comparison video at 60hz. This is just based on one test so far, but we plan to do more and provide the details in a superior attack video at a later date.

(Note, we should stress that attract/demo mode sections should not be used for frame rate tests, as these sections are often videos or unique sections designed to showcase the best of the game. Often there can have a bit of underhand trickery going on with them, as they are designed to be shown to consumers in shops.)

While the Saturn game engine doesn't appear to have been improved much for the NTSC/J version, there are numerous art changes and bug fixes. That have occurred, the first one I'm going to highlight is the added loading image of Lara in a dress included after selecting the gym, it appears after the FMV intro to the house.

A rare chance to see Lara in her non adventure attire, not seen in the PAL Saturn version.

Next up we have a clear, art bug fix seen in the music room, in the PAL version there is an incorrect over lapping set of strings, incorrect placed upside down. In the Japanese NTSC/J version this has been fixed.

Bug fix to the harp in the music room PAL (Left) NTSC/J (right)

One improvement you might not easier notice without a stop watch is loading times. The NTSC/J version at 60hz, when compared with the PAL version forced into 60hz, loading into and out of scenes a few seconds quicker. So in that area some optimisation has taken place to improve the games performance.

One of the big changes Randomised Gaming spotted is that the PAL version doesn't use final texture art. In the opening stage alone extra snow and touch ups to the rock textures can be seen in the NTSC/J disc which matches the PC release. Take a look at this images, two from the Saturn and one from the PC version. The grey rock to the far right of Lara has added snow as does the big rock just to her left, in the PAL version there is a dull grey patch where much of the snow was added. All this extra snow is included in the PC version.

PAL (Top) NTSC/J (Mid) PC (Bottom) the added snow in the NTSC/J version is easy to miss, but is just one of many texture changes.

Now here comes the real last revelation (forgive the Tomb Raider name pun) if you are playing the console ports. As neither the PAL or NTSC console version is running the game correctly. Tomb Raider was designed to run at 30fps, something only NTSC consoles can do, due to the game's speed not being correct optimised at 50hz. However, the screen aspect ratio was only optimised at 50hz/576i as more of the screen is displayed in each frame. The NTSC version at 480i crops the picture and makes Lara appear stretched at 60hz as a result. (This, 576i optimisation is also why NTSC owners should not purchased the PAL version. As at 60hz the PAL version camera cuts off the bottom of the picture. The NTSC/J version has the camera position adjusted to correct for this issue.)

To demo this, here is the aspect ratio seen on the gym floor at both 50hz PAL on the left and the NTSC/J 60hz. More of the floor tiles both top and bottom can be seen in the PAL release compared to the NTSC version. The same is true with all the previous screenshots shown in this blog post.

PAL 576i Saturn (Left) NTSC/J 480i Saturn (right) the NTSC version looks very zoomed in and the floor titles are no longer true squares. Note how in the NTSC picture it can only show five tiles from top to bottom. Where as the PAL version is almost able to show six fully.

Here's some more comparison screenshots to show the height of Lara with the PC version, note how in the NTSC screenshot she is in fact taller than her PC counter. That's because the aspect ratio is incorrect in the NTSC version due to it being badly stretched. Also note how much of the top and bottom of the picture is missing in the NTSC screenshot.

The PAL Saturn version uses a matching aspect in line with the PC release, compared to the stretched looking Lara in the NTSC picture. Left PAL Saturn, Middle PC and right Saturn NTSC.

Now, you might be wondering what this all means, well applying my own industry experience and having read as many old interviews with the team behind the game. It's clear Tomb Raider was rushed and unfinished on the Saturn. In fact, it's very likely that if you are playing the Saturn version, you aren't playing a version of the game the developers intended to release.

To me, it looks like the later NTSC builds, just patched the final PAL Saturn code, without adding in some of the improvements seen in the game engine on the PlayStation or PC. The big exception to this rule, is the art textures, they have been completely overhauled for the NTSC/J Japanese version.

In a somewhat odd twist of fate neither the PlayStation or PC versions are quite the definitive versions either. Now this is still early research, but having spent a few hours comparing the early levels in the game. The PC version is the best version these days, not least thanks to some of the nice mods you can get for it. Even if they still don't add in some of the Saturn and PlayStation exclusive effects. The PlayStation version also has its own unique set of issues not seen in the Saturn.

It like the Saturn version was also clearly designed to display at 576i, but it also incorrectly stretches some textures, much like the square floor in Lara house, which in the PlayStation version isn't square in either PAL or NTSC. It doesn't take much to note that many textures in the PlayStation release also appear distorted or incorrect at an angle even the flooring.Lets run that field of view comparison test again.

