#and all she has was that Meh nurse skin

[l-crimson-l]

Holy Fuck it’s a Percy Skin

[yougotthat-write]

United Front: Part One (Law & Order: SVU/NCIS Crossover, Rafael Barba x Reader)

Part One: A Case

Word Count: 7,200+

Warnings: Graphic description of assault, canon-typical violence, language, crossover between SVU and NCIS, can't think of any other warnings - please let me know of any.

Summary: With the rape and death of a high-level Naval intelligence officer in Manhattan, America’s two toughest crime solving teams must learn to work together. The 16th precinct is wary of the federal agents, but opinions need to be set aside for the greater good of the victim and the country. You might find yourself getting a little too comfortable with a certain prosecutor, but your training prepared you for that… right?

Author's Note: This has been in my Google Docs for months and I've been kind of meh about it. I guess I'm posting to see if people would like this. I'm someone who thrives on affirmation so, let me know what you think! Realistically, this would be a slow burn fic with the reader ending up with Rafael b/c... I love him.

Read on AO3 here!

***

Intensive Care Unit | Bellevue Hospital

Manhattan, New York

Monday November 13th

9:48 A.M.

The hospital had that off putting smell. That smell that would tell you it was constantly cleaned but it still would make people feel dirty or diseased if they sat in it for too long. Sergeant Odafin Tutuola and Detective Amanda Rollins made their way down the pristine white hallway and to the nurses station. Fin stepped to the nurse behind the desk, “You called about a woman? Mid-twenties? Possible rape?”

The Spanish looking woman looked up from the computer. She nodded over towards a man in scrubs, down the adjacent hallway, “Dr. Williams,” was all she said before she went back to typing up her notes from a patient who had just come down from a seizure.

Rollins led the way towards the doctor. Forefingers slipping into the back pockets of her jeans, she called for the doctor. The doctor stopped his conversation with another nurse, quickly giving her the important information before he stepped towards the blonde woman. “Yes,” He gave a closed lipped smile. “You’re Special Victims?”

“Rollins,” Fin nodded over at the blonde. “Tutuola.” He gestured to himself. The doctor introduced himself before leading them down a hallway and launched into why he called this specific department of the NYPD. A black woman had been found unconscious on the sidewalk just outside of Bellevue hospital. An incoming ambulance saw her on the ground. She looked like she was just thrown out like garbage. She was bleeding from her head. The large pool of blood made the paramedics believe she wasn’t alive until they found a weak pulse.

When they got her loaded onto a gurney and into the light of the hospital, did they finally notice how bad she looked. Her dress was torn and she had circular burns on her arms and legs. Blood soaked the bottom of her dress. Twin bruises were circling her eyes. The doctor stated how this was one of the worst things he’s ever seen. He was called in when they found the bleed in her brain after her CAT scan.

Dr. Williams was able to stop the bleeding but she would be kept in a coma for the time being and monitored closely. He ordered a nurse to do a full screening of the woman which included a rape kit. When the doctor was told of the brutality of her injuries, he knew he had to call S.V.U.

Stopping outside of a door, the doctor turned to the two agents. “There wasn’t any ID on her. She’s a Jane Doe for now. We’ll try to coax her out of the coma in the next few days. She frankly deserves the rest. Rape kit was sent out early this morning.” When his pager went off, the doctor told the two cops that he would keep them updated and they would be sure to know when she was conscious before he left them.

Amanda and Fin exchanged worried looks before pushing the door open to the room. The constant sound of beeping from machines filled their ears. In the bed, tucked under hospital covers was a woman. Skin a dark brown, tightly knotted braids framed around her face. She looked small in the bed, surrounded by machines but she was a decent five foot and seven inches. Her arms were toned and with the soft movement of her chest breathing, she seemed to be in decent shape physically. Like she regularly worked out.

Amanda stepped towards the sleeping woman. She made a sympathetic face as she looked at the burn marks. At least a dozen littered both of her arms. Even with her skin so deep in color, you could still make out the burns easily. Fin lifted the blanket at the foot of the bed. He and Rollins looked at the identical marks that covered the leg that was exposed to the cold hospital air.

“Liv is gonna need to hear about this.” Fin said, fixing the blanket. Amanda nodded as she pulled out her phone, taking pictures to send to her boss. “I’ll go get a copy of her records.”

Special Victims Unit | 16th Precinct

Manhattan, New York

Wednesday, November 15th

8:51 P.M.

Olivia Benson was silenced by the Chief. William Dodds' voice was stern, “Listen, I don’t like the idea of feds coming here as much as you but… it could be a matter of national security.”

“It’s a rape case. Our rape case.”

“But the rape happened for a reason, Benson.” Dodds said. “Rochelle Eshwatay was a high level navy intelligence officer and since she died from injuries, it’s now a murder case. It’s their job to look into this.” Benson didn’t say anything. “I expect NYPD’s S.V.U. team to be nothing but warm and welcoming. Barba will be there as well.” The click of the phone made Olivia make a face before setting it back onto the receiver.

Olivia didn’t mind helping out fellow cops but she was a highly sympathetic and empathetic person. Despite only speaking to Rochelle once when she awoke from her coma, Olivia wanted to do everything and anything in her power to find the person or persons who tortured, raped, and left Rochelle to die. Olivia felt even more anger boil when she found out Rochelle was in the Navy. Third generation . A person who put their life on the line only to be taken from this world by some cruel monster.

Olivia begrudgingly got up from her desk and out into the bullpen. Fin had his feet up on his desk, phone held to his ear as he tried to reschedule dinner with his son and his recently announced fiance. Amanda was in the small kitchen, cooing at Nick Amaro’s phone. He had just gotten back from D.C. He spent a week down there visiting his daughter and ex-wife. They had done a bunch of activities like going to the zoo and some museums.

Sonny Carisi was scowling at a laptop screen. While everyone else was taking a short break from the current case with Rochelle Eshwatay, Sonny was still trying to find some sort of connection. He was trying to see if any other cases - rape or murder or both - were done the same way as Rochelle. But whenever he came across something potential, he was locked out.

He didn’t have jurisdiction or the clearance for it.

When Amanda and Nick made their way back to the desks with fresh cups of coffee in their hands, Olivia cleared her throat. Fin looked over his shoulder at his captain, quickly setting his feet on the ground and muttering a "call you back later!” to his son. Carisi’s eyes flickered up over his computer screen which he then tilted down to get a better view of his captain.

Amanda and Nick settled into their chairs, looking at Olivia expectantly. Olivia shoved her hands into her blazer jacket. “I just got off the phone with Dodds-” Rollins rolled her eyes and Amaro made a noise of complaint. Sonny and Fin stayed quiet. “-the case is being handed over to the feds.”

“F.B.I.?” Fin asked.

Before Olivia could answer, Carisi shook his head. “Nah. N.C.I.S. would get it.” Olivia nodded.

“N.C.I.S.?” That was Amaro.

“Navy cops. Well, feds.” Carisi shrugged. Amanda looked over at the blond man. “ What? We’re cops. We should know how many different departments there are - local and federal.” His accent became more prominent as he went on, a pink tint on his cheeks.

Fin bit back his chuckle. Olivia spoke, “They’ll be here tomorrow. Dodds expects us to be good hosts and give them everything we know.” Olivia took a step closer to her squad. “I expect us to have copies.” Amanda nodded knowingly before opening her own laptop, powering up the small machine to get duplicates of all her files and everyone else’s onto a flash drive since feds were known to take original hard drives.

N.C.I.S. Headquarters

Washington, D.C.

Thursday, November 16th

7:45 A.M.

Exiting the elevator and making his way over to the bullpen, Tony DiNozzo glanced over the short cubicle wall to Ziva David. She had her phone up to her ear and she was stewing with anger. “No, no!” Her eyes slid over towards Tony, who slowed in his steps, ear pointed in the woman’s direction as her voice lowered to a whisper.

Tony’s own eyes slid from Ziva and over to Tim McGee, who sat on his desk, fingers tapping against his keyboard. Feeling the stare of Tony, Tim looked up at the older agent over his computer screen. Ziva’s hushed tone was rushed, turning away from both men. Her hand cupped around her mouth and the phone. “I booked the room weeks ago. I do not care if you have double booked it - I had it first!”

