#Of all the things that idiot learns at orientation

[sapphic-agent]

I'm still mad about this so I'm going to rip it apart by section now that I have the energy :)

This is probably the only part of the diagram that's kind of accurate. But it's actively ignoring one crucial detail: there are no "people" in this context. Most people just ignore Bakugou at this point. He's directly and deliberately harming one person: Izuku. It also feels like this understates that Bakugou doesn't just "suck," he's been targeting, harassing, and abusing a minority for the better part of a decade

Bakugou has always put more energy into his goals. That's the only thing that's stayed consistent about his character because it's the only thing he's ever cared about. He doesn't get brownie points for sucking a little less (which isn't even really true, his victim began to step out of a victim role and he didn't know how to deal with that) just because he's goal-oriented now. There's also something to be said about the people around him not being able to be spoken over or told what to do. While 1A doesn't stand up to Bakugou, he isn't able to really push them around. So of course his behavior lessened; it's not getting him what he wants anymore

This is literally one of the major problems with this arc. Bakugou only "changed" because everyone else made it easy for him. Everyone else had to put in work for him to become even halfway decent. Every lesson he's ever "learned" were good people having to either give him every concession OR- in Izuku's case- sacrifice their own well-being and agency to validate his insecurities. Not once did Bakugou ever have to put in the work himself, it's always been the people around him coddling him. Hell, it's to the point that All Might had to make Bakugou's goals align with protecting people to make him somewhat decent, the dumb idiot couldn't even realize that on his own. This is more like enabling than being a positive influence. An actual positive influence would be someone holding him accountable for his behavior and the only person who even attempts that is Best Jeanist

What's the difference between "flawed" and "still doing the same things only they're funny now?" Because you can't insist to me that Bakugou has changed when he continues to act the same way he always has. He still yells at, insults, and assaults Izuku. The only difference is that it's played for comedy instead of actually taken seriously. So he can still say and do what he wants with no repercussions. And even in the moments that the narrative tries to seriously develop him, it still falls flat because he's never forced to make actual changes to himself. For fuck's sake, we're in the last chapter and he still sucks to the point that he dropped in the hero rankings

How can you tell me that Bakugou's character arc amounts to anything with a straight face?

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 31 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

 Maybe it’s silly, but you feel as though you have a new lease on life, in the days that follow.

John is still undeniably clingy, but so very sweet. It is a much easier form of obsession to bear.

You are still a prisoner, but at least you feel loved.

Perhaps even more precious, you begin to feel safe.

Whatever possessive madness gripped him before seems to have receded for now, and maybe you’re a fool, but you dare hope in time he might make a full recovery.

Now that you’ve reached a sort of understanding, John seems bent on making up for lost time. There is no doubt that you are still his prey, but now he ambushes you with the express intention of making you cum—whether you like it or not.

Again, you find yourself begging him for reprieve, though this time through laughter rather than tears. He swallows your protests with devouring kisses, eating your cries whole as he slides his long fingers inside you and works your clit masterfully with his thumb.

When you complain of your difficulty sitting down, a gift of a hemorrhoids donut pillow appears. You think he meant it as a joke.

John likes to give gifts, you find.

When one day you walk into your studio to find a bejeweled set of headphones bedecked like a crown, you cannot help but grin like an idiot. It is ridiculous what those fucking things cost, and you’d thought you’d been clever about concealing your enchantment with them in Italy, but nothing escapes John Wick’s sharp eye.

When he finds you later wearing your new coronet, singing out of tune while you put paint down on canvas, he presses you into the worktable with his hips and his kisses, going down on his knees before you with a murmur of, “My beautiful queen.” His words make your knees weak, as does his insatiable tongue in your slit. It’s all so much, and when you beg him to take you there on the table he is all too happy to oblige, scattering your pastels in a rainbow of projectiles with a sweep of his arm before driving himself inside you. With legs wrapped around his waist in a desperate effort to hold on, you take the fury of his adoration with a cock-drunk smile.

If you learned anything in the darker times before, it is that this man is a predator to the bone, and no matter what his mood, he loves a good chase. It becomes your favorite game, and it starts one evening when you splash him while doing the dishes. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, and with a screech you run for the stairs.

You only get so far as the living room before he catches you, his arm like a band of iron around your waist hauling you from your feet entirely. It happens too fast to register, but by some form of ninja magic you are suddenly on the floor, the lean length of his body on top of you. On the plush oriental rug with his thick cock inside you, this man makes you see God. 

It feels alarmingly, magnificently, terrifyingly, like truly making love.

“Has anyone ever loved you, the way I do?” he demands desperately, filling you impossibly to the brim.  

“Never,” you barely manage to answer, the force of his thrust stealing your breath away. 

The next question is much more vulnerable. 

“Have you ever loved anyone, the way you love me?”

“Never.”

It’s true, and in the softening of his gaze you dare to hope that someday he will believe you enough.

It is surprising, how quickly the time passes. Despite the circumstances, it is not terribly hard to live with John Wick, like this. He is sweet, and loving, and he spoils you rotten. You could almost mistake your relationship for normal—if one didn’t look too hard at the locks on all the doors. 

Soon summer is fading, giving way to the golden hours of early fall. You see it out the window, but since your little car ride, you still have not been allowed outside. You’re an outdoorsy girl, and frankly, it’s starting to drive you a little crazy. You find yourself clawing at the impenetrable windows with a sigh.

John’s mood has been steady, but your heart is still in your throat when you dare ask, “John, can we go out?”

He looks up from his book, the fall of his dark hair covering half his face as he cants his head in thought. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but even after all this close proximity, you still find him beautiful. You do not think that will ever change.

“Why?” he finally asks, and you detect the shadow of suspicion in his tone.  

“Because I miss it.”

You used to hike every day off you had. Being indoors this long…is doing things to your brain.

You watch as his nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling as he considers this request. You can tell he doesn’t like the thought at all, but you force yourself to stand your ground. He won’t punish you for this, surely? Just for asking?

Of course, he might punish you for what you’ll do later, if the answer is no.

In the end he nods, though more to himself than to you. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it fast? The weather will be turning soon.”

The look he pays you then is less kind, his eyes sharp as glittering obsidian. “I said. I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, assuming the answer is no, and retreat to sulk in your studio. You are painting the view from your favorite outlook on the mountain trail nearby from memory when you start to hear an odd, rhythmic toque…toque sound, over and over.

You go downstairs, searching for the source. No dice in the living room or the kitchen. You follow your ears to the bank of windows off the living room. There’s another door (locked, of course) that leads to a patio. You see John outside…chopping wood? Watching the pine rounds explode under the sharp blade of an axe in his hands shouldn’t be this fascinating, but you find yourself pressed to the window, transfixed. The definition in the muscles of his forearms as he swings down are a sight to behold.

You’re not sure he can see you, the way the glass is mirrored on the outside, but you knock on the widow anyway. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes at first. Then, a small smile. It feels like a little gift, just for you, and it quickens your heart. Watching him do everyday things moves you, and you acknowledge to yourself uneasily for the umpteenth time that you’re in so deep.

As it turns out, the wood was for a little pit fire, which you sit together and watch with a glass of wine that evening out on the patio. The tall trees loom all around you, pitch black outside the ring of your little campfire. It feels so good to be out of the house, but it’s not quite what you wanted. As though he senses that you’re not exactly satisfied with his offering, John tries to distract you with his kisses, laying you down on the outdoor couch to wreck you with his mouth. You make love with your skin bared to the great outdoors, but no one to really see you in your seclusion. Later you snuggle under a soft blanket together.

Sated, you let it go, for now.  

-But John doesn’t forget, and one morning he wakes you early with kisses on your ear. “If you want to hike, we have to go now,” he tells you. You have become spoiled in your captivity, no longer at the mercy of coffee house hours, now used to sleeping through the morning after John keeps you up late with his kisses and his beautiful cock, but the offer of getting to really go outdoors has you up and at ‘em in minutes.

You find your old pair of broken-in Merrel hikers in the walk-in closet, and realize John must have accessed your possessions from your previous life at some point. It’s so strange to see them—you realize in the suspended reality of your current situation, you’ve almost written off everything that came before.

There is a distinct mental separation in your personal timeline—BW, and AW; Before Wick, and After Wick.

You have a quick breakfast and coffee before stepping outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

You can hardly describe the elation you feel, at last being allowed to walk out that front door like you are almost normal. You are so happy just to feel the morning air on your skin. You stand in the driveway like a simpleton, your face lifted to the sky, soaking in the sun. There is a cool breeze that smells of pine, and it is the sweetest thing you have inhaled in a long time.

John watches your reaction intensely, and you do not think you invent it, when you see a glimmer of guilt in his expressive mocha eyes. Intent on assuring him, you stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his bearded chin with your front flush to his.

“Thank you,” you say, and he relaxes slightly against you, resting his forehead against yours.

You are practically skipping as you hit the trail in his woods that connects to the bigger loop. You cannot help but think about that day in the snow, when you met him, alone, on that very path. How easily he could have had you then. It is another clue that tells you he hadn’t decided yet—or he had not yet cracked.

This early, in the middle of the week, it isn’t likely you’ll meet anyone in the woods. You feel a trill of nervousness, as you wonder what would happen if you did. You have been kept to yourself for so long, the thought of contact with other people out in the world feels strange, a little frightening, even.

As you walk an exuberance overtakes you, fills you head to toe. It almost feels like you’re…free. The only contradiction to that is the tall man in black walking by your side. He has let you have free reign, not insisting on holding on to you. He doesn’t have to, you know. He could just run you down with those delectably long legs of his any time he wanted, surely.

That doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t titillating, even if you absolutely know you would be destined to lose. Perhaps he truly has broken you at last, but you have come to love the game of chase too. It is your most exciting distraction in your world that is limited to the confines of the Wick cabin.

You are going to be sore the next day, you know. It’s been…forever, since you’ve been able to walk like this. The most exercise you’ve really gotten has been engaging in your sexcapades with John—as much of a workout as that is—it’s a different group of muscles.

Perhaps he does not insist on holding you, but it doesn’t stop you from reaching for him. You squeeze John’s hand in thank you.

Despite everything…it feels like a perfect day.

“Maybe this is far enough for today,” he says as you approach the junction with the main trail, the line of his private property and the park that adjoins it.

Disappointment spears through you. You are not ready to go back into your prison. It’s turning into a beautiful day, and you have so much energy to burn.

You make a pouty face, playing cute while you are flirting with rebellion inside.

“But the overlook is so pretty this time of year,” you insist, batting your lashes. Lately, that’s been enough to get your way on little things in the house. Today you feel like you can’t lose. Everything is too good.

He narrows his eyes down at you, as though he senses your internal mutiny, but in all your elation you feel strangely impervious. You realize you feel high, the kind of mood lift usually people have to ingest pills to get.  

“Y/n…” He reaches for you, and without thinking you step just out of reach. You’ve played this game a dozen times now in the house. A game you’ve never, to this day, won, but you’ve found it’s the thrill of a lifetime, to be chased down by this man, trusting he won’t really hurt you. It always leads to mind-blowing sex, and maybe you are thinking a bit too much with a lust-addled brain alongside your elation for the great outdoors.

There is a very pregnant moment between you, and you smile when his intense eyes meet yours, your lips curling in what you know is a shit-eating little grin. What happens next is pure reflex; an extension of a thing you’ve done repeatedly together, with a dash of that age-old ingrained instinct of prey in the presence of a predator. But now you’re outside, and your jubilation is magnified times a hundred.

You run.

“Y/n!”

He lunges for you, his fingertips just brushing your arm, but in the end he’s–amazingly–too slow.

You are a human missile, rocketing down the hill, fueled by gravity and the knowledge of how to move in this environment you’ve trained for since you were just a child. You may as well be a wood sprite, for this is your element. This is your mountain, and no matter how many wealthy interlopers buy it up and carve it into parcels and drive up the price of everything so that locals like you can barely live—this will always be your home.

It feels so good to run.

Your feet fly over the needle-strewn forest floor, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. You laugh like a madwoman, the sweet sweet mountain air filling your lungs. You run like a wild thing of the woods, the way you used to when you were a child, before your parents decided to break the oath they'd made to each other and split your happy world to pieces. While your parents fought you would flee to the trees to be free, and you feel that desperate euphoria again. That feeling like you can fly, jumping over rocks and launching from boulders.

You sense more than hear John behind you, your own ears filled with the rushing of your blood and your racing heartbeat. His fingertips brush your back before you juke him around a tree. You hear him curse and you laugh—you do sound mad.

“Have to do better than that, old man!” you crow. 

You realize with another rush that you are far more agile than John is. The trees are your friend, the way you dart around them and power yourself down a new line of retreat. You hear him curse after grazing one, and you realize you might break the poor man’s neck, making him pursue you like this. 

In a pine-needle carpeted clearing you make yourself slow down, and you are so high on adrenaline it doesn’t even hurt when he finally tackles you to the ground, your grin like a baring of teeth, giddy from the chase. He pins your hands above your head, sharp pebbles digging into your skin as you laugh.

“What the fuck—” You interrupt him mid tirade with your mouth on his, a hungry kiss that swallows his fury, but does not quench it. Already anticipating the passion of your (and his) reward with his delicious weight pressed down into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

“You think you’re cute?” he snarls above you when at last you separate.

“I am very cute,” you assert, still giggling to yourself. “Don’t be mad. You love this game.”,

“Maybe I’d love to spank that cute ass of yours raw?”

“Nuh-uh. No hitting.”

You’d made a deal, after all.

He narrows his eyes down at you, and this is when you finally start to sense that maybe he is not half as amused as you are. Your blood runs cold, and before you can blink he has you flipped over on your belly, your pants down around your thighs.

“No—”

You try to squirm away, but his inexorable hand is in your hair—it makes for a damn good handle, the bastard. His big hand digging into the globe of your ass makes you quiver under his fingers. 

Your heart plummets into freefall, as you realize he’s serious. And you can tell he’s not talking about the playful little smacks he sometimes gifts you in the middle of riding his cock to completion. He means to punish you, and the knowledge takes you from the highest high to the blackest despair. You can barely hear past the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the familiar fear and uncertainty from before creeping in. Not again. Life was so good. Please don’t go back to this shit again. You can’t go back to the way things were. You can’t live like that again. 

A revelation settles over you with irrefutable clarity. You accept it as truth with every cell of your being, and you know there will be no going back after this. 

“If you hit me we’re done.”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your tone either now. Just…resolve. You mean what you say, to the very marrow of your bones.

“I think I must have confused you, y/n. You are not in charge here.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you this. If you hit me, I’ll fight you to my dying breath. I mean it.”

Like watching yourself from the outside, you almost find it interesting that this is the true limit of your generosity with him. This is the cliff’s edge. The point of no return. Your resolve is unmoving, even if it fills you with absolute misery. You could lose him now, today, this very minute. This man who keeps you prisoner, yet with whom you have lived happily the past months. This complicated, broken man, who you love with all your heart. 

In this insane moment you realize with soul-shaking clarity…you don’t want to leave him. What would you do with your life? Go back to your stupid little existence at the coffee shop, working your fingers to the bone, doodling on the chalkboard, waiting? You’ve spent most of your life just fucking waiting. Waiting to travel. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting…for this man to come through the door, so you could pester him for five minutes, knowing it would be the highlight of your day.

Could you possibly go back to looking up at the mountain, knowing your Beast in his castle resides there? That a man who loved you like no other is there pining for you?

But if he crosses this line—you will have to leave, somehow. Or die trying. That is your heartfelt resolution. That is the promise you make to yourself. You’ve made too many compromises as of late, and this is a battle for your very soul. 

You feel him like a malevolent storm cloud behind you, trembling in his fury, but for once, torn as to what to do. You realize this is the only time you’ve seen him doubt himself, when he’s contemplating teaching you a lesson. 

You dare to try to talk him down, your voice calmer, or perhaps more distant. You don’t know how you muster the courage; perhaps only in the knowledge that this could truly be it for the two of you. No more we’ll see how it goes or maybe it will be better tomorrow. There is only now.

“This thing we’ve somehow built together, despite everything…” You shake your head, trembling as much out of fear as despair. “It will be destroyed, and you’re the one who will have broken it.”

“You’re the one who ran from me!”

You can tell from the hushed fury in his voice that he is hanging on by a thread. You realize now, what a stupid thing that had been to do. That despite the games you’ve been playing in the house, out here, he just couldn’t handle it. Even just the slightest possibility of you leaving is enough to drive this man off the edge.  

“I let you catch me.” You will him to believe you. You even half believe it yourself.

“The hell you did.”