(Left) PAL Saturn 50hz 576i (Right) PAL PlayStation 50hz 576i. While the PAL PlayStation field of view is more than the NTSC Saturn version, it’s still quite a bit shorter than the PAL Saturn. There also not quite true squares either on PlayStation.

The PlayStation version also has trouble keeping textures straight when drawn at a perspective angle as shown here. Observe the wall to the left of the window and the zigzag look of the wooden panels on it, compared to the ones seen in the Sega Saturn version.

NTSC Saturn (Top) PAL PlayStation (Bottom)

While the PlayStation has sharper textures overall this is mainly the case in the mid range field of view. Up close you can see it adds a mesh effect to them and at distance, textures lose their detail hence the PlayStation version has a smaller draw distance, as you can see below. Look at how the flooring fades out on the PlayStation screen capture.

Two comparison of the draw distance between PAL Saturn (Top) PAL PlayStation (Bottom). Same again for the one below, you can’t see into the music room on PlayStation.

Currently trying to find a truly objective and good quality comparison on Tomb Raider is just impossible on the net. The Saturn and PlayStation rivalry still lingers on even now 20 years later and it shows in comments, videos and just about every news post on the internet, par this one I hope. The other huge problem is the amount of people using emulators to compare games, which doesn't reflect the performance of games on original hardware.

Our early performance tests also raised some interesting results between the Saturn and PlayStation version. All I'll say for now is the Saturn version suffers from slowdown noticeably when AI enemies are present or with rapid movement of the camera. Neither of which the PlayStation has an issue with, giving it a more stable frame rate. While the Saturn has a more unstable frame rate, it also runs at a higher frame count, making it the fastest of the two versions when slowdown doesn't rear its head. This is what I saw when I compared both PAL versions at 50hz on “real hardware” and I must stress the real part.

Shading and colours also differs between the two console versions, Saturn uses a darker palette compared to the PlayStation version, the lighting also differs between the two in many areas. As with other areas we noticed the PAL and NTSC/J Saturn releases use different palette to one another, the NTSC/J seemed to use a slightly lighter palette in some areas. At first I did wonder if it was just a bug with my capture unit settings, but the more screen grabs I took the more I realised that there had been changes between the two.

Quick level of detail test at short and middle range, while the Saturn has the edge at the long range. PlayStation clearly looks better at the mid range, the more commonly used range. As for the near range both look almost the same. PAL Saturn (Top) PAL PlayStation (Bottom)

That's all I'm going to cover for now until we can get a full on video comparison done. There are many other areas the Saturn and PlayStation differ on, already listed over the net. Yet, Lara does have one last secret to tell us, you see it's not just the PAL Saturn version that was incomplete. Now I know traditional PC versions are usually the last version to be mastered for release. Console games have to be mastered much earlier, as they have to also pass Sega's and Sony's internal testing, something you don't have to do for PC titles. (On that note as a bit of trivial the PAL Saturn release incorrectly uses an image of a Japanese joypad, grey with blue button, the NTSC/J is the flip of that as it uses the western black pad instead.)

Now normally due to this the PC release often ends up being the final code and art, it's a good rule of thumb, but not always so. In Tomb Raider's case this seemed to be so, based on the improved textures seen in this version. These days thanks to mods, you can also run the PC version in lovely 16:9 at 1080p. So time wise if you also include the ATI patch in 1997 it is the last build of the game that got an update.

That why I'm using the PC version as the end point of this next screenshot comparison, so first will be the PAL Sega Saturn which was the first build released and according to the header file on the disc was mastered on the 17th September 1996. Followed by the PAL PlayStation one which released in late November 1996, so mastered around the end of October and third will be the Japanese Saturn release with a header build of 26th November 1996.

Ignoring the fact that the PC version is in widescreen and that the Japanese NTSC Saturn release looks stretched can you spot the texture changes? The key areas to look at are the chair, stained glass in the window, pictures frame and wall texture. Order again is, PAL Saturn, PAL PlayStation, NTSC/J Saturn and PC.

The PAL Saturn version is the only one to have the dark red texture on the left side of the back of the chair's red padding, in every other version it is flipped so appears on the right. The wood texture used on the chair is also different from other versions. In the two PAL console versions the stained glass window is a muddy brown like the frame it sits in. Where in the NTSC/J Saturn one it is a grey, the PC version adds in some blue with the grey. Both the PC and NTSC Saturn versions have recoloured picture frames and touched up wood panelling with a white highlight on some walls. There are a few other changes also, but that is a clear timeline of art fixes and changes to Tomb Raider.