Tony made his way over to his own desk, dropping his backpack onto the carpet and settling into his chair. His elbows rested on the top of his desk, intertwining his fingers together and resting his chin atop of them. When Ziva glanced over at him, he flashed a smile. Tim rolled his eyes before going back to his typing.

“Where do you think Agent David has a fancy hotel room booked, McGoober?” Tim didn’t answer. “ Who do you think she’s sharing that room with?” That question was aimed more toward just Tony himself, but it made Ziva whip around to face him. Hand covering the phone she sneered.

“None of it is any of your business, Tony.”

Tony’s brows went up. “Hot mystery date?” Tony hummed. Ziva muttered a few more things before slamming the phone down onto the receiver.

Tim looked over at the woman. “Weekend getaway canceled?” Tony shifted towards Tim’s direction.

Ziva muttered a curse in Hebrew before saying, “Incompetent receptionist double booked our rooms and since we were not the first to book - they canceled!”

“Find another hotel?” Tim suggested.

“With the holiday coming up? It is no good.” Tony’s gaze flickered back and forth between the two.

“Why does McDork know about your plans?”

Ziva looked at Tony. A smirk grew on her face. “McGee suggested the place. Helped me plan. Along with Y/N. And Abby.” As Ziva listed off names, Tony’s mouth fell agape. He adjusted his suit jacket and cleared his throat.

“You don’t want my help?”

Ziva let out a chuckle. The elevator dinged and out stepped you. Backpack slung over your shoulder and shades covering your eyes from the bright lights of N.C.I.S. headquarters, you groaned when a passing agent knocked against you to catch the closing elevator. With the thoughts of Ziva’s getaway weekend being stored away for a moment, Tony found a new toy to play with: a hungover probie.

Tim’s own lips curved into a smile. Just because he wasn’t as annoying as Tony didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy hazing the newest addition to the team. “Probie– ” Tony snapped as you passed. “Coming in a little late, aren’t you?” Wincing at the boom of Tony’s voice, you glared at him through your dark shades, flicking a middle finger at him. Tony’s bottom lip jutted out.

“Rough night?” Ziva chuckled again.

You shook your head. “Last night was great. This morning is rough.” You dropped your bag on the ground. Needing something to get rid of the headache, you reached for McGee’s mug that sat on his desk. He let out a noise of complaint as you downed the lukewarm and bitter coffee. You and McGee made similar faces – yours for the distaste of how the agent liked his coffee and his at how you stole his drink.

Collapsing into your chair, you squeezed your eyes shut. The lights in the office were still too bright even with the large frames sitting on your face. “Ziva has to cancel her weekend trip.” Tony mused.

Turning your head in the direction of Ziva, you lifted your shades up a smidge, wincing over at Ziva. “Oh no,” You said. “Did he cancel or did you?” Tony perked at the mention of a he. Ziva shushed at you. Tim’s eyebrows shot up. Tony noticed.

“You don’t know who she was going with?”

Ziva glared over Tim. “I-I… thought it was a simple girl’s trip or something.”

“We should do a girl’s trip.” You mumbled, resting your head onto your desk, covering it with your arms, trying to block out all light and sound.

“I could help plan that.” Tony said. Ziva looked over at the Italian man. The corners of her mouth ticked upward.

“I’m sure you’d like to do more than plan it, DiNozzo.”

Tony stood up from his chair, hands smoothing out his suit jacket. His fingers unbuttoned the few buttons that held the jacket together. It gave his arms better mobility when his hands went to the pockets of his slacks, stepping around his desk towards Agent David. “I’ll have you know,” he had a smarmy smile on his face, “I keep up with all the latest trends regarding women’s beachwear.”

Tim rolled his eyes again, turning his attention over to your form at the desk next to him. He grabbed a sticky note, rolling it into a ball and chucking it at your head. You groaned, swatting a hand blindly in the direction of which the ammunition came from.

Ziva’s eyes were locked with Tony’s, a playful glint in her eyes as Tony stepped closer to her desk. Tony started again, “Depending on where you go – France, Italy, Ibiza – you’ll need to know what’s trending in those places. Europe tends to have a less is more policy when it comes to swimwear.”

Ziva’s smirk turned into a grin and Tony noticed that she seemed to be looking past him. Oh god. Taking a breath, Tony ran his hands over his shirt to smooth it again out of nervousness. He turned and came face to face with The Boss. Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked at Tony curiously. Fresh cup of coffee in his hand, there was a moment of silence. Tim chuckled silently to himself. You notice the lack of noise in the room and peeked up from under your limbs.

“I didn’t peg you for a speedo guy, DiNozzo.” Gibbs stated. Ziva snorted.

“B-boss–” Tony stuttered. He was stopped by the prompt slap across the back of his head with Gibbs’ free hand. Tony grimaced and made his way back to his desk. Gibbs stopped at your desk on his way to his own. You straightened up.

“Feeling okay, Agent?” He asked. You nodded quickly, sliding the glasses off your face, trying hard not to wince too much at the lights. Gibbs set the coffee in his hand on your desk. You flashed him a sheepish smile. Gibbs nodded subtly and turned towards his desk.

He leaned over his desktop computer, hand on the mouse, clicking a few things before saying, “We got a case.” Everyone perked at this. “New York City.” Ziva and Tim let out an “Ooh.” You hummed. Tony made a face. “Grab your stuff. We’re on a plane in an hour. Ducky and Palmer are already on their way to the airport.”

Gibbs made his way over to the elevator quickly, go-bag in hand and thinking of a place to get another quick cup of coffee since he donated his to you. Ziva and Tim grabbed their things and headed towards the elevator that was being held open by Gibbs. Tony and you moved more slowly.

Your excuse was your hangover, hoping the plane had something to wake you up. Tony’s was the thought of going to Manhattan. Shrugging your backpacks on, you both made your way over to the elevator. “You don’t look too happy. I figure you would love N.Y.C.” You mumbled. Tony let out a grunt.

“I would if Senior didn’t live there.” Tony tried to mumble back quietly. But everyone heard. Ziva let out an excited and quiet gasp at the mention of Tony’s eccentric father. Tim had a goofy smile, the pain of Tony potentially seeing his father making him warm with happiness. You let out a snort, amused. Gibbs let the doors close with a smirk on his face.

Special Victims Unit | 16th Precinct

Manhattan, New York

Thursday, November 17th

8:26 A.M.

The plane ride was short. D.C. wasn’t that far from New York City. Thankfully, it was enough time to sober up from your impromptu night of drinking with your sister. When the chill of the city air hit you, you shivered. It was late fall and everyone was already starting to talk of the upcoming winter being a rough one. Thanksgiving was only two weeks away and everyone around seemed to be hustling and bustling more than normal to prepare for a day surrounded by family members who they may or may not like, let alone love. After the team settled into the hotel rooms, the next morning, bright and early, you and the team made their way over to the office of ManHattan’s Special Victims Unit. Tim gave you a copy of the case file before slipping into his shared room with Tony the night before and when you read through it before bed and before you left for the office this morning, you couldn’t help but take a shaky breath.

A naval intelligence officer named Rochelle Eshwatay was essentially tortured, raped, and left for dead. Given her position in the Navy, it was quickly assumed her attacker wanted information about the U.S. Navy.

Before being led up to the S.V.U. office, Dr. Donald Mallard and Jimmy Palmer met the rest of the team in the lobby of the station. Tony made a comment about Palmer’s “I heart NYC” baseball cap. Ziva was quick to assure the N.Y.C. giddy M.E. assistant that his hat looked very nice on his head.

When the elevator dinged, the large team of federal agents exited and were surrounded by New York cops dressed in their uniforms. Some looked over at the nicely dressed agents. Gibbs led the pack, asking a young cop where the office of Olivia Benson was. The boy – probably fresh out of the academy – pointed to some closed doors past the bullpen.

The bullpen was scattered with desks. Papers scattered on practically every surface. Phones rung nonstop. Cops scurried past them - some with witnesses, victims, or perps. In the middle of the pen, a blond man with perfectly quaffed hair saw the out of place group. He stood up quickly, lanky and all limbs. He flashed a sideways smile. “Uh, hello– ” He held out a hand. “Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. but uh, you can call me Sonny.” Gibbs shook Sonny’s hand.

Tim leaned over to Tony, “Looks like we got another Italian Junior.”