“It’s true. I know these woods better than you. I’m smaller. I’m faster. I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

Before you can hardly think about what to do you lower your face to the dirt, offering your ass in the air. You know he can see your puffy slit, your glistening opening just begging for him. This is how he has warped you; or maybe you were a twisted little thing all along, just waiting for him to show you the way to your ruin. Either way—you want him, and you will him to see it for himself.

“I let you catch me,” you insist again. “So give me my reward.”

You feel the tremor run through him, from his fingertips to his core.

You realize that he wants to believe you. That maybe punishing you was never really the fun for him at all, in this deadly game you’ve been playing.

You feel him shift his position behind you, his merciless hold moving to your hip. When his long fingers slide into your wet folds you mewl like a cat; half relieved, and half just needing him. He makes you buck by circling your bud, before delving inside your weeping channel with two of his fingers. It makes you moan, and if someone walks up the trail my god will they get an eyeful, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Does that feel like someone who’s afraid of you?” you bluff. Because wanting this man has never really stopped you from fearing him. Fearing what, exactly, has shifted over time. In the end though, maybe just that he would be the absolute ruin of you.

He only grunts in answer, spreading your juices around your aching pussy. When his fingers withdraw you whine in protest, but you hear him rifle with his clothing, the zzzip of his fly jerked downwards. When his thick tip kisses your entrance you could weep, offering your ass even higher in the air.

“You are a very bad girl,” he tells you as he slides home, making you writhe with a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“I’m your bad girl,” you correct him, and he growls behind you, thrusting again. He’s not treating you with the usual care he pays this position, but you take it anyway. Gladly, if this will mend the thing between you, you’ll take it all.

“I would have found you, you know,” he pants as he thrusts, his hand weaving in your hair. “Even if you made it down the mountain…there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.”

You absolutely believe him.

“I know,” you tell him, your face in the dirt, yet somehow still loving the feeling of him behind you, filling you absolutely and completely. “You don’t–have to–lock me up, John,” you pant, interrupted by the violence of his thrusts. “Because I know I can’t escape you.”

This makes him growl again, that primal, possessive sound that touches the darkest recesses of your cavewoman brain. It is as though there is no part of you, inside or out, that this man cannot touch. He drapes his long body over yours, engulfing you in the shelter of his warmth. Even now, you cannot stop yourself from leaning back into him, pressing your smooth cheek to his soft beard. His tone is pure gravel, but you know him well enough now to sense the vulnerability in his words too. “But do you want to escape now?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, and you know in your heart this isn’t manipulation, or vying for a better chance to run somewhere down the line. It’s just the truth, and you even surprise yourself as you say, “No, I don’t want to leave you.”  

He goes still behind you as he evaluates this heartfelt confession, his harsh breathing and the pulsing of his cock buried inside you his only movement. 

“I want to believe you.” You only enjoy a moment of relief, before he rears again behind you, driving himself into you to the hilt. “But I can’t.”

Your heart plummets as you realize he still cannot bring himself to trust your word, to have the faith to walk out into thin air, the way normal people do when they dare to fall in love. He cannot leave anything to chance with you, and now you are not sure he ever will.  

He really might keep you locked up forever. 

You feel the earth beneath you, hyper aware of the pine needles in your clenched hands, the wonderful smell of the dirt and ancient rocks below. The cool breeze on your bared skin, and the dappled light filtering through the pines. What if this really is the last time you are ever allowed outside? 

There was always a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon for you, that little light of optimism that never quite managed to extinguish, despite everything he put you through. But now you feel it leave you, stealing the integrity from your very bones. You go limp beneath him, only his iron-grip on your hips holding your ass in the air as he uses you. When he reaches down to find your slippery bud you are no longer in the mood, and perhaps foolishly, you try to shake him off. 

“Just get it over with.” 

You already know it’s the absolute worst thing you can say, but now you don’t care. 

“But I thought my darling wanted to enjoy the great outdoors?” He doesn’t sound half as angry as you expected him to, but there is still something sharp in his tone that puts you on edge. Like glimpsing a dorsal fin parting still waters, you know something dangerous swims underneath. 

He slows his thrusts behind you, so that his magnificent length stretches you just right without hurting you. He uses his now expert knowledge against you, weaponizing the hours you’ve spent in bed together making up for lost time. You can’t stop yourself from arching into him, canting your hips to intensify the sensation, and now you bow your head so you don’t have to see his smug smile. “Goddamn you.”

He huffs with laughter, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re too late, I’m sure.”

This time when he touches you, you are desperate for it, your aching walls squeezing him in search of release. It tears a groan from deep in his throat, a sound you know so well by now, and you realize you can use your own knowledge of this man against him too. You squeeze him again, almost in challenge, and it becomes a contest between you, who can bring the other to pieces first. You have to admit that his blunt fingers on your clit are heaven, and your heart pounds too fast in your chest, your head light as you very nearly forget to breathe in your concentration. He tries to hold himself off as you move to take him deeper. He cannot control your body as well as he would like, like this, with his fingers buried in your slit, and you almost smile at his grunt of frustration at you. 

In the end you both lose. 

You cum so hard on his cock you see stars, a ringing in your ears as a merciless pleasure breaks and explodes through you. He fares no better, filling you with ropes of hot seed as he moans, loud enough to echo across the mountains. 

Maybe you do feel a little better, panting in the soft leaf litter with his body draped over yours again, his heavy breathing and soft lips upon your neck. As usual, you feel bereft when he withdraws, wishing you could hold him inside you longer. You didn’t bring anything to clean up with, and you anticipate a soggy walk home back up the hill. 

In fact, after sprinting, then fucking like animals on the ground, you’re not even sure you can walk. 

It’s John who rises first, groaning with the effort. He glares down at you, as though daring you to make another old man jab. For the moment, however, you are out of quips, out of jokes, and out of clever repartee. Even though you know it shouldn’t be so easy for him to tame you, you snuggle under his chin anyway, kissing the swell of his Adam’s apple. For a moment he sags against you, savoring this sweetness, before brusquely leading you back up the trail.  

He is not cruel, or strangely, even outwardly angry now, but somehow you just know you are in so much fucking trouble.

[skzimagines]

"A love story."

It was no secret that Hwang Hyunjin was in love. He hadn't meant to tell anyone, but he writes it in his poetry, paints it in his pictures, talks about it when his mind drifts off about her and doesn't ever realize he's even doing it.

He pictured their lives together, how perfect they would be. How perfect he would make sure to make it. He'd give her the moon if he could. Buy her a beautiful house, with a perfect garden, give her beautiful children, even a huge, family-oriented wedding. Anything for her. She'd name it and he'd get it for her. There was just one thing though....

She didn't feel the same.

It's not that she didn't "like" Hyunjin. He is sweet, caring, artistic and of course beautiful. She just knew she was way out of his league. He was a straight A student, a perfect dancer... hell, the guy knew how to paint like Van Gough.... just for fun! And she was struggling to get good grades, barely made it through the year without calling it quits.

Even if she thought she had a chance with him, it was quickly swept under the rug by the thought of him being able to find so much better.

The two shared friend groups, so they were often times around each other. Which Hyunjin loved and to which she hated... not because he was around, but because she fell for him more and more every time, she was within two feet of him.

The group decided to have a picnic at the nearby park, since everyone had the day off. Getting together was next to impossible these days.

"You're going to fall on your face, idiot!" "I am proud to let you know... Iam very good with my hands!" Changbin and Han bicker back and forth as Changbin hangs from the monkey bars upside down. His face turns red from being in the position for longer than he should have been. "Just get down, cause we're not going to the hospital if you get hurt. I want to go home." Han laughs.

Further down the lawn, where they've laid out a blanket in the grass, setting all of their things together. Sits Hyunjin and y/n. Everyone has ran along and started their own things, leaving the two behind.

"Do you ever think they'll stop bickering?" She chuckles, asking Hyunjin. "Probably, maybe when pigs learn to fly." His face contorts into a disgusted look, embarrassed by his dumb reply. She makes him nervous. Being around her caused his heart to race, palms to sweat and his brain to become a straight fog.

He looks down at the paper that's sitting in his lap, taking in the beautiful drawing that he's made of her, for the past 30 minutes. He takes in every detail of her features and pastes them into the drawing. But somehow, it's never as good as the real her. It's almost as if her beauty is unattainable by any means.

"Whatcha working on?" She asks him, moving closer to try and get a look at his book. Hyunjin quickly pulls his book away with a quick "Don't look!" She slowly backs away from him with her hands in the air in defeat. He shuts his drawing book and sets it beside him. "It... It's just not done yet. It's not even that good." He scrambles to say, giving her a small smile.

"Hyunjin, come look at this!" Felix yells from the other side of the park. He looks at her to which she gives him a small smile. He stands from his spot on the blanket and makes his way to Felix.

She notices the small black book on the blanket. Left right where Hyunjin has left it. She looks over to Hyunjin, seeing his distracted with whatever Felix has found fascinating. She knows it's wrong, that she shouldn't look inside of it. But she grabs the small black book anyway.... sifting through the pages. She comes across many photos of flowers, thinking to herself that it must be his favorite thing to draw, considering the number of drawings of them.

That's until she comes across another set of very interesting photos... Her. A drawing of her from a few weeks ago, when they were all hanging out at the beach together. She flips the page to see another, this time it's from a few days ago, sitting in the library where she thought she was the only one there. She flips the page one more time, revealing the picture Hyunjin had been so quick to hide from her. It was her, sitting on the blanket, hair being tussled in the small breeze. Her finger slowly slides against the lines of the drawing, taking it all in.

A sudden scream from Changbin scares her from her thoughts and she quickly shuts the book and sets it back down. "Everything okay?" She asks him. "Yup! I fell..." He says in defeat, laying on the ground under the monkey bars. "I told you to get down bro, you never listen." Han says, walking away from him.

She looks over at Felix and Hyunjin and sees he's making his way back to the blanket. She gives him a small smile when he arrives back and watches as he picks up his black book and pencil, before he looks up at her and sees her starring. "Everything okay?" He asks. She smiles at him before giving a small nod. "Everything is perfect.." She replies quietly, before sitting back into the position he was drawing her in.

[theeoriginals]

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does. 

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as. 

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah. 

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it. 

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.” 

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,” 

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,” 

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.” 

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,” 

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.” 

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.” 

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace. 

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly. 

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,” 

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.” 

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief. 

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.” 

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos. 

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet. 

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him. 

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday. 

Regrets a lot of things, too. 

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone. 

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second. 

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?” 

────── 

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to. 

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy. 

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it. 

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly. 

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times. 

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow. 

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake. 

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse. 

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins. 

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped. 

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows. 

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity. 

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him. 

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal. 

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too. 

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place. 

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

It’s embarrassing more than anything else. 

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case. 

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water. 

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit. 

────── 

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.” 

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it. 

“What about you?” 

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?” 

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. 

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.” 

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,” 

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?” 

“You,” 

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth. 

“Me? What about me?” 

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–” 

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t. 

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?” 

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat. 

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him. 

He rears back like she’s slapped him. 

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really. 

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.” 

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking. 

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve. 

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–” 

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her. 

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.” 

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,” 

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,” 

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” 

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him. 

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?” 

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” 

“Forever,” 

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.” 

[sage-lights]

with you, there's no pretending

word count: 2165 chapter: 1/? Ever since freshman orientation, when Angela first noticed Amanda sitting in the gym bleachers, she’d been head-over-heels in love with her.

Angela was going to kill Arasha.  

Earlier that week, Arasha asked Angela if she could interview her about playing Grace Chasity in their high school’s upcoming production of Nerdy Prudes Must Die. Arasha eagerly volunteered to write this article for her journalism class, hoping that Angela’s insight would help her assignment stand out. Angela knew her friend had been working all year to impress her teacher and secure the position of Editor-in-Chief for the next school year.  

Just for fun, Angela made her best friend beg, playfully acting stubborn and difficult about the request—much to Chanse's amusement, who had a blast recording the whole thing and laughing at the two of them. In the end, Angela agreed, and the girls made plans to meet at their favorite local coffee shop on Saturday.  

That morning, she took Spork to the vet for a routine checkup, which, thankfully, hadn’t taken longer than anticipated. After making a quick stop to drop him off at home, Angela arrived at the coffee shop just in time to find a table near the back before the usual afternoon rush filled the place. She sat facing the door so Arasha could easily spot her when she arrived, then mindlessly scrolled on her phone to pass the time.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Angela noticed a girl with long, wavy brunette hair enter the coffee shop. She looked up, expecting to see her friend rushing over to greet her. But instead, in her place stood Amanda Lehan-Canto.  

Ever since freshman orientation, when Angela first noticed Amanda sitting in the gym bleachers, she’d been head-over-heels in love with her. She remembered leaning over and whispering (a little too loudly judging from the pointed looks the kids in front of them had given her) to ask Chanse who the new girl was.  

“Who are you talking about? There’s like a million people here,” Chanse responded, wildly swiveling his head around trying to figure out who Angela was referring to.  

Angela slapped his arm and pointed discreetly to the girl a couple of rows above them, “Over there, idiot!”  

“Oooooooh, someone’s got a crushhhhhh!”  

“Stop it! Could you be any more obvious?” She sunk further into her seat, “Do you know who she is or not?”  

“Nope, but I could find out.”  

Later, Angela learned her name and that she’d just moved to Los Angeles from Boston. Despite Chanse’s insistence that Angela should introduce herself and befriend her, Angela just hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it.  

That was almost four years ago, and even now in their senior year, Angela was no closer to Amanda than when she first laid eyes on her. Even when they’d been in the same AP Psychology class sophomore year, Angela had always been too nervous to say more than a few pleasantries. She didn’t want to come off as overly eager or that she was scaring Amanda away.

Angela admired Amanda from afar, how she greeted a table of friends with hugs and a “How are you?” and how freely she chatted and laughed with the baristas. The coffee shop seemed to brighten with her presence. 

But then Amanda turned and met Angela’s gaze. Shit, she’d been caught staring. Angela tried her best to recover, her face reddening. She turned in the other direction, pretending to search through her tote bag for something. She fumbled with her AirPods and pulled out a book, quickly flipping it open to her bookmarked page.  

“Hey! Angela, right?” Oh no, Angela recognized that voice. She glanced up at the girl speaking to her. Thank goodness for all those acting classes that taught her how to mask her emotions. She hoped her face looked calm and nonchalant, but also friendly and inviting. Oh, and maybe cool and suave as well. Honestly, Angela would take anything over looking overwhelmed at the fact that her long-time crush was now talking to her.  

“That’s me!” Just be cool.  

Amanda sat down in the seat across from her, and that’s when the panic really set in. “I’m Amanda. We had AP Psych with Mr. Hecox together.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right!” She prayed that her voice wouldn’t embarrassingly start cracking, “His class was definitely an interesting one, especially with the random dark jokes he’d thrown into the middle of his presentations.”  

Amanda chuckled lightly at her comment, and Angela felt her smile widen and her shoulders loosen. But when there was no indication of her leaving, Angela got nervous again.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but is there a reason you sat down? Not that I mind talking to you. Not at all. It’s just, um, I’m meeting my friend, Arasha, here in a little bit—oh, you might know her from Journalism then. Since you’re the Editor-in-Chief this year, right? Well, so you probably know that she’s writing a piece on the school’s musical, and she asked to interview me. So, I don’t think you can stay here for long. Oh my god, I sound super rude right now, don’t I? Shoot, I swear I—,” 

“Angela, breathe,” Amanda leaned forward and placed a hand over hers, interrupting her rambling. A thousand questions began spinning around in her head. Can she tell I’m freaking out? Is my hand abnormally sweaty? Am I making a fool of myself right now? Is she this touchy with everyone? Why. Is she. Touching. My hand?!

So much for keeping it cool.

“Did Arasha not tell you? I’m actually filling in for her. She messaged our class on Slack this morning asking if someone could take over because she woke up super sick,” Amanda explained.

“Oh shoot, maybe I missed that text from her,” Angela opened her texts with Arasha and briefly scrolled through to check even though she knows for certain that this a certified Arasha prank.

angela: you’re kidding me arash no way you’re sick

Immediately, Angela got a response. She could just picture Arasha’s smug face.

arasha: oh yeahhh i’m totally sneezing up a storm rn

angela: arasha lalani more like arasha lie-lani

arasha: lame but you’ll thank me later now go have fun on your date! but not too much fun ;’)

angela: NOT A DATE i hate you sm

arasha: you’re welcomeee

Amanda raised an eyebrow playfully, “Everything good with Arasha?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Angela fumbles with her phone again, shoving into the pocket of her zip up hoodie without even turning it off.

“Okay, good.”

“Good.” Oh no, did I just make it weird?

Amanda pulls her laptop out of her purse, “Ready to get started then?”

“Let’s do this thing.”

