#and after a singular day of him not texting back i just assume hes lost interest or that he thinks im too much work

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[twinklelilstarkey]

Breaking Point - Matthew Tkachuk

Words: 1.9k+

Type: Angst and Fluff

Summary: Matthew is always one to swallow his feelings and act as if he’s totally okay, but, in reality, even he has a breaking point.

Warnings: Breaking down over exhaustion and other life problems. Very sad Matty. (Y/N's gender is not really mentioned in this)

Throughout your relationship, you don't think you've ever seen or even heard Matt cry. It's not like you haven't seen him sad, or mad enough to the point of possible tears, because you have, yet you have never actually seen him cry. And that is because he's usually one to swallow his emotions and hide his true feelings.

You're very against that whole thing. You hate the fact that he does it automatically and doesn't even see a problem with it.

You've already felt and seen what happens when people bottle up their emotions, and there hasn't been one time where it ended well. Therefore, you don't want that to happen to Matt.

Even though you spend most of your time taking care of stuff for college, you live with your boyfriend, go to his home games, and when not together, you're always texting. So, you're confident when you say that you know that man like the palm of your hand.

You know stuff in the team has been tough. Lately, Matt has been coming back from morning skates absolutely exhausted, to the point of falling asleep right as he sits or lays down and just dragging himself through the hallways of your home throughout the day. 

But even with being tired with work, you know something went down with his friends.

For the past 2 weeks he hasn't left the house for his usual Friday and Sunday nights out with the boys, nor do you see him talk to anyone on his phone. You assume that what happened was that they argued and that it was a really bad argument. But even though it is something that all friends go through, as it keeps on going, day after day of radio silence in his friend group, you start feeling awful for him.

You've tried to carefully pull him away from this shell he has been creating, where he doesn't speak that much nor is he as loving as usual. But every time you do that, he just walks away to distance himself from you as if scared to blow up on you with all his overflowing emotions.

So, with that, you've decided to just keep an eye on him at all times possible, and seem as vacant as student-y possible, just so whenever he would need you, you can be there.

You don't push him to talk about his feelings, or even talk at all. Sometimes you do test him by asking for a hug, which he always gives you, and you would be lying if you said that your heart didn't tighten at how long he has been holding you for, lately.

Now, you're sitting on the living room couch, laptop on your lap as you work on a paper that you've decided to do earlier than normal. Matt is out for his morning skate, but he should be almost home.

You scroll through the website that you're using to get some help for your project and soon the loud sound of the front door opening is heard.

Excitingly, you throw your laptop to the side and do a little run over to the archway of the living room to welcome Matt home, but the sight stops you from both moving and talking.

Matthew’s gaze is stuck on the floor as he takes his shoes off and throws his gear bag down to the ground. He lets out a sniffle and quickly brings his hands up to his face.

He seems like he hasn't noticed you yet. But you decide not to break the silence, and just step a little closer to him.

Matt scrubs his face harshly with his hands, laying them over the top of his head as he lets out a loud sigh, eyes still on the ground. Now as he rises his head ever so slightly to look at his and your stuff, you notice his eyes glistening with the light and appearing to be slightly red.

"Matty." You whisper softly.

Thankfully, your voice doesn't startle him. He looks over to his side, over to you, and your breath quickens as you itch to comfort him.

"Are you okay?" You ask, silently and softly.

His hands fall from the top of his head to his sides and he takes another deep breath, almost as if recomposing himself.

Without using any words or doing any possible sound, he simply answers you with a shake of his head.

His answer is enough for you to lift your feet from the carpeted floor of the living room and walk across the lobby to get to him.

Matthew turns his body to face you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head down slowly to you as you pull him into a tight hug. His arms don't hesitate to wrap around you either.

His hold is tight yet secure. His breathing has become heavier as he leans his face closer to your neck, now breathing through his mouth. His arms are shaking around you and hold him even tighter as you feel it.

Your hand lays over the curls at the back of his head, caressing them as you squeeze him just as tight, closer to you.

His fingers grip tightly into the shirt you’re wearing and he closes his eyes as tears start to burn them.

Your vacant hand, the one that isn't playing with his hair, lays across his shoulders, moving your thumb to caress him softly. You press a kiss to the side of his head and stay silent.

All you want to do is make him feel okay. To provide him the safety he’s always able to give you at your worst. To make him feel as loved as you feel when he takes care of you.

So you don’t talk, don’t force him to tell you anything. If he wants to stay in the silence, you’ll stay like this for as long as he needs.

The two of you stay like that for some time, silent and just holding each other right by the door of your home.

After some minutes, you lean your cheek away from the side of his head and you bring your hand over to Matt's face. He lifts his head from your shoulder and your heart breaks at the sight of his wet cheeks.

You wipe his tears away and take a look at his face, which doesn't have its usual happy glow but holds a pair of sad eyes and a soft scowl.

You press a kiss on his cheek and pull him into the hug again, which he welcomed back by taking his previous place against your neck.

"I've got you." You whisper onto the side of his head, close to his ear.

(...)

Hours later, you climb back to bed with a tall glass of water in your hand, and, carefully, you throw the covers back over your legs.

Matthew is asleep beside you. You already knew he was exhausted when he got home, but it didn't fail to hurt you when you saw how quickly he fell asleep when he laid down.

You two didn't talk much. You did most of the talking, honestly. You suggested to go sit down but he looked so tired when you looked up at him that you just took him to bed instead.

You laid down beside him, hand resting on his cheek, wiping off any evidence of tears while whispering to him softly: "It's okay." and "I love you so much".

Your words had the purpose to maybe calm him down, give him some sort of comfort, or even motivate him to talk. But right as your hand traced under his eyes, he closed them and soon fell asleep.

Even though it has been hours, you haven't been able to leave his side. Maybe it's because you're scared that he'll wake up without you beside him, for some reason.

You put your glass down on your nightstand and take a quick look at your phone, ignoring any notifications, just focusing on the time.

It's almost time for dinner.

Matthew shifts a bit beside you and you snap your eyes back to him.

"Hi..." You whisper, smile prominent in your tone.

Matt blinks his eyes open and he frowns a bit at his surroundings. You put your phone back down and turn to lay on your side, to him.

"What time is it?" He asks, voice groggy from sleep.

"Almost time for dinner."

His head falls back on his pillow and you automatically bring your hand to his now frizzed messy curls. Matthew leans against your palm and you smile, leaning over to press a kiss on his forehead.

Matt's hand lays lazily over yours as you give him a kiss.

Right as you pull away, he stares up.

"Do you feel any better?” You ask him in a whisper.

He gives you a nod and you give him a smile.

“I can go make you dinner if you’re hungry already.” You tell him while twirling a strand of his hair with your fingers.

He shakes his head a bit before talking.

“No, you don’t need to.” He says, “We can order in.”

“Are you sure?” You ask him, looking at him in the eyes, “It could make you feel better.”

“I know” He nods before scooting over closer to you, “But I just want to lay here with you for a little longer.”

Before you can say anything to answer him, he leans his head against your chest and wraps one of his arms over your waist to have you closer to him.

Your hand stops moving over his curls as he does it and you stare down at him for a few seconds. When feeling him squeeze your body slightly, you lay your cheek over the top of his head, arms crossed over his shoulders, around his neck, hugging him back.

Matthew closes his eyes at the feeling of your arms going back around him and a little sigh escapes his chest, almost as if in relief.

You hold him silently, finding yourself closing your eyes as well. And right as you were about to drift over to your day-dreaming world, Matt’s voice stops you from going in further.

“I love you so much.” He whispers. “Thank you... For doing this.”

A small smile appears over your lips as you reopen your eyes and you plant a kiss over his hair.

“I love you just as much, Matty.” You say with a slightly playful tone at the nickname. “Maybe a little bit more. But just a teeny tiny bit.”

Matt’s lips curve up in a small grin and even though you can’t exactly see it, you give him another squeeze of reassurance.

“And there’s no need for you to thank me.” You tell him, voice slightly muffled from your face still being lost in the blonde strands. “You always do this for me. Just returning the favor.”

His body shakes a little with a singular chuckle and you smile at it. He snuggles his face into your chest and you smile as he moves it from side to side as if to find the perfect spot.

“Can we talk about it when I wake up?” He asks, voice muffled, again.

“About...” You drag out the word to start your question, “Your day?”

“Yeah.” He whispers doing a little quick nod.

“Of course.” You tell him.

“I just feel like I need to talk about it.” He tells you.

You smile at his words and your heartbeat quickens a little at his sudden feel to talk about everything. It feels so... surreal. In a good way, of course.

“I'll be right here when you're ready to talk about it.”

Matthew's smile reappears and he presses a kiss over your shirt at the middle of your chest as if as a way to thank you, again.

You lay there in the silence for a few seconds and a little light flashes in your head as you rethink his words.

“Hold on. Did you just say that you're going back to sleep?” You ask.

“Yap.” He says with a playful tone.

“But what about din-”

“Goodnight, babe.” He says and you giggle at him and his tone, making him smile widely against you.

You smile as your giggles calm down and Matthew has the same exact smile over his face. There is no way you’re going to be able to pull him away from you, your heart is too full with his affection.

Late dinner it is.

A/N.: Hope this is good!! Started to write this when the trades happened and everyone on Tumblr was feeling bad for Matty not having some of his friends in the team anymore, so, I decided to write this. 

Also, I still think he deserves WAY better.

[sailor-manga]

First Kiss HC’S! [Date edition]

A/N I was feeling sawft, and I wanted to do something cute so yeah.. That’s really it- Hope you like it :D Doing four now and four more tomorrow and if you guys like it I’ll do others too <3 Also you get a sneak peek of the lovely banners that @queensynderella​ made me for my masterlist hehe <3

Warnings: Freaking CUUUUTENESSSS

✴ First off, it really depends on what the mood is in terms of Midoriya making the first move or not. If it’s a date planned by him and if executed perfectly, you best believe he’s going to seal a perfect night with a kiss.

✴ Treating you to a movie night with your favorite snacks, sets the perfect mood and gives you two the perfect privacy for him to do the old big yawn trick to slip his arm around your shoulders, and if you put your head on him? That arm is slipping right down to wrap around your waist, keeping you as close as he can. 

✴ At first you can feel him trembling a little bit, but as you two sit there intertwined in each other, it stops and soon you feel a small nudge against your hair, when you look up he’s staring at you with those gorgeous emerald hues. You ask “What’s wrong?” and he simply chuckles “Nothing is wrong, you’re just beautiful is all..” he’d say softly, his breath faintly caressing your cheeks. 

✴ That’s his opening, because once you’re flustered from such a genuine statement, he leans in and captures your lips, causing you to let one singular gasp escape from your nostrils. His lips are soft, and faintly taste of buttered popcorn from your snacks. At first you’re a little stunned, you didn’t give the male much credit in terms of making the first move, but you’re genuinely into it. 

✴ Soon a hand would come up and caress your hair, and he would tilt his head to deepen it just for a moment before pulling away and pressing a forehead against yours, just sitting with you in silence while the movie plays in the background, making you finally lean forward and hug into him, resting your head against his chest. 

✴ IF the date isn’t perfect like he wanted, he would be more sulky and you would make the first move, leaning up and pecking his lips sweetly “It’s okay, Midoriya~ I still enjoyed myself and I hope to do this again” you’d say with a smile, causing the male to ignite into a gorgeous yet vivid rose color “R-Really?? Of course! I would like to as well..” 

✴ A first kiss with Bakugou could go so many different ways, but the way I’m seeing it.. After countless days of the bakusquad pestering him, he finally agreed to take you out. There had always been odd tension between you two, it was clear as fucking day that you two were into each other, but both stubborn in your own ways. 

✴ For someone who was forced to do this, the date is actually nicely planned out. He knows you’re into nerd shit, so he takes you to a few game stores as well as a small bar that is also a really cool retro arcade. Regardless of how much he’s telling you that he doesn’t want to be here, he kindly pays and gets quarters for you, and idly stands behind you, watching you play games- and at some point, he becomes oddly curious and decides to be your player two. 

✴ Once he’s finally starting to feel comfortable, you two go out to eat and surprisingly, while you two are walking into the diner, he grabs your hand and walks with you rather than behind you.

✴ Once again, the male surprises you and sits next to you in the booth rather than across from you, and the first thing the over confident blonde does is rest a hand on your thigh, his thumb carefully gliding against the fabric of your pants, but it doesn’t seem malicious.. He actually starts to talk about his day, his training routines and dealing with the Bakusquad which earned quite a bit of laughs. 

✴ As you two eat, you get up the nerve to ask him why he had to be pestered to ask you out and of course he has nothing but excuses “I’m working hard to surpass stupid Deku- I don’t need girls standing in my way” or “Listen dumb ass, you could have asked me out too!” he’d bark, causing you to look down a little.. You knew that regardless of what he said you were both confused, but one thing you did know was you liked him. 

✴ By the time it was for you two to say goodnight to each other, you’d both stand in front of your door and he would stare down at you like you did something wrong “What” you’d say blinking softly “This is the part where you kiss me goodnight, I paid for you all night it’s the least I should get” he would say with a scoff. You would huff and cross your arms “You know.. That SHOULD be your job..” you’d say, lifting a finger to scold him, but he seals the deal, leaning forward and pulling you close, smashing his lips against yours a little roughly, but the kiss itself is as sweet as can be. 

✴ This kiss would last a little longer than the ‘standard’ first date kiss, because of the blonde aggressively shoving his tongue into your mouth, and you very much enjoying it.. What you assumed would be a simple kiss was now a steamy make out for your neighbors to gossip about in the morning. When he’d finally break it, he’d push some hair out of your face and smirk “I’ll text you, dumbass..” he’d say in an oddly sweet tone before waving goodbye and heading back to his car. 

✴ Tenya’s middle name is in fact ‘Perfect Gentleman’. When he asked you out, you were surprised because you’ve always been good friends, and he is SUCH a good guy, why would you say no? 

✴ When he picks you up, he meets you at your door, walks you to the car, opens AND closes the door for you, and even waits until you’re settled before he pulls off. While you’re driving, he’ll hand you the aux cord and tell you to play what you want, and even if it isn’t his thing, he’s always willing to give your likes a chance, so he vibes with you. 

✴ When you get to a fancy looking restaurant, he would make you stay in the car so he could open the door for you as you walked in, he would have his hand respectfully against the middle of your back, leading you to the seats that he made reservations for. 

✴ Regardless of him being a little uptight, he seems to let loose and you two talk about everything, especially the old highschool days, and how he wished he would have asked you out a little sooner, but glad he finally did. 

✴ While you were eating, he would do cute things like offer for you to try his meal, or ask if you wanted dessert, he even let you know if you got a little something on your chin. He was honestly just the sweetest thing ever, and you felt a little dumb too.. You should have seen what a good guy he was before now. 

✴ When the date was over, he would drive you home and walk you to your door, carrying your carry out for you.

✴ As you reach the front door, he would bow his head to you “Thank you so much for giving me the chance to take you out, Y/N.. I -.. Really like you, I always have” he’d say in a deep tone, lifting his head to meet your gaze, smiling softly as the blush dressed along your soft cheeks. “I.. I like you too, Iida” you’d reply, making him close his eyes for a moment and let out a relieved hum “Please, I want you to call me Tenya from now on” he’d reply.

✴ You would nod with a giggle and then he would slowly lean in, making sure you had time to dodge that shit in case you didn’t want it, but you wouldn’t move, and soon your lips would connect in a soft, respectful kiss. It would only last for a second, but that was okay, he was only being mindful of you. 

✴ Finally, he would bow his head “Have a good rest of your night, Y/N.. I'll tell you, okay?” he’d say sweetly before letting you walk inside before he made his way back to his car. 

✴ Ok, so you very much know this boy likes you, it’s so painfully obvious.. Every time you go hang out with the bakusquad he’s on you like a fly on shit, and you think it’s rather cute.. But finally one day, he nonchalantly asks you to hang out, just the two of you and you happily agree, because regardless of how cool you normally played it, you liked him as well. 

✴ When you get there, he initially lets you in with a big smile, but of course when you walk in, he stays at the door so he can not so secretly look at your ass. You knew it was innocent though, Kaminari would never just.. Jump your bones. 

✴ The night he planned was simple, you’d bring your switch as well as some snacks. When you got into his living room area, it seemed as if he made a cute little nest of pillows and blankets on the floor for you two to sit and game, and when you did settle into your spot, Kaminari would sit right next to you, arm to arm and offer you a drink. 

✴ You would both settle on something like Mario Kart, and honestly? You lost track of time so quickly.. Between you two joking around or calling out the other for a blue shell.. It just felt right being there with him, it was just so easy. 

✴ In the midst of playing though, Kaminari would inch in different ways every other game until he was between your legs, using your breasts as a pillow.. And honestly? That was so okay.. You had been having such a good time, cuddling had been on your mind for the whole duration of your little date. 

✴ Finally after countless rounds, he would set his controller down and snack on some chips, you couldn’t help but pet his hair and it caused the male to tense a little and look up “I take it.. You’re enjoying the date? I’m sorry I couldn’t take you out anywhere.. I just really thought private would be better” he’d say with pursed lips. You’d giggle and nod “I am enjoying myself a lot, Kaminari.. I’m glad we didn’t go out” you’d reply with a bright smile. 

✴ The air would grow heavy suddenly, only the faint video game music filling the room as you two locked eyes and just stared at each other, but finally.. Kaminari would shift until he was on his hands and knees, dangerously close to your face as he bit his lip and pressed his forehead against yours. You being the impatient person that you are.. Close the rest of the distance and you would jump feeling a slight shock on your lips when they met. 

✴ As the new sound of soft kisses overpowered the music, he would loom over you until your back was against the pillows and he would pull away just to look down at you with a hum “Do you.. Maybe want to just crash here tonight?” he’d ask with a seductive yet charming smile “Yes.. I would like that a lot” you’d whisper back up at him before stealing yet another kiss for him. 

✴ [Face it, first anythings with Denki is going to end up with you staying the night >:3] 

[poppysicle]

A Late Night Snack - Marichat

I was inspired by @cat-saturn‘s art of Marinette and Chat Noir eating spaghetti. This is my first time writing any Miraculous Ladybug Fics, but I couldn’t help it and it’s been years since I’ve written so I’m rusty and I apologize!

It was later than she expected it to be.

All the tossing and turning throughout the night kept her awake, the moon continuously shining in the bedroom from the window. It felt like the night was going for an eternity. Marinette sat up in her bed, the sheets falling from her chest to her waist, her hands coming up to her face so she could rub her eyes with her palms. Reaching over to the side table beside her bed, she unhooked her cellphone from the charger to read the time.

12:13 AM

Marinette groaned as she fell back with her head hitting the pillow. She glanced at her window, only seeing the streetlamps glowing and the building across the way from the third floor and up. It was quiet, not a sound in the streets. She finished her patrol a mere three hours ago and she almost wished she stayed out as long as Chat Noir planned on.

She pushed the duvet off her body and swung her legs off the bed to stand up, immediately as if on cue, her stomach rumbled. Marinette thought about what she had eaten today but realized she forgot to have dinner before the patrol and was too drained to cook after. The walk to the kitchen was quiet but she turned on a lamp that left a light glow into the apartment. Her hands reached for the window to open it to bring in the cool Paris air before retrieving the pots and pans she needed to make some spaghetti.

The pot of water began to boil in no time as she prepped the noodles and started to make the sauce. The apartment began to smell of the delicious home cooked sauce her father taught her to make before she moved out for the days they went out on their date nights or group dinners with their own friends.

It was an easy dish to make and one that never took long to make. Marinette realized she might’ve made too much in the end as she drained the noodles. The sound echoed in the living space as she placed the noodles back in the pot and took out a plate.

A sudden movement caused her to jump as she turned towards the window to see a familiar figure with bright green eyes. Chat Noir sat on the window seal, smiling at her as he waved with his baton in hand. She let go of the breath she had been holding, this was nothing new with this feline and Marinette couldn’t help but smile.