“Can it, McNuisance.” Your hand lifted up to your face, scratching the tip of your nose to hide your smile.

Gibbs shot a look over to the two men. Ducky let out a sigh at the shenanigans. When Gibbs looked back at Sonny, he said, “Looking for Captain Benson.” Gibbs dug a hand in his suit pocket, pulled out his badge and flashed it at the man. “N.C.I.S.” Gibbs stated. At that, Sonny’s face lit up.

“Oh, wow–” He grinned. “It’s great to meet you all! How’s D.C.?” Sonny started in with a list of questions. Some about NCIS in general, some about the Navy, some about how you were all liking New York. Sonny was stopped though – not because of any of you – but by the sound of the office door opening.

A line of people filed out. A black man who gave a quizzical look to the newcomers in his bullpen. A blonde woman who squinted at the group, bristling as she made her way over to Sonny. A dark haired man stood by the door, looking over the group before turning his head into the office. “Hey, uh, Cap,” His voice was deep and he glanced over at your group again. “Feds are here.”

At the door, a woman stood. She was tall, dark haired - pretty. She thanked Nick before flashing everyone a smile. “Hello, welcome.” She said, “I’m Captain Olivia Benson,” Gibbs stepped forward, hand already outstretched.

“Special Agent Gibbs.” He gave her a curt nod. As Olivia and Gibbs were giving introductions to each other, you noticed another man standing by her office doors. While the rest of the - you assumed detectives - were dressed smartly and professional, this man was dressed like he was ready for a Gala or very important TV appearance. His eyes were green. You were surprised you could see them from practically the other side of the room. He was looking at all of you carefully and when he landed on you, he straightened. He stepped into the bullpen, walking over to the black man who sat at a desk. He bent down and whispered something to him.

Your gaze shifted from him to Olivia. “Looks like you brought the whole agency.” She chuckled. It was a bit uneasy. But she shook it off and motioned to her own team. “This is my Sergeant, Odafin Tutuola,”

“You can call me Fin though,” He had a cool drawl to his voice. Looking at him more carefully, you noticed that out of everyone, he was dressed the most casual. Still dressy, but you could tell he wasn’t the type of guy who wanted to be in a stuffy suit all day.

“Detectives Nick Amaro,” the angry looking guy who told Olivia she had guests, “Amanda Rollins,” the skeptical blonde who was currently telling Sonny to shut up, “and Sonny Carisi.” Sonny grinned.

The last unnamed person stepped up and stood next to Olivia. “I am Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba.” He cooly stated. Your eyebrows shot up curiously. Tony grumbled about Rule #13. It made Rafael’s eyes flicker over to the Italian and Ziva elbowed him in the side.

“Ouch, David.”

Gibbs paused for a moment. He motioned to his right. “Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, Ziva David, and Y/N Y/L/N.” He motioned to his left. “Dr. Ducky Mallard and his assistant Jimmy Palmer.” Jimmy waved at the New York team. When nobody matched his vigor, he pushed his round glasses up his nose nervously.

“Doctor?” Nick asked.

“Ah yes,” Ducky spoke. His Scottish accent made Fin’s eyes widen and Amanda to raise her brows, a small uptick on the corner of her mouth. “Mr. Palmer and I are medical examiners. We were told that you have a body. No sense in waiting for it to come to D.C. so we tagged along. Mr. Palmer was more than excited to come to the Big Apple.”

Olivia genuinely smiled at the older man. “I mean no offense Doctor, but our M.E. already started.”

“Oh dear,” Ducky muttered.

Jimmy adjusted his glasses again. “Where exactly is that happening?”

“Downstairs.” Amanda said.

“Come Mr. Palmer, we must go make sure nothing is missed.” Ducky exclaimed to the younger man. Olivia glanced over at Gibbs. “Where did you leave the bags?”

“In the lobby, Doctor.”

“Hmm,” Ducky hummed. The two started towards the elevators again.

“Head down to the basement,” Olivia called after them, taking a few steps, “and ask for Dr. Melinda Warner. She will happily talk you through everything she’s doing.” Ducky and Palmer said their thanks before they disappeared behind the closing metal doors.

“If uh, we could talk in my office,” Olivia threw a thumb over her shoulder. Gibbs stared at her for a moment before giving the slightest nod.

“Play nice,” he said, his gaze lingering a little too long on Tony. Tony gave a tight lipped smile.

When Gibbs and Olivia finally disappeared behind closed doors, everyone seemed frozen in place. Carisi was curious about the Italian sounding name of Tony. He was never afraid to puff up his chest against another self loving Italian. Amanda’s gaze was locked onto Ziva. Both women had a hard and intimidating aura to those who didn’t know them but once you broke down that hard exterior, they were fun loving and surprisingly, loved to gossip.

Tim shifted under the intense gaze of Nick. While Nick was a constant brooder, he was still someone who likes to give people chances. Stepping over to Tim, Nick gave him a small and polite smile. “We have coffee in the kitchen if you guys want some..”

Fin stood up, stretched and ushered Tim over to the kitchen with Nick trailing behind. That left you under the gaze of the lawyer. His hands slid into the pockets of his slacks. He wore a dark blue suit, a burnt orange tie popped against the white of his dress shirt. He stepped towards you. “Rule #13?” He asked.

You flashed him a small smile, apologetic. “Don’t involve lawyers.” There was a pause. Barba stopped the rolling of his eyes. “But an A.D.A. for Manhattan… that’s pretty impressive .” He glanced over at you before fixing his eyes on Tony and Carisi. Carisi was yapping his ear off and you couldn’t help but grin. This was probably the first time Tony had been given a taste of his own medicine.

“Being a federal agent is also impressive,” Rafael stated. He wasn’t confident in what your age was, but he knew you were the youngest on the team. He was confident with how you had this energy about you. It was similar to Carisi. You weren’t too broken down and trodden with everyone’s feelings and traumas, like Olivia. To be a federal agent at your age meant that you needed to be smart, tactful, and fearless. Dealing with the military – no matter the branch – meant that you could hold your own against those with large attitudes and personalities that could run rampant in the ranks.

“Why exactly are you here?”

“To make sure the transfer of the case goes smoothly,” he said, “and since it’s a matter of national security and the crime happened in New York, the D.A. wants to know everything that happens. Maybe even be the district to prosecute.”

“ Ah, so you’re a spy.” You looked over at him and his gaze was already on you. “Would you be the lead prosecutor?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “Depends on if we have any more sex crimes.” His phone vibrated in his suit jacket. He pulled it out, reading the message from his assistant before sliding the phone back into his pocket. “I sure hope to hell there isn’t.” Was all he said before he waved at the rest of the group.

“See ya, Barba!” called Carisi. Tony jolted his head away from the volume of Carisi’s voice. You watched the lawyer make his way through the crowd of cops and to the elevator. After pressing the button, he glanced over at you one last time before stepping into the box.

***

Olivia sat at her desk, offering Gibbs the chair in front of it. He held up a hand, declining, wanting to stand. He glanced around the office. He made note of the photos on Olivia’s desk. Her with a small brown haired boy throughout the years. The most recent picture seemed to be a school picture.

After a moment, Olivia spoke, “I’m sad to see the case being transferred.” Gibbs listened. “Since it happened in New York, I would hope that we would get jurisdiction.”

“She was a Navy officer.”

Olivia nodded. “We have the files for you. But uh, we could show you around. Take you to where she was found. To the hospital.” Gibbs rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. Olivia finally noticed how little this man talked. Her thoughts reeled with how he could lead a large team but the sight of his military approved haircut would push those questions away. No wonder he was a Navy cop – he was probably ex-military himself.

“I’ll have the team split up and I can show you down to the M.E. 's office. Hopefully your doctor found his way.” Gibbs just gave a nod.

***

The two teams were split up into different groups. Amanda, Tim, and Fin stayed at the precinct. Amanda needed help going over security footage and traffic cams that surrounded the hospital. Hopefully they would find the person who dumped Rochelle on the ground like garbage.

Ziva and Tony were shown to the hospital by Nick. Hopefully being able to catch the EMTs who found Rochelle would give them something new, despite already being spoken to by Rollins and Carisi days earlier.

Speaking of Carisi, you and him stayed at the precinct as well. He nonchalantly brought up how he didn’t have clearance for certain files that may help the case. After being told a very well thought and thorough argument, you nodded and logged into with your credentials on his computer.