Remember when I said it up opened a can of worms early here's the thing, based on this evidence, none of the PAL console versions use the final build of the game. While I wasn't able to source a NTSC/U copy of the Saturn version, I was able to look at the last American PlayStation version. That had all the same colouring and textures as the PAL PlayStation release from what I tested. We weren't able to find a Japanese PlayStation version either, but as Victor published it the same time as the Saturn release. The fixes seen in the Japanese Saturn version are likely to be includes in the Japanese PlayStation release as well. 

Lara’s handstand move which doesn’t appear in any version of the game on Sega Saturn

Now while we can't say for certain until someone tests every version released in Europe and American. As the Platinum or Greatest hit versions might be different, it appears the fixes added to the Japanese release, weren't then added into any of the later western releases on PlayStation. I can say for certain the PAL Saturn re-release in the DVD hard case, was just the original Saturn version with no added fixes. As Randomised Gaming has both PAL boxed versions one is from print pressing B the other from G. The only change is the case it came in and an additional number code printed on the disc rim.

Which on a bit of a bombshell note means that if you live in the west and played Tomb Raider on console you likely have never played the final version of the game, Core Design wanted to give to gamers in the 90s. OK, that's a bit of a sweeping, without us check every version released, but the evidence isn't looking good.

As is often the case the last version out the door of the studio, is the best patched up release which is why for a British developed game the Japanese console version is the best looking. Strangely the same often happens with the European version of Japanese games as the PAL version tended to be developed last.

The Japanese Sega Saturn joypad cameo’s in the PAL version

Ultimately it leaves me with a lot more questions, such as how does the rest of the game compare between versions seeing as so far, I've only tested the early levels. It's been over a decade since I last finished the game and I've only just starting working through the NTSC/J release for the first time. To me applying my industry experience and the tight time frame it's been said, they build the game in, it couldn't have been an easy development. As many of these changes showed the developers kept trying to make the game better with every release, up until development finally stopped. Certainly having looked at the various versions myself this past week, there's are now a few burning questions I'd like to ask the team if I could.

As for our final verdict on the Saturn version, it's clear the games has been improved for the NTSC/J release in many areas when directly compared with the PAL release. This comes at the cost of an incorrect aspect ratios, but the improvements are worth this trade off. While many of the changes aren't easily noticeable and there is no clear evidence of a an frame rate improvement when both versions are run at 60hz. The amount of improvements to textures, load times, cartridge support, bug fixes make the NTSC/J the version of choice for Saturn owner.

Is it worth upgrading, if you own the PAL version or NTSC/U already? That really depends how much a fan you are of the series and if you plan on playing the game again. It's far to say that many of these changes most users wouldn't notice unless they are directly pointed out to them. However, for the best version it's far to say, grab the steam release and look into some of the fan mods.

That's it I hope you've enjoyed this short look at some of the changes between the Saturn versions and are insight into some of the other releases and changes. We will aim to a more in depth video on the subject at a later date, but for now I need to look into the Japanese PlayStation version.

For high resolution of many of the comparison images used in this feature please visit these two image blog post here and here. They make comparing some of the changes much easier. You can also see are video look here:

Feature by Random Gamer Riven.

Twitter: RDGamerRiven

E.mail: randomgamerriven@gmail.com

[gaytrainsalltheway]

Flower Boy  (anthro)

He was always friendly, he was always calm, and he was always socializing. However, he was always questioning. Everyone knows about Thomas, he lives and works on sodor. He's number one, and was loved by just about everyone.

He liked everyone back, but there was one other... one that was special to him. He loved just about everything of him. Of course that what any one would say when they love someone, but for Thomas it was different. He's been exposed to same gender couple, and even though he's been scolded for having supportive opinions on it, inside he knew that his feeling for two males to love eachother wasn't ever gonna change. In fact he was even taken to Victor who emotionally tried and persuade him on the matter. However, Victor in the end took side with Thomas.

When ever Thomas would see his interest he'd do what just about any other would do, tense up, try to play it out... or slightly get turned on whenever he touched you. It doesn't help either when your crush sleeps a few beds next to you either. It also doesn't help when there's a homophobe keeping an eye on you even though there's another homosexual couple there.

"Thomas...Thomas?" A faint voice called.