“Good evening, Marinette. Sorry to barge in without question,” he greeted sheepishly, “but I could smell your cooking from a mile away!”

Marinette laughed quietly, “I’m assuming you’re hungry too?”

Chat Noir nodded immediately with his blonde, short hair bouncing slightly in motion and glanced at the singular plate in her hand, “Happen to have an extra plate to spare?”

“For you? Always.”

He beamed at her response and watched her grab another plate from the cabinet before filling them both with noodles and placing sauce on top. She handed him a plate with silverware and he took a spot beside the window. Marinette jumped onto the kitchen counter across from him and grabbed the plate before taking her first bite.

They both let out a happy sigh as they ate quietly together. Chat leaned back into the counter as he stood, looking outside the window at the city. Marinette noticed his eyes and tried to follow his eyes but the wall blocked her vision.

“How is your night going?” She asked, bright blue eyes on him.

“Eh, nothing too bad. A cat was stuck in a tree, someone with a dead phone was lost, and a young tourist was upset about missing her parents.” Chat shrugged before meeting her eyes. “It was quite boring tonight.”

Marinette nodded, “I can understand that. Was Ladybug not on patrol with you tonight?”

The man shook his head with the jingle of his bell, “She was earlier but had to leave early. Now it’s just little ol’ me, but I don’t think I’m doing the best job if I let myself get distracted by some pasta.”

They both laughed and Marinette shrugged, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind you taking a small break anyway.”

“I can only hope so!” He replied but not before furrowing his eyebrows. “By the way, why are you up right now?”

She paused, not daring to look at him before pursing her lips. “I couldn’t sleep, I guess I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You seem like a busy person.”

“With too many responsibilities,” Marinette frowned. “I wish I could have a break but I don’t recall ever having one longer than an hour in the past five years.”

Chat frowned with her, “What’s got you so busy?”

The blue-haired girl shook her head, “It’s nothing crazy. Maybe I’m just bad at time management?”

“Well, if you ever need anyone to lighten the load I can help out! Or, I’m sure you’ve got some great friends who can help out.”

“I don’t think so, I personally haven’t been the greatest friend.”

She thought back to her time in high school, the constant lying and disappearing. The hiding so many secrets she couldn’t bear to hold on own, until Alya gave her a chance to open up. She told Alya everything and a little bit of weight went off her shoulders. But, it still didn’t help that she felt like a horrible friend to everyone; including the one she loved.

Adrien had tried many times to give her a chance to open up, but it made her closet into her own mind more and more. She didn’t think she’d ever have a chance to be with him and give him the love he deserved due to her lack of existing around everyone. It was hard to let him go as well as some of the other people in her life. It was what she thought was best and she almost did the same with Chat.

But, he wouldn’t allow her to hide away and he was right to do so. She was his partner, right-hand man, and world. Marinette realized she still needed him no matter what even though she said some mean things. In the end, that is what truly kept her up all night. Almost losing the last person she needed the most. Yet, here he is, not speaking horribly of Ladybug and not letting anything bother him because he knows her so well and how much he means to her.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Chat broke her out of her thoughts. “We all say things we don’t mean, but all you can do is apologize for it and allow yourself to grow from it.”

“You say that like you have experience from it.”

“Well, I’ve been around someone I love long enough to understand that these things happen. It gets the best of everyone, whether it be a parent, friend, lover..”

Marinette nodded, “I guess so. But, what if they don’t forgive you?”

“You just have to give them time,” he replied with a soft smile. “In the end, that’s all what it’s about, right? How much time you take to apologize and how long it will take for them to heal.”

“You’re right.” She responded, glancing at the sky again where the moon sat beautifully. “It can never be too late, right?”

“Never.”

Chat Noir stared at her with a smile and she felt herself under his gaze and placed her focus on her noodles twirling around her fork. His eyes soon left her and went back to his own plate  of noodles. Marinette and Chat sat quietly together until their plates emptied. She watched him rinse the plate in her sink before placing it down and drying his own hands.

“Well, I should be heading out. I still have another area to cover.”

Marinette didn’t allow herself to look disappointed as she set her bowl down beside her. She jumped off the counter, her long hair bouncing with her.

“Thank you for stopping by,” she said. “And thanks for the advice.”

Chat Noir winked, “You can count on me, Marinette! But I hope you take the advice.”

“You can count on me.” Marinette repeated back with a wink.

The feline laughed before he jumped from the window and went out into the dark of Paris, leaving Marinette on her own. She cleaned the pots, pans, and plates before heading back into her room. She found her phone again, scrolling through her contacts. Her heart hammered in her chest, wishing she would have done this sooner.

But, this was the first step.The name she needed popped up with an old picture of the blonde boy beside the name and she pressed the texting bubble, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. You can do this Marinette. It’s never too late. She took a deep breath and began to type.

Hey, I know it’s been awhile..

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Oooh maybe there was only on bed at a sky resort with Calum and the rest if the band is making bets of when feels are confessed

Lol, here we go another confessional pool. Love to see it. Reader Insert CW: Mentions of death/lost loved ones.

Enjoy Christmas 2020 Blurb Mastelist

Enjoy my full masterlist!

_________________

Ashton and Calum are the first to head to the check-in. The rest of the guys are pulling out their last bits of luggage from the truck. You trail in the middle, still laughing at Luke’s fumbling on the snow. But soon the wind chill creeps up through your jacket and you contemplate heading inside and grabbing your spare key. 

From the counter, as Ashton sorts out the keys needed, Calum glances out to the front door. You’re standing right near the doors, doubled over. He knows it’s you standing there too, can tell by the hiccup of your laughter that’s just muffled enough that Calum can almost belief it’s his subconscious playing a trick on him. “Are you sure you’re okay rooming with them? It won’t be too weird given the whole you not telling your feelings for them because they just lost their brother and you don’t want to seem too insensitive.”

“You make it seem like I’m being weird about this?”

“Calum you’ve had feelings for forever. Yes, they lost their brother this year but you’ve been there for everything. You’ve been nothing but respectful. But they’re doing a lot better. They came on to this trip to have fun. Try to get back to normal because everything and everyone at home keeps treating them as fragile.

“Ashton, it just doesn’t feel like the best time.”

“And will be the right time? When will you every have the best time to tell them your feelings, mate? Because I don’t think there’s ever been a best time in life. There’s only ever now or never.”

Calum shakes his head. “Right now is not good,” he utters and then grabs his bags. Sure, you and Calum had been close for a while. He had been there for a lot. But he couldn’t risk it. This Christmas was going to be hard on you after what happened and there was no way Calum could even consider dumping his feelings on you at a time like this. No, this is the time for you to have some fun. That’s all he needed to focus on. 

“Looks like it’s me and you,” he teases, dangling the key in your face. 

“Hmm, I guess you’ll do,” you laugh. Michael, Ashton, and Luke watch the two of you trek across the resort to your room. 

“Do you think they’ll confess anything on this trip?” Luke asks. 

Ashton sighs. “I don’t know. I think Calum’s overthinking the whole thing. But I also get it. He doesn’t want to push them. I hope the universe is cooking up something.”

“I got dibs something happens tonight,” Michael laughs. 

“Ah, you are a betting man. I’m saying tomorrow,” Ashton counters. 

“I don’t know,” Luke tacks on. “Calum’s been super careful about all this. I think possibly by the end. Gonna need a little bit of romance sparked before anything happens.”

The snow crunches beneath your boots but you’re thankful the house isn’t that far from the check-in. Inside, you thankful to see a bit of warmth or heat had been on previously. There’s a fireplace in the main area. You trail down the hallways to unload your suitcases before settling in. As Calum cracks open the door, a singular bed stares back up at him. It’s a queen sized bed. There’s space, but there’s only one. 

“Have you seen a ghosts?” you asks, noticing the way Calum freezes. 

“Oh-I-Sorry.”

He steps into the room and then you wheel your bags in behind you. You look up to the bed and your heart races. You thought for sure your room would have at least two beds. But it’s okay. There are worst things that could happen. Like you waking up in Calum’s arms. Fuck. “So which side do you want?” you asks facing Calum’s practically still frozen pose. 

“I’m not picky,” he counters. 

You pick the left and drag your suitcase over. You manage to find where the thermostat is located and turn it up just a little after unwrapping yourself from your winter gear. You explore throughout the house too, finding the kitchen and seeing how much space there is. The fire place doesn’t seem too complicated but you don’t mess with it too much. The backdoor opens up to the yard. It’s covered in snow too, but something about the tree lines and the dusting of the snow covering the land for as long as the eye can see. It’s breathtaking. 

The rest of the guys come in then, partners with them. But you stay at the door, watching. You wish you could take a photo to do it justice. You wish you could take even a shitty phone picture and send it to your brother. And you could--in theory. Because he was on your plan and you haven’t removed that line yet at all. You could text his phone. It would deliver. But it would never be seen. And that’s how you know you’ve been standing too long. 

You return to the room, faintly hearing the other guys and their partners settling into their rooms, just as Calum steps out of the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and just sweatpants on for the moment. The sight doesn’t shock you, but it does make you freeze for just a moment, not ready to see it and you duck your head digging into your suitcase. 

“Everything alright?” Calum unearths a sweatshirt but he doesn’t miss the way you disappeared. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.” 

You head into the shower next and let the steam billow around you. The heat nearly scorches your skin, but you almost like it. You enjoy the fact that it reminds you you’re still alive, you’re still feeling. It’s Christmas time. You should be having fun. The house is decorate in garland and wraths there would be Christmas cheer being pumped into your veins but as it stands, there’s just trying, pretending just a little, just enough that it feels like something. 

The sheets don’t even feel real when you slip into bed. It feels like you’re drowning. You lay there fore a moment, trying to grip onto the sheets to ground yourself. But it just all feels too clean, too stiff, too not lived in. And you’re still drowning. You sit up, suddenly aware of the sweat dripping down your back.

“Hey,” a soft hand caresses your arm. “what’s up?”

You look over to Calum who’s turned to his side. “I-I can’t sleep.”

 “Talk to me.”

“It’s the same thing as always,” you sigh. “And I don’t want to bore you with those details. Yet again.”

Calum sits up. “No, bore me. Yet again.” 

You sigh, scrubbing over your face. “It’s okay, Calum. Go back to sleep.”

“Alright, get up,” he sighs and slips out of bed. You don’t move, unsure of what his plan is. He holds out his hands and waves his fingers. “Seriously, c’mon. Get up. This calls for hot chocolate.”

Giving in, you pull the sheets off your body and take his hand. His hold is warm and the two of you pad softly through the door. You hold onto his hand, trying not to conjure up anything in the shadows. The kitchen is the only light source and you settle at the counter as Calum finds mugs and a packet of hot chocolate. He knows he most definitely added it to the list that Ashton sent to everyone and Calum made sure to add that. 

The spoons click against the ceramic mug. The steam escapes into the chilly air. “So,” Calum starts, leaning across from you. “Tell me. Everything.”

“I’m pretending,” you answer. “I am pretending. And sometimes I’m not sure I’m convincing myself.” Calum nods in understanding, watching you take a sip of the drink. “Some days are easier than others. I don’t know--something about that bed, it all felt fake. I hate that feeling. I don’t know. It just--I need to be okay with not being okay. And I am most of the time. It’s just sometimes, like right now, it makes me realize time just keeps going. And I want to go with it too, it’s just hard.”

“What could I do to help?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” you say, taking his hands. “More than enough.”

Calum nods again, trying not to memorize the way your hands feels wrapped around his again. “You know I’m here for you. What if,” he pauses and catches of the sight. “What if we slept on the couch? No fake bed.”

You look over your shoulder and inhale deeply. It is not a small couch but it is also not a very large couch. “Oh, Calum, no, I couldn’t.” But before you can say much else he’s taking your hand and dragging you towards the couch. “It’s so small,” you counter as he settles down on the couch. 

“Good thing I’m comfy,” he returns. You sit next to him, careful of the hot chocolate still steaming in the cup. 

“Calum, really, you can go back to the room, I’m okay by myself.”

“Nah. I won’t stand for that.” He guides you into his chest, and it’s just sitting, cuddled up next to each other. And you manage to finish the beverage but you don’t last much longer against sleep nor can you give into the way Calum’s wrapped you into his arms. At some point, he stretched out across the couch and you cuddled up on his chest. And maybe there are blankets. But you’re not sure. The only thin you’re sure about is that this doesn’t feel fake anymore. This doesn’t make you feel like you’re drowning. 

“I told you it would only take the night,” Michael laughs, watching to two of you cuddled up on the couch. 

“If that’s a pool you guys ran about confessing feelings, you're shit out of luck, Clifford,” Calum whispers. You haven’t woken up yet, or so Calum assumed, and he doesn’t want to move too much. He’d rather let you sleep even if it meant he has to lay there for an extra hour or two or three. You need the rest. 

“I’m still in luck,” Luke adds on. 

“Me too,” Ashton quips.

“I told you nothing was going to happen this trip because they need to focus on healing, and getting back to normal not me or my feelings for them,” Calum hisses out again, scooting up every so slightly on the couch. You don’t seem to be aware or bothered by the movement. 

“You like them. Just admit it. It would all save us a lot of trouble,” Ashton giggles. 

You try not to snort, you really try not you. The whispers of Michael and Luke woke you just a little but it was the rumble of Calum’s voice was the one that kept you up for sure. Calum freezes, eyes widening at the feeling of you shaking against his chest. It goes quiet in the entire room when the rest of the guys notice the panic too. 

“Luke,” you start, pushing up from Calum’s chest. But you don’t look away from Calum’s panicked face. “I hope everyone brought cash for you.”

It’s in slow motion as you stretch up and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, close enough that it almost connects but just far off the mark that Calum knows. His heart races and he cups your face. “What was that for?”

“Thank you. I like you. And I know it’s a fucked up time in my life. But you are really cute and you care. So I wanna try just give me some time.”

A shadow casts over them and when Calum glances up there’s Ashton holding a mistletoe. “Kiss and make it real,” he laughs. 

[sinjinlover1]

Long Lost Partners

Summary - When Kaminari gets caught from cheating on the recent English test, he receives an unusual punishment from Present Mic and joins another student from class 1-B. The two hit it off but Kaminari can’t shake the feeling that he knows this individual. But from where? -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say that Denki Kaminari was tired would be an understatement. He was absolutely wrecked, though partially was his own fault. This morning he swore off procrastination and walked into class proclaiming that he was a new and improved man. To be fair though, this was probably the three monster energy drinks he downed while running to school talking, not him.

"Nice man! You know it takes someone who is really manly to step up and take action so I'm proud of you." Kirishima slapped his back appraisingly.

Jirou only looked him down suspiciously. "You sure that's you talking?"

"Hey I'm serious! The second I get an assignment I'll do it. I won't leave it off to the last day like last night ever again." Denki shivered at the thought of what went down this previous night. He was up until four am this morning trying to crank out the two weeks worth of homework that he had been piled up, which conveniently all had the same due date, today. Couldn't help but wonder if teachers planned to have the same due dates for work to make students' lives hell as he tried to complete his English homework.

Iida butted in with a smile on his face while performing his routine robotic chops, "I praise you Kaminari for being an example to the class! It is unwise to leave assignments to the very last minute when you can give them the attention they require and get full marks." At this comment almost everyone in class 1-A turned to look at Kaminari who was wearing a smug smile.

"You hear that Sero?" Kaminari asked with a shit eating grin. He opened his arms wide open giving him a full view. "I think you need to look up to me now."

"You're so full of shit." Sero remarked at his gloating friend who was basking in the attention. This was all in good fun though. Sero and Kaminari had met this year and got along the best between anyone else in class. Sometimes even taking time to hang out after school or play some games online.

Sero didn't really plan on looking up to Kaminari as usually it was the opposite way around. When Sero logged on last night to play a game, he had expected Kaminari to be on as he usually was, but instead was met with a text message saying, "can't tonight. doing this bitch ass English hw."

Sero knew that his friend had been procrastinating but when he opened Snapchat this morning he saw a whole new level of this bad habit. While going through Denki's private story he couldn't count the times Denki had filmed himself downing a whole monster energy drink. At around midnight he even filmed himself making what he called, 'The Acid Drink' which was a 20 oz. bottle of a mixture of coffee, Monster drinks, Kool Aid mix, Red Bull, and just pure granulated sugar. He even attempted to do shots of the 'Acid Drink' while workin on quadratic equations. Again, Sero didn't think it would be wise to follow in Kaminari's steps.

"Man how the hell are you going to stay up all day when all that sugar and caffeine crash?" Sero asked. He was sure his friend had come prepared and to be honest, he wanted to see what his plan was. And Kaminari's smile confirmed his suspicions as he pointed towards his bag.

"I've already thought ahead my friend. I left a bit early to go to the store to get some Red Bulls, candy and other stuff, which was a good idea considering there was a villain attack right near the shop. That would've been rough getting to school this morning."

Sero nodded in agreement. He left a bit too late this morning and he was actually caught up a bit in all the traffic and mess from the attack as well. Two people with quirks that enhanced their sizes went at it at 7:30 in the morning creating huge amounts of destruction.

"Yeah it was a pain in the ass trying to get through. Thank god I made it though. I don't think I can afford to be yelled at by Mr. Aizawa for being late again."

"It would kind of suck if one of my friends got expelled for showing up late to his class for the third time." Denki was now popping a couple smarties in his mouth before chewing it up. Sero then gave him a pointed look before Denki handed a couple over to his friend.

Right on que Mr. Aizawa walked into class for homeroom and thus began another uneventful day of learning, that is, until the end of English class.

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Hearing Present Mic speak was never a problem as that man never ceased shouting about anything. And that proved to be quite annoying in Denki's attempt to learn the English language. Well, that's at least what he blamed to be the cause of his current failing English grade.

Now, Denki Kaminari isn't the sharpest tool in the shed but that doesn't mean he is a total flop. He passed the UA entrance exam so that has to mean something, right? But when it comes to languages that is where he has never succeeded and doesn't think he ever will.

So today when Present Mic started class by asking for Denki to stay after class because, 'I have a few concerns about your English test," this really didn't come as a surprise. Even if it was expected, because there was no denying it, he bullshitted and cheated his way through that last test, that still didn't stop the sinking feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when he knew something was wrong.

He looked around the room as everyone once more stared at him like this morning, but he felt 3 pairs of eyes who looked at him knowingly. And those people would be none other than Hanta Sero, Eiji Kirishima and Mina Ashido.

Kaminari gave a cold look at Sero who also seemed to look like he was sweating in his seat as well, but Present Mic never said anything about him and started his lesson by screaming a song in English.

'That asshole isn't being called out but I am.? We both cheated on the same test using the same sheet yet Sero is the one who gets the clear? Jesus, I'm probably going to be chewed out by Present Mic which is way worse than Mr. Aizawa. Scratch that Mr. Aizawa is scarier than Mic but Mic is just so loud I think that makes up the difference between how annoying they are to be yelled at by.'

And so, by the time English class was coming to an end and lunch was near, Denki did not learn anything in that class as he spent it in his own inner monologue.

"And that's really the main difference between using singular and plural nouns listeners! See you all on Wednesday have a good lunch!" Present Mic concluded his lesson and gave Denki a lingering stare saying, 'don't start leaving yet.' Denki looked to all his friends as each left.

Mina gave him a quick nod and a wave before walking out.

Sero passed by snickering as he confirmed that he was in the clear and was safe.

And finally, Kirishima gave him a quick pat on the back before joining the rest of the gang outside the room.

And Bakugou, Denki didn't even see him leave but he assumed he just packed up and left as usual.

So now all that's left in the classroom was himself and Mic.

Denki slowly made his way up to Mics desk mustering up as much as a pleasant attitude as he could, while also praying his eardrums won't split if he gets too close to him. When arriving at the front of the classroom all he could peep out was, "What's up?"