When Fin chuckled, you gave him a questioning look. “He’s studying to be a lawyer just like Barba. That’s why he’s so persuasive.” You quirked a brow at Carisi and he went pink in the cheeks, a smile on his lips.

“Fordham Law,” he shrugged sheepishly.

“What kind of lawyer do you want to be?” You asked.

Sonny shrugged again. “Maybe be a prosecutor, maybe work with S.V.U.. But it’ll be a while to get to that. And I don’t think Barba is looking for a new job quite yet.”

Ambulance Bay | Bellevue Hospital

Manhattan, New York

Thursday, November 17th

11:53 A.M.

“I do not see why people must drive like maniacs!” Ziva exclaimed, slamming the door to the car. Tony shot a look over to the woman. “Why do they not move when the light is green?” Nick Amaro finally got out of the car, sliding the keys into his pocket. He let out a nervous laugh. “All of the honking! It makes me want to rip my head off-”

“-pull your hair out.” Tony corrected.

“Yes, that too.”

On the ride over, midday traffic hit the city like a plague. Getting over to Bellevue took longer than expected but it gave Nick ample opportunity to get to know the two Navy cops. Tony was the most senior agent within the group, much to Agent David’s moans of being a child most of the time. Tony was eccentric in a way. When passing a monumental New York landmark, he would quip with a line from a movie that Nick knew was too old for him to know about. Tony had also groaned when his phone went off. Nick was able to catch the screen denoting the word “Senior” before Tony silenced the phone.

Ziva was interesting. He couldn’t place the accent she had. He almost thought of her as a Spanish speaker like himself, but when Nick was cut off by a large truck, Ziva from the back seat, started to swear at the anonymous driver in Hebrew. Although Nick didn’t know it was Hebrew until Tony clipped, “Shabbat shut up, David. He can’t hear you!” Ziva leaned forward, face peeking at Tony from behind his seat. She muttered more things in Hebrew. Obviously threats. Tony hissed over at her, waving a hand to push her back to the seat.

Before going into the ambulance bay of the hospital, Nick showed the agents to where the paramedics found Rochelle Eshwatay. The stain of dried blood was still there, despite the sidewalk being busy with city goers. Ziva looked from the sidewalk and to the entrance to the emergency room. “Help was only thirty yards away.” A loud wail of a siren went off. The two agents and the detective watched an ambulance make its way from the hospital parking lot and into the jungle of New York traffic, weaving in and out of lanes before disappearing down a one way street.

“File said she had no I.D. on her?” That was Tony.

Nick nodded. “She was a Jane Doe until she woke up the next day. She was in the system because of being a Navy officer. She has an older brother somewhere stationed in Iraq. Marine. She couldn’t remember anything when she woke up.”

“Did you contact her commanding officer?”

Nick nodded again. “We went to the Navy port. She was approved for the weekend off. Signed out of the base Friday at 1600. Was ordered to sign back in at 0900 Monday. She was found early Monday morning - around 3am. They had no idea where she went or who she saw. Let alone that she was taken and tortured.”

“Who found her?” Ziva asked.

“EMTs. John Terry and Eliza Woland. Hospital said they should be having lunch right now.” The three of them made their way down the sidewalk and into the hospital parking lot. Making their way around the back towards the resting ambulances. Nick spoke to an EMT, asking where their informants were. He pointed to a truck parked a few yards away. “Terry, Woland.” Nick called out.

The double doors opened at the back of the ambulance. A small brunette woman with a short pixie cut came into view. “Detective... Sonny?” She was skeptical.

“Amaro.”

“ Ah, sorry. Been a long shift.” She sat down in the ambulance, legs swinging over the edge. “How can I help you?”

“These are Special Agents DiNozzo and David.” Nick introduced the new faces as Tony and Ziva flashed their badges. ��NCIS. They want to know about the morning you found Rochelle Eshwatay.”

The woman’s face was saddened. “Yeah, that was rough.” She paused. “We found her unconscious on the sidewalk, in a pool of blood. Blunt force trauma to the head, weak pulse. We thought she was dead until Terry found a pulse. She had burns all over her, a lot of them fresh. When we moved her to the gurney, we noticed the blood coming from..” The woman motioned to her abdomen, Ziva nodded.

“Where is Terry?” Tony asked.

“Getting lunch.” The woman continued her story. How they checked the surroundings after wheeling her to the ER. They gave the on scene cops their statements and then SVU when they came around. All the statements were clear and lined up. Terry finally made an appearance fifteen minutes later with two white bags and a tray of two coffees. He told the same story as Woland dug into her tomato caprese sandwich. The agents and detectives left with no new information. Tony told Nick to drive towards the Navy port.

Office of Dr. Melinda Warner | 16th Precinct

Manhattan, New York

Thursday, November 17th

12:10 P.M.

Once reaching the basement of the precinct, Olivia could hear the faint sound of laughter. Was that... Melinda? Olivia’s steps quickened, and Gibbs was sure to keep up. When they entered the large examiner’s room, it smelt sterile. The body of Rochelle was laid on a metal table. She was covered by a white sheet.

By the sink, washing her hands, Dr. Melinda Warner had a smile on her face. Dr. Mallard was still rambling on about a story of some sorts. “And so we thought the bloody thing was dead but then it awoke! The chancellor let out a garish yelp and jumped so much himself that his costly toupee flew off his head and onto the roasted pig.”

Jimmy let out a chuckle. He sat to the side, cleaning instruments carefully. He was dressed in his blue scrubs while Melinda and Ducky wore matching white coats. “Oh, hello Olivia.” Melinda said when she finally calmed down. A few chuckles bubbled up but she stopped them when Gibbs came into her view.

“Making friends, Duck?” His voice had a subtle tinge of amusement.

“Jethro!” Ducky exclaimed. “And Captain Benson, so nice of you to join us.” He plucked his medical gloves off with a snap. “I was telling Dr. Warner here of my dinner with the German chancellor back in ‘95.”

Gibbs smirked. “That’s not even the worst dinner they had together.”

Ducky hummed. “Yes, true. In ‘99, there was a case of food poisoning.” Before Ducky could indulge into that story, Gibbs stopped him with a simple question of what they all found.

Olivia was bemused by the Scotsman. Olivia felt that the man had a plethora of stories to tell and that made Olivia warm with happiness. Warner stepped over to Gibbs. She held out a freshly washed and dried hand and introduced herself. Gibbs did the same.

“Would you like to take the lead, Doctor?” Ducky asked the woman. Warner gave a smirk and then started.

“We believe C.O.D. was a brain bleed from the constant impact to the back of her skull. The doctors at Bellevue stopped one bleed but this one in particular wasn’t able to be seen on scans. We’ll be able to see more once we open her up.” Warner motioned to Rochelle’s head. “She was hit multiple times with something hard and blunt.”

“The shape of the indent makes us think of a pipe or bat.” Ducky chimed in. “Based on the burns on her arms and legs, she was tortured for hours. Maybe even days.” Ducky’s voice grew more solemn. “As you can see,” he grasped Rochelle’s arm tenderly and pointed to a few burns in particular, “some burns are more healed than others.” Olivia and Gibbs looked at the burns. Some were more pink. The flesh tried to heal itself while she was still alive. Others were more dark and starting to scab.

“We believe she was sexually assaulted with the same thing she was beaten with.” Melinda said quietly. Olivia’s expression softened. Gibbs bristled. Jimmy blinked a few times, hanging his head down while holding a pair of forceps. They shone in the light. Ducky’s lips pursed, giving a shake to his head.

“Awful thing they did to this Navy officer, Jethro.”

Gibbs nodded at his old friend. “We need to find out why.”

“With the general look over, I found dirt and grime under her fingernails. A light colored hair follicle was caught in her braids. Mr. Palmer was sure to collect them all.” Ducky said. “Ms. Sciuto was very upset when told she couldn’t make the trip to New York. But Dr. Warner assured us that the NYPD has their own forensics team.” Ducky looked over at the fellow doctor with a small smile. “Whoever did this was focused on the job, Jethro.” Ducky sighed. “There’s some anger to it but they were on a mission. You said she was a Naval Intelligence Officer?” Gibbs nodded. “Best find out what intelligence she had access to.”