Thomas' eyes cracked open he looked to his side to find a figure. He knew who it was just by the shape of the head.  He sat up rubbing his eyes. Percy's expression was worried, and he also seemed rather scared.

"W-what?" He asked confused.

"I know it's not your job, but can you take the mail tonight?"

Thomas looked at his friend, he wouldn't mind delivering the mail, but he was also wondering why Percy was so worried.

"Are you okey Percy?"

"I'm just afraid, James said he heard something earlier. It was very loud, and didn't sound pleasant." Percy described.

"That's just James being... James." Thomas replied.

"But what If there's something out there?" Percy worried.

Thomas thought for a moment. He was sure James was just playing tricks on Percy, but he also wanted to know if what he was saying was true. Then an idea came in.

"What if you deliver the mail, and I come with you?" Thomas suggested.

Percy smiled, he'd love to work with his best friend.

He grinned,"That's a great idea. Let's go!" Percy was eager to leave and so he threw Thomas' blanket.

"Hold on I still need to get dressed!" Thomas reminded, as he quickly was trying to switch his clothes.

Then another voice groaned, "Hurry up and leave, some of us are trying to sleep."

"Well maybe you should tell James to stop playing these games." Thomas replied tieing his shoes.

"Shouldn't Henry be taking the flying kipper?" wondered Percy.

"His problem not mine." Gordon grunted, " Go on and deliver the mail before who wake someone else up."

Once Thomas was all set Percy and him jogged away. Gordon watched them as they left, just when he was about to go back to sleep, Henry rose up.

"Is my anus due yet?" He asked.

"...What type of dream were you having?"

(I'm sorry)

Thomas and Percy ran into the the station. They were loaded with mail, and soon took off again.

"Do you think we should get back at James?" wondered Percy.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, " Since when are you all about revenge?"

"I'm not, it's just James does these things, but he never gets punished. Like that one time he faked that monster. Or that other time he faked the Phantom express."

"I think he did get punished for that last one. I think it was that he had to take your mail for a month." Thomas reminded.

"Oh yeah! I slept great that month." Percy smiled.

"...you work at night, sleep for a few hours just to wake up and work again in the morning." Thomas realized.

Thomas was starting to question why this was approved. He and Percy after all were still children and he also is realizing why Percy looked tired most of the times. Henry's job also applies to working and night, sleep a bit and working again but Henry was an adult. This is about a child for darn sake!

"Does it ever bother you that you work so much?" questioned Thomas.

Percy replied, "Nope, makes me feel really useful. Does work ever bother you?"

"Of course not, I enjoy looking after my branch line and working with Annie and Clarabell." Thomas replied.

Percy looked at the sky, "I wish I had a branch line, it would seem fun to work on." How did you get your branch line Thomas?"

"I rescued James after his breaks caught on fire...who uses wood as break?" remembered Thomas.

Percy giggled. Thomas liked to see him giggle, it made him feel warm inside. It also made him have pure thoughts of him. It's not easy having pure thoughts when he's wearing shorts at night...very short shorts.

"Im ready for winter any day now." Percy brought up.

"I thought you didn't like winter." Thomas assumed.

"I can't stand this heat anymore. My head is always sweating at night."

"Maybe you should cut your hair?" suggested Thomas.

"I said that too, everyone threw a fit."

"Why? It's your hair."

"Most of them said it felt like pressing their face against a soft blanket."

"Are people really just sticking their faces in your hair?" questioned Thomas.

Percy nodded, "I don't mind it's mostly when others give me hug or if I give someone a hug. I like people's affection."

Thomas thought about, he was curious now. He also wondered who's into Percy's hair. Although, he did understand why people would be upset if Percy cut his hair. It looked like a flower. A tiny caterpillar crawlings on a flower, and Thomas would be the sky...his sky.

"How many stations do we have left?" wondered Thomas.

Percy answered, "I think this is the last one, time goes by fast when we're talking."

"And work too." Thomas added.

"It's still night time."

"Which means we can go back to sleep! I might as well sleep in these clothes though."

Percy responded,"I'm sleeping in my pajamas, I'm not very comfortable sleeping in these clothes."

As Thomas and Percy headed back they were both exhausted ready to sleep. Thomas still was filled with curiosity, and a bit of urge. He kept glancing at Percy who was switching clothes. He slipped on his green t-shirt and shorts. Finally Thomas spoke up.

"Percy?"

"Yes Thomas?"

"I want you to sleep with me."

"...Why Thomas?"