'Woah that came out higher than expected.'

Present Mic propped his legs on his desk and crossed them before taking a deep breath. "Listen here listener,"

'How can I not listen if you're shouting constantly.'

"Do you know what being a true hero means?"

'Well I didn't expect that.'

"Yeah, it means risking your life to save other people right?" Kaminari wasn't exactly sure where this conversation was going but Present Mic sure got serious all of a sudden.

"I know what a pro hero does, but I am asking about a true hero here. Someone who does or takes actions that are heroic for others without the benefit from doing actions. Being a true hero means being honest," Present Mic consequently pulled out his recent English test and handed it back to Denki concluding, "and cheating is not honest."

'Oh so that's where he was going with that.' So Denki Kaminari took the test marked with a big '0' and took that as his queue to zone out. After years of practice he could say that he mastered the art of looking like he was paying attention, but really was somewhere else in his mind entirely. He wasn't sure if this was something to brag about though. Sometimes words slip in but if he focuses enough, he can totally tune them out and do something else. Like think about what he wants to do after this.

As Present Mic continued on about cheating and whatnot, Denki got more tired by the minute, wishing he was drowning himself in caffeine rather than Present Mic drowning him in words.

"So heroes aren't always the ones front and center taking care of the villians. Often these heroes are working behind the scenes and keeping society flowing. They are honest and handworkers who help their community."

Denki was now swaying from one foot to another getting even more bored with each passing second. Another thing about Present Mic which in his opinion makes him worse than Mr. Aizawa is that he doesn't get to the point immediately. Instead he makes elaborate discussions rather than just telling him what his punishment is like Mr. Aizawa.

"So for your punishment. Of course I will have you retake the test and we can set a date for that, but instead I have a better solution instead of suspending you for cheating. Because what does that teach you? Nothing! You know students can't learn much if..."

And Kaminari began to doze off waiting for Present Mic once more, to get to the point so he can eat. It probably would've been smarter to take his last Monster Energy before this class.

"...instead I'll have you working on your honesty through community service. I have a little group called 'Present Mic's Helping Hands' and it is full of students, like yourself, who also can improve upon their honesty or choose to help out instead of detention. I suppose you may have heard this on my radio show as I send out a line for people to call if they need help doing small services around the city." Present Mic beamed at his plan to Denki and even began to pull out a small binder that was sitting in the top drawer of his desk. Smiling even more, Present Mic beckoned Denki over as he went on about each of his services he did and photos that were taken.

Apparently that binder was just composed of photographs of Mic smiling with previous students who were all wearing matching and tacky bright yellow shirts. Some students smiled, while some looked like they wanted to leave at that very moment. There seemed to be a picture for every time they had a group of 2 or more to do a service project. Kaminari can't even guess how far back some of these pictures go.

"So I just have to do some community service for the rest of the week?"

"Right on listener! I'm so excited for you to help out and join our group along with another, though they've already tagged along once or twice before! I'm just going to have you two meet me at the front of the school at the end of the day! That is where I'll give our service assignment! Sounds good?" Present Mic concluded looking to see if there were any questions on the young teens face. With a simple nod to Kaminari's head, he sent him out to eat his lunch.

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As Kaminari approached the lunch table he saw that everyone was there waiting for him to ask what happened, and Kaminari explained it all. How he won't be able to play games for a whole week because he'll be stuck doing community services with some other person in Present Mics 'Helping Hands' group. He also brought out his last Monster Energy Drink which he has been saving for his lunch.

Sero snickered while finishing chewing his food, "Sucks to suck I guess." And at that Kaminari playfully jabbed him in the ribs making Sero slightly choke on his food. "What the hell dude? I thought we were going to at least get caught together but you get a freebie?" With that Sero only shrugged.

"Well at least you aren't suspended right? That could've been a lot worse. Like imagine if you got caught by Mr. Aizawa." Mina consoled while shuddering at the thought of Mr. Aizawas red eyes glaring into hers as he expelled her.

Kirishima decided to join in saying, "I think you should take this as a learning experience man." But before he could continue Kaminari cut him off saying, "You don't get to talk. I don't think you have ever had to cheat once in your life. And English comes easy to you for some reason. What did you do to get all smart?"

With that Kirishima shrugged his shoulders and turned to his friend, "I don't know being manly means being honest so cheating has never really been an option." Kaminari only stared at him with an annoyed face(because he knew he was right and probably won't try to cheat again) and went back to his complaining.

"This sucks. I really wanted to just take a nap when I got home. I hadn't planned on staying later so I didn't stack up on any energy drinks because the ones I'm having right now will last until the end of classes." He pointed to his empty Monster Energy drink before putting it upside down for emphasis.

As lunch was coming to an end more and more people began to get up and take care of their dishes and trash. The group followed suit and got up starting to walk to 5th period.

"You said that there's going to be one other person right? I don't know, just talk to them and try to get through it." Sero offered, trying to help his friend make the best of the situation he was stuck in.

Walking through the class door together Kaminari responded, "Yeah you're right, we'll see I guess."

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At the end of the day Kaminari changed out his shoes and made his way towards the front of the school where he noticed one other person standing and waiting where he was told to meet Mic.

'Probably the other person.'

Making his way towards them he started to get a clearer view on who would be joining him for the next week. And his first impression was not who he has been picturing at all. He thought this student would look like a total delinquent and fool around all the time but this person in front actually looked pretty put together. And also kind of hot.

"Hey I'm Denki Kaminari but you know you can call me Denki if you'd like." He flashed his best award winning smile waiting for his new partner for the week to respond. Denki began thinking maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Hi I'm Y/N L/N and same you can call me Y/N I don't really care either way. Oh and I'm in class 1-B." You responded with a cherry smile. Denki didn't know a simple smile or laugh could make him feel warm and mushy inside. This was a foreign feeling.

"Oh for real? I'm in class 1-A." He said, but the sudden drop of your face meant that he needed to clarify. "I promise we're not like the rumors. At least not all of us." You knew what rumors he was talking about. A lot of class 1-B along with others from the student body tend to think that 1-A was just full of stuck up brats who think they are better than everyone else. And though Kaminari can think of a few students who fit into that rumor, he didn't think at least he was better than anyone else. It was quite obvious that he wasn't and the proof was that he was standing here with someone else who had cheated. Which brings up his next question.

"So did you get caught cheating too?" You shook your head quickly and let out a bit of a chuckle. Scratching the back of your neck as though you were embarrassed, you responded sheepishly,

"Well it's a bit of a long story,"

"Alright guys for one box of Pocky I'll do a backflip right off of Mics desk to my own seat." You exclaimed to your quiet class who were all patiently waiting for Present Mic to come. Everyone turned to you with eyes wide open.

Kendo was quick to shut this down. "Yeah, no you won't. I don't need you causing a scene. Besides Present Mic is going to be here any moment so we can just wait patiently. Save that for hero training." She advised. While her words were convincing, Tetsutetsu's were more after saying two simple words, "You're on."

Immediately getting up you could hear both the mixed interest and protests of your classmates as you began to make your way towards the front of the desk. With a quick peek out the front door and seeing nothing you quickly mounted on top of the desk and got situated.

"Y/N I'm serious you need to get down. Present Mic is going to come in and punish us all for your actions." You looked at Kendo questioningly. "Are we talking about the same teacher? 'Cause the Mic I know would cheer me on." She gave you a small glare in return preparing to get up from her own seat to stop you.

"Hey c'mon! Wouldn't it be cool if when I jumped, I landed in my seat the moment Mic gets here?" You chuckled along with a few others in the class at the thought of pretending nothing ever happened and that a student totally did not do a backflip off of his desk full of all his personal work, files, records, etc.

You raised your eyebrow and tried to figure out how to jump so you would land right in your seat. Kendo let out a tired sigh before continuing her protests. Ignoring her you finally got into position and ready to jump. The rest of the class, though excluding a few, were all watching intently, a few even chanting.

And so, taking your leap backwards, it would've been a perfect landing, if your shoelace hadn't got snagged between two drawers from when you were fixing your position. As you jumped back you pulled not only you, but Mics entire desk causing it to fall and contents to spill everywhere.

Thankfully Kendo dropped her hands giving up completely and got up to help you out along with others who went to see if you were all right. It sounded like you hit your head pretty hard. And right on cue Mic walked into the disaster of a room with his desk completely turned over. Records, papers, pens, files, clips, all of it was everywhere.

And it didn't take long to find the culprit behind this as they were lying on the classroom floor. No other words had to be said between you and Mic other than, "Did you bring your shirt?"

After hearing the story Denki was now laughing it up as you gave him pointed glares. You continued on saying, "The worst part was that I didn't even get any Pocky!"

Kaminari raised his eyebrows at you. "Well yeah obviously. You didn't stick the landing. Can you even do a flip?"

In return you gave him a mock-offended look, "Can you even do a flip? Of course I can do a flip asshole." But at that Kaminari shook his head laughing, "From that story I think it was clear that you can not do a flip."

Now at this comment, you took his words as a personal offence. "How dare you, first of all fuck you, and secondly watch this." As you took a stance and did a back flip right in front of Kaminari. As you landed you stretched your arms wide waiting for an applause which was shortly given by Kaminari. After that's when the two of you began to laugh.

In that very moment Kaminari can feel as though they've met this person before, he could've sworn he knows that laugh. It's so distinct, something he would never forget yet he can't place where he knows it in his mind.

Now it was your turn to question his own skills, "Can you even do a flip?" But before he could respond the two of you heard shouting from across the school yard near the busses.

"Listeners! Come meet me over here!" Present Mic shouted waving over for the two to come.

And the two did a quick jog over to where Present Mic had been waiting along with a small bus that Kaminari guessed was to drive you both to the service activity for the day.

"Sorry that took me a while, I had to dig out a new shirt for our new member of 'Present Mics Helping Hands!'" He shoved the shirt quickly to Kaminari. Kaminari knew the shirts were tacky and embarrassing from the photos, but the photos never showed the back. He couldn't believe he was going to need to wear this all week. While the front of the bright yellow shirt said, 'Present Mic's Helping Hands,' the back of the shirt had Mics face plastered all over the back as he was showing his hands.

"So what do you think? I designed them myself! Pretty sweet right? Feel free to wear it whenever you're outside school!" He quipped. The first thing Kaminari wanted to do was burn this shirt to the ground.

Present Mic then turned to you, "You have your shirt from last time?" And you gave him a thumbs up before pulling it out from your bag and showing it to the two. The same face was plastered on the back of his as well.

"Awesome! Now put them on over your uniforms and come in front of the bus to take a picture! It's tradition that every time we go out for a community service activity we take a picture to remember these fond memories!"

The two of you both put on your shirts and made your way to the front of the bus. Lining up the two of you stood right next to each other, though it looked a bit awkward considering the space between you two. So Mic went up and pushed you and Kaminari both close together before turning around to fit him in the selfie. Both of you brushed hands slightly as you felt a faint shock of electricity when touching him.

"Okay Listeners on three say, 'Present Mics Helping Hands,' okay?"

On three you both exclaimed 'Present Mics Helping Hands,' though it didn't sound as enthusiastic as Mics booming voice through his speakers. With a look at the photo he turned off his phone and shook Kaminari's hand.

"Welcome to the group and congratulations on being the third member to join this school year!" Kaminari shook his hand back weakly and turned to you. "I didn't know there was another member." he commented.

As the two of you both climbed the bus preparing to leave you answered his comment saying, "Yeah, we were actually the first members to join this year. It was a guy from class 3-A and I remember being so surprised that this guy had been "recruited" into the helping hands. I mean he was just so quiet and shy too. Honestly the conversations were pretty one sided so it's nice having someone to talk to for this week."

Kaminari let out a small oh as their journey to the service activity continued. Mic was upfront driving the bus signing some English song and next to him was Y/N who was currently on her phone playing a game.

Taking a closer look the game turned out to be none other than Minecraft.

"No way you play Minecraft?" He asked as Y/N turned to look at him.

"Oh yeah! I haven't played in such a long time though, but only recently I've started to play again because my little brother got really into it. But I used to play a lot when I was younger."

Kaminari felt a twinge and that feeling like he knew who this person was before even meeting them happened again. But still he couldn't place the feeling to exactly where he knew them.

"Same! I was obsessed when I was younger and would always log on. Hold up I'm going to pull up right now and I'll add you on my phone now and then later sometime we can play." Kaminari whipped out his phone and opened the app he hadn't touched in such a long time.

"Sounds good, I usually play on my PC anyways." You replied going back to building your home on the game.

Once Kaminari had loaded the game he asked you, "Okay what's your username?"

You paused for a moment before going to scratch the back of your neck. "Promise not to make fun, I made it when I was super young and I've been a bit lazy to change it..." Kaminari stared at you, prompting you to go on.

"It's 'green_penguin.lover33.'" You turned away embarrassedly.

Kaminari stopped immediately when he heard that name. It finally clicked. From the time he first heard them speak to the time they had first laughed there was no mistaking it. He finally knows where he remembers you from!

"No way, you're 'green_penguin.lover33?' I'm 'sparkguy8!' Holy shit I thought I knew you from somewhere."

"Oh my god." You exclaimed. You knew that name the very second it was spoken. That is because 'sparkguy8' was none other than your very first and only, Minecraft boyfriend.

This was insane. It's not everyday you meet your first Minecraft boyfriend in person especially after such a long time. Kaminari was the first to start talking after the reveal.

"Where on earth did you go? When you stopped showing up I was so lonely. I thought we had broken up! I still remember your last words which were, 'see you soon.' What the hell happened?" Kaminari was literally bouncing in his seat like a puppy after seeing its owner come home from work that day.

"Oh that's actually easy to explain." You told him how when you moved your console got lost and by the time you had gotten a new one you were already done playing Minecraft and instead you played other games and just over time forgot about it all. It was just only until recently when your little brother had gotten a gaming console he got Minecraft and has been bugging you about playing together.

After taking in all this information, Kaminari feels as though his life is finally complete. Not only did his Minecraft partner go to his school, they were actually a really cool person and fun to be around, and not only that but they were really attractive as well. For once he could actually thank Present Mic for this.

"I hope you know that as soon as we get home we are playing right?" He said determinedly.

"Of course," you replied. Shaking your head in confirmation as the two of you rode the bus to the service activity. You felt closer to Kaminari then you have ever been with another person before.

Apparently cleanup from this morning's villain fight is taking longer than expected and Mic had received a call from his help line. Time couldn't have flown any faster as the two of you picked up rubble and trash from the part of the city that had been destroyed. Whether it was talking about older memories of playing, music, newer games, food, all of it.

In the moment when you two were parting ways, and you watched as Kaminari walked off towards the sunset, you were positive that attempting to do a backflip off of your teacher's Present Mics desk was the best decision you've made in your life.

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

well hopefully that wasn't too awful to read haha.

i finally got the motivation to write and i’m going to start pumping out a bunch of these denki x reader one shots so stay tuned!

i hope you all stay healthy and safe, love you <3

-sinjinlover1

[amane-by-together]

Blue Hour || Amane Yugi pt. 3/5

(Amane Yugi x Fem! Reader)

genre: romance, drama and a bit of fantasy

summary: amane and [name] stopped communicating after the pen pal project

“When we lost each other.”

The quarter felt like a shooting star, it was fast in a blink of an eye. As the late night calls stopped and so as the letters.

Amane laid down on his bed, staring at the messages that he and [name] exchanged. Something was weird, it's been a week since they chatted after the pen pal project was over.

Though, he doesn't want to assume that he has been ghosted, yet the situation is the same. Not being able to receive messages from the person Amane likes, it's definitely ghosting.

Amane stayed up all night, not because of star gazing, his honey amber eyes had lost their shine and looked like a zombie with eyebags forming under his eyes.

She disappeared like a ghost.

“You disappeared for an instant, like a faint ghost, you disappeared.”

Amane felt his eyes brimming with tears, he didn't get used to it, it's like being alone again. He never met [name], yet why was he crying for her?

‘This is not supposed to happen right? You're not supposed to fall for your pen pal Amane.’ the voice inside his very own head told him.

‘She's just a pen pal, Amane. Nothing special, you shouldn't cry about her.'

'It's all gone'

‘Don't disappear now, I'm searching for you’

‘It felt like the summer was winter without you.’

‘It's all gone, now. It's over.’

“Now I just missed you...” Amane choked back a sob. His heart was clenching making it difficult to breathe. It felt like he was having an anxiety attack, he wanted to make the feeling disappear.

Now that [name] was gone.

He wanted to disappear as well.

Amane hugged his knees hunched over while lying down. His phone was the only source of light inside the room since the moon isn't there when he needed.

Just like he needed [name].

But the thing is,

She nowhere.

She's gone.

Amane doesn't know what to do.

It's all gone.

“Whoah Yugi, you okay bud?” Yamabuki sat next to the young boy who was staring into space, his eyes were sore from crying and his eyebags are turning darker. “You look wasted man.”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” Amane smiled, even though he was hurting and grieving inside. To everyone it looked like it was the brightest smile, but in reality it was fake.

“No you're not, Amane-kun.” Yashiro interrupted, crossing her arms in front of Amane. She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Truth to be told, Amane does need someone to talk with. He's been bottling up all his tears and suffering because of [name]'s sudden disappearance. His smile faltered, casting down to his desk and nodded gravely. Yashiro grabbed his hand before dragging him out to class.

“I thought you liked [name]?!” Yamabuki yelled out.

Yashiro stopped as the two of them arrived on the rooftop. Amane's shoulders slumped a little bit. “So tell me what's going on?” she asked.

Amane was silent for a while, he felt his eyes watering. Yashiro wrapped an arm around his shoulder, telling him to calm down before he can tell her.

And so he did, starting from the day he learned that [name] was his pen pal, to the epiphany of falling for [name]. Yashiro listened, nodding on every word he says. “Maybe it's a sign that you two should meet?”

“Huh?” Amane rubbed his eyes using his hands. “What do you mean?”

“I've read this somewhere in books!” Yashiro tells Amane with a smile on her face. “I always see this kind of plot, and it is time to apply it to the two of you!”

“The two of you are some sort of soulmates!”

Amane squinted his eyes in disbelief at Yashiro, a typical someone who doesn't believes in soulmates and then they meet in some point for plot purposes. After Yashiro had elaborated the term soulmate, she bids goodbye on Amane because she promised Aoi that they will go on a "date" together.

Amane saw her figure slowly going away from him, but he didn't try to call her back or even yell that he used to like Yashiro. Besides, the young boy already had fallen for [name] and was foolish for trusting his intuition that he wouldn't.

He gave a one last glance at the sky before going back inside to his respective classroom.

“Come on Minamoto-kun, beat Tsukasa-senpai up!” Mitsuba encouraged Kou who was randomly pressing the buttons of his controller whilst his electric blue eyes remain glued on screen. Tsukasa, his opponent, was concentrating really hard to win the video game.

Amane was sitting on his swivel chair, reading [name]'s last letter before the project's end. He was reading it for like...fifteen times already.

“Senpai, you've been staring at that letter for a while...” Kou worriedly pointed out. Tsukasa told him to leave him for a while since he was on a state of singularity.

Amane puts down the letter and sighed heavily. The three of them went over to the older twin to see what was going on. “Not gonna lie that pen pal is creative as hell.” Mitsuba remarked. “Anyways, may I see the letter?”

Amane nodded as he handed the pink haired boy the letter. Mitsuba carefully unfolded the letter and started to read. He grabbed the envelope and started to examine it. Mitsuba notices from the back of the envelope, a slightly peeled off paper. “Hey, Yugi-senpai,” he called. “I think there's a post card stuck on the back of the envelope.”

Kou scrunches his nose. “They probably didn't mean to stick the post card and paint it to camouflage it—”

“Okay who has long nails here?” Amane sighed as he looked at his cutted nails. “I recently cut mine.”