Amanda readied her fingers over the keys and looked over at Angela, ready to take notes like a professional journalist. “So, what can audiences expect from your performance as Grace Chasity in Nerdy Prudes Must Die?”

“Soup,” Angela answers cheekily.

“I’m sorry, soup?”

“Yep, soup! I mean who doesn’t like soup? A classic chicken noodle? Or a butternut squash soup?” Angela gasps animatedly, “What about a garlic tomato bisque? With a grilled cheese?! Come on, how could anyone hate soup?”

Amanda chimes in with a grin, “Broccoli cheddar though? Very divisive, I will say!”

“Ugh! I do secretly love a broccoli cheddar!”

“So do I! But have to ask again, Angela, what does this have to do with Grace Chasity?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. I will say though, Grace’s preferred soup is definitely dirty.”

Amanda laughs, “I feel like you’re purposely trying to confuse me now.”

“Gotta sell tickets somehow, Amanda!” She winks, to which Amanda laughs again. That sound, the resonance of it, settles into Angela’s chest and fills her with a blooming warmth. 

As the interview progressed, Angela’s initial jitters fade away. Each question Amanda asked felt less like an interrogation and more like a conversation she’d have with friends. By the time they reached the final question, she realized she’d very much enjoyed Amanda’s company.

“Alright, I think that’s everything,” Amanda closed her laptop and slipped it back into her bag. “Thank you again for doing this interview with me. I know I’m not who you were expecting, but I’m glad I got to chat about the musical with you anyway.”

Angela shook her head bashfully. “Of course, it was no problem.”

They both gathered the rest of their things and stood up, though Amanda suddenly moved in for a hug. Angela returned the embrace, even though she was still a little shell-shocked from the whole afternoon. Note to self: Amanda’s a hugger.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Amanda pulled away. “I always forget not everyone’s down for physical touch, and then I go and make it uncomfortable by hugging you.”

“No, it was alright. Don’t worry about it,” smiled Angela, reassuring Amanda. Neither of the girls said anything after that, leaving them staring at each other in awkward silence for a little too long. At least, it was awkward for Angela, given the whole “I’m in love with you” part. She really hoped she wasn’t smiling too much like an idiot. Maybe she should stop smiling. No, that would be off-putting as hell to randomly stop smiling. Maybe she should say somethi—

Amanda cleared her throat, “It was nice talking to you. I hope to see you around sometime.” Phew.

She waved to the retreating Amanda, “Yeah, I’ll see you around.” But there was still a voice inside her that urged her to say something more. This is your chance, Angela!

“Wait!” Angela called out, causing Amanda to turn back around. “You should, um, get my number. You know, just in case you have any more questions while you write the article.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Amanda handed Angela her phone with an amused expression. Angela carefully entered her information on the new contact page and passed it back to Amanda before saying a last goodbye and letting Amanda walk out.

Angela blinked a couple of times, hoping to snap back into the present. It didn’t help—she was too dazed from the whole interaction. Amanda Lehan-Canto had just talked to her. Holy. Shit.

After collecting herself a little more, she hopped in her car and drove home. Every moment of their conversation replayed in Angela’s mind: the answers she had given, the stupid jokes she had cracked, the way Amanda had sounded when she laughed. She pinched her arm over and over again to prove to herself that this all really happened.

As she pulled into the driveway, her phone lit up with a notification from her group chat with Chanse and Arasha—it was unfortunately named “ANGELAAAAAAA!” after the way her friends often called her name in disappointment.

arasha: your location says you’re home angela spill how did it go

angela: wtf are you stalking me

arasha: that’s beside the point

chanse: explainnnn pleaseee

arasha:  i set ang up on a date with amanda lehan cantooooooooo

chanse: A DATE?!

angela: NOT! A! DATE!!! it was an interview that arasha FLAKED ON

arasha: semantics

chanse: HOW DID IT GO

angela: it was chill she asked me about nerdy prudes and i gave her my number in case she had follow up questions

chanse: you gave her your number???? damn ang is finally make some moves took you long enough

arasha: YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME MAN she would still be sitting on her ass pining away if it weren’t for me

angela: jeez it was just a casual thing calm yourselves

chanse: why don’t you text her and say you forgot to mention something earlier just to get the convo rolling

angela: um bitch i’m tryna play it cool here don’t wanna seem too eager plus i just realized i didn’t get her number…

chanse: angelaaaaaaaaaaaaaa dude you fumbled that big time

arasha: i put in so much work to make that happen and you fucked it wasted effort

chanse: you idiot i cannot believe you

arasha: you got no game fr

angela: Y’ALL I WAS PANICKING CAN YOU BE A LITTLE MORE GENTLE

chanse: no you don’t get a pass for this arash do you have her number

arasha: nah we text on slack also it would be hella strange if ang had her number without asking directly

chanse: ugh true i guess

At this point, she had made it up the stairs and into her bedroom. Frustrated with her friends, Angela tossed her phone onto her bed before promptly flopping down and burying her face into the pillows. And then, she screamed. So loud and so long that she barely heard the “ding” of a new notification.

Angela rolled over and felt around for her phone, already groaning at what she expected to be another annoying message from her annoying friends.

unknown number: hey this is amanda

Her eyes widened.

unknown number: i realized way too late that i never gave you my number so i thought i’d shoot you a text so you could saved it too :)

Angela threw her phone again and went back to screaming.

a lil author's note: i started this amangela high school au a longggg time ago, practically when this blog started because it's one of my favorite tropes to mull around in my mind. funnily enough, this first chapter was written for the smosh girlies week back in feb, but i deleted the whole thing because i hated what i wrote, so the first draft has been lost to time. then, i wrote it again and abandoned it again. it wasn't until my wonderful friend @babychosen asked me about it recently that i decided to revisit it and finally finish it for all y'all to enjoy! this is for @babychosen, @unknownteapot, @poppyfamily, and @shesmore-shoebill. thanks guys for always yelling about amangela with me <3

[cardinalcheerio]

I believe that while dick is a horrendous driver; so are the rest of the Batkids

I mean especially the ones who were robin/Batgirl wayyy before they could drive.

Examples:

Dicks driving and we all know he's trash. I mean. I haven't read many of the comics. But I can't imagine someone who grew up riding trains in the circus, then being chauffeured (thats hard to spell) around until hes old enough to move to a different city (I'm not from a city but most people walk right?) Then driving a police car which a guarantee nobody cares how he's driving in it. Ain't no way bro knows road rules/courtesy.

Jason was too poor for cars, then I suppose he knew how they work. But knowing how a car works and knowing how the road works especially in gotham are two very different things. He drives a motorcycle (badass) which has some different rules, and honestly there is no way he knows how to drive timeline wise. He died at 16, so no licence/learning (doubt he learned at 15 in gotham.) Came back as an adult after being in nanda par bat then traveled via motorcycle or roof. There is no time he would've learnt to drive a car.

Tim, honestly. I just think Tim would stare into the road and either cause 6 crashes or not even remember driving. He's very detail oriented, but also crazy busy so I'd see him speeding, thinking he could drift out of the way of a stopped car and realize, "oh shit. Not the batmobile this doesn't stop as well!". Also honestly, who would've taught Tim to drive? YouTube?

Steph, shed hit every curb in history. I have no reason to believe this, because steph is criminally underrepresented and i can't find any in depth stuff bout her. But i just think she'd be blasting music and some idiot would cut her off, she'd get pissed (as any gothamite would), cut him off and get hit. Bruce would be buying her a new car cause whats the point of having a billionaire be your pseudo father if he ain't gonna pay for shit?

Cass, i think she could drive if needed, but just a casual drive to get coffee or something? Road laws in America are confusing as shir cause rhey change everywhere you go. And it's gotham so nobody is gonna follow any, so pretty much anyone but Alfred is fucked. I think she'd be a good high speed driver tho

Damian, bros 12 (in my mind atleast), and has been chauffeured around his whole life. Ain't no way.

Duke, honestly. May be the only hope. Just cause he had a stable family for a bit that prob talked to him a bit about driving. Still wouldn't trust him driving me, though. Plus, Gotham is a city and most people prob walk cause of the traffic.

Could you imagine comming home from somewhere and turning on the radio to see why you're stuck, "we have reports that every road in gotham is shit again because of some second rate villian and batman. Those motherfuckers are the reason we have such high taxes. Just sell your car and move. Probably quicker to leave for metropolis than wait in this traffic.:

[natureismynature]

Okay I HAVE to talk about Cellbit, Jaiden, and Foolish or else I might actually combust- They are just. So. INTERESTING to me it's actually insane how much of my brain they occupy. Most specifically, I want to talk about how they seem to orbit around each other's space quite a lot.

The three of them were the first who developed a strong and strange relationship with the Federation but in VERY different circumstances. Cellbit hates the Feds, but he infiltrated and chose to work for them in order to save his best friend. Jaiden isn't that fond of the Feds, but she is VERY fond of Cucurucho and has been confirmed as a past worker of some sort. And Foolish has neutral opinions on the Feds, but is willing to kiss up to them in order to get what he wants.

All three of them has and are currently working for the Federation for very different reasons. Reasons which heavily contradict each other, and they know that. They hide secrets from each other, they are cautious around each other, and yet, they understand each other better than anyone else on the server (BBH who has whatever he has with Foolish is an outlier and should not be counted)

Cellbit, despite knowing Jaiden and Foolish's positive outlook on Cucurucho (the bear who traumatized him greatly), still trusts them. In a way. He still tells them important information. He still lets them have a spot in his very anti-Federation organization. He still trusts them not to betray him. He knows them. He knows what they're capable of. He knows Foolish is smarter than he lets on. He knows Jaiden isn't just doing Federation tasks for no reason. He knows they are keeping things from him, but he still treats them like family. He still believes in them.

"Jaiden is one of the only people I fully trust"

"Foolish, you like to act innocent and clueless, but you know more than you let on"

Foolish, selfish, observant, family-oriented, Foolish. He's not an idiot. He knows how Cellbit and Jaiden's minds work. He knows how Cellbit overthinks, he knows how Cellbit strives to learn, he knows how Cellbit cares about his family more than anything. He knows how loyal Jaiden is, he knows how much Jaiden cares for everyone, he knows how little she actually trusts. And he uses that to his advantage. But he also holds that knowledge with respect. He trusts Cellbit to always know and he trusts Jaiden to always believe.

"I trust Jaiden with my life"

"Cellbit, I know that you know that I know that you know I didn't do it"

And Jaiden. Jaiden who cares about everyone but trusts almost none, has put her faith into these two sketchy men (and Roier). They are both very important to her, but she tells more to one than the other. She knows why Cellbit is so angry at Cucurucho and she knows why Foolish is so determined to befriend it. She tries to tell everything to both of them, but she doesn't want to be at odds with Cellbit, so she holds back some information. But she trusts him always be there for her, the same way she knows Foolish will always choose her side.

"I promise you my silence, Foolish. Your secret is safe with me"

"Thank you for coming, Cellbit, I knew I could count on you"

They are family, the three of them. They love each other. They care for each other. But they also weary. They know each other's capabilities and the secrets they hide. They have a dance they practice, Foolish and Jaiden always a pair, Cellbit and Foolish usually at odds, and Jaiden and Cellbit often cooperate.

They help each other despite their differences. They understand why they do what they do. But sometimes it's confusing, sometimes it doesn't make sense, sometimes they don't understand. And that's okay. Because at the end of the day, they always come back together. They always find each other. They always make it work.

There are a lot more things that Jaiden and Foolish hide from Cellbit, but he hides a lot of things from them too. And that's just how things will be. Everyone has secrets on this Island. Some too great to reveal for now.

[t3ag3rs]

g e n s o - 0 4.

gosh this is going to be a long year..

you let out a sigh while resting your head on your hands, observing the class yelling. the blue haired guy with a stick up his ass from the presentation was currently yelling at bakugou. sadly, he sat at the left of you and was currently getting and earful for putting his legs on the desk. honestly though.. it wasnt even that big of a deal for him to be yelling like that.

you let out a small laugh as you saw deku turn a bright red once he saw uraraka. oh my gosh hes down badddd..... im so gonna tease him about this later on.

"if your just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff now." said a stoic voice from behind deku and uraraka. "welcome to UAs hero course" continued the same voice before unzipping himself from the sleeping bag he had on and standing up. 

"it took 8 seconds for you all to shut up and thats not gonna work, time is precious. any rational student would understand that" he explained walking into the class. you turned your focus to the male talking. 

"hello im shota aizawa, your teacher. alright lets get to it, put these on and head outside." you walked up and grabbed a uniform before heading into the locker room to change.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you widen your eyes as you find out you have to do a quirk assessment test, goddamnt..! i just finally started recovering from the entrance exam and i have to use my quirk again?  

"but how about orientation? we're gonna miss it!" exclaimed uraraka, "to be the best of the best you cant waste time on pointless things, here at UA i get to run my class the way i want to." said mr. aizawa, "youve been taking standardized tests all of your lives" he pulled up his phone, "but youve never been able to use you quirks on those exams before."

"the country is still trying to pretend we're created all equal by not letting those with the most power excel- its not rational. one day the ministry of education will learn... bakugou you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam- what was your farthest distance thrown with the softball when you were in junior high?" he asked looking at him.

"67 meters i think" replied bakugou and you rolled your eyes, god hes a try hard... "right. try doing it with your quirk now."

bakugou walked up and stood in the middle of the circle on the feild. "whatever happens just stay in the circle.. go on, your wasting our time." added mr. aizawa.

"alright.. you asked for it" bakugou stretched his arms before throwing it with an explosion. you rolled your eyes knowing he did that to make the others look. 

"all of you need to know your full potential in order to become better versions of yourselves." he held up his phone to show the distance that bakugou had thrown the softball revealing 705.2 meters.

everyone around you started commenting in awe of his score, but you werent impressed, ill make sure i beat that score just to deflate his ego.

"so this looks fun huh..?" you turned your attention back to the teacher, "you have three years here to become a hero. if you think its going to be all fun and games your wrong. idiots..." he let out a smirk, "today youll be competing in 8 physical tests to engage your potential, whoever comes in last has none and will be expelled immediately." your eyes widen in shock, can he even do that??

"like i said.. i get to decide how this class runs. understand?" you gulped but nodded. "if thats a problem you can head home right now."

"you cant send one of us home! i mean, we just got here!" complained uraraka, "even if it wasnt the first day, that isnt fair!" you looked down, complaining isnt going to do anything right now, but she has a good point.

"and you think natural disasters are? power hungry villians? hm? or accidents that wipe out whole cities? no- the world is full of unfairness. its a heroes job to try and fight that unfairness, if you wanna be a pro your going to have to push yourself to the brink. for the next three years UA is going to throw one hardship after another at you. so go beyond- plus ultra style. show me its no mistake your here."

you clenched your fists, you had to prove yourself today by doing the most you could in these tests.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the first test was the 50 meter dash, you silently thanked yourself for increasing your cardio as you readied yourself. "runners! on your mark, get set, go!" you sprinted and let the earth beneath you propel yourself forward getting you in first place out of the people you were with. "4.002 seconds!" said the bot next to you, you smirked as you beat bakugous time.

the next test was the grip strength test. you didnt have much to help you with this so you had to think creatively, maybe i could get some rock to surround my hand and use that to add on the pressure of my grip... i have no idea if thatll even work..!

you let out a sigh as the highest you got was 190 kilograms. if thats the best i can get thats fine i guess... ill just have to make it up with the other tests...

the third test was the standing long jump, you smiled as you could use your fire to push yourself forward in this test. you jumped and let your fire push you forward, smiling as you landed on the other side of the pit. 

that was way better than the last test thankfully!

the fourth test was the repeated side steps. you decided to use your earthbending to build walls on either side of you and use air to move yourself side to side. it wasnt your best test, but definitely wasnt your worst one. (cough grip test cough)

the fifth test was the ball throw, you stood in the circle and swung your arm in big circles before grabbing the ball and readying your self to swing as hard as you could. throwing the ball, you left your arm out to let the air continue its throw until you felt yourself running out of air. you let out a proud smile as you saw your result of 1,890 meters.

you turned toward bakugou and made eye contact with him, but resisted the urge in smirking at how you beat him by a long shot. 

you let out a gasp as deku went and saw how his ball barely went far. "i erased your quirk- someone like you should never be able to enroll in this school. the judges who were selecting students werent rational enough when picking you." suddenly deku spoke up, "i know you- you can look at someone and cancel out their powers! the eraser hero- eraserhead!"

you chuckled as the rest of the students had no clue who he was, of course deku would know who he was. 

"your not ready- you have no control over your power. are you just going to break your bones again?" deku let out a defensive disagreement, "you will be nothing because of how reckless you are. your worthless if all it takes is one punch for you to become broken." you stepped up.