"Percy... we've been best friends for as long as I can remember, and usually when your not around I talk to all these people. They all seem to care for me and some may like me more than others. I've questioned certain feeling I felt when ever you occurred in my head. Like when I found out you were sleeping at the diesel works, spending time with Gator, and all these other times. When I see you I just wanna be with you since, it always feels like the greatest moments of my live."

Percy stared at Thomas, he wasnt sure what to say. He wasn't upset, but he didn't really know how to feel. His eyes began to water.

"..." Thomas at that moment didn't know what to do. He sorta began to feel like a fool, and urged to just run away.

"Im sorry, I don't know why I'm crying." Percy said whipping his tears. "I think it's happy tears."

"Happy tears?"

"Thomas I loved you ever since I layed eyes on you. I was just so afraid of saying anything and so I've never said anything. Every time you meet someone new I was afraid they'd take you away from me."

"So...what do we do know?" wondered Thomas.

"You sleep with me." smiled Percy.

Thomas smiled back, eventually they both climbed into a bed and cuddled. Thomas had never felt so warm in his life. It was really a sacred feeling when finding that person who makes you feel like that. Thomas scattered his fingers through Percy's hair.

"...So soft..." He thought. Then the idea occurred to him. Feeling silk all over his face. He now under stood why everyone who touches Percy does it, you can really get lost in this. "What do you do whenever someone does this?" Thomas asked.

"I just take it." replied Percy, "But with you, it's different. Maybe it's different since you always mean more to me than others. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you."

"...I l-love you too..."

"What do we tell everyone when they wake up?" wondered Percy.

"Well just wait and see."

[ellanainthetardis]

Hi! I wanted to start by saying I adore your writing and hayffie characterizations. I spent a solid 2 weeks devouring your stories and it was glorious. Do you still take prompts? I'd love an AU where Chaff survives, and him and Effie become friends

What better place to become friends than a cell? XD [X]

Newfound Friends

Chaff woke to a niceview of the grey ceiling.

Grey everything, really.

He took a minute to…take stock. His ribs were still hurting, no surprise there. He didn’t like thewheezing sound one bit. He knew quite a few were cracked. No punctured lungthough. No… He wasn’t that lucky and the Peacekeepers weren’t that careless.His left eye wouldn’t open and he figured it had finally swollen shut. Hisbottom lip was split and he could still taste blood on his tongue. His left armwas in agony and that didn’t bear thinking over. They hadmeticulously flayed it from stump to shoulder.

The various other bruises and cuts weren’tlife-threatening. At least he didn’t think so.

He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or notto have managed to get the upper hand on Brutus. If Two’s victor had killedhim… On the bright side he wouldn’t be there getting tortured to an inch of hissanity to protect information he really wishedhe didn’t have. One the less positive side… He wouldn’t be there at all.

Being alive trumped being dead. Even if thatmeant enduring pain.

He had known what he was getting into when hehad signed in the rebellion…

Still… It didn’t make it any easier. How longhad it been now? Weeks? Months? It had started blurring together after a fewdays. There were no windows and there was no rhythm to the coming and going ofthe guards, no way to keep track of time…

He heard the door to his cell being opened andhe closed his good eye, figuring he might as well pretend to be unconscious. Itwould gain him a few minutes of respite probably.

“You like District dogs so much… Why don’t youtry this one?” a Peacekeeper laughed.

There was a pained whine and a thud as something – or more likely someone was thrown into his small cell.

“Hope you have fun with Abernathy’s bitch,Mitchell.” another of his captors said. “I heard she’s a screamer.”

A shiver ran down his spine but he still waiteduntil he heard the door close and the guards’ laugher fade in the distancebefore taking as deep a breath as his ribs allowed and rolling on his side tosit up. It was dark in the cell, the only source of light the four lines thatdefined the shape of the door, but not pitch dark.

He spotted the small shaking shape less than afoot from him and he dragged himself over, wincing all the way. His left armhung limp and useless at his side. He wondered if by the time this would beover he would be missing more than just a hand.

“Trinket?” he called. He was pretty sure it wasa safe bet. Abernathy’s bitch… To hisknowledge – and his knowledge was sound – Haymitch didn’t have a string oflovers lately.

“I don’t know anything.” the woman rasped outin an obvious mechanical response.

“Good for you.” he snorted. It was a fewminutes before he managed to crawl the distance between them. Maybe his bodywas in worse shape than he was willing to admit. She flinched when he put hisgood hand on her shoulder. “Come on, love. It’s just me. Just your old friendChaff.”