Mitsuba peeled off the postcard from the envelope with ease. He gave the post card faced down to Amane. As Amane receives the card, he flipped it up and saw something that made his stomach drop.

It was the ferris wheel that Amane saw in his dream along with the unfamiliar girl. The question is, what does the ferris wheel have to do with that? “A ferris wheel?” Tsukasa asked.

“This is the ferris wheel I saw in my dream last time—” Amane let out a shaky breath and pointed at the ferris wheel. “There was this girl who appears in my dream two times in different places. One with the carousel and the recent one is this ferris wheel on the post card.”

“Hm? I heard this one from an article that dreaming about a ferris wheel means that you don't want interruptions when you're excited.” Kou explained. “A carousel is a symbol of childish joy, which means that you don't want to forget in the past.”

“Then how about that unfamiliar girl?” Mitsuba asked.

“She could be someone from a past life?”

“If a carousel symbolizes as childhood happiness does that mean that girl was linked to you as a child?”

“I didn't even have a female childhood friend.” Amane crosses his legs. “Besides even if that girl was my childhood friend I wouldn't be able to recognize her.”

“Do you have any information about [name]-san, anyways?” Tsukasa asked.

“She goes to Sanaol Academy, which was far from here.” Amane answered monotonously. “It'll take a subway to go there.”

“How do you know then?” Kou asked.

“I researched her school online, and it was an all girls school.” Amane wetted his lips while brushing his hair back using his fingers. “It's a four hour ride—”

“Four hours?!” Tsukasa, Kou and Mitsuba yelled in disbelief. The three looked at each other and nodded as they knew what they're thinking. Amane raised a perfect brow at them, then looking at the post card on his hand. “That's just—”

“Hold up.” Amane raised his hand to stop them from talking. “The post card that Mitsuba peeled recently, there's something that was written on the back of the envelope.”

There are dots and dashes on the back of the envelope. It is some sort of morse code. Mitsuba thought it was kinda extra since they could've just say the actual letters instead of encoding the message for minutes.

The four of them spent hours to encode the morse, Amane leaned back to his swivel chair as he wiped a sweat from his forehead. “So what does it say?” Tsukasa asked.

Mitsuba and Kou looked over to Amane's shoulder to see the message along with Tsukasa.

“You and me in 5:53 at the ferris wheel...?” Amane says as if it was a question. He turned his head towards the four and gave them a lazy but determined smile. “How would you three like a bonding trip to find [name]?”

“I'm in!” Kou smiled whilst showing both of his canines and pointed at himself. “I'm totally in for some trip!”

“I guess I'll come too.” Mitsuba blew a raspberry and shrugged. “Only because I'm bored as hell.”

“If Amane's going then I'm going too!” Tsukasa wrapped his arms around his older twin causing the latter to elicit an 'oof' from his lips.

“Well that makes us four then. We'll go tomorrow.” Amane tells them.

“Tomorrow?” Mitsuba asked. “What time?”

“Since [name] said to meet at 5:53 pm by the ferris wheel, which wasn't specifically mentioned where and what, I guess we'll ride at dawn.” Amane looked at his laptop and started to peck the keyboard using his fingers. “When we arrive at Sanaol Academy, we'll ask for directions for the ferris wheel from the post card.”

“I have a theory though,” Kou tells him. “It could be a possibility that [name] is the person in your dreams.”

Then it clicked him into epiphany, why didn't he thought of that before? But again, Amane has no idea what [name] looked like anyways. He shouldn't be jumping in to conclusions that fast. Just because the girl who keeps appearing in his dreams doesn't mean it's already [name].

[name].

Amane lets out an exaggerated sigh from his lips and slouched against the swivel chair. He really did miss [name]'s company, even if it's just letters and texts.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow during their trip, they will meet. Amane makes sure of it, he wanted to see [name].

He wanted her to know how much he misses her after they lost each other. He can't go on.

Not without her.

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

gone for you

summary: everyone knows you and Brock are perfect for each other—everyone but you and Brock.

warnings: a singular swear 

word count: 2.2k

note from the writer: I got this idea last night, and, well, here it is. quite possibly the softest thing I have ever written. 

There was a running joke that you and Brock were meant to be together. That you were two halves of the same idiot, an old married couple—if there was an euphemism for being in love, you had heard it tossed around you and Brock.

You never really saw it, he was just your best friend and closest confidant in Vancouver. You were always his plus one to events, he had a standing invitation to come to yours for dinner and movies. You had a copy of his key and he had your spare. You were best friends, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Until.

“You know, you’re allowed to taste it.” You teased, a grin evident on your face as Brock pouted at you. It was the night before he left for a road trip, and you had invited him over for your traditional going away spaghetti dinner. You had insisted that he invite Petey, Jake, or Quinn sometime, but he claimed he was doing you a favor keeping them away from you. You’d roll your eyes, knowing that Petey was nothing short of a gentleman, unable to cut the same slack for the other two.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mean to me.” Brock shot back, his eyes narrowed at you playfully. You couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of the wine that Brock had brought.

“I’m sorry, but you’re practically shoveling it down your throat.” You explained with your hands raised in innocence. Brock rolled his eyes as you, but you spotted the slight upturn of the corner of his lips. “What would your mom say?”

“She would say be nice.” He was fully grinning now, and you let out a scoff. Both of you knew that would not be what she would say. “You got a little…” He trailed off, pointing to his chin. You wiped at your face with a napkin, but when he moved his finger to the other side of his face, you knew he was just messing with you. Dropping your jaw, you balled up the napkin and tossed it across your kitchen table at him.

“And I’m the mean one.” You grumbled. Brock was laughing as if he had said the funniest thing, and despite your previous annoyance, you couldn’t help the way the corner of your lips turned up at the sound. “You better appreciate all the cooking I do for you, Boeser.”

“Trust me, I appreciate it. I’m gonna appreciate a second serving, too.” He joked as he scooped more spaghetti onto his plate. Then, he twirled way too much pasta onto his fork and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, all the while never breaking the eye contact with you.

And then it hit you.

You were in love with your best friend. The one that everyone teased you about, the one you swore up and down was just a friend. You couldn’t imagine your life without him, the chirps, the crazy hockey schedules, the late nights at bars celebrating wins. Brock was your person.

It was funny, really, that Brock was the most handsome man you had ever seen. Any number of women would kill to get a chance with him, simply because he was tall and charming and played hockey. And sure, those parts of him were definitely attractive, but the Brock you were in love with was the one that was sitting opposite you at the kitchen table.

Grinning like a complete dumbass with a too-large mouthful of spaghetti and sauce all over his chin.

It was a little too much for you to handle all at once. Coming to the realization that you were completely head over heels for your best friend was enough to send anyone into a tailspin, so you were understandably caught off guard.

“Wa s’matter?” Brock asked, speaking with his mouth full and effectively dragging you back to reality. You grimaced at the sight, because even if you were in love with the fool, he was still being gross. When you realized he was waiting for an explanation for why you had spaced out for a moment, you panicked, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Get a grip, Boeser.”

Brock came to the same realization that you did a week later.

He was coming back from the road trip, it was late at night and you had stopped answering his texts an hour earlier so he assumed you had gone to bed. He wanted nothing more than to go crash in his own bed, but he knew he’d have to let his dogs out and make sure they had everything they needed before he could do so.

But then he swung open his front door and saw your shoes. Next to where he set his keys on the entryway table, there was a piece of paper that he certainly didn’t leave there before he left. He recognized your handwriting, the ‘I already walked the dogs for the night’ making him selfishly relieved that he wouldn’t have to do so. He couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face as he ventured further inside, wondering just how long you had been at his place.

When he finally found you, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He wasn’t sure that he could even feel so caught off guard by his own emotions, but the moment his eyes landed on you, it was like he had been run over by a truck.

You were passed out on his couch, curled up in not only one of his hoodies, but one of his spare blankets. You were cuddling Milo into your chest, and Coolie was tucked into the crook of your knees. It struck him just how much you looked like you belonged there, that this was your place too and it was a normal thing for him to come home to. And Brock decided then and there that you were the only person that he ever wanted to come home to again.

Milo, ever excited to see Brock, started squirming in your grip. His eyes widened and he took a step forward in a futile attempt to keep the dog from waking you. He wasn’t quick enough, and for the second time that night he felt his heart stop beating in his chest as you slowly blinked awake.

“Shit, did I fall asleep?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes and stretching a bit as Milo leaped off of the couch and started jumping on Brock’s legs. It was only then that he saw you had been using his television to watch Netflix, the screen asking if you were still there.

“Uh, yeah.” Brock replied, kicking himself silently for taking so long to reply. You were his best friend, he shouldn’t be so nervous around you. He had always known you were beautiful, he wasn’t blind, but you looked absolutely stunning on his couch late at night curled up in his clothes and with his dogs. “Are you gonna spend the night?”

“Yeah.” Brock shifted on his feet nervously, wondering just how he was going to deal with sharing a bed with you—because you always cuddled whenever you spent the night, and he would be damned if he was going to pass on the opportunity to hold you in his arms—because his heart was beating out of his chest from his spot on the other side of the room.

“Well, come on then, lazy.” Brock felt proud of himself for a moment, how some of his normalcy returned in the form of chirping you. But then you stretched out your arms to him and made grabby-hands, and grinned that dazzling smile of yours that nearly knocked him flat off his feet.

“Carry me.” You drawled out, still half delirious from sleep. Brock rolled his eyes, but certainly did not need to be told twice before he fully crossed the room and scooped you up bridal style. Brock, while on his way to his bedroom, tripped over the blanket that had been knocked off your lap and onto the ground when he picked you up. Your giggle rang loud in his quiet apartment, and Brock felt his chest tighten in adoration at the sound.

And in that moment, Brock knew one thing for certain—he was a goner.

You had thought that you were doing a good job of hiding your newly developed feelings for your best friend. Or rather, not so new, but more so acknowledged feelings. You still hung out with Brock, answered his texts and calls as if nothing was wrong—as if your heart wasn’t pounding out of your chest every time you so much as thought about the blonde. You were fine. You were dealing.

Brock, on the other hand, must have sensed your change in feelings, because it started to seem like he was pulling away from you. You were convinced that he knew how you felt and this was his way of letting you down easily. It had only been four days after he came back from his road trip, and it seemed as if he was trying to put some distance between you and him. you were lucky if you got so much as a text from him once he had gotten back.

It was enough to have you pulling your hair out. You were lost, you didn’t want to lose Brock, but you also couldn’t help how you felt. It had only been four days since he started acting different, and you were already going crazy without him.

So it wasn’t really a surprise that you found yourself standing outside his front door without giving him any heads up that you were coming over. You raised your fist and knocked, cringing at the action, because you didn’t knock.

Brock was clearly equally as confused as you were when he opened the door and saw you standing there. Neither one of you could remember the last time you had hadn’t just let yourself into his place. It spoke volumes to how disconnected you felt from Brock.

“What’s going on?” You sighed, surprising yourself with how exhausted and defeated you sounded. Brock just looked at you for a moment, and you felt as if he was seeing everything you had wanted to hide. The tugging in your chest that seemed to be pulling you closer to him with each passing second, how your heart was racing a thousand miles and hour from just being so close to him, how you wanted nothing more than to never have to knock ever again.

“I… I’m sorry.” Brock mumbled, pulling you into his arms and shutting the door behind you. You relaxed in his embrace, noting just how much his touch affected you. You didn’t want to move away, but you knew you had to get some answers. You had to come clean about your feelings and face the music that your relationship with Brock was changed forever.

“I should be the one that’s sorry, I don’t want you to make you uncomfortable, but—”

“What? No, no. You’re not making me uncomfortable. I promise.” Brock was quick to cut you off, silencing you by squeezing you tighter into him. You shook your head, pressing your hands on his chest and pushing just enough so he let you go. After taking a step back, he wasn’t looking at you.

“Listen, I get that you think it’s weird, but fuck, Brock, you can’t just cut me out like this.” You rambled, not stopping when you saw Brock’s guilty expression to melt to one of confusion. “Okay? I love you and you don’t love me, which is fine, but you cannot just ignore me.”

“Wait, what?” Brock was looking at you as if you were speaking a foreign language, and you froze, wondering if you had over thought everything and had just confessed your feelings for no reason. You spluttered for a moment, wondering just how to salvage what’s left of your dignity. Turns out, you didn’t have to, because Brock took the step forward and placed his hands on your hips to keep you in place. “Do you… do you think that I don’t love you too?”

“You do?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Brock heard it all the same and suddenly his grin was blinding and all you could see was him nodding. He tugged you closer to him, and your arms found their way around his waist.

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” Brock asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he catalogged the fact that you weren’t pushing him away this time. It was your turn to nod, and the second that you did one of his hands cupped your jaw to hold you still as he gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and easy and everything that you thought it would be with Brock. You were grinning, and just as you were about to pull away to breathe you snuck one of your hands up to his ribcage and pinched him. He jumped back, grin still evident on his face as he regarded you with bewilderment and mirth. “What was that for?”

“For pushing me away instead of talking, Boeser.” You teased, leaning forward onto your tip-toes to press a few more kisses to his smile. His hands that had been resting on your waist moved around so that they were on the small of your back, tugging you completely flush against him with his chin resting atop your head.

“Mhm, I can take it, if this is what I get.”

[darth-schism]

Evidence to Suggest that Luke was NOT all that he seemed in TLJ

Luke Skywalker may have isolated himself because of his guilt/depression. But I also believe he did it for practical reasons, and that his “totally given up” act, was just that, an act. Evidence for this Head-cannon/interpretive take:

1. He made a map to his location

Not only that, but it was so specific, it was literally called “The Map to Skywalker.” The only way it would have gotten a name as tailored as that is if someone else had found him before Rey, or, if he told people about it himself. In any event, to whatever varying degree, Luke wanted to be found and/or influence the galaxy around him.

One piece of the map was  tossed around to all sorts of corners of the galaxy, while the rest of it was entrusted to R2D2. 

2. This was a deliberate combo to serve two different purposes

          - Keep Snoke distracted: The entirety of TFA was Kylo and Snoke obsessing over Luke’s location. Their preoccupation with it was evident and, instead of letting them focus on relentlessly attacking the New Republic, Luke gave them a reason to go on wild goose chases. Consider that Snoke doesn’t go ‘all in’ on trying to destroy the Resistance until after he realizes he lost the race to get to Skywalker. Which shows just how much stock he had put into that singular Jedi. What’s more, even if they had succeeded, they’d only have a useless fraction with no reference as to where in the galaxy Luke’s secret location actually was.      

          - Meanwhile, R2D2 would also play the role of a “given up/powered down” hero: But we see that, soon as the coast is clear, and some plot heroes arrive with the map, he assessed the situation, turned on, and sent them right to Skywalker. I think it’s safe to say that R2D2 was merely in ‘sleep mode,’ as opposed to ‘shut down.’ However, despite all this, the element of being powered down/unassuming was still crucial because... 

3. Snoke made it abundantly clear that when he found Skywalker, he’d blow up the entire landmass he was found, or even theorized to be, on

Luke would never put a population of innocents at risk of complete annihilation just because someone might to recognize him at a local market. So it’s no wonder he chose a place as isolated as he did (On top of that, considering his critical stance towards the Jedi Order by 28ish ABY, it wouldn’t necessarily be a heartbreak to him if the island did end up getting destroyed, or one to anyone else really, because of how obscure/unknown it was...or so he convinced himself).

4. He was picking his battles

If Luke Skywalker wanted to be found. Then why was he so dismissive of Rey? There’s no solid evidence here (aside from the whole existence of the map scheme), but I think there’s good reason to believe that Luke’s instant stand-offish behavior is one of caution and assessment not dissimilar how how Yoda and Kenobi put up an initial façade when they were discovered in exile (but more on that later). In any event, this approach would give him the means to offer personalized help to those who ended up on his doorstep. It honestly didn’t take Luke long to go from tossing his father’s lightsaber, to offering Rey the three lessons she needed to understand the force better. Although I believe Rey’s visit to Luke was far different than what others had probably been but (again) more on that later.

5. He was able leave anytime he wanted

The very clear image of Luke’s submerged X-Wing in the ocean painted a picture of cut ties, and a “no going back” stance. However, it wasn’t the first time that starfighter had been at the bottom of a water bed, and clearly it wasn’t the last. I’m inclined to believe that this is another part of Luke’s deliberate presentation of a hero who had lost all hope. But all speculation aside, there was nothing to physically stop Luke from leaving that island whenever he wanted. There’s nothing to say that he didn’t break form/character operate to find a way to undermine Snoke further.

6. He was actively protecting others close to him

There was a reason Luke getting Grogu at the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian caused such a stir in Disney, and caused Kennedy to go for Faverau’s throat. All “who’s idea was who’s” arguments aside. At the end of the day it created two possible outcomes for this element of the Star Wars franchise: Either Grogu died in Kylo’s attack. Or there were survivors. Since killing the money making Baby Yoda isn’t necessarily on Disney’s to do list, it’s a reasonable bet that he survives the slaughter (unless he’s returned to Din’s side before Kylo goes ballistic, in which case he avoids it all together). But even if that does happen, this theory still holds a little water). Luke lying low, and operating in secret may have been the only way he was keeping himself, the galaxies citizens, and his few remaining students from getting hit with an orbital strike. 

7. He was never fully disconnected from the force.

Perhaps, somewhat disconnected, but it’s clear that Luke hasn’t cut himself off from the force as much as he, perhaps, wanted to admit. Luke is still able to effortlessly summon a weapon, keep control of the duel between himself and Rey, and gently lower his body to the ground when he loses his footing. Despite his stance on using/taking ownership of the force in TLJ, it seems as though Luke kept just enough around so that he could still fight. This theory is more optimistically minded than some of the others, but I still can’t help but think that Luke kept these reserves of power ready, because he already had to use them more than once during his supposed isolation.

8. Rey’s visit was different than the others who had come before.

“You went straight into the Dark. It offered you something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.” 

“I've seen this raw strength only once before, in Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now.”

Other plot heroes/adventurers may have come, gone, or even convinced Luke to help them in secret. So assuming all, or even some, of the above is true, then that means Luke wasn’t just pushing to dismiss Rey, but also disillusion her. I think this is because Rey wasn’t there to get help with a specific mission, rescue, etc, but there to have Luke become the public symbol of hope again. And we’ve already listed the reasons why this couldn’t happen. On top of that, this push was done in a way that directly conflicted with all the “none theorized” reasons Luke had isolated himself. Luke knew he couldn’t accommodate this. He sensed the darkness in Rey. He sensed her connection to Kylo. In many ways his lessons also doubled as a means to properly evaluate Rey, and confirm his suspicions. In any event, all of this brought up an element of his isolation that no one else knew. He already had the, half truth, story as to what happened to his temple well rehearsed. But it was Rey’s visit that dragged out his greatest regret, which was his near attempt to take Ben’s life, due to both the mind bending fear Snoke had manipulated into palce, and the hypocritical, and self destructive Jedi philosophies that had been drilled in to his head. This was the final straw that made him want to destroy the Jedi texts. But it was also the push he needed to find inner peace, and think of the means to make one last public appearance, without endangering anyone.  

9. In no interpretation is Luke an attempt child killer 

This is more of a bonus point in nature. I think so many people were caught off guard by the narrative choice Luke undertook in this part of the film, that it painted the whole ordeal in a far more unfavorable light than it actually was. For starters: Ben was no child. He was 23 years old when he fell to the darkside. Luke was saw the images of planetary destruction, and the deaths of friends and family alike at the hands of an adult. But even at that, Luke’s ligthsaber had already lowered, and his face expressing that of shame and sadness, when Ben glances over, and decides to take up his lightsaber, and make the first strike. Luke doesn’t even ignite his lightsaber in response until after Ben swings it. The influence Snoke had over Ben, and the mental attack he lured Luke into suffering, to make this moment come to pass cannot be understated.   