***

You were sitting at an empty desk. You assume it to be Nick’s since a picture of a girl who shared his same features was on it, smiling at you. You had brought your laptop and Carisi was on his. You had gotten some information on the detective as you both searched for matching MOs. After learning about his budding lawyer career, he spoke of New York and how he grew up in Brooklyn. The thick accent gave it away but it was still nice to hear him talk about it. When he brought up how he was the newest addition to the team, you couldn’t help but grin and say, “Me too!”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “How long have you been at N.C.I.S.?”

“About nine months.” You looked over your screen at him. “You?”

“Around six months.”

“You should have seen him when he first joined.” Fin called out from across the desks. The man had perked up at the sound of jovial noise from you and Carisi. “He had this god awful mustache.” Sonny’s cheeks went pink.

The Southern drawl of Amanda joined in. “He looked like he just came off a porn set.” Tim, who was sitting between the two detectives, smiled at the joke.

You had let out a giggle when Rollins pulled out her phone – a loud protest from Sonny rocked the room – and showed you a plethora of Sonny sporting a mustache. Sonny grabbed the phone but instead of deleting the pictures, he simply held it up next to his face and stroked his upper lip. “I think I looked dignified.”

“I don’t think Tony or Tim could grow something as beautiful.” You quipped. Tim’s mouth fell open a smidge.

“I could grow a mustache. And a beard.”

“I don’t think you could, Tim.” You chuckled. “But neither can Tony so I don’t think you’re in bad company.”

“Not bad, just annoying.” Tim grumbled. He, Amanda, and Fin were slaving away at an endless amount of footage. Some from stores on the street, some from the hospital themselves. Tim had sent over the most unrecognizable and choppiest bits of footage over to Abby back in D.C. She sent back a scathing email about how she should have been on that plane with everyone else despite the lecture she was given by Director Vance about how she had other cases and evidence to work over.

Carisi and you were looking through database after database for some sort of connection. With your level of clearance, Carisi had to push the curiosity away of looking up dumb conspiracy theories like who killed Princess Diana or if Area 51 was real. He didn’t even know if you had the clearance for that, but the inkling to try was still there. Carisi looked up from his screen when you made a noise.

He hummed back at you, curious. You turned your screen. “Found a similar case.” Carisi read the screen. A seventeen year old girl was found dead outside of a hospital in San Francisco. Small, circular burns on her body. Blunt force to the head. But she wasn’t raped. “Almost identical.”

“She wasn’t Navy though.”

“Who?” Amanda asked. Carisi explained, Tim and Fin perked at the sound of the new information. When you said the name of the girl who died – Connie Jameson – Tim made a face. Your eyes flickered over to your team mate. You knew that look. Timothy McGee had the wheels in his head turning. Tim grabbed the file off of Fin’s desk. Fin made a noise but it was ignored. Shuffling through the papers, Tim finally found what he was looking for.

“Jameson–” Tim mumbled under his breath. “Ronald Jameson was the commanding officer of Rochelle. He’s currently on the S.S. Teddy Roosevelt that’s ported here in New York.”

“Are they even related?” Fin asked, regarding Connie and Ronald.

You and Carisi looked back at your screen before nodding, almost simultaneously. “It’s her father.” Carisi said. “I think we found a first break.”

You were already pulling out your phone as Carisi said that. You found Tony’s contact. The line trilled twice before Tony answered. “Are we going back home yet?”

“No, I think we’re going to stay even longer.”

Tony groaned. “What is it?”

“Eshwatay’s commanding officer had a daughter who was murdered the same way about four years ago in California.” Your eyes went over the case again as Tony hummed. “She wasn’t raped but it’s too close to not look into.”

“Guess it’s a good thing we’re headed to the Navy port.” Tony said. He finished the call with a command to forward the Jameson case to him and Ziva. “Boss should know.” You agreed and ended the call.

[harveywritings92]

MHA/BNHA: They get severely injured and you heal them

You're recovery Girl's granddaughter you have a healing quirk called Angel's Glow, which requires skin on skin contact to work, small wounds, bruises and bone fractures are healed in seconds just by placing your hands on the injured area which will glow blue and repair damage, however wounds that are near fatal are different story. In that case, it’s kind of embarrassing, but you treat it how you would hypothermia, stripping down to your panties (or naked) and lay down holding that person close letting your healing aura cover them, of course you've never been in a situation where you've had to do that, pretty much keeping it reserved for your romantic partner, So when you got a call that your boyfriend was severely injured in a fight and his chances of survival aren't looking to good.

__________________

Fatgum/Taishiro:

Reader's age 26.

The last thing Taishiro remembered was fighting this crazy strong villain with an equally strong quirk! So, one can imagine his confusion when the last thing he remembered before blacking out; was fighting as Fatgum and then waking up after who knows how long as Fitgum and in a stranger's bedroom hooked up to a very annoying heart monitor that would not. stop. beeping! Taishiro slowly sat up; with a grimace expecting to feel pain shooting all throughout his body the second he moved, but to his astonishment nothing happened... 

He was sure his left leg was broken during that fight! he cautiously wiggled his toes and jerk his left leg around, nothing no pain... in fact he felt great; giddy like he had just eaten an entire buffet of his favorite foods! But how did... His train thought was cut short when he felt an slender arm around his waist.

Taishiro suddenly became hyperaware of the other person, a woman. laying in the bed next to him! His heartrate spiked causing the monitor to start beeping rapidly!

The blond carefully reached over and gently pushed the woman's hair away from her face, the BMI hero felt a wave of relief wash over him upon seeing the calm sleeping face of his girlfriend Y/n starring back at him. But the relief quickly shifted to befuddlement, why was she here? he then noticed their apparent lack clothes, His yellow eyes widened and felt his face burn; Taishiro swallowed hard as he checked under blanket... why were they just wearing boxers and panties? 

Spotting a some of his spare clothes in Y/n's closet, Taishiro quietly and carefully got out of the bed; unplugged the Heart monitor before taking it off, and got dressed in his track pants and T-shirt, then careful got Y/n dressed in one of his hoodies before tucking her into bed, Just as Recovery-Girl popped her head in to check on them as she couldn't hear the monitor beeping anymore, and got worried she smiled seeing her *hopefully* soon to-be Grandson-law alive and healthy.  

"Oh thank goodness you're awake..."

"Yeah, I jus' woke up. Sorry for intruddin."

"It's nothing to be sorry for, though I'm sure you're confused how you aren't in a coma or dead."

"...What happened to me?"

Recovery-girl gave him the run down after he was put out of commission, Taishiro was in pretty bad shape, the out come was looking grim when Y/n ordered the ambulance be redirected to her private-practice which also doubled as her home, they got got one of her intern's to use their quirk which could burn off his fat, they cleaned his cuts and got him stitched up then the y/ht woman told everyone to go home; save for her grandmother and Kirishima who refused to leave his mentor until he was sure hew was going to be alright.

it was only when he saw Y/n taking her clothes off did the flustered teen ask about those guest rooms, she offered and recovery- Girl lead him out of the room, the y/ht woman slipped into bed next her her unconscious lover and activated her quirk, Tai's whole body was soon surrounded in veil of blue light that slowly started to repair and heal his broken body.

Taishiro smiled gently as he caressed Y/n's cheek making her wince in her sleep. "The poor thing must be exhausted over using her quirk for two days." the pride the tall man had felt to shifted into concern. "two days?!" he croaked he remembered Y/n telling him that her quirk can also transfer her patients pain onto her to the lessen their burdens, and if he was in really bad shape as recovery-girl described... "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked voice cracking, the old nurse frowned knowing that her granddaughter told him about her quirks pain absobtion. "Well, the next couple days won't be very pleasant for her, I may have to keep her sedated." the blond eyes started to burn as he watched Y/n sleeping soundly, vowing stay by her side and to take her on very nice vacation when this was all over, they could both use it.

_______________________

Shoto Todoroki:

Reader age 21, Shoto: 19

This poor touch-starved child was so confused and flustered when he woke up in a strange bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and y/n clinging to him very intimately, all while alarm-bells were going off in his head as part on his mind was still in fight or flight mode as he cautiously scanned his girlfriend expecting this to be a dream, and the villain that attacked him to pop-out at any moment...