The shaking woman peered at him in thesemi-darkness. He couldn’t really tell for sure but she looked worse for thewear. How long had they had her? Since the arena had exploded? Longer? The thinprison uniform was sticky under his palm. Blood. She didn’t try to roll on herback, apparently happy to remain curled half on her stomach. He probed a littlewith his fingers, it wasn’t long before he found the first gash on her back andshe gasped so badly that he took his hand away.

“Sorry.” he muttered, making a face. Whip, heguessed. Not good. “How bad is it, love?”

“Chaff?” she asked. She didn’t sound completelyfocused.

“Yeah.” he confirmed.

“You are alive…” she breathed out.

“Hanging in there.” he snorted, grabbing herelbow to steady her when she pushed herself to a sitting position. She hissedand breathed heavily when the change in positions reopened the wounds on herback but she didn’t immediately faint or complain like he expected her to. Ittold him she had been there a while. “You saw anyone else?”

He was desperate for information.

He knew at least one other victor had beengrabbed from the arena but he didn’t know who. He just hoped they had gottenEverdeen out. The rebellion needed its Mockingjay. That had been the wholepoint. But he knew someone else hadbeen captured. He had seen it when…

They only fed him lies.

“They took Peeta.” she said slowly, reachingfor her face only to drop her hand at the last minute. Chaff frowned andgrabbed her chin, ignoring her flinching, forcing her to tilt her head so hecould see better in the meager rays of light coming from the door. “I amalright.”

It was a lie if he had ever heard one.

Her face was black and blue.

“You don’t know anything.” he scoffed. “What dothey keep you for?”

Her lips stretched into a sardonic smile thatchilled him to the bones. “Insurance.”

“Haymitch.” he said immediately, wrinkling hisnose. He had warned them enough time it would end badly. Hell, he had toldHaymitch time and time again that…

“No.” she denied, gently coiling her fingersaround his wrist and nudging his hand away from her face. “They force me tomake Johanna and Peeta presentable for propos now and then. They both behavebetter when my life is on the line.”

So the boy wasthere…

His heart missed a beat and then raced as if tocompensate. If the boy was there… He shouldn’t have been as pleased by thatnews as he was probably, but fuck thatmeant they might not have to survive until the end of the war after all.Because if the boy was there…

“Jo?” he asked. “She’s here?”

“Yes.” Trinket confirmed. “Annie too. But theyhaven’t touched her.”

“Cresta?” he frowned. “She’s got no part inthis. She’s…”

“But Finnick must know they have her.” she cuthim off. “At least that’s what Johanna and I concluded.” She waited for asecond and then swallowed hard. “We had no idea you were there. I… I never sawyou before…”

“They kept that girl with me at first…” hemumbled. “Your stylist?”

“Portia?” she asked, sounding far too muchhopeful.

“Yeah, maybe.” he shrugged – and immediatelyregretted it. “Broken jaw. Couldn’t chat. They moved her to another cell. I’mguessing you’re my new roommate.”

“They keep me with Johanna usually.” shewhispered. “They hurt me to make her behave.”

“You mentioned.” he snorted and still found itunbelievable that Jo would care at all. There was no love lost between thosetwo. Just like there was no love lost between them probably. He studied her as best as he could in thesemi-darkness, noting the way she hugged herself and the shivers. “You’recold.”

“I am always cold.” she chuckled without anyamusement. “Johanna says it means my body will give in soon.”

“Let’s not go down that road.” he grumbled,shifting until he felt the wall at his back. He found a sitting position thatwasn’t too hard on his ribs and opened his good arm. “Come here, love. Not goodfor much right now but I can still keep a girl warm.”

She hesitated for a long time before movingcloser. She was wary when she leaned into his side, mindful of her injuries aswell as his.

It was awkward on several different levels.

The least of which being her promise that shewould cut his remaining hand if he ever tried to grope her again. He was almosttempted to try just for the laugh of it.

“They are doing something to Peeta.” she whisperedafter a long moment.

He tried to open his swollen eye and gave up.“I’m guessing they’ve done stuff to all of us, love.”

“No.” she countered. “They are… I do not knowwhat they are doing to him. I do not know! But it is bad. He is…” Her voice broke and sheshook her head. “I keep telling Johanna Haymitch will come.”

“He will.” he said quietly. He knew his friend.If there was a chance to free the boy, Haymitch would take it. And he wouldgrab Jo and the rest of them on the way.