 - This also means that Luke’s isolation lasted only 7 years. Not twenty, not even 10. Just 7. Which is less than half the time both Yoda and Obi Wan imposed on themselves.

10. He was following in the footsteps of his masters

I think Luke’s response to trauma is a little unfair in some ways. Obi Wan and Yoda witnessed genocide, and imposed exile on themselves for twenty years. Now, in film, we know that Obi Wan, while playing the part of a delusional hermit, worked to protect Luke as he grew up on Tatooine, and that Yoda, playing the part of a silly swamp kook, did...something...on Dagobah (?), waited for Luke to grow up so he could train him for a few weeks at most (?). 

Those are two pretty limited things, and yet they don’t catch near as much flack for “abandoning the galaxy to the Empire” as TLJ Luke does, after he also witnessed slaughter, and went into isolation for only 7 years. But, of course, we know Obi Wan did more during his time in the desert, and that Yoda did more during his time in the swamp. So why can’t Luke have also done more while on his island? Everything about the parallels here point to Luke, despite his own misgivings, applying what he learned from his master. All three Jedi isolated themselves because of their personal tragedies. All three greatly reduced their presence in the galaxy. But all three had no choice, and all three still did what they could despite their circumstances.    

11. Luke may have been overcome with grief. But he hadn’t truly changed

Now, I fully admit that this is a very optimistic way of looking at things. But some of these points also have more weight to them than others. I also cannot stress enough that even though I think some of what Luke was doing was an act, I also know it was equally proportional to the very real, emotional reasons, and struggles he faced. I also definitely do NOT think Kennedy/Johnson meant for any of these possible theories to have any validity to them. But with how they are presented, they also can’t be disproven. 

If Favreau doesn’t formally put the sequels in it’s own little pocket universe, then I really hope he takes the opportunity to make something like ^the above^ happen. It could easily be established in one to two episodes in a live action show. Lots of things could be done to make the sequels a more bearable set of movies to watch. And as much as I’m worried that hoping for this is simply too optimistic, at least now there is a justifiable interpretive take that has both in film evidence to support, and a lack of otherwise to refute.  

At the end of the day (and as usual) the important part here is to see that Luke hadn’t given up. Struggling, disillusioned, forced into a tough spot, willingly keeping himself scarce, etc. All bearable. But knowing he hadn’t given up is super important to the character and fanbase, so hopefully we get something that makes that cannon. In any facet really.  

AND IT WOULD GET MARK HAMILL BACK ON SET GODAMNIT! XD

*Reblogged with new gifs and information

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand ?

Chapter 4/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Okay maybe not telling anyone anything wasn’t such as a good idea... Especially your dad the guy who’s job is to investigate things...

Tw: dissociation caused by trauma response.

The signing process didn’t last long. The landlord was fairly straight to the point, and she couldn’t know that he had already finished reading the pages set in front of him before her explaining what the rules were and what needed to be signed. She didn’t seem to comment on Connor’s lack of emotional responses to things or how his face appeared to be stuck in perpetual angry limbo. In fact, she seemed to be more understanding than any of his “friends” were and not taking offense when his attention wandered elsewhere when she droned a bit about policies he already knew. She even smiled at him at one point and it was weird to Connor how he just realized how rarely anyone smiled (most from Nines) so genuinely at him without hidden intentions. 

Afterwards, he retrieved the keys from her and hiked up the singular bag to head upstairs to the 4th floor for his room. He caught a sadness and sympathy in her eyes that he really wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Was she humanizing him? Makes sense with this beanie hiding his LED, but he still couldn’t decipher what she was assuming about him. He pushed it from his mind as he unlocked the door and walked in, locking it behind. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected. It was very barren, desolate with all the lights shut off like this. The sun was already starting to set and began casting long shadows inside. He didn’t mind since he could just see in the dark, but it felt lonely like this. He turned on the main living room light at the least since the apartment was open planned with only a small island wall separating the kitchen. Two doors on the far end were assumed to be the bedroom and bathroom. On the right were fairly large windows to let light in in the morning and there was even a slim door that led out to a small patio with railing of sorts that might be able to house a plant or two at most. There were even two storage closets near the door and near the kitchen, that one actually contained a washer and dryer duo unit now that he thinks about it. He knew he knew the actual layout of this place with no problem, but he just didn’t care. It didn’t matter much to him really. As an android, he really didn’t need much to work with, just his charging port that he packed with him if he was honest. Or at least he’d make sure that was all he needed.

Trying one of the further doors, he found the bathroom, bare minimum with tub, toilet, sink and small wall mirror. The bathroom was also connected to the room through their shared wall so he just used that door to go into the bedroom. It was big enough to hold maybe a standard bed and small dresser at most but again that didn’t bother him. The wall had one of those in built closets like Hank had and it somehow flares the pain that had settled low in his abdominal cavity and refused to leave. It didn’t matter because he was doing this to protect himself and make everything easier for everyone else. This was to make it far easier to separate himself from everyone. To hide. So he plopped his bag down and set about unpacking his very pathetic amount of items. Tomorrow he’ll deal with furniture truly; he’ll most likely just order it online and figure out pick up/delivery then too. 

He relaxed a bit against one of the walls when his internal phone started ringing again. Hank. Shit. 

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Hey, Connor.” Oh that didn’t sound good. He had that stern voice put on, like a dad about to lecture his kid.

“What can I offer you with this call,” Connor really wasn’t sure where to go with this.

“So I called Markus when I got home.”

“Mhm.” The alarm bells in Connor’s head went off. He knew relying so heavily on miscommunication would backfire. Idiot. 

“And asked him about that little meeting you supposedly had today to ask if it would be alright if I came by to pick you up so you weren’t going home alone. Since you told me about that little worry of yours earlier.”

“Yes.” Connor felt the panic start to rise inside him a bit, his voice kept leveled and his face calm, but internally? Freaking out.

“Where are you, Connor?” and there it was. He was fucked. Okay lying would be the stupid thing to do right now.

“I’m at New Jericho, I’m not sure what you’re asking?” Connor auto replied. He needs to do a diagnostic on that top notch Social Relation Protocol. 

“Oh really,” Hank’s voice turned low, “Don’t fucking lie to me right now unless you want to dig your grave deeper, Connor.”

Connor stayed silent worried his auto replies might do just that.

“Hmm well Markus also told me an interesting tidbit. Apparently yesterday you blew up on everyone and fucked off. Heavy topics and no big deal, my ass!” Connor could tell that Hank was getting riled up. 

“Where. Are. You. Connor,” Hank said with much more aggression after Connor continued to stay silent. 

Connor really didn’t know what to say. Hank was bound to find out he so unceremoniously moved out, he wasn’t sure why he was even hesitating right now to tell him that. 

“I noticed this morning that your clothes were missing from the bathroom, and I found it odd, but I just assumed you moved them. Yet when I got back home and actually started looking, I noticed that it seems all your stuff is gone! Even the fucking manta ray plushie is gone!” 

Connor really didn’t know why he thought Hank wouldn’t notice this quickly especially since he was already suspicious of Connor since this morning too. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was about to happen. 

“WHERE-”

“I’m in my apartment,” rushed out of Connor in one synthetic breath. 

Hank didn’t answer for a couple seconds. “Your apartment…”

“Yes.”

“When the fuck have you had an apartment? In fact, how do-”

“Just last night.” Connor focused on just trying to keep calm. He could do this. He was an interrogator. Just treat this as an interrogation. 

“Last night… and when did you think you’d tell me about this?! Did you think you could just book it with your shit, and I wouldn't notice!” Hank could be loud when he wanted to be. And honestly, Connor did think he wouldn’t care enough to notice for at least a day or two. It’s not like Connor owned that many items in the first place to notice gone as proven by the sad bag slumped next to him on the floor.

“I knew you would notice, but I was uncertain on how to approach the topic. I thought I would have more time to tell you, but I assumed wrong.” 

“Damn right you assumed wrong! How could you not understand-” 

Connor didn’t even register whatever was said next. He heard that accursed word and felt himself shut down. The panic receded just as quickly as the tsunami of that same anger from yesterday overwhelmed him in seconds. 

“Don’t say that word,” He didn’t even notice he murmured anything from the haze surrounding him until Hank went silent and asked a far quieter “what?” than his prior volume. 

“Don’t say that fucking word,” Connor stated far louder. He distantly felt how tense his whole body seemed to have become, fists trembling and he wouldn’t doubt his LED was burning bright red under the beanie he still had yet to remove. 

“I don’t understand. What word?” Hank asked, confusion clear in his voice. There also seemed to be a bit of concern that Connor’s system registered, but he ignored that as that was impossible.

Connor couldn’t handle it, the feelings inside were too much, and he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. He could control himself. Cyberlife drilled into his head how he had to stay calm and in control at all times. He can’t fail this simple rule. 

So he simply shut everything down. He quickly quarantined everything. He immediately cut his call with Hank as it was his source of stress. He needed everything to shut down. To not think. Hank kept trying to call him back, to get some sort of answer, but it was too late. Connor disconnected from everything and felt himself float off. This was much nicer, just not aware of anything. That anger and panic was all gone. The guilt too. He was just existing, his body’s eyes stared unblinking, unmoving at the wall ahead. Sure it was dangerous how he wasn’t able to register anything nor had any clue where he was anymore, but it was quiet.

Eventually, he slowly returned to his body. Became aware of the twitching of his fingers, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the sounds of cars passing outside below him. He blinked and came back into himself looking around and noticing it was far darker than before. Checking his internal clock showed that he lost 2 hours to whatever that was. He couldn’t help the annoyance he felt from apparently having another malfunction happening to him. The anger and emptiness from yesterday weren’t necessarily a malfunction, but he shouldn’t be able to lose control of himself like that (thus he was malfunctioning). He lost control of himself in a different manner here and still felt himself almost floating even now. Checking his notifications revealed countless number of missed calls from Hank, Nines, Mark, even North and numerous texts and internal messages, but he just ignored them again. He clearly needed to cut himself off from them all. They were causing him to glitch and fail like this by overwhelming him beyond his control. He can’t let that happen.

After some shuffling, he managed to set up his charging port, plugged himself in and set himself into stasis.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: A Royal Screw Up

Author: @emmakoneko

For: @keisethsattic

Pairings/Characters: Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda, A few background + mentioned SDR2 characters

Ratings/Warnings: G, None

Prompt: “They want to join the rest of the group but their vehicle breaks down, they’re stuck under the rain, by the road, in the middle of the night, bad day overall.”

Author’s Notes: This was actually a really challenging prompt, lol. I hope it turned out okay.

It was a bad day which meant good things were coming.

Nagito tumbled out of bed that morning, jarred into motion by a fading nightmare that settled into the shadows of his mind. He stood and rubbed his back. Beside him, Hajime snored obliviously, his rough features softened by sleep. The sight calmed Nagito’s stiff limbs with fondness. He fell back asleep as the sun rose.

At breakfast, he spilled Hajime’s coffee, burned his hand, and broke the handle off his favourite mug. He meandered towards the sink and sluggishly screwed on the faucet.

“Tired?” Hajime knelt on the floor with a rag.

“How perceptive of you, Hajime.” Nagito said. “I had a nightmare last night. I’m afraid my luck is in a downswing. Maybe you should go alone to the gathering.”

“They’re your old classmates.” Hajime said. “I’d feel awkward.”

“You were closer with them than I was.” Nagito turned off the sink. “They’re probably looking forward to seeing you more than me.”

The coffee mishap left Nagito’s cereal a gloopy mess. He studied it, played with it, but didn’t lift it to his lips.

Hajime, meanwhile, swore at his phone. “My battery didn’t charge last night.”

Nagito raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘what did I tell you’.

Hajime glared back, determined. “We’ll have to use yours.”

Nagito’s brand new iPhone was already in a sorry state. A massive crack ran through it and each corner was smashed to varying degrees, rendering almost all text unreadable. Hajime persistently nagged Nagito to replace it, but Nagito couldn’t be bothered. He hardly used the thing anyway.

He handed Hajime the sad device and shoved a soupy spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

-

Hajime’s car was old, beat-up, and ugly, but it was his. Early in their relationship, Nagito had offered to buy him a new one, but Hajime emphatically declined.

Nagito himself, of course, didn’t drive, afraid that the world would end in chaos if he so much as touched a steering wheel.

The door to the driver’s seat was jammed. Hajime clambered over the passenger seat, Nagito waiting dutifully behind him, gracious enough not to make fun of him for how poorly he climbed.

Heat hung heavy in the air, clinging to Hajime’s skin and making him sweat through his shirt. Nagito, meanwhile, wore his favourite ratty jacket, as if he was immune to heat.

The car started with a rumble and Hajime’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. He turned them onto the road.

Nagito produced a container of crisps from the bag at his feet. “Want one?”

“You’re already digging through that?” Hajime said. It would be a long trip to Sonia’s place in the countryside.

“I didn’t exactly have a wonderful breakfast.” Nagito crunched on a crisp. “And you didn’t have anything but coffee.”

Hajime wordlessly stretched his palm out, intending to only have a few.

He ended up eating half the bag.

-

The downpour started as they exited a gas station an hour from home, but it continued well after that, thunder roaring in the distance.

Nagito despised storms. They were an example of how a singular event could bring a lifetime’s worth of disaster. He smiled as a flash of lightning struck in the distance. “Looks like it’s coming down pretty hard.”

Hajime was quiet for a moment, seemingly focused on the road ahead. Nagito assumed he wasn’t going to respond, and didn’t mind it, content to listen to the raindrops pelting the car and ignore his own rapid heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” Hajime finally said. He shot him a concerned glance. “You’ve got that smile on your face.”

“I’m fine.” Nagito reached for the radio. “What do you want to listen to?”

“I don’t really have a… hey!” Hajime whipped his head around. “You really are bothered, aren’t you?”

Nagito folded his arms together. “It’s nothing. Focus on the road.”

Hajime switched on the radio and said nothing more. Giving him space, Nagito supposed, or avoiding an argument. It was something he never used to do, but he’d learnt and adapted. Nagito found it dreadful at times like this.

-

Their car broke down an hour from their destination. The storm had worsened, or maybe they were just closer to it, and the sun was setting.

Hajime swore and slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

“It’s okay.” Nagito reached for his battered phone. “I’ll call Sonia. We’re not too far off, right?”

Nagito dialled Sonia’s number with another of his smiles, nerves frayed from the storm and the car breaking down. He held the phone up to his ear and waited. His hands trembled. He knew something would go wrong.

The dial tone sounded. There was a rumble nearby. And then the world was flashing white and Nagito’s breath was stopping and the phone was falling out of his shaking hand, right into the space between the seat and the glove compartment.

Nagito froze, then wedged his thin fingers into the crevice, but to no avail. “We have to move the seat.” he said.

Hajime shook his head. “That seat doesn’t move anymore.”

Nagito wondered if anything in Hajime’s car actually worked, but didn’t say a word about it.

“Well,” he said instead. “It could be worse.”

Hajime shot him a deadpan look.

-

The effort to retrieve Nagito’s phone was quickly abandoned, as Hajime suggested they wait for someone to find them. He turned the hazard lights on.

“I don’t think anyone is coming.” Nagito said. “The road seems dead at the moment.”

Hajime sighed and retrieved a map from the glove compartment.

“There are a few places nearby where we could ask to use a phone.” Hajime said. “Including a gas station - once the rain clears up, we could go there. It’d be nice to get some food, too.”

Nagito frowned. “With my luck and this weather, I don’t know if I trust what could happen to you out there.”

“We don’t have a choice. There’s nowhere else we can go.” Hajime opened the door. “You can stay here. I’ll bring something back to you.”

“You’ll be soaked and you might get hit by lightning.” Nagito said. “I’ll go.”

Hajime opened his mouth as if to protest, but something stopped him from doing it. He slumped back in his seat and closed the door.

“Okay.” he said. “I trust your luck.”

Nagito beamed at him, warmth blooming in his chest, and left.

-

Hajime drummed his fingers along the dashboard in time to the rain. With his phone dead and the car broken, he was alone with his thoughts and nothing to do.

The sun had set fully, starlight winking overhead, blurred by the raindrops dappled across the window. Nagito had been gone for too long, although Hajime didn’t have a clock to tell him. Perhaps the gas station had been closed, or Nagito was lost. Perhaps he’d been struck by lightning.

Hajime was contemplating running after him when he heard a knock at his side.

Nagito’s jacket was pulled over his head to cover from the rain and he looked rather silly, and there was a bowl in his hand. Hajime opened the door.

“Kazuichi is going to take a look at our car.” Nagito said, passing Hajime the bowl. “We’re lucky - he just passed us.”

“Is this… shaved ice?” Hajime said incredulously.

“It’s hot, despite the rain.” Nagito shrugged.

Hajime laughed.

-

When they made it to Sonia’s mansion, Mahiru scolded them for being late. Mikan regarded Nagito’s damp jacket with concern in her eyes. Sonia welcomed them politely.

Everything was as it should be, but Nagito caught Hajime as he walked in and murmured - “I’m buying you a new car.”

[fatefulfaerie]

True Love

Yes, it’s a trope and yes, I’m a sucker for it.

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild

“Again! Again! Again!” Zelda exclaimed, the little princess bounding up and down.

“Again?” The queen asked, a gentle smile adoring her daughter.

“All right,” she said with a chuckle, her eyes drifting back down to the open book she held. She flipped a gathering of pages so that the first words of the tale were before her. “Once upon a time—”

“No!” Insisted the young princess, the queen amused as the little girl crawled into her mothers lap.

“Just the end!” Zelda said as she flipped the pages herself, them being so large in comparison to her that it was like digging in a patch of dirt. Her mother’s laugh was a joyous sound she took for granted.

Zelda’s small, fragile hands spread open the page she wanted with a smile of satisfaction.

“Here!” She said, looking up at her mom with large, green eyes.

Her mother pulled her in close, allowing the girl aged five years to snuggle into her mother’s chest.

“The knight rode fast and hard on his horse,” the queen started. “Come rain or snow, come lightning, come hail, come sun or storm, nothing would stop him. He whipped the reigns with a ferocious determination, sacrificing just a little bit his respect for the horse’s fatigue in order to hurry along his journey. The wind whipped in his hair and his holler was lost to those winds. Only one thing would stop him as he rode faster than the birds flew.”

“He entered the forest clearing,” she continued after turning the page, “blasting past the brush and soon spotting a flat altar. His heart swung as he very nearly leapt off his horse, pacing towards the woman on the altar with a great haste. She lay lifeless on her back, her flowing white dress spilling off the edges of the altar. Her hands were crossed at her chest, where a bouquet of silent princesses glowed bright with a blue transcendence. The moon was high, the stars were aplenty, and so these silent princesses shone, reflecting the moonlight and capturing the magic in its beauty. To the approaching knight, however, no flower could shine as bright as the princess before his eyes, the silent, sleeping princess that captured his heart and stole his common sense, as any woman should. He loved her. Deeply, ardently, loved her. And, as he leaned down and met his lips to hers, it was their true love that awoke the silent princess. Her smile shone with the light of a thousand suns as she sat up. Their eyes met and they knew they would live happily ever after.”

The queen looked to her daughter, who was studying the words in a contemplative way that she absolutely adored.

“Mother?” She asked.

“Yes, little bird,” the queen said with a smile.

“Do you have true love?” The little girl asked. Her mother pulled a strand of blonde hair from her small face.

“Your father and I love each other very much,” the queen said. “And we love you more than anything. In the way that our love is no lie, yes you could call our love true.”

“Will I have true love?” Zelda asked, to which the queen took a pause.

It wasn’t likely. The queen knew that, like her, her daughter would undergo courting, would have a predetermined group of suitors and, if she’s lucky, a choice between them. Even her experience with the king was a love that didn’t exist until after marriage, that grew with familiarity but was still rampant with the formality she was bred for. It wasn’t until the birth of their daughter where she felt love, simply because of how much they loved the tiny bundle in their arms.