"um.. excuse me! look sorry to interrupt, but i think your taking this a bit too far! he has just as much of potential as the rest of us, and he definitely has more heroism than any of us combined! im not saying this to argue with you, but im just saying you should give him a fair try like the rest of us." you explained sticking up for deku.

mr. aizawa let go of deku, "go on and get it over with, dont waste our time." you looked over and gave him a smile before giving him a thumbs up. he walked back to the middle of the circle and took in a deep breath before he swung his arm and threw it with enough force to create a gust of wind. you widened your eyes in shock and smiled, there we go!

you looked at the phone to see his distance of 705.3 meters, one tenth more than bakugous score. you smiled happily knowing he mustve been scathing on the inside for how he scored lower than deku.

"mr. aizawa.." you turned to see deku making a fist with his broken finger, "you see.. im still standing!" "this kid..." replied aizawa with widened eyes and an unsettling smile.

"HEY! DEKU! YOU BASTARD, TELL ME HOW YOU DID THAT OR YOUR DEAD!" yelled bakugou as he charged toward deku, you quickly stepped forward to try and prevent bakugou before he was held back by aizawas scarf. "stand down, i would be wise to make not make me use my quirk so much.. it gives me serious dry eye. your wasting my time now.. whoevers next can step up." he let go of bakugou and walked away.

you watched as deku ran away from bakugou as he just stood their frustrated. 

you finished up the last couple of tests that were just based off of physical ability and scored well enough for each of them. you let out a smile as you saw the results and saw yourself in third place, one place higher than bakugou. 

thats what that asswipe deserves.. i hope he never forgets this..

"and i was lying- no one is going home. that was just a way to make sure you gave it your all" mr. aizawa added smiling, you let out a sound of happiness, glad deku didnt have to be expelled.

"that was pretty nerve-wracking if im being honest.." said a black haired boy, "nah.. im always down for a challenge!" said the red haired boy from the presentation. "oh i remember you!" he said pointing at you, you smiled and waved. "your quirk is so cool dude! you managed to score third place out of us all!" you laughed and scratched your neck, "haha.. its not the best i couldve done... but thank you!"

"thats all for today, grab the syllabus from the class, and read it before tomorrow morning." added aizawa before walking away. you turned back to the red haired boy, "im ejirou kirishima, your y/n l/n right?" you nodded, "howd you know?" he laughed, "everyone knows about that stunt you pulled during the practical exam.." you blushed before looking down, "ahhh.. thats so embarrassing..!"

"nah, i thought it was pretty manly of you!" he praised while you both walked back into the building. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you changed out of your training outfit, and put back on your uniform before getting ready to head out. "hey y/n!" you turned around to see kirishima and a pink skinned girl behind you. "oh.. hey!" they walked beside you, "heya! im mina ashido!" the girl introduced while grabbing your arm. you let out a smile as she did so, "im y/n l/n if you havent already heard.." she laughed, "nah i already know who you are! the badass who totally kicked the zero pointers ass!" she exclaimed. 

"as you can see shes very energetic.." sighed out kirishima from the other side of you, you laughed before adding, "its alright though.. it makes her stand out in a way.."

you walked home with them laughing and exchanging numbers. you couldnt believe how nice and chill they were. 

could this be the year things finally get better for you?

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 next parts: pt. 0 5 / pt. 0 6 / pt. 0 7 / pt. 0 8 / pt. 0 9 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 / pt. 13 / pt. 14 / pt. 15

[hannahbarberra162]

Struck Twice By Lightning, Chapter 13

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Link to all chapters

TW: jealousy

A few days later and you were laying on the bed in the early evening, resting after a huge supper. You felt like a snake, basking in the sun after a large meal. And like a snake, you didn’t think you’d want to eat again for another month. Damn Lucky and his fantastic chicken pot pie. Laying there, you heard the ringing of your den den mushi.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru

You looked at the Buggy snail and your mouth twisted. You still hadn’t called him back after all his missed calls. You didn’t want to worry him but you hadn’t wanted to hear how he was right, how you screwed up, and how you shouldn’t have gone with Shanks in the first place. The worst part of it all was, he was right. But he didn’t deserve to be left hanging for so long. You rolled off the bed and grabbed the snail, bringing it to sit on the bed with you.

“Hi.” 

“About time, babe. I was getting worried. I was gonna leave for the Grand Line if I didn’t hear back from you soon.” You felt guilty, Buggy really was a good friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just kinda…going through it.” Buggy hummed through the snail.

“Yeah, I’d imagine so. Everyone and their Captain saw the article. That's all anyone is talking about.” You cringed. You had some small naive hope that everyone would forget about it after the next big story broke. “You looked great, though. At least they got a good picture of you.” 

“Yeah, I mean but did you see Shanks? That asshole has never taken a bad picture.”

“Fuck him, did you at least stab him? I have no doubt that it’s his fault somehow.” You laughed, something Buggy could always get you to do. It was Shank’s fault, but you didn’t want to poison Buggy against Shanks even more.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t. Thought about it though.”

“Do you want me to come get you?” You knew Buggy’s offer was sincere. But you’d thought about that too - the only place that you’d really be safe would be with an Emperor. Buggy was strong, but not if someone like Linlin or Kaido wanted to get you. They’d send wave after wave of powerful fighters, Emperors had a shared quality of being goal oriented when they wanted something or someone.

“No, but thanks. I’m gonna ride on the Dead Horse with Stanks. I think it’ll be OK, at least for a while. If I need you, I’ll make my way out to the East Blue.”

“Like hell you will, if you need me, I’ll come out there. We can stab that idiot together, as a bonding activity.”

“Hi Buggy!” The man himself had appeared, entering the cabin through the doorway. He walked over and sat next to you on the bed, leaning back on you as if you were a sitting pillow.

“Fuck off,” Buggy replied angrily. This was the first time they’d directly interacted since you’d been on board. 

“Aw, c’mon Bugs, I haven’t talked to you in forever.” Shanks was pouting. He had a lot of love for Buggy, but it wasn’t always reciprocated. You understood why, but it still made you a little sad.

“Fuck off,” Buggy repeated. “Why do you have to fuck things up for everyone you’re involved with? It’s like the Mierdas touch, everything you touch turns to shit.” Shanks laughed.

“That’s a good one, never heard it before. But it's not true! How was I supposed to know -”

“- that your actions have consequences? Gee, Shanks, I don’t know, it’s a lesson most of us have learned by our thirties. Anyway, fuck you. Doll, listen, say the word and I’ll set sail. Kisses.” 

“Love ya, Bug.” You hung up the snail. Shanks was looking at you with an amused expression. “What?” 

“Why did you call it the ‘Dead Horse? ‘Stanks’ I get, no questions asked. Buggy’s been calling me that since we were 12.”

“Oh, ‘cus the presence of your ship is like beating a dead horse. We get it - you’re Shanks and the Red Haired Pirates . No need for all the fuss.” You waved your hand at him dismissively.

“It’s not my fault we’re greeted with fanfare everywhere! I didn’t ask for it, people like me!” Shanks scoffed.

“ Some people like you, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes with a smirk.

“And some people like being tickled,” Shanks replied. Your smirk dropped but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he’d grabbed your foot with his hand and yanked your leg into the air. 

“Ha! Whatcha gonna do now? No other hand to tickle with!” You were weakly trying to kick him.

“This.” Shanks licked the sole of your foot, causing you to shriek. 

“Shanks!! That’s absolutely disgusting! Don’t do thaaaaa-” but you couldn’t finish your sentence as he licked it again and you were laughing. 

“You’re right, that’s too hard with one hand. How about here?” He pinned your legs under his and started tickling the inside of your thighs. You were laughing hard.

“Stanks! Stop!” You weren’t serious, you knew he’d stop if you changed your tone.

“Stanks, is it? You really want to play hard ball, huh?” He pinned your arm under a knee and tickled your side up to your armpit. You were laughing so much tears were coming out of your eyes.

“O-k ok ok I surrender! I won’t call you Stanks!” He moved off you, freeing your arm while your giggles subsided. “Fake surrender!” You launched yourself over him and started tickling him back. You knew Shanks was letting you hold him down, but it was still fun. The two of you were goofing off for a while, ending with you leaning down over him, breathing heavily, with his one large hand pinned by both of yours.

“So, what do I get for defeating the Emperor?” 

“You can keep me as a prize of war,” Shanks rasped, wrapping his legs around your waist. You moved your face closer to his. 

“Mmm, not sure about that. What makes you worth keeping?”

“This,” he said as he leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. You pressed forward, lying down on top of him, releasing his hand. You ran your nails down his chest, feeling the muscle twitch under your fingertips. You’d been having a lot of soft moments with Shanks recently. You still fell into bouts of sadness and loss, but there was no other solution you could see. You were sailing back to your island and you’d be there before you knew it. Life would continue in some kind of way, but right now you were enjoying time with your…husband.

You kissed him along his prominent collar bones, leading to the hollow of his neck. You spent some time there, flicking your tongue on the sensitive areas. Shanks was moaning, gripping your ass and thrusting up slowly, turned on by your actions. You whipped off your shirt and bra, throwing them onto the floor. You leaned forward so your breasts dangled in front of his mouth. He quickly captured one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting. He released it only to put the other in. You had undone his belt and were shimmying his pants down his legs. You didn’t want to wait any longer, you could feel you were already wet. 

You didn’t even remove your own clothes, just moved your skirt aside. You sat up a bit, taking your breasts away from Shank’s eager mouth. You hooked your panties to the side and sank down onto Shank’s eager cock. As you lowered yourself, you groaned. This is exactly what you needed. The stretch always felt good, but this time you wished you could make it last. You started bouncing on Shanks, pulling your hips down harder with every stroke.

“Come on, Love. I’m here for you,” Shanks was talking to you sweetly as you used him to get to your peak. You suddenly felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes but you didn’t know why. You shifted yourself to lay down next to him, hoping Shanks would take up the mantle and fuck you while spooning. You wanted to continue but were feeling too raw to have Shanks watch you. Shanks looked down at your face but didn’t say anything. He pulled out and fixed your panties, covering you up once more. He pulled your back flush to his front, gently kissing your face, while your tears threatened to spill.

“Where’d you go? Come back to me,” Shanks said softly. That made the dam break and you started crying.

“I’m s-sorry Shanks. I don’t know what’s w-wrong with me,” you cried, covering your face with your hands.

“Nothing’s wrong with you. Take whatever you need, I’ll always wait for you.” That just made you cry harder. Shanks comforted you until your tears ended, letting you cry into his chest. 

“S-sorry,” you eventually said. You felt bad about starting something you couldn’t finish and ending it with a huge crying session. Shanks turned your face to his and kissed you. 

“Don’t be. I love you.” You blinked. That was the first time he’d said it directly. Maybe you weren’t the only one guarding your heart this second time around. He joked and teased and beat around the bush but rarely expressed his emotions so frankly.

“I love you too.” You put your forehead against his. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he replied. 

~~~

It didn’t take too long to get to your island since you’d only been with Shanks for a few weeks at that point. The closer you got, the more anxious you became. You were nervous to see what remained in and of your house. You were on edge as the Red Force docked near your island and you were chewing your nails to shreds as the dingy brought you to the wharf. Unfortunately, the article had brought notoriety to the island and to you, so locals were waiting to catch a glimpse of you and Shanks together.

“Leave,” was all he said. He was serious, intimidating, and had his hand resting on Gryphon's hilt. The villagers, all of whom you knew, quickly dispersed to their houses. 

“You didn’t have to do that, they’re just townsfolk.” You felt awkward that the people who sold you milk were being threatened by one of the most powerful pirates in the world.

“Did you want one of them taking another picture of you and I together to sell to Morgan?” You pursed your lips. You were hoping the story would die down, Shanks had a point. You walked hand in hand towards your little house. From the outside, it didn't look too bad. Your garden was a little trampled, but someone had been watering it.

You pushed open the now unlocked door, braced for the worst. Shanks trailed in behind you, inspecting various trinkets you’d gathered over the years. You were surprised to see most of your belongings still in their places. You went from room to room, looking for your favorite possessions - a knife from Buggy, an empty bottle from the first sake you’d sold, old pictures of friends, and they were all where you expected them to be. You went into your office and found someone had rifled through all your documents, but you had been expecting that. You yelled to Shanks through the open door of your office.

“Shanks, you’re not going to believe this, almost everything is still here! And unbroken, too. I was so sure this place would have been looted, but no -” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shock of blond hair.

“You’re welcome yoi,” said a familiar voice.

~~~

You skipped up to your old friend and gave him a hug around his middle. “Marco! What are you doing here?”

“Buggy called in a favor and asked me to watch over your house yoi. Prevent looting, stealing, that kind of thing. He said you’d be by soon and I was in the area anyway.” God, you loved Buggy. You really needed to send him a gift after all he'd done for you. 

“Honeydew, I can’t believe you kept this old shell from that beach -” Shanks was walking back to you, holding a shell in his hand. He stopped short when he saw Marco. Internally, you groaned. 

“Shanks, Marco’s the reason the house wasn’t looted. He’s been staying here.” Shanks smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thanks, Marco. Owe ya one.” 

“That’s so kind of you, Marco, I really appreciate it.” You beamed at The Phoenix, who popped a tomato in his mouth. “Was it you who watered the plants?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t leave them parched. You have a great little house yoi. It’s so cozy and comfortable, I relaxed more than I have in years. You have great taste in interior design yoi.”

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?” Shanks had come to stand next to you and hooked his arm around your middle. You wanted to roll your eyes - you’d already told Shanks you hadn’t slept with Marco, he didn’t need to be jealous. 

“Thank you, I spent a lot of time over the years getting everything just right. Listen, I’d like to invite you to dinner, it’s the very least I can do,” you said. You were incredibly grateful, he’d saved you a lot of heartache. 

“-That WE can do,” Shanks interrupted with a laugh. You’d meant the invitation to include Shanks, but hadn’t specified. 

“Thank you, that sounds great. But it really was no problem yoi. Always ready to help a friend in need,” he said, smiling. He leaned against your office bookcase, holding a tomato from your garden in his other hand.

“Here, would you like it? They’ve been coming in, they’re good yoi.” Marco underhand tossed the fruit to you. Shanks let go of your waist and caught it. 

“Thanks, bud.” Shanks was trying to speak casually but was failing. He looked like he wanted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you off to the nearest cave. The twinkle in Marco’s eyes told you he was enjoying riling up Shanks. This time you did roll your eyes. This would not end well for someone, probably you. 

“Quit it,” you whispered angrily, turning to Shanks. Marco pretended not to hear. You turned back to Marco. “Please, feel free to stay here as long as you’d like. I’ll get dinner later today, I still need to get my house in order. It will be our pleasure.” You dragged Shanks out the back door of the house by his empty sleeve.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper yelled at him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he wasn’t yelling, but Shanks wasn’t happy. “ You’re the one trying to go on a date with Marco.” You tutted at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, and you know it. Marco was helping as a friend after Buggy called him. You heard all that, right? Behave or I’ll uninvite you to dinner.” You would too, you didn’t have a lot of patience for Shanks’s jealousy. Shanks huffed.

“Fine, we’ll have the rooster over for dinner. But I’m gonna call you my wife the entire time .” If your eyes rolled any harder, they’d be out of your head.

~~~

You hadn’t specified that you’d be the one cooking dinner for a reason. You weren’t the best cook on the Grand Line, to say the least. You bribed Lucky to make the dinner for the three of you with a large bottle of sake. He obliged and made a fantastic orange duck dish with jasmine rice. Of course, you brought out a nice bottle of wine and some sake, unsure which Marco would prefer. You were setting the table while Shanks sat in your overstuffed armchair.

“This thing’s great, we should bring it back to the ship.” You hummed in response.

“I know it’s great, that’s why I bought it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the house and most of my belongings. It’s not like I can bring it all with me.” Shanks was messing around and finally found the lever for the footrest. He pulled it and launched himself backwards, enjoying the full recline.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely coming with us. Now, if I had this chair when you first came on board I wouldn’t have had to sleep in the bed.”

“Shanks, be serious for a minute. What should I do with the house? I can’t be here at any regular intervals. I guess I’ll have to sell it.” The thought made you sad - you really loved this house. 

“Sell it? Why?” Shanks asked.

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be here to stop anyone from taking things, and I don’t want to ask Marco -” Shanks cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“No one’s gonna take anything from here. I’m gonna spread the word that this is my vacation house. No one will touch it. And maybe we really can vacation here, this place is great.” 

“Do you think that will work?” You gnawed at your fingernail, while setting the final silverware down.

“Sure, I’m not an Emperor for nothing. Keep your house, keep your stuff, take whatever you want with you. But we’re bringing this chair.”