“I am not so sure.” she confessed. “It’s been…It’s been so long…”

“When he can, he’ll come.” Chaff insisted.“Come on, Trinket, you know our boy. He doesn’t give up on family.”

“He won’t give up on the children…” shemumbled, sounding a bit out of it. Her breathing was too raspy for his tastes.He wondered if she had broken ribs of her own. It occurred to him they mighthave tossed her in there so he could watch her die.

“Won’t give up on his girl either.” he chidedher, giving her a small jolt that made her whimper in pain. “You hang inthere.”

“Not his girl.” she protested weakly.

“Yeah, right…” he scowled. “You know, you’regetting skinned for it, might as well own up to it.”

“I’m his bitch…”she countered with bitterness. “There is no denying that anymore. It doesn’tmake me his girl. He doesn’t care about me. They’re right.”

“Trinket, if you really think that, then youdon’t know him at all.” he accused. And she musthave known better. Haymitch always insisted she was much clever than they all gaveher credit for… “Why do you think they’re keeping you?”

“To kill me at the right moment.” she retortedsleepily. “To weaken him. It does notmean…”

“Oh, yeah, it does.” he scoffed. “He’s been crazy about you for years. Stop italready.”

“You’re wrong.” she argued but her voice wasgetting fainter and her weight against his side was heavier.

“No, I ain’t.” he insisted. “You’re justfalling asleep or you’re dying on me, love? Warn a guy.”

“I’m tired…” she whispered. “I’m so tired… I can’t… I can’t let Johannasee… I have to… The children come first. We promised. The children come first.I have to protect them. I have to…”

He was surprised not to be surprised by thestrength in her voice despite how soft her words were. Trinket had always beena feisty little thing. He had just not know she could be brave too. MaybeHaymitch was right after all, maybe there were things about her he just didn’tunderstand.

“Ain’t no child, love. You can let go with me.”he offered. “But no dying, yeah? When I get out of here I don’t want to have toexplain to my best friend that his girl died on me.”

She half-chuckled, half-sobbed, her face brieflyburying in his shoulder.

“I miss him…” she confessed after a couple ofminutes, pain and longing lacing her voice. “I wanted to see him again. Ireally wanted to…” She licked her lips. “My body is numb. I can’t feel the painanymore. Johanna said…”

“You’re not dying on me, Trinket.” he said morefirmly, a bit panicked. “Come on. Talk to me. Tell me something about you.”

“Like what?” she murmured.

“I don’t know.” he sighed. “Anything that keepsyou talking. What do you want to do when this is over? Say the rebels win…”

“Can they?” she asked.

“I’m an optimist.” he dismissed. “So. You’refree to do anything you want with your life… What do you do?”

She was silent for a moment before he heard herlick her lips again. Or try to. If she was half as thirsty as he was…

“I really don’t know..” she answeredeventually.

“You’ve got no imagination, love.” hecomplained. “I’m gonna take a holiday and do nothing for a whole year. Hell,I’ll go visit Finnick in Four. He’s always going on and on about that place.Can’t be a bad place to be. Maybe we should all go. Have a little victorsholiday.”

“I am not a victor.” she pointed out.

“Like Haymitch would leave you behind.” hescowled.

“He did once.” She sounded bitter.

“He’d never have left you to be tortured.” heoffered quietly. “There’s an explanation somewhere.”

“I hope it’s a good one.” she remarked. “Toobad I will never hear it.” Her breathing was becoming more and more raspy andChaff’s worry was increasing by the second. It wasn’t just that he didn’t wantTrinket to die – it would crush Haymitch and he didn’t particularly want toshare his cell with a corpse – but it felt like forever since he had talked tosomeone like that. It felt like having a friend. “I love him, you know…” shemurmured. “Tell him if I… I love him…”

He tried to keep her awake. He asked questionsshe gave not quite coherent answers to.

He waited and waited for the guards to come by,hoping he could… He wasn’t sure what he could do to convince them to help her.Maybe that was another form of torture. Maybe next they would toss Jo in thereand let him watch while she die.Maybe it was all a ploy to make him talk or…

Trinket had long fallen asleep when the acridsmell burned his nose. He opened his good eye to see the room filled with fog.

He held his breath.

As long as he could he held his breath.

One whiff was enough for him to get sleepy…

He was already going under when the door was brutallyopened.

“That’s Chaff Mitchell.” a man said. “He’s onthe list. Grab him and let’s get out of here. We still need to find Mellark.”