After a few moments of waiting for the dream to end, Shoto cautiously used his fire to burn himself he winced feeling the pain burn his wrist, then the pain went numb the bi-colored haired man's brows furrowed before seeing the familiar blue aura from [y/wt] woman's quirk reverse the damage on his wrist, Shoto's stomach churred as realized what she had done, he carefully removed himself from the warm embrace of her bed and looked around the room for something to wear before spotting some a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt left out for him, he changed then carefully got his girlfriend dressed into her PJs and her tucked in.

Shoto was the picture of calm as he kept a silent vigil over the [y/hc] woman carefully playing with her hair, but internally he was freaking out! Wondering how long had he been out for? and how long had Y/n been healing him? was she going to be okay?! he grimaced at he saw her wince in her sleep; even a blind man could see she was already suffering from the effects of over using her quirk! "Why would you do something so foolish?" he sighed using his cold half to keep Y/n's forehead cool he felt her temperature spike. "Love makes you do very rash decisions." Shoto jumped to see Recovery-Girl behind him and the dual quirked boy immediate bowed his head to her in forgiveness.

"Don't do that Todoroki, you don't need to apologize."

"But because me Y/n is..."

"It's not you're fault dear, Y/n knew the risks as soon as she heard you were in critical condition."

"How long were we like that?" he asked asked dreading the answer Recovery-Girl frowned as she checked her granddaughter's vitals over. "Four days, I won't lie the next couple days won't be kind to my Granddaughter." She saw Shoto wince knowing the guilt eating at him. "But knowing she has a handsome young man looking after her, should help her make a speedy recovery.~" the room's temperature suddenly spikes as a blush adorned Shoto's cheeks Recovery-Girl giggled jubilantly as she left the room leaving Y/n in Shoto's care.

____________________

Touya/Dabi:

Reader age 25 (note you're quirk can't heal his scars (you've tried) you were childhood friends with him, he kidnapped you and keeps you in his safehouse!)

Dabi woke up that morning with a splitting headache, crap how much did he have to drink? he growled taking a sharp breath as his eyes adjusted to his dimly lit bedroom, trying to piece together what happened last night, when he caught something blue in the dim light at first he thought it was his quirk acting up, but then he noticed some of his staples were missing around his stomach...

The it all came flooding back to him one of the Nomus had gotten lose before it could be "trained" and went on a rampage the villains and a couple heroes on the league payroll stropped it, but not without consequences, the beast managed to take a bite out of Dabi's waist, the scarred man somehow managed to make it home... walking through the front door was the last thing he remembered before blacking out, then he felt his stomach drop when he realized that this blue glow wasn't his flames!

Dabi quickly turned the light on above his bed and found a sleeping Y/n hugging his waist her quirk overworking itself trying to fix his scars, which weren't healing because the tissue was to damaged to fix, "You idiot!" he barked getting out of bed, then paused when he felt a rush cold air on his everything, his teal eyes looked down... Yep, naked as the day he was born, he cussed and checked under the thin sheet Y/n had covered them in, same story.

He check her temperature she was freezing!  "Tch" Dabi quickly readjusted the sheet around his girlfriend's shivering body then went and put on some black sweat pants, he quickly went to drawers and grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and put those on his y/ht girlfriend, then grabbed the discarded blanket from off the floor covering the couple.

Dabi used his quirk to boost up his body temp while rubbing Y/n’s arms trying warm her up. the last thing he needed was her getting sick, however he paused his ministrations and checked his burner phone... shit it been 2 days since the incident! He had a lot of messages from the league demanding to know where he was, He should probably get around to telling them he's alive... meh, maybe after Y/n recovered those f-ckers will live. 

[pokelec]

A Dead By Daylight Novice Reviews All the Killers' Trailers (and makes suggestions for what they'd change)

Reveal trailers are paramount for an audience's first look at new characters. First impressions are everything, so your trailer for your shiny new character needs to be perfect for what's in store for the video game! I started playing DBD a month-ish ago but watched all the trailers for the killers before I started playing, and watching some of them got me to thinking about how I would have changes some of the trailers. Some require no changes, while others I think need an overhaul.

Disclaimer: This is in my personal opinion, is not objective at all, and I'm only doing this because this is something I've been thinking about for a month and need some sort of release or else my brain will implode.

Under a read more bc this gets long.

The Trapper - The first trailer! For a first trailer, I think this one is pretty spot on. It follows a lot of beats of slasher movies, in terms of following a survivor that's gonna be killed, her encountering dead bodies, and the suspense of the killer looking for her. Considering Dead by Daylight is effectively a playable horror movie, I think this is a perfect intro to the game. As for what this means for the Trapper, aka our Jason substitute, I think it showed him off alright! We saw his bear traps and got a good look at him doing this thing. Pretty good, all things considered!

The Wraith - The Wraith, Hillbilly, and Nurse all features gameplay as the means of showing off what the killers can do. The Wraith's isn't too bad, since it does show off his Wailing Bell power enough for people to understand "This is a killer that can turn invisible, and you may not know he's right next to you until it's too late". I wish it has a more cinematic style, but I'll be forgiving here because DBD was still young when this was made. I also thing it showed the new map, Autohaven, pretty well. I'm not too big of a fan of ending the trailer with his mori, but that could be because I don't find his mori exciting.

The Hillbilly - Next is our Leatherface expy! This one feels shorter, still using gameplay to introduce our new killer but at least shows off his chainsaw wielding and hints at the map associated with him. I like the shot of him revving his chainsaw underneath the tree with the animal carcasses! I don't mind the ending with his mori here because even if it's off screen, getting cut with a chainsaw is brutal enough to leave a lasting impression. Again, I wish it had the cinematic style, but it's fine.

The Nurse - I think the Nurse's trailer is the weakest of the three gameplay-focused trailers. The text intro is... fine, but I honestly think it fits the Doctor more. It does an okay job of showing us her Blinking mechanics, but it also doesn't? Like we see her teleporting to Nea, but it feels lackluster. I do like the ending shot of dead Nea as the Nurse just blinks away. I'm not quite sure how to change this trailer to be more effective in my opinion, if I'm being honest.

The Shape/Michael Myers - Our first franchise killer, and a perfect trailer. The first second in, we hear John Carpenter's legendary Halloween score. Even non-horror fans will quickly pick up which killer this is. The suspense of Laurie see Michael, Michael coming up the stairs, and especially the shot of Laurie and Michael being on opposite sides of a door is *chef's kiss*. We see enough of the Shape to be satisfied and eager for his release. It's the perfect trailer for him AND Laurie imo.

The Huntress - Ah, the Huntress. She is my favorite killer to play as, and I probably have the majority of my playtime on her. Unfortunately, I think her trailer leaves a lot to be desired. It's the start of the 'let's look at the killer from different angles, have them turn around to the camera, and then attack the viewer' trend of DBD trailers. I call for a complete rewrite! Here's what I would have done:

The map is Mother's Dwelling. Two survivors (David aaaand idk Dwight?) are running and hides behind some trees. We hear the Huntress's lullaby get louder, and we see the bottom half of her and her axe as she walks past the survivors. The lullaby gets quieter, and the survivors take a sigh of relief. Then, a hatchet is thrown and lodged into Dwight's head! David screams and runs. We then see our full look at the Huntress as she picks up the body. Her signature lullaby continues as the trailer ends.

The Hag - The Hag's trailer also follows a similar formula to the Huntress' trailer. There is an animation bump, so we get to see the Hag's emaciated appearance in full detail. I'm not too mad about that, since the Hag's appearance is unsettling enough to cause viewer distress and curiosity more than the Huntress' would. However, because this is a DBD original killer, we need to see what her deal is with her trailer. Thus, I propose this:

On the swamp, Ace is repairing a generator but hears another survivor (Dwight?) get hooked. Ace goes to rescue him, but we see as he steps on a rune in front of the poor survivor. The illusion of the Hag pops up, jumpscaring poor Ace (and the audience) but disappears. Ace then rescues Dwight for real, but Dwight quickly runs away. Why? Because the real Hag is behind Ace and lunges at him, biting his neck. Trailer ends.

The Doctor - I now realize that my taste in writing DBD trailers is 'have the survivor do a thing, they think the killer is near, they then relax, and only then are they attacked by the killer'. It's a bit stereotypical, but again, we're dealing with a game centered on the horror genre, so that's why I'm okay with it.