The reason why true love was so powerful in those stories was because it was rare. The queen knew she didn’t have it and could only wish the fairytale for her daughter. 

“Yes,” the queen said. “I’m sure you will. But for now, my little princess, it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“Can I imagine a knight will wake me up?” Zelda asked as her mother carried her to her bed.

“You can imagine all you like,” the queen said, gently laying her down and allowing her to curl up in her own blankets. Her mother knelt at her bedside. “But remember sometimes the princesses have to save themselves.”

“I remember,” Zelda said, with that little voice that warmed the queen’s heart.

——————————————————————————————————

“I remember,” Zelda whispered. The caves didn’t echo her words as she fiddled with her mother’s necklace.

She sat upon a rock, her gaze unfocused as she thought of her mother, her smile, her laugh, the way she told stories.

Zelda smoothed with her fingers the singular white pearl that looped around her neck with a silver chain. 

When her mother passed away, Zelda remembered sneaking into her parents’ chambers to look for her, perhaps not quite understanding what tall adults had told her earlier that day.

The room was dark and her father was asleep. With tiny arms she peered over the edge of the bed but only her father lay resting. Her face twisted in contemplation and she figured she would see her mother tomorrow. The little princess saw her mother’s necklace gleaming on the vanity on her way out. The princess worried that it was out of place, that it wasn’t around her mother’s elegant neck and that she would give it to her tomorrow to set things right.

Instead, she ended up having to keep it.

Zelda tucked the necklace back under her blouse, feeling the cold shock of it against her skin wearing off quickly.

Shaken out of her trance, she picked up her canteen, taking the break she had sat down for in the first place. She thought of her fatigue as water slid across her tongue and down her throat, her aching feet, her sore muscles that weren’t quite used to fighting. With what she just did, the monster she defeated hours ago and the caves she endlessly trekked afterwards, she figured she would be more sore tomorrow.

Zelda stood back up, the Zonai sword and shield secured to her clanking as she did. The former was a black blade, wavy and adorned with swirls of green while the latter was a shield of circular shape, dark green with an emblem of the dragon Faron engraved into the tough metal. The dings and scuffs from her fight wouldn’t go away soon.

She gathered the provisions she had left into her pack, securing the canteen when she heard a whisper echo along the cave.

Her head popped up quickly and her eyes widened.

A chill went down her spine, one she hadn’t felt in what seemed like a very long time, when Link was beside her and they didn’t know at all what was before them.

She assumed excited heavy breaths, smiling. She was closer than she thought.

“Link!” She exclaimed, turning her head where she heard the whispers.

“Link!” She repeated as she ran with a great haste along the tunnel. The green Hylian text that ebbed more and more paid her no mind as she continued to run. Nothing would stop her.

Tears streamed down her face at the mere thought of the reunion, but the green text was getting thicker, and as she raced down the tunnel, down the familiar stairs as memories of caution started to flood back to her, she saw why.

Zelda stopped with a shaky inhale when she saw him, laying on an altar motionless.

Behind him was the ground, cracked and buckled, and she could see the hole where she fell all that time ago. But only he mattered.

“No,” she whispered as she ran to his side. She shook her head as she looked at his condition. “No.”

He was colored completely in that bright green, his entire body infected by it, gold bands entrapping him. What was once just spreading amongst his right hand had become his entire body.

Zelda looked particularly at his left hand, gone completely. Hylian text was ebbing the rest of his arm away. Zelda shook her head in denial that soon the rest of him would be gone as well.

It didn’t matter that Ganondorf was defeated for good, the curse thrust upon Link to become the hand to seal Ganondorf was well on its way.

She had failed.

Her tears fell as she started to sob, her nose sniffling.

And, as he leaned down and met his lips to hers, it was their true love that awoke the silent princess.

Zelda heard her mother’s voice clear in her head, but it only seemed to make her cry more, Zelda clamped her eyes shut and bowed her head, her shoulders shaking.

“True love is reciprocal,” Zelda said. “Mother, he…he doesn’t love me.”

And, as he leaned down and met his lips to hers, it was their true love that awoke the silent princess.

Zelda blinked her eyes to focus on his face, coated in that green, that turquoise. She brought a hand to pet his cheek. It burned her hand with how cold it was but she paid it no mind.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered as her eyes flitted closed, Zelda kissing him with a deep hope in her heart.

She inwardly refused to withdraw after the first second, knowing that the kiss being unsuccessful was a pain she wouldn’t be able to bear. Zelda continued to kiss Link and the color returned to him, the blue of his tunic, the peach of his skin, the brown of his hair.

Zelda withdrew as his eyes opened to hers and her heart swelled with relief. Her smile was the first thing Link saw.

“Zelda!” He said quickly, sitting up and hugging her, his head sinking into the crook of her neck.  They both clutched each other. “You fell. You…you…”

“I know,” Zelda said petting the back of Link’s head. “I’m here.”

“What happened to the corpse? To Ganondorf?” Link said, withdrawing, in his eyes an inquisition that searched hers.

Zelda chuckled, bowing her head.

“Sometimes the princesses need to save themselves.”

Link’s lips parted in his surprise before they broke into a smile.

“It wasn’t easy,” Zelda continued. “But to get back to you…I would have done anything.”

Zelda’s hand smoothed down to his left arm. With concern she looked down at it, handless. She touched tentatively the way his arm ended at his forearm.

“If I had come sooner…”

“No,” Zelda heard Link say before he took his hand to her chin and forced her gaze to him.

“It’s just a hand,” Link said. “As someone who was and is willing to die for you. It’s a small price to pay.”

His expression shifted with a new train of thought.

“How…how did you wake me up?” Link asked. “That curse…I thought I was done for.”

Zelda blushed. She gave a small smile in her hesitation.

“True love’s kiss,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

Link showed barely a reaction, merely staring.

“You don’t believe me,” Zelda said. “You don’t love me.”

“No!” Link insisted, his one hand taking hers. “No, I…I do. I just didn’t think you would find out like this.”

He released a chuckle, tightening his grip.

“You have all my heart,” Link said. “And now that we’ve finally brought peace to Hyrule for good, we can have our happy ending. Our house in Hateno, the castle, anywhere you want to go, I’ll follow if you’ll have me.”

“As long as you’ll take mine,” Zelda said. “My heart…it belongs to you.”

Link nodded quickly before surging forward and kissing her again.

And so they new, in every next moment, that they were living happily ever after.

[itsclydebitches]

Why do you like Lore Olympus? I'm genuinely curious because I've seen a lot of harsh criticisms toward the comic, from its inaccuracies regarding its use of Greek Mythology to the plethora of harmful queer stereotypes. I tried reading it myself but honestly, if you took out all the Greek Mythology references and naming, it just seems like another "far older man courts a barely adult woman" love story with bad queer rep thrown it.

Happy to explain! Let’s tackle what’s perhaps the most complicated aspect first. 

As a former Classics major I can tell you that there is no “Greek Mythology.” Meaning, there is no singular Greek Mythology that can be referenced and consulted in any uniform way. Which is a really difficult thing to conceptualize in an age of print publications and careful record keeping. Unsure about whether Harry ever cursed Draco with such-and-such hex? Re-read the Harry Potter books to find out. Want to claim that Sherlock was horrible to Watson and frequently insulted him? We can comb through Doyle’s shorts stories and novels, tally every insult, and find out. These are canons and, as messy as the term “canonical” has become with more adaptations and transmedia storytelling, most characters have a set, fixed existence that we can return to and use as evidence. Not so with Greek Mythology. Born of oral storytelling, there are a hundred different versions of every myth, some changes more stark than others. Some of those versions were written down. Then written down again (differently). Then written down again (differently still). Then we realized they were almost all being written down by men and huh, I wonder if that has any impact on how they framed the story (spoiler: it absolutely does). And all of this doesn’t even take into account the issue of translation. Regardless of what Ovid may have put down on the page, you’re going to get a different experience depending on whether you read Melville or Gregory. There’s a reason why everyone was so excited over Emily Wilson being the first woman to translate The Odyssey into English. Her perspective and her experience as a woman by default changes the way she approaches the text. Even something as simple as a single description can have a HUGE impact depending on how it is translated. Take this excerpt from a NYT article: 

“The prefix poly,” Wilson said, laughing, “means ‘many’ or ‘multiple.’ Tropos means ‘turn.’ ‘Many’ or ‘multiple’ could suggest that he [Odysseus] is much turned, as if he is the one who has been put in the situation of having been to Troy, and back, and all around, gods and goddesses and monsters turning him off the straight course that, ideally, he’d like to be on. Or, it could be that he’s this untrustworthy kind of guy who is always going to get out of any situation by turning it to his advantage. It could be that he’s the turner.”

Is Odysseus a poor victim turned around by monsters and fate, or is he a schemer capable of turning it all to his advantage? It all depends on how it’s translated and whoever wants to make a case for Odysseus being a “good” or “bad” guy can point to this translation as evidence… or another. Or another. There are just too many versions for anyone to definitely say what these gods and others are “really” like. 

I put so much emphasis on this because the biggest criticism I’ve seen leveled against the comic is the characterization of Apollo. He would never rape Persephone! How dare you twist his character like that! Except Apollo isn’t a character that exists in a fixed canon. He belongs to an overwhelming corpus of complicated, contrary, contrasting myths… and yes, in some of those he raped. Arguably. It, again, comes down to translation and interpretation. Take this excerpt from Nancy Rabinowitz’s paper “Greek Tragedy: A Rape Culture?” 

Creusa, raped by Apollo years ago, conceived a child and abandoned him… For the purposes of this paper, I have to address the question of whether Creusa was in fact raped by the god. Hermes mixes the terminology in the prologue; he asserts that the god Apollo “yoked the daughter of Erechtheus in marriage (γάμοις)”, but he also says “by force (βίᾳ)” (10-11). Ion later (1524-25; cf. 341, 325) wonders whether Creusa was really raped, or whether she was just alleging that the god took her by violence to cover up an indiscretion of her own – a similar situation could be imagined in our own day, where false allegations may arise from young girls’ fear of confessing consensual relations to their parents. Lefkowitz argues that women tend to cooperate in their seduction by a god. While it might seem obvious that Ion is simply wrong, there is the further implication that though Apollo raped Creusa, she also desired him” (11-12). 

So if we’re looking for evidence that Smythe’s interpretation of Apollo is the “correct” one, it exists… depending on what you read and how you choose to interpret it: whether a mortal woman can ever truly give consent due to the power difference between her and a god, whether it was safe to say no, whether she might have lied to protect herself, whether it was something a part of her desired but perhaps didn’t entirely want, etc. It’s that last bit in particular—those difficult questions—that Smythe explores in her comic. Persephone wants to explore her sexuality. She wants a way out of her virgin obligations. But she’s also pressured into sex by Apollo. He doesn’t stop when she expresses discomfort. She doesn’t feel safe asserting herself and telling him to stop. It’s rape, but it’s a far more complicated situation than the rape scenario of “Evil man forces himself on woman in the back of an alleyway” and Smythe treats the tragedy with nuance and respect, even in a comic filled with so much humor. 

The people I see most upset about Lore Olympus are those who talk about the gods and their associated mortals as if they’re characters out of a book. They read one version once—or maybe two—and, as is natural in the 21st century, decided that This Is How The Story Goes. Even though every academic would be losing their mind over such definitive statements as, “Such-and-Such would never do this.” That’s simply not how records this ancient, sporadic, political, and downright messy work. So as someone with some knowledge of how Greek Mythology functions, I’m not at all put off by the comics’ “inaccuracies.” Because they’re simply not inaccuracies, just interpretations. Not liking those interpretations is fine, but that doesn’t mean Smythe was wrong for providing them. 

As for the rest, I’ll try to limit myself to bullet points: 

The age difference between Persephone and Hades is definitely A Thing and I admittedly didn’t realize that was the case when I started reading. I assumed that Persephone, like most of the cast, was hundreds/thousands of years old and just had a child-like personality. I basically realized around the time Hades did that she’s so young. That being said, the issue of age differences changes for me once you reach such insane ages. That’s why I still ship Ozqrow: Ozpin is hundreds of years older than him but at that point he’s going to be older than everyone. Always. Limiting his ships to only those who are close to Ozpin’s age means you can’t ship him at all (unless you ship him with Salem post-grimm pool and… no). It’s a similar situation with Hades. Yes, there are plenty of gods his age that he could date (and indeed he does) but he is always going to be thousands of years older than Persephone. She can literally never catch up to him, so if someone has an issue with the age gap then they have to accept that it will simply never go away. They can never be a couple in which case yeah, then the comic just isn’t your thing. 

Really, I think the bigger issue is not the gap itself but Persephone’s age, period. Again though, I appreciate that Smythe treats the situation with a great deal of respect. This isn’t a story of a much older man hunting a younger woman. It’s the story of a much older god who, like me the reader, assumed he had fallen for a slightly younger goddess… and then freaked out when he found out he was wrong. He’s called out for his ignorance. Others are incredibly protective of Persephone. They both try to stay away from one another and find themselves struggling. Which, to be frank, is an interesting dilemma to me. And it’s one I’m more interested in with gods as characters as opposed to humans. Because it feels less predatory to me. A man going after a much younger woman is threatening in part because we’re mortals who have so much to lose, including our youth. If you enter an abusive relationship that alone is horrible enough, but it also means you’ve lost all those years and all that experience to toxicity. When a god goes after a much younger goddess… they’re kind of static. They have eternity stretching out before them. Persephone potentially “losing” ten years to a relationship with Hades just isn’t the same thing as a mortal losing ten years to a relationship of their own. Gods, though they seem quite human, simply aren’t and thus for me questions of morality and what’s ethical in any given situation changes. We have a cast who, when Eros gets upset and murders a whole bunch of humans, Zeus shrugs and says they’ll just make more. Their concept of right and wrong differs from ours and it invites the reader to apply that to every situation: is it as wrong for an older god to go after a 19yo goddess as it would be for an older man to go after a 19yo woman? Many readers may decide it is—to some extent the text decides it is—but the story still possesses ambiguity and invites the reader to grapple with it. That’s compelling. 

Connected to this, I like how much agency Persephone has throughout the series. She’s very much a character who defies expectations, particularly when it comes to her sexuality. Far from being a meek, vulnerable woman who is preyed on by Hades, she is making constant, active decisions about her own romantic and sexual encounters. Even if that decision is just acknowledging how unsure she still is: does she want to remain a virgin? Does she want Apollo? Does she want Hades? Is it okay to make out with Ares? Wear this very short dress? Get drunk? Explore a city? Invite this person over? Have feelings for your boss? Persephone is grappling with a lot of questions that don’t have easy answers and the fact that the story gives her the room to do that grappling is fantastic. I’ve spoken before about my dislike of the Strong Female Character—someone who is not just physically intimidating but who also never, EVER hesitates. She knows precisely what she wants and she’s going to take it! Which is a great portrayal of one kind of woman… but I’m not that kind. I hem and haw and am anxious like Persephone. So for me it’s refreshing to see a story that paints uncertainty as strength. She’s allowed the space to be unsure and confused and is never belittled for that. 

Honestly I’m not sure what the issue with the queer rep is? Beyond the fact that Lore Olympus doesn’t seem to have any (unless I’m forgetting some. Very possible). Which, admittedly, is far from great, but if I dismissed every story due solely to a lack of queer characters I would limit a lot of my potential media. So for me, personally, that’s not a deal breaker. Taking a stab in the dark, I’ll make an assumption that people are upset about certain characterizations like Eros? Which, fair. But we also have the flip side that effeminate, flamboyant men do exist. It’s another complicated, touchy subject, but there’s a fine line between enforcing stereotypes and acknowledging that those stereotypes often do arise out of something. Some people hate the media image of the queer kid decked out in rainbows. Other people look at their own wardrobe and backpack and go, “Actually… yeah. That can be accurate.” For me stereotypes are primarily an issue given their prevalence. It’s an issue when that’s the only way queer characters are portrayed, but Lore Olympus doesn’t have that problem because, again, it’s focused on het relationships. Eros might potentially be a (non-confirmed?) queer stereotype… or he’s a battle-hardened warrior who also likes to gush about gossip while baking, the sort of complex gender portrayal that people claim to want. It depend on how you approach it. So no, Lore Olympus isn’t breaking any ground with queer rep but, as said, I do appreciate how it treats sexual assault—among other sensitive, relevant issues. It’s a trade-off. No piece of media is going to be perfect. I could say the same thing about so many great stories. The Mandalorian doesn’t have any queer rep! No, it doesn’t, but it is giving us a fantastic story about a bounty-hunter turned dad that challenges a number of Western gender assumptions so… trade-off. 

I likewise enjoy that characters call one another out on shitty, toxic behavior without completely losing who those characters are. (Again, supposedly who they are based on the lecture I gave at the start lol). Meaning, it would be kind of weird if Zeus wasn’t a womanizer. That’s what we expect of him, so changing that would likewise change one of the most fundamental aspects of what makes Zeus-Zeus in the general public’s perception of him. But we still have scenes of Hera and others calling him out on that shit, so it’s a balance between modern sensibilities and character expectations. 

The characters overall are just wonderfully complex. Persephone doesn’t seem so at first glance, but that’s partly the point: she’s nothing like what everyone assumes she is and it’s those assumptions that she’s learning to push back against. But overall Smythe has a real knack for emphasizing the human (or god) complexity. We hate Eros for helping Aphrodite punish Persephone. Then we feel bad for him because of his sob story. Then we pull back because he’s called out for being a dick and making himself look like the victim. Then we come to the realization that his side of the story was still accurate in many ways and finally end on… he’s flawed. He’s just a flawed person. He’s not a saint. He’s not the devil. He’s a guy who screwed up one moment and did something good the next. Perhaps it’s just me coming out of the nonsense that was Volume 7 of RWBY, but it’s refreshing to read a story where that complexity is emphasized and (most) flaws are forgiven while still being acknowledged. 

Overall I just find it to be a fun, entertaining story! lol. The artwork is beautiful. The humor is great. There’s a nice balance between plot and introspection. There are issues with the series, sure, but none thus far have kept me from enjoying the experience of reading it. I fully support anyone’s right to go, “Nope. Not for me.” For any reason. But I also feel like Lore Olympus is a good example of Tumblr’s recent emphasis on pure media: it must be PERFECT. Otherwise chuck it in the bin. Lore Olympus does a lot of the things that people on this site call for. Respectful depictions of assault. Emphasis on mental health. Storytelling from a woman’s perspective. Numerous types of woman characters. Being careful about who engages with sensitive material and how (each chapter that contains such issues has a trigger warning at the start, impossible to miss). Lore Olympus does a lot right… and some things wrong. Which is what we would expect of any good story. So it feels disingenuous of me—if not outright dangerous—to paint it as worse than I actually think it is. I want media to continue to improve, but I also don’t want to scare off authors from even trying because they were raked across the coals for not creating perfection. Smythe, to my mind, is definitely trying and that should be acknowledged. 

[luvshuas]

no strings attached

pairing - wonwoo x reader

tags - friends w/ benefits + love/hate dynamic + fluff + angst

synopsis - you hated wonwoo as much as he seemed to hate you, but how long could you keep an intimate relationship with someone you’re supposed to hate without some feelings forming?

word count - 3.9k

©

You groaned at the feeling of Wonwoo’s cold feet pressing against your calves. He always did this, and it never failed to irritate  you. You turned on your side to face him — though you were met by his exposed back. “Hey,” you pushed him lightly. “Get your cold ass feet on your side.” You pulled your legs closer to yourself, but they were just followed by Wonwoo’s. It was far too early for his teasing, you decided, pushing back his feet with your own. Wonwoo took your retaliation as a challenge, and in no time he was facing you with his limbs entangled in your own. He pulled you flush against his chest, which was still bare from the night prior.