~~~

The dinner was lovely, except for two things. The first was Shanks and the second was Marco. Shanks was in a pissy mood, trying to cover it up but not quite succeeding. Marco kept making little comments to annoy Shanks and they hit their mark every time. 

“Thank you again for watching over my house, Marco,” you said, pouring him a cup of sake. Shanks had sat right next to you and kept trailing his fingers up your thigh during the meal. Which was incredibly obvious because he had to stop eating to do it, due to having only one hand. You slapped it away as discreetly as you could.

“My pleasure yoi. I always enjoy coming here.” Marco gave a little half smile as he sipped his drink. Shanks stiffened incrementally. “This is excellent, is this aged?”

“Yeah, this is an older batch. It’s pretty good, I was thinking of entering it in a competition.” Maybe you could enter neutral territory by talking about work.

“My wife is so modest, it’s better than ‘pretty good.” Shanks kissed your cheek. He had kept his word and was referring to you only as his wife. 

“Mh. Speaking of which, were you thinking of gifting Whitebeard another bottle for his birthday? I can bring you that tokkuri if you want to use it again.” You rubbed one temple. These two idiots were going to be the death of you.

“I didn’t know you made sake for Whitebeard. How…thoughtful of you.” Shanks said through his teeth. 

“Just once, and no, I don’t think I can. I’ll be sailing with Shanks now, and the ship isn’t a great place for brewing.” Maybe you could move to Laughtale and live happily ever after by yourself.

“So you are still married? Last you said, you wanted to get divorced yoi.” Marco said it like he was talking about the weather but you swore Shanks’s haki was starting to build. Maybe you’d kill Marco before you moved to Laughtale. Or Shanks, whichever made your life easier.

“We’re still married,” Shanks gritted out, taking your hand in his. “My wife couldn’t get rid of me so easily.” He kissed the back of your hand. Marco smiled calmly. 

“It’s rare to see you like this, Shanks,” Marco said with a raised brow and knowing smile. Shanks was already moving his hand towards you under the table. 

“Like what?” You said as you swatted Shanks’s hand for the millionth time off your inner thigh.

“Jealous. I only ever see you relaxed or serious, with nothing in between yoi. Your wife is the only person I’ve ever seen inspire such feelings in you. It’s endearing.” Shanks barked a genuine laugh.