“Who’s the woman?” someone else answered.“She’s not a victor, right? Should we…”

“We can’t save everyone, Hawthorne.” the firstvoice retorted, not sounding very pleased about that. “It’s going to be hardenough to get out with the ones we came for.”

Chaff felt hands prying Trinket away from hisside and he fought against the oblivion that wanted to swallow him. His goodhand grabbed an arm. He wasn’t quite sure whose.

“Take her.” he muttered.

The man who was looming over him shook hishead, looking sorry. “My orders are to grab the victors and go. I’m sorry but…”

“She’s…” he tried but it was too complicated toexplain. His brain wasn’t up to elaborate explanations. “Haymitch. She’sHaymitch’s. Take her.”

“You don’t understand.” the guy insisted. “Wecan’t take all the prisoners in this place. We came for you.”

“Take her.”he spat one last time, shoving the man away from him. “Tell Haymitch… TellHaymitch…” His good eyelid fluttered close. “He… He owes me one… yeah? Get herto…”

He had no idea what happened next or if he haddreamt the whole thing.

The next time he woke up Trinket was gone andhe was alone.

The Peacekeepers kept on coming and askingquestions as if nothing had happened. He figured he must have imagined it all.He figured he was going a little crazy.

He was definitely bordering on insane when thedoor opened on Haymitch months later.

He was feverish, mad with pain and half-dead.He was long used to hallucinations by then and it took him a while for him tobelieve his friend when he told him it was over, that he was free.

Free.

What a joke.

When he come in a hospital room a while later,feeling blissfully high on drugs, Haymitch was sitting right there, next to thebed. It felt like a strange reversal of all those years ago, when he had waitedfor a sixteen year old kid with far too much spunk to wake up.

“Tell me you’ve sneaked in some booze.” hemumbled and then opened and closed his mouth a few times. It was parched.

Haymitch startled, his grey eyes darting to hisface. “Chaff.”

“How long?” he asked. Because the question hadhaunted him for far too long.

“A few months.” Haymitch said. It was nowherenear precise enough but before he could complain about it, his friend hadgrabbed his hand. Weird. They weren’t touchy-feely. “Thank you.”

It took him a while to understand what Haymitchmeant. That short period of time with Trinket all that time ago felt like adream to him. He hadn’t been sure it had been real. The whole rescue thing…“They took her to you, then?”

“Yeah.” Twelve’s victor nodded, relief andgratitude mixing on his face. “Just in time too. She wouldn’t… She barely madeit to Thirteen. If you hadn’t…”

“Yeah.” he cut him off with a shrug, not reallyeager to be reminded that he could have been out of that prison much earlier. “She’s your girl, ain’tshe? Couldn’t let her die.”

“Thank you.” Haymitch said again, far toogravely.

There was more going on, he figured.

He only learned later about Everdeen’s sister,the dead kids at the Circle and who was really responsible for it. He learnedabout Finnick too. And about Annie’s pregnancy. And about far too many thingsat once.

He was frustrated with his own physical recoveryand couldn’t quite focus on Haymitch’s recurring rants.

Truth be told, he was almost relieved when theothers finally showed up, having finally been transferred from Thirteen. It wasgood to see Jo and Annie.

He wasn’t entirely sure about being huggedwithin an inch of his life by a small blond woman he could barely situate untilhe met her blue eyes.

“Thank you.” Trinket whispered in his earbefore planting a kiss on her cheek.

He was a bit embarrassed but he covered it upwith one of his familiar leer. “Now, love… You know Haymitch gets jealouseasy…”

There was laughter and nobody noticed he wasmostly pretending. Trinket was the only one who looked at him as if she had aclue. She was quieter than he remembered, more subdued. She reached out forHaymitch sometimes, as if to reassure herself he was really there, and Twelve’svictor was more open about his feelings than he had ever seen him. It wasnothing exceptional but the looks and the small discrete gestures of comfortspoke volumes. Chaff made some jokes, mostly because he felt it was expected ofhim.

He stopped joking when Trinket self-appointedherself his physical therapy coach.

Haymitch didn’t have time, Johanna was too fullof anger and short of patience, Annie needed to take it easy and the doctorsall agreed he needed support. He wasn’t sure how to explain he didn’t know howto find support in an escort with whom he had never really seen eye to eyebefore.

It was funny how sharing a cell, howeverbriefly, could change things though.

She seemed to have a gift to know when he wasfaking cheerfulness or when it was necessary to leave him alone, no matter howmuch he protested they weren’t bothering him.

It pained him to admit Haymitch had been right.

She was a good person.