“Let go.” You whined, pinching the skin at his stomach. Your attempts at escape were proven successful as Wonwoo tried pushing you, and your pinching fingers, away from him. He winced as you pinched him once more before rolling out of the mess of blankets covering your bed. You sat up at the edge of your bed, scanning the floor for a robe or anything that could be used to cover yourself.

“What are you looking for?” He asked, sitting up. The sunlight peeking through your curtains speckled your back in dots of light and shadow. Wonwoo found himself wanting to reach out to trace the pattern splashed across your skin, but your movement from the bed to the corner of your room stopped him. He watched you grab a sweater off the chair and pull it over your head.

“Get dressed and go home.” You said. You walked to the bedroom door, barely sparing him a glance before disappearing through the frame. “Unless you want me to force you to clean my apartment!” You yelled from who knows where. Wonwoo rolled his eyes. He expected you to kick him out, but he didn’t expect it to be within moments of waking up. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Your first night with him you had tried kicking him out immediately after cleaning yourself up, and every time after that you barely let him stay till morning.

Wonwoo made his way around your bedroom, picking up his scattered articles of clothing and donning them as he goes. Within a few minutes he was at your door, slipping his feet into his shoes. “Wanna at least give me money for an Uber?” He asked, turning away from the door to look at you.

“You’re apartment is two blocks away. Just walk.” You mumbled from your place on your couch. You heard Wonwoo grumble a string of profanities, though you couldn’t catch exactly what he said. “Go across the hall to ask if Joshua will drive you since you’re so lazy.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything as he slammed your front door shut. It amazed him how a singular person could be so infuriating. It also amazed him how he could never get enough of you. Maybe it was the way you moaned his name instead of nagging at him for those few hours. That’s when he liked you best. Silently, he leaned against your door. After a few seconds he knocked on Joshua’s door, hoping your neighbor would agree to give him a ride.

You stayed nearly frozen in your spot on the couch, only moving to brush your fingers through your hair. You hated kicking Wonwoo out, but you saw it as a necessity. The mornings after always left you conflicted, and Wonwoo being in the same room as you wouldn’t make it any easier to sort out your feelings. Perhaps the way you kicked him out was a bit harsh, but that’s just how it had to be. He was an annoyance. An annoyance that you just so happened to like kissing.

You knew Wonwoo only liked you when you could do something for him, and that’s how you should feel about him as well. He was, to put it bluntly, nothing more than a fuck buddy. A fuck buddy that just so happened to make you question your feelings. Sometimes you let your mind wander into little scenarios where you and Wonwoo didn’t have the relationship — if you could even call it that — you had now. Maybe you’d be friends, or lovers. You never let yourself think too much about it.

Sighing, you reached for your phone, instead finding you had left it in your room. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t have had to return there, but you found the best way to cure your morning after mood was through meaningless flirting with anyone who happened to match you on a dating app. You always made it a point to stop flirting whenever you felt it would lead to a date or a hookup. You could never understand why being intimate with someone else, or even agreeing to go on a date, felt like you were going being Wonwoo’s back and cheating. You weren’t in a relationship, and, hell, you didn’t even know if he felt the same sense of loyalty to you. You didn’t want to understand either. Your relationship with Wonwoo — whatever that may be — was something you wouldn’t tolerate losing; even if you wished to run him over majority of the time you were around him.

____

As nights grew longer and the days grew shorter, Wonwoo found himself ending up in your bed more often. You always let him into your apartment when the quick knocks at your front door echoed through your home. Having been with him for so long, you had grown used to him becoming needier once the weather changed. You didn’t mind the extra warmth, especially when the temperature drops below freezing. The sturdy feeling of his arm holding you against him was nice when it came to helping you fall asleep.

Along with Wonwoo’s growing neediness, you felt yourself becoming bolder. Showing up to Wonwoo’s apartment was something neither you nor him were used to. For years it had always been him calling, texting, or simply knocking on your door, but when he found you standing on the other side of his door, he wasn’t disappointed.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, hurrying you inside. It had been snowing throughout the day, and he wasn’t interested in dealing with a case of frostbite. Wonwoo helped you out of your jacket while you unlaced your shoes to leave by the door. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing there. You just wanted to be with someone, and the next thing you knew you were standing in front of his apartment door. You could’ve gone across the hall to Joshua, seeing as you weren’t seeking sex, but you still ended up at Wonwoo’s place.

“I...I just didn’t want to be alone.” You mumbled, the sense of boldness you had prior quickly leaving you. Wonwoo stared at you for a while, his expression told you nothing of what he felt. You hated that about him. He never showed what he was thinking, leaving you to do nothing but wonder if this was a good idea or if he was deciding on how to kick you out. You expected the latter.

“Alright,” he relented, not seeing any reason to turn you away. “I’m kicking you out in the morning though so you can get a taste of your own medicine.” You felt an odd desire to laugh, but you held back. Nodding, you walked further into the apartment. You’d only been there a handful of times, but the decor never changed. That’s another thing you hated about Wonwoo. He never allowed for change in his life. When it came to him, everything had a designated place and color and role. Nothing was swapped out. Not even you.

“Have you eaten?” You asked. As if on cue, Wonwoo’s stomach growled. He smiled sheepishly, placing his hands over his stomach. “I guess not. I’ll make something as a, like, thank you for letting me stay over.” You moved towards his kitchen. You had no clue what you were going to make, or if he even had anything to cook with in his home. You assumed he did since Wonwoo had always been strict with what he eats.

Wonwoo sat atop one of the bar stools, watching, and occasionally directing you to where certain utensils were located. You worked in silence, the confidence you had earlier when you knocked on his door had been quick to dissolve. “Are you sure you can cook? You’ve been staring at the inside of my fridge for awhile.” Wonwoo asked. He hadn’t noticed he was hungry until you mentioned it, and now it was all that he could think about.

Sighing, you turned to him. “Yes, I’m sure, but you have nothing that I can work with.” You nudged the door shut to prevent the cold air from leaking out — despite having been stood in front of it with the door open for a lengthy period of time. Wonwoo stood up from the bar stool and left to the living room. You thought about following him, but you didn’t want to seem like a lost puppy. Besides, it didn’t take him very long to come back with a few paper menus in hand.

“Look through these and tell me what you want. I’m too hungry to wait for you to make something.” He said, tossing the small stack onto the counter. You sifted through the options for a few minutes before making your choice. You slid the chosen menu across the counter to Wonwoo, who inspected it to choose what he would order. “Alright, write down on a piece of paper what you want before I go into the other room to order.” You nodded, quickly finding something to write with and a piece of paper.

Once the food was ordered, it didn’t take very long to arrive. You had been sitting on the couch, watching whatever holiday movie was showing when Wonwoo rushed off to answer the door. The fresh, warm smell of food drifted into the apartment. By the time Wonwoo returned to you with two bags in hand, your mouth was practically watering.

“I hate you for never telling me food that smells this good was so close your house.” You said, standing from the couch to pull one of the bags from Wonwoo’s arms. You set the freed bag onto the coffee table, quickly pulling out plastic containers. Wonwoo shrugged, following suit.

“Because I don’t want you coming over to my place all the time.” His tone was teasing, but you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking it. You wondered if he really didn’t want you to seek him out; if he would rather just show up to your apartment for sex and then leave.

“Maybe I’ll just go to Joshua next time.” You mumbled quietly. Wonwoo looked at you, surprised to hear your neighbor’s name being brought into the conversation. You had never been one to mention other people in conversations between the two of you. As much as you annoyed him, he didn’t like the idea of you going to someone else’s house.

“Shut up and eat.” He said, turning his attention back to the plastic container in front of him. You didn’t say anything more, opting to listen and start eating. You added this conversation to the list of things you hated about Wonwoo.

____

Despite your overthinking, you began to see Wonwoo more often, whether it be him showing up at your apartment or you at his. A part of you enjoyed it — seeing as you got pleasure and company from it — while another part hated it. You began spending more time on dating apps. Thought it was a weak attempt to get him out of your mind, it still worked.

If Joshua knew about your ‘relationship’ (you still had no clue what you could call it) with Wonwoo, he hid it really well. Especially when he suggested you go on a blind date with one of his friends. When he brought it up you were prepared to shut the idea down, but you hesitated. Joshua took notice of your hesitation, and began smiling. It took him no more than five minutes to give you his friend’s name and contact information, as well as a text to said friend to set up a date. It was interesting how quickly your neighbor got what he wanted.

When Mingyu, Joshua’s friend, rang your doorbell, you expected it to be Wonwoo. Though you were the opposite of disappointed to find the tall, smiling boy holding out a small bouquet of flowers to you. “Hey, I’m here to pick you up for our date.” He said. Happiness seemed to radiate off of him, and his smile was absolutely infectious.

“Yeah! I was wondering if you ditched me,” you said teasingly. “Let me grab my bag, and then we can be on our way.” Mingyu held the door open as you went in search of your bag. His eyes wandered around your apartment until they landed on a sweatshirt laying across the arm of your couch. He wanted to go over and inspect it, but you hadn’t invited him into your apartment. Mingyu’s manners had won out over his curiosity.

When he heard the jingle of your keys as you walked back into the front room, his face brightened up to the same expression he had earlier. “Ready? I was thinking we could go to a little cafe by the park.”

“The one that just opened a few weeks ago? I’ve been meaning to go to it.” You said, nodding. You exited your apartment, locked the door, and continued down the hall towards the elevator with Mingyu. You listened to him talk, occasionally interrupting to give your opinion or thoughts. It surprised you how easy it was for Mingyu to talk, and how much you liked listening to him. Maybe Joshua didn’t do too bad with this blind date.

Exiting the apartment building, you caught a glimpse of Wonwoo crossing the street. It was too early in the day for him to be visiting you, but he also had friends in your apartment building. That’s how you had met him in the first place. Through mutual friends.

You grabbed onto Mingyu’s hand, pulling him along as you walked faster. “Woah, is everything ok?” He asked, worried that you saw something. He might’ve just met you, but he was ready to confront anything that caused you to look so worried.

“No, no, no. Everything’s fine! I just thought I felt raindrops!” You laughed awkwardly, slowing down. Mingyu looked up at the sky — which was as clear and free of raindrops as the weather predicted. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe your excuse, but he decided not to push it. If you felt comfortable, you would tell him on your own.

Mingyu kept your hand in his, “Then let’s get inside the cafe before you dissolve.” He said, allowing you to continue pulling him along. You couldn’t fight back the smile that stretched across your face; there was just something about Mingyu that made his happiness spread into anyone he comes in contact with.

You didn’t risk looking back to see if Wonwoo spotted you. But he did. From the corner of the street, he watched you walk hand in hand with Mingyu towards the cafe by the park. He didn’t feel hurt seeing you with another guy, just bitter. Bitter because why would you need to be with some other guy when you had him, but he knew you didn’t really have him. The same way he, apparently, didn’t have you.

With his plans to grab his sweatshirt from your apartment out the window, Wonwoo figured he could stop by at Joshua’s apartment. He told himself he wasn’t going to ask about you, just to check in on his long-time friend. He knew he’d still ask about you, and so did Joshua when he greeted Wonwoo at his front door.

Wonwoo found out you were on a date with a boy — Kim Mingyu — fairly quickly. He had barely gotten two sentences out before Joshua told him what you were doing  and where you were going, and in no time Wonwoo was heading in that direction as well. He had no clue what he was gonna do when he got there. You weren’t exclusively in a relationship with him, but you had him to take you on cafe dates, so why would you need some other boy to do that? All you had to do was ask him, but he knew you wouldn’t. Wonwoo hated that about you.

You were seated in front of Mingyu with a warm drink and a vanilla pound cake when Wonwoo walked through the cafe doors. He didn’t acknowledge you at first, wanting to seem like he just happened to show up out of the blue and definitely not because you were there. Wonwoo ordered a small coffee once he was up at the register. Coffee in hand, he turned to leave, and, consequently, make eye contact with you.

“Hey, sweetheart. I was looking for you! I stopped by your apartment to grab my sweatshirt, but Joshua told me you were catching up with a friend.” Wonwoo said, making his way to the table you were seated at. You stared at him in shock before looking back at Mingyu.

“Mingyu, listen-” You began to try to explain, but Wonwoo moved to wrap an arm around you. He bitterly smiled at Mingyu, hoping that would he catch the glint in Wonwoo’s eyes telling him to get lost. Mingyu definitely got it.

“Hey, no worries. It was great seeing you! You and your boyfriend can have the rest of the cake.” Mingyu said, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair as he stood up. You smiled at Mingyu apologetically as he left the cafe. Turning to Wonwoo, your expression immediately changed.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You asked, pushing his arm off you. Wonwoo avoided eye contact. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he gained a feeling of satisfaction from being recognized as your boyfriend. “Now I have to text Mingyu and explain to him that you’re just a dumbass.”

“Or you let him believe I’m your boyfriend.” Wonwoo said, finally looking at you. You stared at him silently for awhile. You were never sure what you could call your ‘relationship’ with Wonwoo. You wouldn’t consider him a friend. He was definitely something more than that, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. And now here he is telling people he is your boyfriend. You hated how confusing he was.

“You want me to ruin my chances with a nice boy for you? Because what? You don’t like the idea of finding a new fuck buddy?” You said. You kept your voice barely above a whisper, but you felt like the whole cafe could hear every word you were saying.

“Why would you need him when you have me? You have me to take you to cafes. You have me to hold your hand. You shouldn’t need whoever that guy is.” Wonwoo folded his arms over his chest. Of course, you wouldn’t need someone else to do those things with you, but Wonwoo wasn’t yours to fall for.

“We’re not together, Wonwoo. That’s why.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you got up from your chair. Wonwoo watched you walk out of the cafe and towards the direction of your apartment. Maybe he shouldn’t have said all of that, but it felt good to say that. At least you would have some idea of what he felt.

____

Wonwoo had expected you would start avoiding him. You had always been one to avoid confrontation, and seeing Wonwoo would definitely lead to a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to have. So his texts were left unopened, his calls sent to voicemail, and the knocks at your door ignored.

After your failed date with Mingyu, you had tried to call him to explain everything, but he would just tell you he didn’t want to get in between you and Wonwoo. Despite there being no ‘you and Wonwoo’. There was just you and then there was just Wonwoo. Wonwoo who said he was your boyfriend. Wonwoo who said he’ll hold your hand. Wonwoo who makes you hate all the conflicting emotions that go through your head anytime you think about him.

After nearly a month, Wonwoo stopped leaving texts or calling. He hoped you would come to him on your own, but you continued to stay away from him. A sense of panic that he was losing you settled in him, and in one last chance to reconstruct what he had with you, he knocked on your apartment door again.

You weren’t in your apartment when Wonwoo knocked. But he waited. He waited until he saw you walking down the hall with a cluster of bags hanging on your arms. “Let me help you!” He said, rushing down to meet you. You allowed him to relieve some of the bags from your arms, but you still refused to look at him. You didn’t know what would happen if you looked at him.

Wonwoo followed you down the hall and into your apartment. He set the bags he took from you on one of the counters in your kitchen. He watched you silently put everything away. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. This was the first time he’d seen you in weeks, and all he could do was stare at you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, breaking the silence. You could feel Wonwoo’s eyes staring a hole into you. You didn’t like it.

“I want a restart,” he mumbled, looking away from you. “To back to how things were before.” You stood still, listening to him. You wanted a restart as well, but you couldn’t get one. Everything had already been said and done. Wonwoo had worked himself farther into your heart, and there was no going back from that.

“Why? I’m sure you can find someone else who would be more than willing to hop into bed with you.” Your tone was sharp, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had convinced yourself he was just there to apologize and get you back underneath him.

“Can you stop with that? You make it seem like the only thing between us is sex. I don’t want you holding hands with someone else or going on dates with someone else. I want to be the one to do that with you.” Wonwoo said. His voice seemed to project more as he continued talking.

“Get to the point.”

Wonwoo inhaled sharply. This wasn’t how he expected this to go. “I don’t want one person to think I’m your boyfriend. I want everyone to know I’m your boyfriend.”

You considered it for a moment. This was what you had wanted deep down, so why did it feel too rushed. Maybe the timing and mood wasn’t right. “Ok,” you mumbled. “You can get one more life, but after this it’s game over.”

Wonwoo felt the weight pushing on his chest disappear. You were giving him a chance, and he was determined not to let anything ruin that chance. Your relationship would no longer be a vague thing that neither of you could determine, but something real. This time you would be his, and he would be yours. No strings attached.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.7.4 “Forms Assumed By Suffering During Sleep”

Oh man this one’s long too, I’m sorry. I accidentally found a secondary source and now I have even more to say. I did have a lot of fun with this chapter though.

While looking up Antoine Albin de Romainville from the last chapter to see if that was a reference to something (it’s not), I accidentally found this essay, Jean Valjean’s Nightmare: Rehabilitation and Redemption in Les Miserables by professor Michael H. Hoffheimer. I’m going to write my own thoughts/impressions of the nightmare but I’ll also add in stuff that I think is cool/important from the essay. I’m just going to pick and choose bits because this essay has a lot of really cool things in it but I don’t really want to just summarize the whole thing in this post.

“This dream, like most dreams, bore no relation to the situation beyond its mournful poignant character, but it made an impression on him.” This sentence reminds me of Hugo’s tendency to say “this is not that important” or “we won’t spend long on this,” before spending a long time on something. Basically, Hugo says it bore no relation to the situation, which is a big alarm saying “but it’s very important to the establishment of what’s going on in Valjean’s subconscious!”

“It is one of the papers in his own handwriting that he left behind. We think we should copy it here word for word.” Again, another weird signal. Hugo doesn’t really break the fourth wall very much in this way. I often forget that he’s writing like a sort of historian of these characters rather than a regular narrator, and then a passage like this pops up. So I think this being written in Valjean’s own hand is important in a similar way.

Hoffheimer points out that written text documents in Les Miserables often signal an important change of events. He also points out that this is the only document in the entire novel that is written by Jean Valjean himself. He says “Transcribing the document reduces the narrator to the role of passive compiler who sheds omniscient access to Jean Valjean’s thoughts and acquires understanding of the dream’s content only by virtue of possessing Jean Valjean’s papers.“ Which I both agree and disagree with. I think that Hugo’s narration of Valjean is different from all other characters in the novel. Despite Valjean essentially being the true “main character,” Hugo often stays distant from Valjean’s true feelings. He will either tell us what Valjean is thinking but not what he’s feeling, or vice versa. It’s only in moments of intense distress, like these past 5 hours of pacing, that he allows us and himself access to both Valjean’s thoughts and intense emotions at the same time. Even when he tells us what Valjean is feeling, it seems a little more objective. I think what really makes me think this is Valjean’s monologues to Marius alone and then to Marius and Cosette at the end of the novel. Narrator-Hugo venerates Valjean, in a way, so that even when he’s describing how Valjean feels about himself, there’s a degree of sympathy and respect in the words. This is contrasted quite intensely with Valjean’s verbal descriptions of his own feelings about himself and his past, which are full of a level of guilt and self-loathing and negativity that we don’t get from Hugo’s narration of the same events. So I disagree (mildly) that the document places Hugo into the role of passive compiler without omniscience, because I think narrator-Hugo does that to himself throughout the entire novel. The description of Javert’s mental turmoil at the end of the novel is far more intense and viscerally described even than the turmoil we just witnessed Valjean going through. We know that Hugo has the capacity to delve deeply into Valjean’s psyche, to show us how he truly thinks of himself, but there’s always that moment of pulling back, of respect due to Valjean’s Goodness that Javert is not afforded in the end, and that is only exposed when Valjean gets the chance to talk about himself to others.

Something I’ve realized, after having read Les Mis and now also having read Last Day Of A Condemned Man, is that Hugo is incredibly good at writing nightmares. He should have written a dreamlike horror novel because every time he writes a character having a dream, it’s so intense. I’d love to see a short film portrayal of this dream.