“Only person I ever met who was worth being jealous over.”

~~~

The rest of the dinner went slightly better but not by much. You were doing the dishes while Marco insisted on clearing the table. Shanks had gone back to reclining in the chair, still drinking.

“Leave them, I’ll do it.” You felt bad your guest was helping. 

“I don’t mind yoi,” Marco replied. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with your house?” You nodded.

“Shanks is going to spread a rumor that it’s his vacation home to keep it safe. I think that’ll work. You can come here when you want though, it’s not like we’re going to be here all that often.” In your house inspection, you’d found that Marco had fixed a number of small projects you always meant to get to. That alone had earned him a permanent visit invitation. 

“Thank you, I just might. Nice to get away from my siblings now and again.” You hummed in response, still working on the dishes. “By the way, yoi. It seems like things are patched up between you two. But if you ever need to go somewhere else, you can come aboard the Moby yoi.” You paused for a moment. You hadn’t considered the possibility of staying with Whitebeard. He was another Yonko, you'd be safe. Before you could answer Shanks was by your side, leaning against you casually. But nothing about his demeanor was relaxed. Laughtale was looking like a better and better plan.

“You invited my wife to come with you?” Shanks was speaking in a clipped tone. Marco was unphased, still carrying plates. You looped your arm around Shanks, to attempt to calm him down.

“Shanks, stop. Marco, send my thanks to Whitebeard, but I’m staying with Shanks.”

“You’ve gotta be needed back on your ship, you’re the doctor after all,” said Shanks coolly. Marco laughed.

“You’re right, and I’ll be leaving soon. It’s nice to see you both again, yoi. Thank you for the dinner.” Marco deposited the remaining dishes in the sink. You said your goodbyes and you walked him to the door, giving him a final hug goodbye. He partially transformed and flew off into the night. You sighed, it was always so beautiful to watch him in his Zoan form.

“Show off,” Shanks grumbled. You walked back to the living room and plopped down on your couch. Shanks laid down next to you with his head on your lap.

“You’ve been such a brat all night! Marco was just being helpful.” You weren’t mad at Shanks but you’d wished he could contain his jealousy better.

“Inviting my wife onto another Yonko’s ship isn’t helpful, ” he replied. “Besides, Marco was provoking me!” Shanks’s mood was already on the mend with Marco gone.

“Mmm. And the all powerful Emperor just had to take the bait, right?” You jiggled your legs, making his head bounce slightly.

“I can make your thighs shake more than that,” Shanks said, turning his head towards your body.

“Show me, husband .” Shanks grinned. You hadn’t called him that yet. Hopefully the last of his jealousy would dissipate. And if not, well, jealousy sex was always fun. 

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 5 ("CH-CH-CH-CHANGES / TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE") EDITION

Well, well, FUCKING well. Man, I am REELING. THAT. Was a HELL of an episode of a drama. Jojo and his team need to applaud themselves.

Let me set this up by sharing with y’all a tweet that really stuck with me after episode 4, but I think it’s pertinent to episode 5:

Now, yes -- this is a touch of a generalization (many of my queer friends are straight-edge-and-or-early-to-bed-while-living-in-cities folx), but I want to note something important in this tweet.

Before I got started on episode 5 last night, after having seen a lot of the meta and reactions on my dash throughout the day, I shot a note to dear @ranchthoughts that I thought I'd have to get a little #oldmom on this episode. Speaking to chibi's note above: toxicity happens to be a common human trait. Seeing that there was QUITE a bit of surprise for Boston's "outing" of Ray to Sand on my dash actually surprised me.

From my lawyer friends, I learned about the following concept, and I just cracked the fuck up the first time I heard it, because it rang really true once I got my head around it: a lawyer friend once told me that when he started out at a typical major American law firm, his orientation included hearing a presentation from an older managing partner about the idea of the "equal opportunity asshole." Meaning: there's workplace harassment against protected classes, like race-based or sex-based harassment. But: can you get sued if you treat EVERYONE AROUND YOU like shit? And, he didn't mean on a personal level, not on an attacking level. Just on an abrupt, aggressive level. A bossy level. A very direct-toned level.

That kind of interaction -- an interaction with an equal opportunity asshole -- we know those kinds of people, right? These kinds of folks are...titchy. They might jump to conclusions. They're rooted in their worldview ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. They lack empathy. They make you feel unsettled. They are emotionally disconnected from you. They have NO interest in being emotionally connected WITH YOU.

When I dove into episode 5, I really thought I'd be writing about Boston as the equal opportunity asshole, and I think that this theory still holds to a great extent, but -- there's a but, a slight and fascinating-to-me but, that I'll get to in a second.

@ranchthoughts did the thing once more of covering EVERYTHING in her episode 5 ephemerality breakdown, so dear Ranch, I'm just gonna repeat some stuff you said in my own words, if you don't mind. First off, a couple of gushes:

1) That blind dining scene had me swooning. "Life is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're gonna get," was what I was hearing when I was watching that. These lovely idiots are blind to what's happening in front of them, and what that means to them -- BUT THAT'S OKAY, BECAUSE THEY ARE YOUNG. YOUNG AND INEXPERIENCED. The blind dining metaphor, oh gawd -- using your senses to come to realizations about how you're truly feeling, and how to connect better with WHAT you're feeling? Slamming my hands on the table! BRILLIANT. Mew is SO clueless (OR IS HE?!?!??!).

1.5) And -- remember (all you young folks out there!). Youth is fleeting (cc the Ephemerality Squad). What we're watching of this cohort of "friends" is their building their bases of life experiences NOW, that will TEACH them how they will live more EXPERIENCED lives in their futures. Will their lives be better? Who the fuck knows. But their FUTURE LIVES will be shaped by what they're experiencing NOW.

2) Ranch nailed this already, but Sand is just as bad as Ray in living in the annals of time. (He's also naughty for another reason, which I'll get into in a postscript.) He's got the vintage tees, he wants to rewind to Woodstock, he's a fan of mostly classic Brit rock (....I will not call the Arctic Monkeys classic Brit rock, I will not, thus, "mostly," lol.) Dear friend @neuroticbookworm described this phenomenon of Sand's in the frame of Ray dabbling in a day of poverty tourism, as essentially what his day and night with Sand constituted. But I'd also add that Sand's living in a fantasy world of a couple levels to break the monotony of his everyday life. Those flashes of hope that he'll travel to world to festivals one day -- as he clocks 450 baht (around $12 USD) per bottle, as he sings, as he gets up and gets down -- yes, Ray is his fantasy, his non-existent 25th hour, Ray is the break from monotony that Sand needs as a thing to look forward too. Of course it comes crashing down.

3) But it'll come crashing down anyway, because I will posit the following: Sand's survival fantasies are necessary to keep him going by way of motivation, because Sand is going to be held back by others, and not just Ray. Sand is caught in a trap of filial piety. (OH SHIT! GIMME!) He's paying off his mom's debts.

We don't know how much the debts are. [We're seeing in Dangerous Romance that Sailom is getting his ass beat if he and his brother don't pay the debt collectors on time every month. Shit, the debt collectors are even trying to make Sailom an escort (which then turns into Kanghan buying off Sailom himself, but lemme leave that alone, WRONG SHOW)]. But even Sand's mom admits: Sand is solving a problem of MY OWN CREATION. How good is my son? He's a very good son. Drink up, honey.

Sand thought of Ray: wow, this guy might be into me, and shit, I'm into him. And I could use this right now! I could use this break. And that illusion came crashing down when Sand -- an intelligent dude! -- put two and two together real fast. And Sand, very rightly -- because he is FAST learning independence, in a totally different way than the main OF quartet -- pulls the hell away, and puts away the fantasy of Ray at Alone O'Clock.

3.5) I just want to note, real quick, that we now have TWO of my favorite-ist themes in this show: we have intergenerational trauma by way of Ray, and filial piety by way of Sand. THANK YOU, JOJO AND TEAM! *This* bitch is TRACKIN'.

4) Big ephemerality note here: I just, I SWOONED, GOD, I LOVED IT, WHEN RAY REVEALED HIS MOTHER WAS AN ACTRESS. And that she was bitter about getting pregnant and how that affected her career. Are you kidding me? JOJO. NINEW. ALL OF YOU. BRILLIANT. The ephemerality OF SHOWBIZ ITSELF.

Aren't all these actors risking their damn careers by potentially BLOWING UP THEIR SHIPS for the sake of this show? (I mean, that's actually a little far-fetched, as FirstKhao will be the first GMMTV pair to have an intercontinental fanmeet, BUT STILL.) God, the commentary on the FICKLENESS of showbiz was just CHEF'S KISS.

5) As Ranch noted, this was the episode where CHANNNNNGGGGEEEEE was the big bell ringing. Top needed something different than his sexual monotony -- so he goes after Mew, and shit, homes is bored AF. (@lurkingshan covered this perfectly here.) Mew contemplates changing for Top, the LASIK, the sex, all of it. Top seems to try a different kind of sex with Mew -- soft and romantic sex that ends with "I love you." Nick (oh, my bubby Nick), changes for Boston, becomes ripped, finds buttons and slacks. Boston contemplates whittling his list down. Ray wears secondhand (lol, it's called "vintage," asshole). Sand changes his routine to accommodate Ray.

And yet. I very, very often say in my posts that the process of behavioral change is INCREDIBLY difficult.

The five stages of behavioral change are: pre-contemplation, contemplation (Nick and the podcast), preparation, action (Nick at the gym), and maintenance.

The risk to this process, at any point in time, is: RELAPSE.

Think of how difficult it is to quit smoking. To go on a diet. To start an exercise routine. To stop biting your nails.

What is the thing that marks these processes more than anything else?

It's the RELAPSE into the old behavior, the old habits.

We really saw Boston trying to change...something. Trying to stick out...something with Nick. Trying on something new. Kinda like the way Ray tried on his secondhand shirt.

And then Boston experiences a familiar trigger: a trigger of jealousy when Mew calls him, innocently, to give Boston the heads-up that he's about ready to experience some cherry magic.

And that trigger, like all of our own triggers -- stress, a change of environment, a change of the people around you -- sent Boston back to a place.

Listen, I will, in no way, ever defend Boston's behavior. He was drunk and high AF, and he's generally toxic. Jojo is totally egging this on.

I would absolutely call Boston an equal opportunity asshole. He's only seeing the world from his own worldview, his own desires, his own desire to control whatever he can control around him.

But like I said before: toxicity is FAR more common that we'd like to believe. And toxicity within someone doesn't disappear very easily -- just like any of our habits, be they good or bad habits.

Boston was trying out a new life, for a few minutes (lol), of being a LITTLE LESS EPHEMERAL, a little less aloof -- a little less toxic. And a trigger brought him back to his bad place, and I think what we saw in that damn outburst was a relapse of the highest order.

Ray repeats to Nick what Top and Cheum have already said. This guy, Boston? He's nasty. Stay away. Boston's an asshole. Boston's still being stigmatized, and still living up to his label.

How would I summarize all of this? Throughout this ENTIRE episode, what was screaming within my head, as I said above, was: youth is fleeting. Youth itself is ephemeral. The experiences these young folks are going through at this moment in this show will build their experiences for how they will survive (or not) in their futures.

We may think that Boston, and Ray, and Mew, will not learn from their dumbass behavior, but -- they will. They will have no choice. Because their time being this young, and inexperienced, and idiotic, will flee. They'll graduate, and they will have to learn how to survive in a "real" world that may very well be far more brutal to them than their proximate friendships are to them right now. And man, if they have to experience lives that are MORE brutal than these proximate friendships they have, then good LUCK to them, because, well -- shit. It ain't pretty the way it is right now.

...

P.S. I just thought this whole scene was brilliant. Sand, honey, you're not as innocent as your meow feelings are letting on. I'm holding you accountable for what you're saying to Ray, too.

P.P.S. JENNIE.

(HAPPY SUNDAY, EPHEMERALITY SQUAD! @ranchthoughts @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @distant-screaming @slayerkitty @clara-maybe-ontheroad @twig-tea)

(HEY, SQUAD: if you tag me in things, and I forget to reblog, send me a DM! I'm on the last stages of this moving chapter of my life, and I don't wanna miss your meta!)

[sarnai4]

Deleted Scene??

This is something I noticed and am very curious if anyone else has too. Spoiler alert for RTTE. Is it just me or did both Grimborn brothers just randomly start hating Dagur? I think the first interaction between Dagur and Ryker was in "Night of the Hunters'" after the Riders tried to escape and it failed. Dagur makes a suggestion to kill one via throwing them off the side, Heather counters that to say they should spare them for Viggo, and Ryker just immediately implies that Dagur's an idiot. It's almost funny how unnecessary this was. It's also amusing to me how Ryker OF ALL PEOPLE would say, "Know who got the brains in your family." Excuse me, good sir, but you are not one to talk when you're taking orders from your baby brother, THE Viggo Grimborn. Hypocrisy aside, what Dagur said wasn't even foolish and would have actually been a smart move if they wanted to discourage the others. The Berkians would have been absolutely devastated if one of them had died that day. Instead, Ryker goes with Heather's plan, insults Dagur, and hits him on the back.

Just about every scene with them is like this. Heather even defends Dagur when Ryker complains in a later episode after seeing that not all the Riders left the Edge like Dagur wanted them to. In the same one, Ryker and Dagur find out that there were deserters. Dagur asks who and is upset when he learns that a Grimborn cousin turned traitor. Makes sense. He hates traitors and is a family-oriented person. This would shock him and he's always been an outspoken guy. When Ryker starts growling at him, he backs off and decides to suggest a new plan to make up for the losses. End of the tension, yes? The thing that was upsetting Ryker has stopped and now he can be calm again? Nope. He starts choking Dagur. Again, it nearly makes me laugh because it really comes out of nowhere. Why is he even mad at this point? Was Ryker that offended about Dagur talking about his turncoat cousin that even when he stopped, he still needed to be choked out?

This isn't even the last thing he does! In "Maces and Talons Part 2," Ryker threatens Dagur in case he thinks about hurting Viggo. I find this very amusing since this is the same man who had recommended killing Heather and is part of the idea to have Dagur imprison his own sister. But family means sooo much...when that family is Ryker's.

Viggo has way less scenes with Dagur, but they still manage to all be very passive aggressive. In his first line directed to Dagur alone, he practically calls him an imbecile, wondering if there are "any brains under all those scars and tattoos." Note to self: don't play a game with Viggo because you'll get your feelings hurt. Since we came in on the end, maybe Dagur really was just taking that long, but I also feel like his level of patience wouldn't have let him stand there for minutes on end without doing anything besides figuring out his next play. Since we've also seen Viggo insult Ryker's intelligence, I think this one is just because that's who he is and he will never respect someone he thinks is more of a physical threat. He's now making me think of that "mean nerd" trope in some stories where they try to bully the jocks by making them feel less than in other ways.

Viggo does take this a little further and have his first snappy scene too. This, of course, is directed at Dagur because why wouldn't it be? Not to sound like a broken record, but this doesn't feel necessary either. Yes, Dagur was being snarky, but Viggo also asked a pretty obvious question. Dagur would obviously know that the dragons were free if they're flying right above them. He just wanted to contribute to the plan since he is a chief in his own right. Not wanting to listen is one thing and I could understand Viggo not wanting to use someone else's ideas, but to say in a matter of words, "Fool, you exist to follow orders. Don't think. I'll do that for you," is a little bit of an overreaction.

The dramatic irony of this is how their hatred was warranted, but they didn't know it. Dagur really never was on their side and was planning to kill them, so unless a deleted scene happened where he just cursed out everyone with Grimborn blood, maybe they intuitively knew something was off with him. If neither of those happened, I think the Grimmies just decide to pick on the new guy and see how long it would take for him to turn on them.

[daegutowns]

svt as brooklyn 99 characters

tags: b99 au, i am obsessed, i’ve been rewatching this series for the 600th time now, only 80% accurate, i stretched it a little bit

thank you to alice (koogyv on twt) for the amazing thread that i highly interacted with as inspiration. there are many similarities. i expanded upon it more.

this is my take: 

det. jake peralta 

hoshi 

“i wasn’t hurt that badly. the doctor said all my bleeding was internal. that’s where the blood’s supposed to be!” 

arguably, this is the best pairing made. he’s silly, hard-working, creative, and most of all -- he’s gunsta think about the turtles. even as a jokes-first seriousness-second type of person, jake is a thoughtful and caring person who would put himself down to save others. he’s sharp, perceptive, and great at deduction, but often discredits himself with his great delusion, playfulness, and childish nature. he’s a trendsetter and loves to joke around, and when he has a great thought, he’s going to put it into action. (“yeah, that’s right. i’m about to monologue, son.”) his favorite movie is die hard (hoshi as a shawol), is canonically broke (hoshi’s constant money loss due to him spoiling everything), and tries to annoy suspects into confessing their crimes. 

men can have duality. they can be serious and also put orange soda in their cereal. hoshi, as a Super Gemini™ knows all about it. he’s playful but knows when to be serious and takes his line of work very seriously. sure, he has some growing up to do and can immerse himself in a different role (horanghae <3) very easily, but he plays to his strengths and that of others with his determination and persistence. 

capt. raymond holt 

seungcheol  

“wait a minute. this isn’t the championship cummerbund. this is some common cummerbund. and, you’re not cheddar. you’re just some common bitch!” 

“this bitch? please. watch.” (to the dog, ‘some common bitch’) “shake… shake! psshh. idiot.” 

this is probably the most obvious and predictable choice after jake=hoshi. a born leader, full of wisdom, and no-nonsense… well, some nonsense is okay. captain holt is ambitious and looks after his squad with both care for their goals and their personalities. even though he may seem a little unapproachable or stoic, he’s actually a really funny and goofy guy. he laughs when he eats marshmallows (“a marshed mallow? don’t mind if i do.”) he’s very adamant about his passions (like john phillip sousa being the skrillrex of his day) and his a very consistent guy (ref. rock painting no. 367). he is sassy to the max and will tell you things exactly as he finds them. and he does NOT mess around when it comes to his dog. 

cheol, most of all, is the ultimate dog dad -- just like holt. cheddar is to holt like kkuma is to cheol. he spoils his dog, and he is proud of it. he’s someone who caters to the learning style that each person needs: stricter but with jokes for jake (hoshi), encouraging for rosa (woozi), detailed with a binder and written formalities for amy (seungkwan), and with actions (ref. the croque monsieur) for charles (dk). he’s attentive, thoughful, and silly at heart. 

det. amy santiago 

seungkwan  

“gross, rosa! those are our dads! i mean, that’s not what i think. captain dad is just my boss. never mind, i’m teaching father the math. whatever, rosa!” 

super badass, but also a teacher’s pet, know it all, and scrapbooking expert. may come off as super uptight or a buzzkill, but genuinely cares about the other detectives on the squad. when you have hella big aspirations, it’s not that unreasonable to see why competitiveness, sharpness, and intellect are his best traits. under all of the work-oriented personality, there’s someone who is ambitious, thoughtful, clever, and protective of the people he loves. it’s hard to not be so uptight and to let loose (as opposed to some totally scheduled fun!), and don’t make fun of him if he sucks and is horrible at it. (title of his sex tape.) 

seungkwan was my top choice, mainly because of his competitiveness with hoshi (jake) as svt’s most famous frenemy pair. there’s a lot of responsibility and workload that seungkwan carries and continues to put on his shoulders, which his members love and appreciate (just how the squad appreciates and acknowledges amy’s dedication to being a detective). things can get wild and crazy sometimes, which is why seungkwan just needs to recharge sometimes. 

det. charles boyle 

dokyeom 

“i got this low tag performance polo with moisture wicking technology. kept me dry all morning. and a dry boy is a smart boy.” 

if you’re looking for a supportive best friend who will always cheer you on, this is him. he’s a major foodie, he loves jake (hoshi), and his arch nemesis is sergeant peanut butter, who is a horse. he’s possessive and jealous almost as much as he is a superb friend, which is obvious by the way he instantly is suspicious of every other best friend jake (hoshi) can make in his life. (“don’t make any new best friends! haha… maybe you shouldn’t go…”) he gets jealous of many, like old beat cop partner stevie schillens, brian (?) from camp, and even cannibal jail cellmate caleb. also definitely dresses up as people from halloween that no one but him can understand. he is just someone that is the embodiment of living life according to his passions. very caring, thoughtful, and funny. 

dk was a good choice for boyle for me since he is super clingy and also is a supportive friend. even if he knows it’s silly or mischievous, he will play along. dk is relatively less prone to disgusting and gross sexual innuendos than charles, but is still super excited to share his jokes and hobbies. has a lot of holiday cheer and his down to be friends even after being turned down. 

det. rosa diaz 

woozi 

“plans are plans. i’m a badass, not an anarchist.” 

mysterious, a little scary, but reasonable and thoughtful. rosa is a character that’s easy to stereotype, though also arguably one of the more complex characters in this show. hard working is an understatement, and even though he may not be the most outwardly affectionate at first glance, rosa is super thoughtful. work comes first, but through the many trials and tribulations that life throws, business remains separate from personal… except the friendships. rosa went through the academy with jake (hoshi), so they’re really close. as much as jake jokes around and everything, they still trust each other and work with each other really well. (“diaz has been chuckin’ d-holes into my mouth since the academy.”) on top of that, is a bicon (bi icon). 

woozi was my go-to choice on this one. his demeaner seems a little intimidating (especially because of all his muscles now too!), but he means good. he gives off mysterious vibes, but he’s just figuring it out. now he is truly no-nonsense, and he makes sure others know this. he’s still down for the different personas and everything, but he lives his life by a strict set of rules. his neighbors think he’s emily goldfinch (woozi)… his coworkers think his name is rosa diaz (wooahae)… wait. what? 

sgt. terry jeffords 

mingyu  

“terry loves yogurt.” 

literally just a big softie that looks scary/big/muscular but is actually so babygirl. he’s so caring and loves the squad to death, always making sure that they have all the resources they need to survive. even when other captains come and go, terry is always there. terry loves yogurt, terry loves love, and terry loves foreign films.  kind of has a rivalry with boyle (dk) for strange reasons instigated by boyle himself, but is supportive nonetheless. (“hey, people like the way i look.” “sure they do, big guy.) he’s actually very well-educated (studied abroad in japan), is a great dad, and is always down to help others work out the right way.