I mention this because that's effectively the story beats the the Doctor's trailer follows. Instead of attacking Feng, however, the Doctor just looks at her run and stares menacingly. Even though we don't see the Doctor's shock therapy powers here, I think the long look at the killer is still effective because of his design. A first reaction I (and other reactors) experienced went from the initial "OMG the killer is here, run girl!" to "Why tf are his own eyes and mouth held open like that A Clockwork Orange scene?!". We also don't linger for too long on him either, so I think this trailer works well enough.

The Cannibal/Leatherface - Another franchise killer, this time good ol Leatherface! This trailer is a little different, using text to draw up suspense. I do like the reveal of "What is his mask made of? YOU.", but I would've loved to have seen some actual Cannibal action, or at least his in-game model doing his Texas chainsaw massacring thing.

The Nightmare/Freddy Kruger - Oh, c'mon, we got one of the most well known characters in horror in this little video game, and all we get for his trailer is some scratch marks and a 'killer does nothing but stand there menacingly and attack the camera' trailer?! I do like the detail that when we see him, it's DBD's version of the dream world, but we could've at least featured a survivor falling asleep and then seeing him for themselves.

(Also kinda sad it's the reboot version of Freddy instead of the Wes Craven version and the survivor is Quentin instead of Nancy Freaking Thompson, but I guess we should be happy he's in the game at all)

The Pig - Largely, I think this trailer is pretty good. I'm not too big of a fan of Amanda just standing there menacingly near Dwight, but I do like everything else. I especially love the security camera shot of the famous Saw bathroom and the cutaway when Dwight's reverse bear trap activates (but we still see a good bit of gore!). It feels very Saw-like.

The Clown - This trailer is pretty good! Even though we don't see the Clown in much action, we get a lot of visual storytelling with the bottles, the circus, and the ring of fingers, all leading up to the reveal of his face. The diagetic music from Kate is a nice touch, too.

The Spirit - This one is alright. There is a lot of focus on Adam, but it does build up tension to when the Spirit reveals herself. My biggest problem with it is the ending card that is used for her. Yes, I know that's traditional for the end of these trailers, but her pose and expression is kinda meh after the face she makes when she's about to attack Adam. Seriously, that couple of seconds haunts me (sorry) otherwise.

The Legion - My other favorite killer to play! It's so funny how I didn't like Legion when I first heard of them but now they're my favorites. I love how the trailer emphasizes that the new killer(s) looks similar to survivors and the brutality of when Frank reveals himself and stabs Jeff. However, the trailer does a disservice to the other members of the Legion. C'mon, that's their whole shtick!

My recommendation would be to end with a shot of Julie, Joey, and Suzie joining Frank (and obviously getting a good look at them) and surrounding Jeff right before they all stab him. This is a little disingenuous since you can't play as all four of them at once (unless you count that one Blighted skin...), but you also can't disguise yourself as a survivor, so... Yeah. They are The Legion! They act as one! Treat them as such in their trailer, dammit!

The Plague - The Plague's trailer is interesting. Even though we don't see her in action, I think it's fine because seeing her puke on people during her trailer might be a bit off-putting. Just a bit. We still get some storytelling with her whispered prayers, the candles and incense thingy, and, of course, her face. I think because the Plague's design is inherently unique among all the killers so far, she can get away with the 'let's just tease the audience by looking at the killer and nothing else' trend.

The Ghost Face - Not too much I can complain about with this one. I do like the wtf factor of 'wait, why is a DBD trailer at a modern day warehouse???', especially if you're watching a trailer playlist like I first did. It all makes sense when you learn it's Ghost Face, though! Also, justice for that poor cashier.

The Demogorgon - RIP Stranger Things DLC. I don't watch this series, but I really like the Hawkins Lab map and I'm going to be sad when it's gone. :(

I love this trailer! When I hear the Stranger Things music, it actually gives me chills. I'm legitimately so sad the DLC will be gone from the stores, but I do own them myself. I need to actually sit down and play Demo, Steve, and Nancy one of these days. Why am I crying? No, I'm not kidding, why is this trailer making me cry? Renew the contract, Netflix, please! I don't want this stuff to disappear forever!

(Is it weird that I've been nagged on for years to watch Stranger Things but it's Dead By Daylight that's actually convincing me to watch it?)

The Oni - This is an interesting case. The "main" theme of this trailer is the contrast of modern day Japan's Yui and her motorcycle vs the literal ancient samurai Oni. I think it works out, and again, I think the presentation makes up for us not seeing too much of the new killer.

The Deathslinger - Oh boy, do I love my cowboys! This trailer is nearly perfect. We establish the western setting quickly over the sounds of some poor bastard in pain. The reeling in of the chains and the closeup of The Redeemer is so great. My biggest complaint with this trailer is that we linger a bit too long on the Deathslinger's face at the end. Yeah, he's creepy with his eyes and his disjointed jaw, but you can only look at a horror for so long before you want to move on.

The Executioner/Pyramid Head - I like this trailer! I haven't played Silent Hills, but I'm at least somewhat familiar with the premise and Pyramid Head. I love the shot of him passing the classroom door window and the sword cutting a rift through the ground. Yeah, my lack of SH knowledge makes me unable to recommend any changes here.

The Blight - I have no changes to suggest. The Blight's transformation is super horrific, reminding me of the typical depiction of Jekyll and Hyde. Honestly, he is so much more terrifying in his trailer and in lore than in gameplay.

The Twins - No changes needed. BHVR is really starting to hit their stride with these trailers! Seeing Victor come out of Charlotte's body is amazing.

The Trickster - We depart from all of the other trailers by using an K-POP music video style. It does a good job at referencing some of his story beats (namely torturing/killing people, recording their screams, and using them in his music), but it doesn't really make me afraid of the Trickster. Sure, it fits with his theme, but I would have preferred seeing more of him, y'know, instead of just looking pretty and making faces? I still wouldn't change the art style of the trailer, though. It's fitting enough for him and a breath of fresh air from the doom and gloom.

The Nemesis - No change needed, mostly because I'm not too familiar with the Resident Evil series, but seeing Jill, the twink Leon, and Nemesis on-screen is a very cool moment. Also can we get an F in chat for Meg?

The Cenobite/Pinhead - This is a perfect trailer. We got the Lament Configuration, we got the chains pinning up Dwight, we got Pinhead himself! What more can I ask for?

If you actually made it this far, thank for reading? I don't think I really contribute anything to the fandom with this analysis, but DBD has been living rent free in my brain for the past month, so I may as well write something, eh?

[missblack75]

Candle Cove

Meh I forgot who made the story IM SORRY!

Skyshale033 Subject: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Does anyone remember this kid’s show? It was called Candle Cove and I must have been 6 or 7. I never found reference to it anywhere so I think it was on a local station around 1971 or 1972. I lived in Ironton at the time. I don’t remember which station, but I do remember it was on at a weird time, like 4:00 PM.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? it seems really familiar to me…..i grew up outside of ashland and was 9 yrs old in 72. candle cove…was it about pirates? i remember a pirate marionete at the mouth of a cave talking to a little girl

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? YES! Okay I’m not crazy! I remember Pirate Percy. I was always kind of scared of him. He looked like he was built from parts of other dolls, real low-budget. His head was an old porcelain baby doll, looked like an antique that didn’t belong on the body. I don’t remember what station this was! I don’t think it was WTSF though.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Sorry to ressurect this old thread but I know exactly what show you mean, Skyshale. I think Candle Cove ran for only a couple months in ‘71, not ‘72. I was 12 and I watched it a few times with my brother. It was channel 58, whatever station that was. My mom would let me switch to it after the news. Let me see what I remember

It took place in Candle cove, and it was about a little girl who imagined herself to be friends with pirates. The pirate ship was called the Laughingstock, and Pirate Percy wasn’t a very good pirate because he got scared too easily. And there was calliope music constantly playing. Don’t remember the girl’s name. Janice or Jade or something. Think it was Janice.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Thank you Jaren!!! Memories flooded back when you mentioned the Laughingstock and channel 58. I remember the bow of the ship was a wooden smiling face, with the lower jaw submerged. It looked like it was swallowing the sea and it had that awful Ed Wynn voice and laugh. I especially remember how jarring it was when they switched from the wooden/plastic model, to the foam puppet version of the head that talked.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? ha ha i remember now too.  do you remember this part skyshale: “you have…to go…INSIDE.”