This is the first time we learn Valjean had a brother. We know about his sister, with whom he lived. But when he was introduced back in 1.2.6, there is only mention of his parents and his older sister. This phantom-brother that we know nothing about and Valjean doesn’t elaborate on kind of reminds me of the way that religious figures call others “brother,” so I wonder if this brother is a kind of everyman for Valjean, either Champmathieu or the population of M-sur-M or both. This would make sense later on, when the brother disappears when Valjean steps into the weird empty road (which Hapgood translates creepily as a “hollow road”), since no matter what action Valjean takes, either Champmathieu or M-sur-M is going to vanish. Hoffheimer mentions that one of his other sources (Jean Gaudon) thinks that this dream-brother refers to Hugo’s life rather than Jean Valjean. Hugo’s brother Eugene was schizophrenic and spent most of his adult life in a mental institution. Hoffheimer also points out that a) Valjean could be interpreting Champmathieu as a lost dream-brother due to their resemblance both physically and geographically, and b) that long-lost-siblings are a theme in the Brick, with Gavroche unknowingly taking in his two brothers, as well as, in my opinion, Eponine and Cosette (who you could interpret as foster-siblings in childhood) encountering each other briefly in 3.8.8. Hoffheimer posits that the forgotten brother is another shade of a larger theme within the novel of child abandonment.

“Even while we talked, we felt cold because of that open window.” This is such an interesting passage because Valjean and his brother are presumably outside, walking, and yet it is because of the open window and not the wind or outdoors itself that they feel cold. It isn’t even necessarily the window itself that’s making them cold, but the thought of the window.

“He was entirely naked, ashen-colored, riding a horse the color of earth. The man was hairless; we saw his skull and the veins in his skull. He was holding a stick that was limber, like a twig of grape vine, and heavy as iron.” All of the other men that Valjean sees in this dream are earthen-colored, except this naked man who is the color of ash. He’s also the only one who has visible veins, a sign of life. He’s also the only one seen using a non-pedestrian mode of transportation, but the horse is still earthen-colored. I have no idea if this interpretation is anything at all, but I’ve just had a flash of a thought. It makes me wonder if this is actually Valjean, as he, like Dante, is the only living being in this dream. Here, he’s a living being stripped of both of his identities (he is not Valjean right now because Champmathieu is Valjean, and he can’t fully be Madeleine right now because of his awareness of what will happen to him morally if he decides to turn his back on Champmathieu), ashen-colored to match the items and identity he burned in the fire, being borne by a horse (Scaufflaire’s horse and tilbury and/or the potential death of another victim of society), holding a baton-like weapon of authority that exists in a liminal space of usefulness. It’s heavy like iron, but supple and limp and you wouldn’t really be able to beat someone with it. The only authority Valjean will have in the court at Arras is his word; even his word exists in a liminal space, since he has power and authority speaking as Madeleine but none while speaking as Valjean, and his identity in between falling asleep and arriving at Arras is trapped in this liminal existence of being neither person.

Hoffheimer says that one of his sources (Anne Ubersfeld) interprets the open window and the naked rider holding a limp-but-heavy stick as vaginal and phallic symbolism, respectively. He doesn’t really go beyond mentioning the existence of that interpretation, but honestly the pairing of the two made me go in a totally different direction. This open window could easily by a metaphor for the prospect of freedom, while the stick, heavy but limp like a chain, is a metaphor for its opposite: prison, the chain gang, labor for life.

“All was earth colored, even the sky.” This specifically reminded me of 1.2.8, when Hugo describes the “two infinities together, the ocean and the sky, the one a tomb, the other a shroud.” The sea and the sky are blended together into one singular color, one singular entity in that chapter. Here, it is the earth and the sky that are blended together. Hoffheimer points out that everything and everyone in this dream is earth-colored and lifeless, and at the end of the dream, it is revealed to be the world of the dead. This is so weirdly different from the dynamic nature of the sea-night world of prison that Hugo describes in 1.2.8. It’s weird choice because Hugo usually goes to water for imagery of both death and society (the sea-night of prison in 1.2.8, imagery from the Waterloo digression, the sewers, Javert’s suicide leap into the Seine). What’s interesting to me is that the water-imagery is all “real life,” even the imagery in 1.2.8, to some extent, since the prison is a galley ship. But Valjean’s unreal dream death-world isn’t water but its opposite, a totally hollow, silent earth. (Also, it reminds me of Hugo’s description of the dirt-covered cart in front of the Thenardier inn in 1.4.1.)

Valjean enters the village and assumes it’s Romainville. This seems to be real life details bleeding into his subconscious. But what’s interesting to me is that the only details that are identifiable as “from real life” are two people who are likely nearly vanished from Valjean’s memory: his brother and the neighbor woman, and the name of a town outside Paris that he has only vague knowledge of. None of these things seem immediately significant in any way to Valjean’s current dilemma. (The Hoffheimer essay also has a footnote that says that Romainville is mentioned later in the novel in 3.1.5 as one of the towns just outside of Paris where the universe stops existing for the Paris gamin population.)

(The Hoffheimer essay basically stops here and doesn’t really go into the nitty gritty of the rest of the dream.)

His entrance into the village, deserted but with open doors, feels to me like a twisted, surrealist dream-interpretation of Valjean’s entrance into Digne. Except when Valjean entered Digne, the town was “deserted” to him because no one would take him in, despite their being someone behind each door to answer when he knocked at them. In the dream, he’s able to enter any house, since all the doors are open, but there is still a man behind each one, though they do not interact or seem dangerous until Valjean leaves the town.

The layout of the house reminds me of the layout of Valjean’s experience of the Bishop’s house after he wakes in the middle of the night. The oratory where Valjean slept, the bishop’s room, and the garden. After waking, Valjean never enters the dining room. He goes from the oratory into the bishop’s room, and then back into the oratory and out the window into the garden.

It’s interesting to note that the first room Valjean enters is deserted, but after that, “behind every turn of a wall, behind every door, behind everything, there was a man standing in silence.”

“Only one could ever be seen at a time.” This again seems to reflect his identity dilemma: he cannot be both Valjean and Madeleine at the same time. He--and society--can only see one man at a time. There’s no way to reconcile between the two because they are in such drastically different places in society.

“They did not seem to be hurrying, and yet they walked faster than I. They made no sound as they walked. Suddenly, this crowd came up and surrounded me.” My immediate thought was that this crowd is society, catching up to and surrounding Valjean the same way that the ocean is a “populace of waves” aka society overtaking the drowning man in 1.2.8. But I wonder if instead, this is not society, but Life Sentence. Valjean knows that if he reveals his identity, he will be sentenced to life imprisonment. "The sea is the inexorable night into which the penal code casts its victims.” But this earthen, deadened, strange-headed crowd and the silent dirt-colored earth and sky, aren’t able to be fought like drowning. When you get a Life Sentence, you know that there is absolutely zero chance of returning to society, returning to the world, and having someone remember you. You are dead as soon as the sentence is pronounced. There is zero hope, zero chances, no chance that your memory will live on, there’s just emptiness. Every person in prison has different sentence lengths, they’re all trying to keep treading water until their sentence runs out or they can somehow thrash their way to the shore and escape. But everyone with a life sentence knows how long they’re gonna be there. The crowd isn’t society or the penal code drowning Valjean, the crowd is all the other life sentence prisoners, telling Valjean what he knows already. That as soon as that sentence is pronounced, he’s already dead.

“Where are you going? Don’t you know you’ve been dead for a long time?” Valjean, upon burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine, essentially buried Jean Valjean. As long as he was living as Madeleine, he was also dead as Jean Valjean (and later, after the Orion, he will again be dead as Jean Valjean) which means that allowing Champmathieu to take his punishment for him isn’t re-killing Valjean, who is already a dead man, but killing a different human being. Valjean sheds and creates so many different identities throughout the book, but the only one he ever drags along with him is the carcass of his original self, Jean Valjean.

My mental image of this dream passage is so vivid, I wish I could somehow create it in real life. I imagine the entire thing is silent and muffled except the sound of Valjean’s weird dream-footsteps. And for some reason, of all the lines, “their heads were strange” is the one that’s most unsettling to me. Everything else is described in a fairly detailed way, but “their heads were strange” is so hauntingly vague.

(Side note: I don’t know who else doing Brick Club has read House Of Leaves, but this entire dream-passage reminds me of House Of Leaves. Especially the “Why Romainville?” aside, which is probably the most unusual phrase in the entire book, since Hugo doesn’t really use unanswered annotative asides like this anywhere else. That and the strange heads are the most unsettling parts for me, like the moment in HoL when Johnny finds the braille papers in the fridge.)

Also, I find it interesting that Valjean writes this dream down, but neither he nor narrator-Hugo actually attempt to dissect it or interpret it. Valjean writes his dream down, keeps the paper with him his whole life, and yet we don’t get him or Hugo telling us what they think it means. (I was really excited when I read the Hoffheimer essay and he pointed this out too!) The dream just floats there in the middle of the chapter as this moment of totally different, surrealist imagery, without heavy-handed metaphor. Because we always joke about how Hugo writes this brilliant and beautiful (if heavy-handed) metaphorical passages, and then supplements them with a giant blinking neon sign saying “Explanation Below!” But this is a metaphorical passage that doesn’t get that treatment.

The entire exchange between the old woman and Valjean about the tilbury reminds me so much of the exchange between Valjean and Petite Gervais. In both instances, Valjean and the other character are separated, by bushes and by the door, respectively. In both instances, Valjean is in a sort of strange trance, and the conversation is stilted and weird because of this. We get the parallel “What is your name?”/“Who is it?” question, followed by a moment of confusion. With Petit Gervais, the confusion and trance are manifested in Valjean’s silence and fixed stare at the ground. With the old concierge, it’s manifested by questions about the tilbury that he should know the answer to, but the trance means that he’s not remembering the instructions he had given just a few hours prior. Then comes a moment of realization, “Ah! You’re still here!” in reaction to coming back to awareness in the Petit Gervais scene and “Oh, yes! Monsieur Scaufflaire!” in the scene with the concierge. Petit Gervais can see Valjean, and his countenance scares him; the concierge cannot see him because they’re separated by a door, but Hugo says that “if the old woman had seen him at that moment she would have been frightened.” But Valjean makes different choices at this point in the paralleling scenes. Valjean tells Petit Gervais “You’d better get moving!” and stands up, frightening him so he runs away. After the realization of what he’s done, he runs after Petit Gervais, but it’s far too late. Here, Valjean seems close to sending the tilbury away, but instead he says “Say I’m coming down.” This time, it won’t be too late to right a wrong done.

And, more Dante references, although honestly they probably belonged back in the Scaufflaire chapter, but I didn’t notice until now. I wondered if the “two stars” thing might have a parallel in Canto III, so I looked, and it doesn’t, but I found something else instead. In 1.7.2, Scaufflaire says that in order for his horse to travel 60 miles in a day, Valjean cannot take a chaise, which would be too heavy; he must take a lighter tilbury. In Canto III, Charon looks at Dante, who is the only living being on the shores of Acheron, and says “By other windings and by other steerage/shall you cross to that other shore! Not here! Not here!/A lighter craft than mine must give you passage.” These are not direct parallels, but I think that it’s an interesting similarity, the insistence on lightness of craft. Scaufflaire is only Acheron insofar as he gives Valjean the tilbury in order to go to Arras, but I think it still fits.

[eirenare]

Okay, soooo *rubs hands together* Now that I have the TLJ junior novelization, let's get to something very important:

it reveals the origin of the “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”

First of all, I have to say that I found out that reveal accidentally little ago before getting the novelization, thanks to this lovely Reylo art post over here , and it totally hyped me up (and made me cackle because I was writing a highly speculative fic piece that could kinda fit with this)

For those who don’t know, both in the TFA junior and non-junior novelizations, when Rey touches (or gets close to it, depending on the version) the legacy lightsaber and she sees the vision, what we see in the movie isn’t 100% what happens in the novelizations: in the books she also hears a familiar voice, described in interesting ways, telling her “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”, among some other changes

The TFA non-junior novelization has this, and the TFA junior novelization describes it too, but it also has minimum another moment where Rey thinks of this (I haven’t fully read the novels for now, so there might be more I’m unaware of as of now)

And this is where TLJ makes things interesting: there’s no mention of this in the movie, just like in TFA, and as far as I’ve read on the TLJ non-junior novelization there’s no mention there either—but the junior TLJ novelization has, at least, FOUR scenes where these phrases and Rey’s past appear

Sounds interesting? Well... buckle up guys, because this is going to be long (like... very long, because there are lots of paragraphs from the novelization, and then some discussion/speculation/theorizing) and it’s gonna end up in much feels for Rey (also, I’ll highlight some important or curious things):

CHAPTER 7

“The island was haunted. Rey was sure of it.

She stood outside Luke’s hut and watched the fog roll across the village. The haze was thick and held an eerie pre-dawn glow. She had the vague impression that something lurked within those mists. Specters whispering secrets from a long-lost time.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The voice startled her. Those words were the same she had heard so many times in her drams on Jakku. Yet this was not Jakku. And looking around, she saw she stood alone.”

CHAPTER 10

“Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The star freighter’s hatch closed, and its engines warmed. Rey tried to run toward it, but Unkar Plutt’s meaty hands held her back. No amount of squirming or wriggling would release her. She was only a small human child, while Plutt was an overweight, overgrown Crolute.

“Come back!” Rey shrieked at the ship. “Come back!”

Her cries caused Plutt to squeeze her arm so tightly it hurt. But that pain did not compare with the heartbreak of watching the freighter lift off. The ship roared toward Jakku’s sun, never to come back as promised.

Rey woke to the sunlight of another world. Dawn streamed through the doorway of the hut in which she’d taken shelter to escape the night’s rain. Fortunately, the rain had ended, as had the nightmare of her parents abandoning her on Jakku.

She blinked and the afterimages of the bad dream faded away.”

CHAPTER 21

“She didn’t want to listen to him. She wanted him to stop the charade and return to Leia. But she also wanted to know.

“Let it go”, he said. “You know the truth. Say it.”

She knew only what she feared. And what she feared was the truth of the voice from her dreams—the dreams that had haunted her since the day her parents abandoned her on Jakku.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

That was not the voice of her mother or her father, as she had long convinced herself.

The voice was her own.

She had imagined that voice and repeated those words over and over as a child until they became part of her reality, even her dreams. They had helped her fall asleep on a hungry stomach and pushed her to persevere when the future seemed bleak. When the years went by and her parents never returned to take her back, she never gave up the hope that someday soon they would and the nightmare of her youth would be over.

It was a false hope.

Was that what Luke had tried to prompt her to confess in the library? The truth she had locked in her heart and had never let herself admit? The truth that her parents were not hardworking space merchants trying to scrape enough together to make a better life for their family?

“They were nobody”, Rey said at last.

“They were filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money”, Kylo Ren said, spitting out the words. “They’re dead in a pauper’s grave on Jakku, like all the other junk buried there.”

Rey hadn’t known those details, but she had no doubt what Kylo Ren said was true. Her whole life had been one giant lie of her own making, a castle of dreams and echoes that had no foundation.

She shook all over. She might have survived Snoke’s mental thrashing, but this self-admission could break her for good.

Ren stepped toward her. “You have no place in the story. You come from nothing. You are nothing.” His tone became tender. “But not to me.”

He deactivated the blade. “Join me. Please.” He held out his hand to her.

She looked at him, pale and ghostly in the starlight of the window. His request was sincere. He wanted to teach her. She could learn great power from him. He could help her attain her true potential in the Force. Her past didn’t matter. All that mattered was her place in the future.

Rey reached out to Ren. He smiled.

Their hands never met.

Rey could never join with him. Not as he stood before her now. For he, too, had tried to erase his past, reinventing himself in the mold of his grandfather. The difference was that he had lost hope in his parents, while she had kept hope in hers, however false, alive.

Perhaps that was the very meaning of hope. It seemed false until it happened.

And if she wanted to save Ben, she would have to stop Kylo Ren.”

CHAPTER 23

“Rey saw stars. And lights. And more stars.

But the stars in the viewport began to fade away, as did the lights on the console. Everything was fading—even the sound of her breathing—into a quiet, dark nothingness.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

Jarred by the voice, she sat bolt upright in the cockpit of Snoke’s private shuttle. Of course there was no one else in the ship. Those words were just an echo in her mind. Something she had repeated to herself to stay alive on Jakku. A truth about herself with which she had reconciled.

Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber.

— — —

"Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber”

The absolute  s e r v e

* “Sleeping Beauty” vibes intensify*

Also, the reflection about how her past doesn’t matter, but that her future does? All the while she’s considering joining Ben? The fact that she can’t stay by Ben’s side specifically then, as the situation was in that moment?

And the fact that Rey, at that exact point between after the revelation and before the battle of Crait, clearly thought she wanted to save Ben— I’m—

*cries in Reylo*

But well, going back to the main point of all this...

Yep. That was Rey’s own voice

Not Ben from the future, not her parents, no one but herself—trying to shield herself from the pain and the truth to walk forward. I have to say this surprised me, but it’s interesting and it has me full of feels for Rey

Now the thing is, translations can be very interesting... and whereas in English you can probably just assume that Rey is saying “come back!” in plural, in Spanish (Castilian) it gets more interesting because the “come back!” is in singular

Worth to note how Rey doesn’t doubt Ben at all, she fully believes him. And honestly, I don’t think he lied either. But... could Ben had been mislead on accident by what he saw? Could have he seen something that, while true, wasn’t the whole truth, so he had an incomplete view?

I mean, that happens constantly—and we know how visions can be tricky things (something that, in fact, Snoke thinks about for a good while during a certain chapter of the TLJ non-junior novelization)

Also, another thing worth to note is that the TLJ novelization (both the junior and non-junior ones) expands on what Ben tells her in the turbolift about her turning. Here’s the TLJ non-junior version text (Ben’s words don’t differ, but the non-junior highlights in cursive some words—which is why I chose it, except I’m going to highlight them in bold for better visibility), starting from when Rey reveals her vision of Ben’s future:

“When we touched I saw your future,” she told him. “Just the shape of it, but solid and clear. You will not bow before Snoke. You will turn—I’ll help you. I saw it. It’s your destiny.

She watched the emotions chase themselves across his face, echoed by jitters and spikes in the Force. Anger. Confusion. Pain. Loneliness. Longing. Sorrow.

Then he lifted his eyes to hers.

“You’re wrong”, Kylo said. “When we touched I saw something, too. Not your future—your past. And because of what I saw, I know that when the moment comes, you’ll be the one to turn. You’ll stand with me. Rey, I saw who your parents are.”

Rey stared at him, but there was no lie in Kylo’s eyes. And a terrifying realization bloomed in her mind: Kylo’s churning emotions weren’t just about himself. They were also about her.”

So, what Ben saw wasn’t a part of her future, but her past—and we know what Ben told Rey about her past, about her origins, but as I said: what if the picture was incomplete?

With incomplete I don’t mean that we would be getting Rey being related to someone important, nor inheriting powers—I do think there are ways for Rey to keep being a no one chosen as a “vessel” of the Force, to keep her origins humble, while making something really dramatic and shocking with her past

I mean, think of that... while Ben told Rey that her parents are dead and buried in a pauper’s grave in Jakku, Rey is shouting “come back!” in singular, so either the devil’s in the detail and the parents didn’t die at the same time, with one leaving Rey behind (or dying trying to do so *looks sideways at the theory of Rey accidentally killing her parents*), or after her parents died someone who could’ve taken her out of Jakku but didn’t (or couldn’t) do so

Regardless of what we see in TROS, though—reading Rey realize the truth behind those words is so sad. This woman needs: a hug

And it makes me sad too that we’re probably not going to see anything about it in the TROS movie because it hasn’t been mentioned in TFA or TLJ outside the books *sigh*

But well, if the TLJ novels adressed this when the TFA and TLJ movies didn’t, I think there’s a high chance that the TROS novelizations will do, too