this was such an obvious choice for me (with the only other option being cheol). mingyu is an inherently kindhearted person like terry, but also knows how to draw boundaries. he is someone who is worried about the safety of the people around him because he’s a family man, but also someone who loves to get down as vacation terry. also talks in the third person, but it’s okay since he’s hot. 

gina linetti 

myungho  

“aren’t you forgetting something?” [...] “no! pay your bill! damn, who raised you?” 

the human form of the 100 emoji. would be the perfect human president, based upon his skillset, dance ability, and bloodlust. he is the paris of people. has been jake (hoshi)’s childhood friend and went through high school with him. cares enough to steer jake (hoshi) on the right track (ref. brandon bliss) but to also enable him in their own goofy shenanigans (the DDC + the lacroix siblings). super smart and well-versed in the people around him because only gina would suggest savant (vernon), the hacker, to become their new IT guy. iconic entrepreneur. 

i know that hao is super humble, and gina says that being humble is her best trait. despite this, there is no one else who would love to not be involved with all this police nonsense (bc gina “does not listen to a lot of things you all [the detectives] say”) but also be relevant. she’s actually very street-smart, great at comebacks, and the ceo of her own company that she literally just made up. 

dr. kevin cozner 

wonwoo  

“that’s the oompiest oomph you’ll get.” 

prim, proper, and unhinged. he loves raymond (cheol) but most of all, allows love to prevail. works as a classics professor at a university, spends a sabbatical in france to enrich his teaching experience, and loves a good croque monsieur. would absolutely go off on jake (hoshi) if he gatekept a nicolas cage movie that's a period piece set in greece based on some dumb book. despite his no-nonsense attitude sometimes, he is still down to dress like a pervert to go to the library with jake (hoshi). also, super badass because he runs over seamus murphy with a car. 

i was kind of going for wonwoo’s quieter but more serious and studious vibes. i think super knowledgeable, especially about gaming and editing, while kevin is knowledgeable about classics like boetheus and the odyssey. both are super smart, sassy, and protective people. 

doug judy 

jeonghan 

“i sold a guy a fake pekinese. twas a cat.” 

he’s in and he’s out! he is there for the vibes and the elaborate schemes. he will outsmart everyone in the NYPD and get away with it. (many, many times.) one of jake (hoshi)’s best criminal friends but would still betray him every time. he would definitely lie and tell his family that he owns an architecture firm instead of being the pontiac bandit, and jake (hoshi) is his assistant mangy carl, whom he saved from a life of living on the streets selling his body. goofy and silly, but don’t underestimate him. you’ll always be one step behind him. 

i think jeonghan is definitely slick and goofy enough to be doug judy. above all else, jeonghan’s mind works harder than anyone else in mafia. just like how he immerses himself in different roles (and often makes them up) in don’t lie and bad clue, doug judy has transformed into many different roles in his life (cruise ship singer, architect, etc.) 

capt. jason stentley (CJ) 

jun 

“okay muchachos, let’s roll up on these muchachos!” 

great start, and love the double use of muchachos, jun. became a captain due to his extreme luck. he is just always in the right place at the right time. showed up to his first day in grey sweatpants because he “totally biffed it” and spilled hot cocoa on himself. introduced himself as ‘captain stentley’ but didn’t like how formal that sounded. ‘captain jason’ wasn’t it either, so CJ was the move. numbers are so crazy, and overall so, very supportive. he just wants to help. 

i was just thinking of someone a little silly and laidback. will be strict if you ask him to, but he’s honestly more there for the vibes. he can be a little clumsy, but i was mainly just going for the slightly airheadedness vibes and the lovable nature. 

det. adrian pimento

joshua 

“whoo… haha… hey chuck! it’s pimento.” 

just a little bit insane. it’s a side effect of being undercover for 12 years for jimmy “the butcher” figgis, but i digress. he sometimes still calls himself paul sneed due to being extremely traumatized. overall just a funny and great character. used to be boyle (dk)’s roommate and just found himself in his son’s closet at some point in time… got mistaken as a closet monster… just normal human things. (but he was also screaming with dk and his son.) has a very riveting, intense, and sexy relationship with rosa (woozi). 

this one was a little more of a stretch, but only because pimento is actually insane. all the years of ptsd has made him into a very strange person. josh is a little strange, and maybe he could be pimento if pimento was watered down into a lacroix. (like, the flavor is barely there.) there’s a distinct slight insanity that josh has (ref. gose episode the8 and the 12 shadows) that is hard to replicate. 

fire marshal boone  

dino  

“your only move is passing the ball to jeffords and running across the field.” “i’d like to see you try!” 

so done with the entire police department. will always be down for a rivalry or argument but genuinely a softie. just generally suspicious of jake (hoshi) and charles (dk) due to their antics and strong adherence to the rivalry. demands an apology because this is the fire department’s jurisdiction! all of that comes crumbling down though, when jake (hoshi) reveals his sad past with sal’s pizza…. but he still competes with jake (hoshi) on arresting the criminal in the end. some things never change.

i was honestly looking for someone who would love nothing more than to call out hoshi and dk on their BS and tomfoolery without enabling it and thought of dino. boone is a pretty lovable character for someone who is supposed to be a villain of some sorts, and it fits in pretty well with dino. plus, he’s the head of the fire department, kind of like how dino had to choose being the maknae of svt versus being the leader of a younger group. (kind of.) 

! vernon

okay i was genuinely very torn about who should be vernon, because i genuinely had a lot of different options. 

corey park (savant) 

hacked into a police precinct’s computer system just because he could. (he only exposed everyone’s search history.)  “it was like taking candy from a baby.” he was turned in by his mom, but fortunately now has a job -- courtesy of gina (hao). very intelligent and laid back

i saw vernon here because he definitely has a mischievous side. while his pranks and jokes are on the mild side, he’s definitely still a troublemaker. he’s down to work for the greater good. 

cheddar the dog  

“this isn’t cheddar, this is just some common bitch.” a very special someone. definitely is seungcheol and wonwoo’s child. loves wedding cake and is very well-behaved. extremely intelligent and loves participating in halloween heists. does not like being jake (hoshi)’s dog bra :// 

this was based on alice’s thread and was so funny. if cheddar were a human, vernon would be cheddar. the sass and intellect can only be matched by Thee hansol vernon chwe. 

other fun character pairings that i thought of: 

kkuma as cheddar the dog: two words -- so spoiled. also would be cheol (captain holt)’s baby. i digress. 

jun & dino as young hitchcock and scully: just two people motivated by helping the city. kind-hearted and brave people, who may or may not have gotten addicted to wing sluts while checking in on a witness that their captain screwed over by not putting in the witness protection program. outstanding people who became a lot more interesting, to say the least…. 

josh as madeline wuntsch: strangely tense relations with holt (cheol) due to their rivalry, but overall an outstanding cop. ½ of svt’s evil twins so you know he’s down for some evilness. oh raymond, i notice you haven’t done your time as a beat cop…. (if josh is here, who’s guarding hades???) may be a cheuksin, a korean toilet ghost who--

jun as mlepclaynos (the clay is silent): opens the door, is questioned by detectives, takes the picture of the suspect. he’s from neokrakagovia and celebrates dogs losing their virginity. jun definitely would! less because he’s weird and more so because he’s so kind and willing to go with the flow that it just happens. later says he’s not mlepnos. did you sell him horse blood? would you like to buy horse blood? he plays the violin beautifully. “guitar.” (ref. some day morning)

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter one

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: Rin lays there, her back against the grass as she stares resolutely up at the sky overhead, little drops of dew like tiny diamonds hanging heavy from blades of grass.

“I have nothing to say to you, just so you know.” She refuses to look over to the place where Astarion lays mere inches from her as she says the words, but it doesn’t stop her from moving her hand to rest it down in the small gap of space between their bodies. 

It’s an offering, if nothing else, though it is one Rin doesn’t know if he will take.

“Well then, I suppose it’s a good thing that you so rarely have anything worthwhile to say.” Astarion’s words carry his usual unaffected haughtiness that has her eyes rolling despite herself, a small huff of annoyance escaping her lips. 

But as she feels the coolness of his skin against her own, clever fingers intertwining with her delicate ones using only the slightest bit of movement she thinks that maybe, just maybe there can also be a little room for hope in whatever this thing between them is.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

In which Astarion and Rin learn how to bridge the gap, because maybe all that distance between them isn’t quite so large as they once thought.

A semi-retelling of events; focused on themes of learning trust, intimacy, and perhaps even love.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Female Tav

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: slight rivalmance, idiots to lovers, romance, adventure

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 5.6k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: discussion of wild vampire bites, feeling EMOTIONS, astarion being astarion

𝑎/𝑛: hello and welcome to my delusions aka a multi chap fic about learning how love and build trust and intimacy because i want to help HEAL HIM ♡

ao3 here

masterlist

Rin’s eyes open blearily, gaze unfocused, as she blinks away the sleep from her eyes. She squints against the bright sunlight seeping in through the tent, the thickly woven blue and white fabric illuminated as diluted rays of sunshine beam down, tiny motes of dust drifting lazily through the air around her.

It takes her several moments to orient herself as she lays there unmoving on the bedroll—one second to remember who she is, another for where she is, and lastly, several seconds to remember exactly what it is she did the night before.

She drags her palms up to cover her eyes, limbs heavy as if weighted with steel as she groans into the emptiness of the tent that surrounds her.

“Oh, fuck.”

Rin lets her hands fall back down onto the threadbare blanket that covers her, fingers twirling around a pull in the weave, the motion a small comfort, as she forces herself to open her eyes once more, dark green irises focusing on the sunlight that shines in from above.

She narrows her eyes at the diffused orb of the sun where it hangs in the sky above, leveling a glare towards it as best as one can while still laying down in their bedroll far past the hours of dawn. 

“I suppose it would be too much to ask for a little bit of cloud cover.” Her words bounce around the tent, aimed at nothing in particular, exhaustion still pulling at her limbs as she sighs audibly, drawing herself up to her elbows slowly as she looks down at herself, eyes scanning over her form.

She was, thankfully, free of tentacles. A win for the day, if nothing else. 

The twinge of pain in her neck was a new one, though. 

Rin brings a hand up, letting fingertips running over the tender marks that now decorate the column of her neck. It was a miracle she even woke up at all in retrospect, nausea curling through her body as the lack of blood from the night’s prior events wreak havoc through her system with every move she makes.

She can see the evening before clearly, the clarity of it all still bright in her mind’s eye. She remembers the way his lips twisted as he spoke words intent to be persuasive and confident, but those eyes of his had held nothing but thinly veiled desperation despite his every attempt otherwise.

She doubts he’s even aware of it, how expressive that handsome face of his really is. How his lips pull down ever so slightly at the corners, how his lashes sometimes shutter over crimson irises with a subtle apprehension she doesn’t quite understand.

She has no plans to tell him, either—she knows better than to waste a good weapon when she sees it.

It was a duality Rin found to be confusing, so at odds with the image Astarion works hard to present and had so carefully cultivated himself to appear to be.

This is a gift. This is a gift. This is a gift.

The words replay in her head over and over again, as if they were a broken prayer she never wanted to learn for an unknown god she does not want to know.

She doesn’t want to hear them. 

Doesn’t want to hear him there in her head, that gratitude ruining her image of him so thoroughly that she no longer knows if she can ever go back to seeing him the way she had before.

The words claw into her mind and bury themselves there deep and she wishes she could rip them out, cut them away with shears of the sharpest steel to forget about that small bit of humanity she had seen within him.

Rin desperately wants to tell herself she won’t do it again, would never again agree to letting him partake in her but she knows such words would be in vain, despite everything she wants to tell herself otherwise. 

She wants to be wanted. Wants to be needed far too much to ever deny him such a thing, a weakness in her that grows with every passing moment with leaves of green unfurling into her empty heart.

Rin stops that particular line of thought, ripping it out of her tadpole-addled brain before it can grow—before it too can bury its roots deep inside her mind and tangle there in the space next to his words. It was far too dangerous a feeling, one she is not keen to indulge in even in the supposed safety of her own mind.

Her cheeks heat at the memory against her will; the silver of his hair burnished to soft gold by the glow of the nearby fire as he followed her down against her bedroll, the rough fabric scratching over her too sensitive skin. The feeling of his breath against her neck as he searched for a place to bite, the brief lick of his tongue there, his murmured words “yes right here, perfect, darling” before the sharpness of his fangs pierced her tender flesh. 

That icy knife of pain, lasting only a second, before he began to suck. The way her body had responded, a deep fire of her own answering to that frosted heat in her neck as he drank his fill, the soft curls of his hair brushing against her burning skin as his lips move along the blood spilling from her throat like rubies.

RIn shakes the memories from her mind—everything, all of it—with a clench of her fist in the blanket. With a soft groan she rises fully, letting the blanket fall from tensed fingers and onto her lap as she moves to sit, hands instead busying themselves with rubbing the last bits of sleep still clinging to her lashes.

At the rate her thoughts were going she was going to have to ask Lae’zel to put her out of her misery, perhaps sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it was the dear tadpole that now sits in the space behind her eyes, wriggling away with its sharpened teeth deep inside her skull, that is causing such troubling thoughts to enter her mind.

Rin raises her arms above her, limbs stretching high above as she lets the watery sunshine filter over the planes of her face, soaking up the weak beams of light as if they could cleanse her mind of everything that plagues her—of the tadpole, of this mess, of Astarion. 

She doesn’t understand him, doesn’t understand why he would choose her—the one who he seems to carry such disdain for, out of everyone in this band of misfits. Her relationship with Astarion was competitive and petty at best, his half-hearted attempts at charm the only time he ever came close to being something that could be considered civil.

Maybe Astarion simply thought her to be the least intelligent of their group which, in fairness, she perhaps couldn’t outright deny. Maybe he’s not quite so far off the mark with that assessment if her present decision making skills are anything to go by.

Rin grabs at the decanter of water sitting next to her bedroll, the glass gleaming as she uncorks it before bringing it to her lips, taking small sips as she surveys the now familiar interior of her small tent, the space a surprisingly grounding constant in her life despite the short amount she’s had to call it her own.

It’s bare, mostly. She didn’t have many belongings before her illithid kidnapping, much less what she had on her actual person when she was taken and then deposited onto the sandy shoreline with little grace. 

Not much but a worn bedroll and blanket sit in the center, several books found over the past weeks stacked unevenly in a corner still waiting to be read, a tarnished hand mirror she found sitting atop the stack.

Her lyre sits propped up against a tent pole, miraculously undamaged after everything so far, the carved wood darkened from years of use in the places where the tips of her fingers have learned to rest.

She sighs once more as she makes her way on her knees to the small basket she’s made use of as a table, turned upside down to hold the rest of the scattered belongings she has. 

Her leather bound notebook still sits open from where she scribbled down the events of last night, drops of ink decorating the page around her words (neatness never was her forte). She’s written so much over the years—bars of music, lyrics to songs, words she’d never had the bravery to say out loud and instead immortalized with cheap, watery ink on paper.

She moves past the journal and past the tie for her hair, fingers searching for the small vial of perfumed oil sitting next to a chipped mug filled with the blue flowers she had picked from the riverbank days ago, blooms now withered and drooping.

She had stolen the perfume off a table at one of the many market stalls back in the city some time ago, the aroma of syrupy honey and fresh blooming jasmine filling the air as she uncorks the small vial to dab it onto her wrists and the space behind the slight points of her ears, running whatever oil is leftover through the waves of darkened gold as they cascade down over delicate shoulders.

Rin grabs at the mirror sitting off to the side, picking it up to look at herself. Still the same as always, her eyes flitting over the reflection looking back at her—the smattering of freckles across her sun-warmed cheeks still remain, same messy dark blonde waves a handful as always, lips still plush and pink despite the blood lost last night. 

She changes out of her night shirt, tossing the wrinkled linen to the side to spread against her bedroll before pulling on a pair of leathers and a flowing linen tunic, laces still loose around her chest as she adjusts the collar to hopefully hide the bite mark adorning her neck before standing.

With one last fluff of her hair, Rin exits her tent, coming face to face with the full brunt of the Storm Coast sunshine.

She winces at the light, a hand coming up to shield her from the rays with a discontented noise as she makes her way to the fire roaring in the middle of camp, Gale stirring a pot of something with one hand as he holds a well-loved spell book in the other, brow furrowed as his eyes scan the faded text. 

“I trust you slept well, friend?” Gale’s smile is warm and frankly all too chipper for such an hour as Rin approaches, setting down the book in his hand onto a small side table setting next to him, the wood aged and wrinkled with years of use.

“Any sleep is a successful sleep when it means waking up without tentacles, don’t you think?” She grabs at the apple sitting next to the spell book, bringing it to her mouth and biting in the crisp, red flesh. It snaps as her teeth bite in, the juice coating her lips with a refreshing, familiar sweetness.

“Ah, yes, our good friend ceremorphosis.” Gale ladles her out what looks to be some sort of porridge into a bowl, handing it to her before launching into a monologue on said topic with a confidence Rin can only envy. 

Rin sits down on a conveniently placed stool next to Gale’s cooking pot, content to let him drone on about whatever he pleases as she listens to the cadence of his voice, hoping it will provide a successful distraction from the other thoughts moving relentlessly through her mind. 

Everything about Gale was warm—warm brown hair and warm brown eyes, warm demeanor and warm voice. So very unlike another member of their group that seems to occupy her thoughts with a worrying frequency.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see a certain white-haired vampire trying his hardest not to look her way, a puzzled expression poorly hidden across his features as he fiddles with his hair, fingers brushing through the strands as he sways slightly from foot to foot. 

His timing is poor as he glances up at her the moment her eyes flick over to him, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments across camp before Astarion looks down again. He hastily grabs a book from his table and opens it at random, fingers forgetting to turn the pages as he simply looks down upon it without motion, body still as stone.

Rin blatantly ignores him as she moves her attention back to Gale as he drones on, nodding blandly and answering him when appropriate, giving him as much of her attention she can manage with Astarion pretending not to look her way.

“Thank you for such riveting discussion, Gale. And such good food too!” She interrupts Gale during his soliloquy, moving to stand as she takes the last bite of porridge in her bowl before setting it down amongst the other dirty dishes.

“I’m not sure how we’d ever survive without your talents at both conversation and cooking.” She lets herself wear a charming smile as her compliments hit home, Gale looking thoroughly pleased at her praise, standing up straighter as his smile widens.

“Ah, yes. Well, it is always an honor to be able to nourish both one’s mind and soul. And body.” Gale adds on the last bit hastily, drawing a chuckle from Rin as she leaves Gale where he stirs the porridge with a polite smile before steeling herself and sauntering over to where Astarion pretends to read his book by his tent.

“Too many big words on the page, Astarion?” She approaches him with a raised brow, nodding towards the book held open in his hands. “You haven’t turned it in quite awhile.”

“And here I thought you were trying not to look at me,” Astarion slams the book shut with an elegant motion, the pages clapping together audibly in the relative silence of the camp. “I can’t say blame you. I’d have a hard time not staring at myself too, if I were you.”

“Yes, well, your glaring ego does make it quite difficult to ignore, especially in such bright sunlight.” Rin crosses her arms as she leans back, bearing her weight on her hip as she cocks it to the side. “Good Morning, Astarion.” 

“And Good Morning to you, darling bard.” 

Astarion stretches out the syllables of the last two words, and the emphasis on them has Rin rolling her eyes despite how the words send something in her belly tumbling despite Astarion’s obvious insincerity.

Astarion sets his book down on a decorated table next to him before looking back at Rin, his eyes running up and down her body before settling onto the place where he left his mark on her neck, still half-hidden by her collar. His gaze is intense, something about the look in his eyes unsettling her as his eyes flick up to her own once more.

“How do you feel?” His question is surprisingly genuine, any trace of his usual persona far away as he waits for her answer.

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him, his usual attitude so at odds with these small pockets of sincerity that she has somehow managed to see twice in the past twelve hours. 

She hates it. 

“Concerned, Astarion?” Rin raises her brows in question before deciding to grant him as close to an real answer as she can, though she doesn’t fully understand why she finds herself leaning towards such honesty when it’s never served her terribly well in the past. “I’ve felt worse, don’t worry.” 

“That’s…good. It will pass.” He nods his head slightly, silver curls bobbing with the motion. His voice carries that same thread of sincerity, the sound of it disconcerting.

“Well, it certainly beats waking up in an unmarked grave.” Rin’s tone is light, breezy; the tilt of her head almost charming as she steers the conversation away from such perplexing emotions.

“I can arrange that, you know.” He picks up a knife from where it rests on the table next to him, examining the blade with the same air of casual indifference he does everything, a familiar wicked smirk playing on his lips. 

This is the Astarion she knows, the only version of him she is comfortable with knowing, and its reemergence has her confidence surging back with it. 

“Can you? I’m not so certain those hands of yours have ever done much digging.” She nods her head where he still holds the knife between perfectly manicured fingers.

The shadow that briefly crosses over his eyes at her words is gone as quickly as it comes, Astarion leaning ever so slightly into Rin’s space instead, the motion distracting her away from the question forming on her lips.

“Darling, if you want to know what these hands are capable of, all you have to do is ask and I’ll gladly give you a demonstration.”

The smile Rin gives him is saccharine as she lets her body relax the slightest bit towards his own, ever mindful of that knife still held between nimble fingers that could so very easily find a home in the spaces between her ribs.

“I’ll pass.” She keeps her smile sweet as she leans away, shooting him a sly wink over her shoulder as she turns to leave him where he stands in the over-bright light of day.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The cave yawns above, the sound of their footsteps echoing high against the sharp stalactites that hang down like crooked teeth. Rin keeps her feet near silent as she makes her way down a small offshoot, the rest of her companions back at the mouth of the passage as she scouts ahead.

She’s not entirely sure what she’s even looking for, though any possible lead about their current predicament is better than what they have now. Slowly, she steps, careful to keep her footsteps light as she moves forward along the rocky ground beneath.

The darkness is heavy, cloying almost, the bit of darkvision from Rin’s partial elven heritage barely enough to help her see. Her ears perk slightly as she hears the smallest of noises behind her, the barest movement of a rock on the ground alerting her of his presence as she scents him behind her, the potent mix of bergamot and brandy one she has recently become more familiar with than she would like.

“Is that the slithering of a snake I hear behind me?” Rin whispers the words low into the air as she stops moving, not bothering to look over her shoulder to the place she knows Astarion sneaks from several paces behind, his own footsteps practically unintelligible against the ground as he draws nearer.

“Darling, you’ll have to say that once more because I’m quite certain I didn’t hear you right.” Utter disdain drips from the words, his scorn leaving Rin no choice but to steal a glance over her shoulder at him if only to witness the inevitable expression of contempt that decorates his elegant features, eyebrows drawing low over crimson eyes narrowed in her direction.

“Fine, have it your way.” She throws a smirk at him from over her shoulder as he approaches her. “Would a prowling panther suit you better, then? Though, frankly, I think you have more the air of a house cat than that of an actual predator.” 

A lie, but he didn’t have to know that. The disbelieving raise of his brow tells her all she needs to know about what he thinks of her comment, though.

“Well, if I am to be a cat then what does that make you? Perhaps a little mouse in need of a chase?” He tilts his head with feline grace as his eyes flit over her features.

Rin opens her mouth to say something—pink lips parting to let out a retort, an insult, anything she can to fill the space, unwilling to let him have the final say—when she hears it, a subtle sound farther up the path that draws both of their attentions, heads turning in sync.

A bang echoes out, louder now as it reverberates off the cave walls, followed by ringing silence left to fill the space. Before Rin can react she feels Astarion move, his elven reflexes far quicker than her own as he grabs for her. His hands fall to her waist as he walks them both backwards with quick, quiet steps into the shadows of the damp wall, his claret gaze narrowed as he stares at something she cannot yet see farther down the way. 

Warning bells go off in her head as her eyes search the darkness beyond to no avail, dread settling in her belly as the inky blackness gives no notion of unveiling whatever lays beyond it. She can feel the presence of the being as it no doubt wonders what dares to disturb its lair; its dark power oily as it radiates through the narrow space.

He’s barely breathing, she notices, his chest practically still as it only expands and releases with the slightest bit of movement. He no longer seems to try to hide his fangs, and she absently wonders how she was ever able to not see him for anything other than a vampire as she searches the planes of his face instead of looking at whatever it is that lay ahead—how could she have ever overlooked and dismissed what seems so obvious now?

He is a perfect predator, every inch of him screaming it with a certain darkness that seems undeniable, from the tension in his limbs to the brows dipped low over cunning eyes.

Rin looks away from him for only a moment, stealing a quick glance towards where Shadowheart and Karlach have too flattened themselves against the wall farther down as they try to blend as best as they can, the great axe in Karlach’s hands at the ready as Shadowheart practically glows in time with the pulse of her blessing from Shar.

Whatever it is ahead seems to be ill inclined at the very least to put in much effort to come searching for them, that same presence pushing no closer as the group all stand frozen, waiting.

She can feel the damp cold of the wall seeping in through the padding of her stolen armor, a chill sneaking in through the metallic plating that permeates into her skin. But it’s nothing compared to the feeling of where Astarion’s hand rests against her waist, the weight of his fingers resting above her hip heavy as they press into her.

Their armor brushes where their bodies touch, Astarion making the profile of their bodies as small as possible as he crowds her against the dripping wall, Rin barely daring to breathe for fear of the metals clinking against one another and drawing the attention of whatever it is that sits somewhere up ahead. She can feel the warmth in her cheeks, the slight flush stealing across her face with a telltale rosiness at the lack of space between them. 

Some small part of her takes notice of that power receding slightly, slinking away slowly though she pays it little mind, her thoughts so suddenly filled with him that everything else seems unimportant in the wake of his closeness.

The proximity is electrifying. 

Her mind whirls at the nearness, flitting back to the few times they’ve ever been so close—the memory of his body hovering over her own as cool lips move against her bloodied skin; that very first day on the beach, his body dragging hers down into dirty sand with a knife to her throat and those same cool lips speaking threats into her ear.

Blessedly, Rin thinks, he hasn’t yet truly noticed her scrutiny of him or the flush that stains pink across her cheeks. She is unable to look away from his face this close, her eyes memorizing the sharpness of his cheeks, the brightness of his eyes as his face still stares in the direction of the noise; his senses, vampiric or elven, searching for something she cannot even hope to find in that impenetrable darkness ahead. 

Slowly, as if summoning his attention with her thoughts, Astarion turns his head to look back in her direction. His gaze moves downward, no doubt taking notice of the slight pink of her cheeks as his plush lips widen into a smirk. 

Astarion steps in closer to her body, just slightly, but the effect is nothing short of exhilarating. Rin finds herself somehow closer to the wall, the hand at her waist pressing harder into her armor as his thumb brushes up and down in light motions that have the darkest parts of her she had hoped to ignore lamenting the barrier of their armor, wondering how his fingertips would feel against the softness of her skin instead. 

With a torturously slow motion, Astarion drags a hand up, barely brushing over the silhouette of her body as he raises his gloved fingers to rest on the exposed skin of her neck. Rin stands there frozen as his eyes stare into her own with an intensity she’s wholly unprepared for.

Lightly, Astarion brushes his fingers over the new marks there, twin spots of healing red high upon the skin of her neck, barely visible above the collar of her armor. Rin’s breath catches in her throat at the feeling, a shiver running down her body at the touch, much to her dismay, as Astarion eyes stay stuck to her neck.

“You tasted absolutely divine, darling.” His words are a whispered, heady thing as his eyes move up to look into hers once more, full of a certain promise Rin is unwilling to put a name to.

But the expression on his face is one of perfected, calculated seduction that he tries to hide beneath a hot gaze as he watches and waits for her reaction. Rin keeps her features neutral as she considers him, the lack of much of anything there dousing any embers building inside her.

Astarion looks at her as though she is something he can simply win with a good enough strategy, as though if he plays his imaginary cards right he will emerge as the victor of some unknown prize.

She can spot a mile away what this is to him, what she is to him. 

A game. 

And she’ll be damned if she lets him win.

Rin puts on her best coquettish smile, looking up at him from under dark lashes as she wets her bottom lip. 

She moves her hands from where they rest at her sides to slide up the armor of his chest, touch light as she stops just short of his collarbone, examining the sleek black material under her hands as her fingertips play with the artful metalwork. She raises her eyes to his own again, challenge rising to life in the deep emerald of her eyes.

Astarion leans in slightly towards her, his scent filling her nose at the closeness, the smirk playing on his lips deepening.

“Play your cards right, darling, and maybe I’ll let you have another taste.” Her words are sweetly mocking, whispered on an exhale as her palms move to press flat against the planes of his chest before pushing hard.

Astarion stumbles back a step, air coming between their bodies once more as he rights himself, a brief look of surprise crossing his features before a wicked smile takes its place.

A part of her regrets something in those words the minute they leave her mouth—something wrong about them she can’t quite put her finger on—but she brushes the feeling away, shoving it deep into the recesses of her mind to be analyzed later like she’s done for years and years as she breezes past Astarion with a victorious smirk, ponytail swishing. 

Rin makes her way back to where Shadowheart and Karlach wait, unwilling to take note of the look exchanged between the two of them as she approaches, the blush yet to recede from her cheeks.

“Well, I think we’d better find another way around, don’t you?” Rin gestures to Shadowheart, ignoring the curious raise of her brow as she begins to walk ahead, Karlach coming into step beside her.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Rin dislikes how wide Karlach’s smile is as she turns to look at the tiefling.

“Oh, hush. Not a word from either of you.” And with one last noise of exasperation, Rin finds her way to the front of the group to lead them onwards.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Rin glances up at Astarion over her cards, held between her fingers with the finesse she would any other weapon. Her eyes meet his own as they assess her, attempting to see through her strategy as his elegant fingers draw another card from the pile sitting between them, a fat candle melting wax onto the tabletop off to the side illuminating the woodgrain.

Shadowheart gives an exasperated sigh from her place next to Rin, her own hand of cards long since flung out onto the tabletop in defeat, arms crossed in front of her chest as she rolls of her eyes.

Astarion keeps his face still, careful to give no tells as he places two cards into play on the table and waits. A lucky hand, to be sure.

But as Rin draws the next card, bringing it up to her face to look at, she smiles wide, the card just the one she had predicted she would pull. She carefully places her cards onto the table face up, her own set trumping Astarion’s own. 

“I win.” Rin eyes Astarion with sheer triumph as she says the words. 

“I’m shocked, darling. I didn’t know you were such a little cheat.” Astarion’s words are mocking, though Rin swears she can see something akin to amusement in his gaze as he arches an elegant brow, adjusting his posture to lean back with an air of indifference.

“And here I thought you liked that sort of thing.” She preens in his direction, still bathing in the feeling of the win.

“You’re both awful. What a pair you two make.” Shadowheart stands with a noise of disgust, dark braid bouncing behind her as she leave them to move instead towards where the other group sits in front of the fire, conversing happily about something or other.

“Counting cards. Really?” There was no real point in denying Astarion’s accusation—she was, in fact, cheating.

But, then again, so was he.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you weren’t hiding a card up that sleeve of yours.” She nods to where he has an arm draped casually across the back of the wooden chair.

Rin grabs at the bottle of wine sitting on the tabletop, eager to busy her hands with something as she takes a swig to fill the silence. She still felt somewhat off-kilter following the interaction with Astarion earlier, could feel his eyes on her the rest of the afternoon, as if he was appraising some unknown part of her.

Her fingers play at the handmade label of the bottle, ink and parchment warped by drips of the dark red liquid. Her earlier words to him keep drifting in and out of her mind, unable to be dismissed. 

She had written it out earlier, still fresh from their exploration, wet quill moving hastily over the vellum as she organized her thoughts the only way she knows how, penmanship rushed as she wrote word after word kneeling upon the packed dirt with still-armored knees.

He confuses her, and while she may not trust him (though she’s unsure she ever has really trusted anyone), she doesn’t want to let him starve either. Despite all his misgivings and abrasive nature, she is loathe to withhold and force him to work for his food when she could provide it so very easily. 

Everyone deserved a chance to eat. 

Even beautiful, pompous, agitating vampires.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” She swallows, fingertips running over the smooth, dark glass in her hands, looking everywhere but his face as she finally says the words that had been plaguing her thoughts. 

“You’ll have to clarify, darling. I don’t commit every silly little thing you say to memory.” So dismissive, as always. His consistency is a small comfort, at the very least. 

Rin sighs as she forces her hands to stop their motions, resting her elbows on the table instead, as her eyes finally drift to his face. Astarion looks as calm and unbothered as ever as he pretends to be uninterested in what she has to say, though she can see the slight tension along the edge of him, lining his shoulders and neck he surveys her with a guarded indifference as he waits for her to continue her words.

“What I said earlier, in the cave.” She lets her eyes meet his own, darkened jade staring into depthless incarnadine.

“You don’t have to do anything, Astarion, to get my blood.” That carefully cultivated guarded expression on his face falls, lips opening as if trying to find words, but nothing but air releasing on his breath.  

“I’ll give it to you, gladly. I won’t make you ask.” 

Astarion does nothing, says nothing as he sits there and stares at her, face blank as the candlelight flickers softly over his features. No clever words, no cunning smirk.

And with those parting words Rin stands to leave, unknowing of the weight that those few words carry as she places the empty wine bottle down on the worn wood and walks to her tent, Astarion still staring at her empty chair aside the slowly burning wick.

[sorcerous-caress]

Do you think Cazador could have a human kink?

In a character analysis way or fun au way? Because if it's the latter then yeah! We can give anyone a human kink if we want to.

But if it's the first, then let's find out! There are some characters that already seem to have a clear human kink ex: Mystra and Arnell Hallowleaf.

I'm using this analysis post on Cazador as a frame of reference because the wiki is lacking.

Cazador was a high elf before becoming a vampire. According to the post. The scroll below has a list of the dates when each vampire became a vampire lord and not when they were turned to spawns.

So, it is safe to assume that Cazador was turned anytime during Vellioth's region. But with the way he mirrors his favourite spawn, I'm guessing he too was one of the first spawns.

It is unlikely that Vellioth turned him right away, it took Cazador around 20ish years to get his first spawn so let's meet halfway and go with 10.

His whole years as a vampire add up to 278, with 62 years as a spawn and 216 years as a lord. The game events are set to happen during 1492.

So he was turned around 1214, give or take.

What was happening during that time In Baldur's Gate? Well...not much.

Ketheric doesn't build moonrise tower until 1365. The first ever Baldur's game 1 story takes place around 300 years after the establishment of the city by Baldurian in 1068.

Cazador seems pretty old tho, even for an elf. He probably was alive as a high elf during the time Baldurian established the city.

So it is safe to guess that Cazador has been Baldur's Gate vampire lord since the first ever game. The treatments of humans back then is...well...uh.

You can wear an armour made out of human flesh in that game. It is also the only race who can romance all the other characters with no restrictions while picking half-orc, elf, or dwarf can lock you out of romances.

In 1st and second dnd editions, humans were the most versatile, literally. While other races were very very limited to the classes they got to choose. Hell being a druid was a human thing back then and elves couldn't do it, they had to be cleric of nature and larp as druids.

Cazador still talks in plural too, it makes sense to assume he came from elven nobility back in the 900 or 800. His name isn't an elven baby name either. Hunter isn't a name you'd give to a baby elf below his 100 years.

He probably had human servants, the Szarr family are merchants. And humans control most of the world trade, he had to learn how to deal with them. Although I feel like he still saw humans as cattle even back then.

But being a vampire brings out the worst in someone so who knows. Maybe a once gentleman noble elf Cazador existed somewhere in the world.

There is also the possibility that his previous master as a human? Humans tend to be very military oriented, and Vellioth was a disciplinarian in the army.

Off note, the master of Vellioth is a Szarr. Are they related to Cazador?

And Cazador's spawns imply he favours elves. 3 elves, 2 humans, 1 tiefling and 1 halfling.

-

So after all of this information, what is the conclusion?

He is from a time when humans almost ruled faerun but also showed a lot of discrimination against other races. He was surrounded by elf nobility and could only watch humanity from a safe distance except for the few merchants his family traded with.

He seems more comfortable with elves, judging by his past and his elf spawns ratio. He has probably never had many brushes with humans during his time as an elf.

But as a vampire? With the amount of human nobles in Baldur's Gate? He was suddenly thrown in the world of humans and had to learn how to deal with them quickly.

So, to him, humans are prey. And look at the two human spaws he has. One is a sorcerer and his most talented hunter, and the other is the village idiot.

He could only view humans in two ways, too dumb to function on their own, or too dangerous to be left on their own. They're a wildcard, rightfully so.

To him, we are new, unfamiliar and unmapped territory. No matter how much he thinks he has humanity figured out, one or two suddenly get thrown his way and completely shatter his perception. Much like how we keep discovering new aquatic species every other week that are starting to sound made up.

He'd feel frustrated by humanity and more so the fact he can't escape them or opt out of them. They are literally everywhere, even at the lines tethering the heavens and the hells, they somehow established cities there.

Humans are a constant thorn on his side, each generation that keeps meddling and getting overly curious about his gothic mansion. But they are also the main source of his food. They reproduce faster than all vampires can ever drain them all.

Cazador doesn't seem like the curios or fascinated type, more like the old-fashioned and stick with the familiar type. He probably has an elf kink, if anything, sucking his own dick figuratively.

But he would hatefuck a human like no other. How dare a cattle ever see themselves as something better? Even before he was a vampire he thought of them as the lesser race who can't keep their legs closed to save their life. Pretty little dumb humans who constantly get brought into his home and handed to him.

[mochimouiemarty]

I need your headcanons I don’t care which character which fandom I need headcanons because you seem awesome now give them to me /affectionate

ARGHHHH IM SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER?!?!? i was drawing the pookies to go with these hcs

i jumbled all my favs together and yeah have some silly hcs (thisll prolly be rlly short, or not) not in a set order so good luck finding the characters from fandoms you know 😈/hj

CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS!! Idia Shroud, Cater diamond, Mime Bomb, Weeping Clown

- Cater once played this dress up game for fun (or to make some content out of it), got some HARSH constructive criticism, never played again (person who insulted gave him advice was idia)

- Weepy often puts wax on the hair in front of his face to keep it out of his eyes while performing. (totally not based on an oc x canon thing i thought of.)

- Mime Bomb often has makeup residue around his eyes, making him look more tired than he already is. He struggles to get it out and also doesnt see the point bcs 9 times out of 10 hes gonna be hopping on another flight anyway!!!!

- Idia is half filipino. dont try and change my mind YOU CANNOT

- Cater has freckles and used to cover them up around highschool - year one in NRC. maybe because of insecurity or to follow the current "trends". maybe both!!!!!1!1!1!1! probably still does it to this even better if no one actually knows if his freckles are real or nah

- Mime Bomb knows how to draw! always uses himself as a reference when he can. loves drawing hands

- weepy is a jack of all trades, master of none. he'd observe and learn other peoples crafts silently from other people at the circus! even if he's not that good at most of them, he knows the basic stuff.. maybe.

- Cater often puts white eyeliner on to brighten up his eyes!!

- i think idia likes watching those process videos on sculpting and carving, just traditional art in general.

- cater probably likes to deconstruct a bunch of stuff, mainly content-making related things and especially music! I saw someone mention how passionate he seems about music based on the details in his room (might sound like a total idiot rn if those details were disclosed in one of the vignettes or something) so in my heart it seems like something he'd totes do. he's also a very detail oriented person so !1!1!1!1!1

- Joker dislikes popcorn, also smells like stale buttered popcorn(/hj)

- mime bombs skin is either hella sensitive or the complete opposite. I can see him either hoarding this one brand of makeup cuz it's the only one he can use, or his skin is THAT ok with any product that he's fine with using VILE products 😭

- I like to believe that Jokers hair is either a wig (or he dyed it) and he's a brunette. or he's just silly like that yk (the most likely possibility)

- Cater has an old list of piercings he wanted/wants, idk which ones he'd want but yuh!!! maybe he got a piercing when he was younger but got caught soooo

- Idia hates oily foods

this is probably it

also have the drawings that took TOO DAMN LONG.

"one is not like the other!!!!!" ahh favs 😭🙏

these are sort of my hcs on how they'd look? or at least a reference for myself for when I draw them again, I'm too inconsistent

random, but idias hair being so expressive is my most favorite detail about his character

I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY SPELLINV MISTAKES

—

ok these took too long thank you bye

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

If there's one thing I can't stop thinking about, it's how the 😍GORGEOUS🥵 fanart you drew of Benn reminds me of the cover of a romance novel.

Regardless of how good or badly written those cheesy books can be, the covers always look immaculate 👌

Exhibit A

I need an overly romantic fanfic with that man, thanks to that BEAUTIFUL ART you drew 😍

Firstly thank you I am beyond flattered, I just wanted everyone else to see him how I see him (very exhausted by all the bs he has to deal with but still effortlessly gorgeous)

Secondly, Mlmy love, from the VERY FIRST TIME I read the manga (well over a decade ago) my FIRST thought about Beck was "this guy looks like one of those romance novel cover heros lol"

The furrowed brow. The square jaw. The long silky hair. The serious expression. The massive man tiddies.

It's uncanny. I stfg Oda did it on purpose. And I love Oda for providing equal fan service to all readers of every orientation because DEAR SWEET FCK THAT CLEAVAGE—

Anyway, I don't know how soon it's going to be because life outside Tumblr is kinda difficult right now, but there's no way I won't be writing Beck x OC at this point. I ruined myself by drawing him, I already liked him but now I absolutely adore him. Already started working on headcanons for him.

Like I just KNOW he would be by far the least toxic and least problematic, most stable and most patient husband in the entire canon, and no one can ever tell me otherwise. The only remotely unstable thing in that relationship would be that technically Shanks is your step-son now and he's a raging chaos gremlin.

But at least you and Beck can go gray with stress together while trying to keep the idiot safe.

Just like

Y/N: *exasperated sigh* Honey, he's being chased by Marines again.

Beck: *long drag from cigarette* Maybe he'll learn something this time.

Y/N: One can hope....