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Ugh mike, I got a chill reading that. Yes I remember. That’s what the ship always told Percy when there was a spooky place he had to go in, like a cave or a dark room where the treasure was. And the camera would push in on Laughingstock’s face with each pause. YOU HAVE… TO GO… INSIDE. With his two eyes askew and that flopping foam jaw and the fishing line that opened and closed it. Ugh. It just looked so cheap and awful.

You guys remember the villain? He had a face that was just a handlebar mustache above really tall, narrow teeth.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? i honestly, honestly thought the villain was pirate percy. i was about 5 when this show was on. nightmare fuel.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? That wasn’t the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain’s sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye.

But yeah, the villain was another marionette. The Skin-Taker. I can’t believe what they let us watch back then.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? jesus h. christ, the skin taker. what kind of a kids show were we watching? i seriously could not look at the screen when the skin taker showed up. he just descended out of nowhere on his strings, just a dirty skeleton wearing that brown top hat and cape. and his glass eyes that were too big for his skull. christ almighty.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Wasn’t his top hat and cloak all sewn up crazily? Was that supposed to be children’s skin??

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? yeah i think so. rememer his mouth didn’t open and close, his jaw just slid back and foth. i remember the little girl said “why does your mouth move like that” and the skin-taker didn’t look at the girl but at the camera and said “TO GRIND YOUR SKIN”

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? I’m so relieved that other people remember this terrible show!

I used to have this awful memory, a bad dream I had where the opening jingle ended, the show faded in from black, and all the characters were there, but the camera was just cutting to each of their faces, and they were just screaming, and the puppets and marionettes were flailing spastically, and just all screaming, screaming. The girl was just moaning and crying like she had been through hours of this. I woke up many times from that nightmare. I used to wet the bed when I had it.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? i don’t think that was a dream. i remember that. i remember that was an episode.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? No no no, not possible. There was no plot or anything, I mean literally just standing in place crying and screaming for the whole show.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? maybe i’m manufacturing the memory because you said that, but i swear to god i remember seeing what you described. they just screamed.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Oh God. Yes. The little girl, Janice, I remember seeing her shake. And the Skin-Taker screaming through his gnashing teeth, his jaw careening so wildly I thought it would come off its wire hinges. I turned it off and it was the last time I watched. I ran to tell my brother and we didn’t have the courage to turn it back on.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? I visited my mom today at the nursing home. I asked her about when I was little in the early 70s, when I was 8 or 9 and if she remembered a kid’s show, candle cove. she said she was surprised I could remember that and I asked why, and she said “because I used to think it was so strange that you said ‘I'm gona go watch candle cove now mom’ and then you would tune the tv to static and juts watch dead air for 30 minutes. you had a big imagination with your little pirate show.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst. 

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise. 

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set. 

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation. 

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint. 

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray. 

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers. 

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile. 

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with. 

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends. 

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.” 

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did. 

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes. 

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day. 

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in. 

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins. 

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be. 

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated. 

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available. 

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something! 

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear. 

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.” 

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison. 

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said. 

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute? 

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face. 

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks. 

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed. 

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind. 

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking. 

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him. 

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic. 

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself. 

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly. 

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half. 

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it. 

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them. 

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether. 

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days. 

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

<  whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt.1)

Hello wonderful friends~~ I have returned with a single dad!Jihoon fic as promised. Obviously it’ll be fluffy as hell and is mostly just Jihoon, his daughter, and a new woman in his life navigating the starts of a relationship when there’s a kid involved already. Similar to to the boy i love right now series, this is mostly just snapshots of varying points in time rather than one long cohesive story. So most of them can be read as standalones. Uhm, I think that's all the caveats I have. 

ALSO what do you guys think of 24H by Seventeen? I’m kinda.. meh about it. But they LOOK fantastic.

BIPOC rec: Just some YouTube channels that I’ve been watching lately. Francina Simone (Black booktuber/author; she recently did a taro card video); furrylittlepeach (Sha’an is one of my favourite illustrators and also one of my favourite YouTubers at the moment. She does studio vlogs); Kingsley (He recently started making videos again. Nice chaos); Spella (a Korean tutter. She choreographed Seulgi & Irene’s Naughty)

warnings: there’s one swear word in here. 

w.c. 1.2k (fluffity fluff)

“Eunha,” Jihoon whispers. “Eunha-yah.”

His baby blinks her eyes open slowly and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. Her face starts to crumple, but Jihoon cups the side of her head. His thumb rubs back and forth along her temple in an attempt to soothe her. Her breath stutters and Jihoon scoops her up. “You can sleep in the studio.”

Her head falls to his shoulder and he can hear her sniffling. His heart drops. Jihoon wishes that he could let her sleep, but the few times that he’d brought her straight to the studio without waking her first, she cried for an hour at the unfamiliarity. So it seems, as long as she knows where she’s going and he’s the first face she sees, she’ll be okay.

These are things Jihoon is constantly learning. What his baby likes and doesn’t like. When she was born a year and a half ago, Jihoon was worried about being a father. When her mother had gone to rehab, he’d worried even more about being good for Eunha. He started bringing her everywhere. Because somehow, despite not wanting children and having a budding career, Eunha became his world. Even above Seventeen.

When he’d gained custody six months ago, he tried leaving her in Busan with his parents. They adored her, but she cried every time he left and he felt like the worst human being ever. There were nannies, but while well-meaning, they never felt right. He tried daycares, but he knew that his introverted daughter, even as a baby, was not coping well being surrounded by people she hardly recognized.

The first day Jihoon brought her to the studio was the first time he hadn’t brought home a cranky baby. So he kept doing that. She would fall asleep in his studio. He purchased noise cancelling earmuffs for babies so she could sit in on dance practices. She sits right in the center where everyone can see her. She either falls asleep or sits and colours. She’s never been a hyperactive baby, but she loves being around everyone.

By the time Jihoon arrives at the studio, his baby has fallen asleep again.

Seungkwan comes in a half hour later to find Jihoon so that he can record. He kisses Eunha’s forehead, brushing her hair out of her face as she dozes on the couch. “How is she?”

 Jihoon yawns, collecting his copy of the lyrics as Seungkwan scoops her up. They head towards one of the recording booths.

“She was running a fever all night. It’s gone down this morning.” Jihoon yawns again. “She hasn’t been sick since her mom left. I think I’m out of my depth.”

Seungkwan passes her to Jihoon who trades him a copy of the lyrics. As Jihoon sits in his seat, Eunha rests her cheek on his chest, her hair a wild mane. Jihoon keeps telling himself he should comb it. At least so that she doesn’t look as if she’s been raised by wolves. Being raised by thirteen men plus or minus a few would be a solid equivalent, but he doesn’t need the entire world to know that.

While running his fingers gently through her hair to get some of the knots out, Jihoon swivels the chair so the large red button is in reach. Bumzu joins them, runs a hand over Eunha’s head and then sits to control the music.

As Jihoon directs Seungkwan, Eunha turns her head on his chest towards the booth. He rubs her back, her fever-ridden body warming his.

Seungkwan’s recording doesn’t take long and they quickly start cycling through all the members, who poke their head in asking if there’s a line. A couple hours later, it’s Jihoon’s turn. He starts to sit up and Eunha sits back.

“Have you been awake the whole time?” Jihoon teases. He brushes her hair out of her eyes.

Eunha smiles sleepily at him. He tries not to worry too much about the red flush in her cheeks or the burning in his chest from how warm her skin is.

Jihoon hoists her up and hands her to Bumzu. “You sit here with Uncle Bumzu for a bit.”

As the day progresses, Eunha’s fever begins to climb. She spends most of the day sleeping, drinking water when Jihoon makes her, and drinking orange juice that Hansol brought in. By dinnertime, Jihoon decides to call an early night.

With his baby’s head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck, Jihoon walks to a nearby grocery store. The members all offered their suggestions of what he should do to level out her fever; it made Jihoon’s head spin too.

“Yeah, yes, I know. I’ll bring it home.”

Jihoon glances over at the voice. It’s a woman on the phone. Her eyes are skimming through the medicines in front of them.

“Yes, your boyfriend is a sh—” She meets Jihoon’s eye then catches sight of Eunha attached to him. “A horrible human being.”

Jihoon can’t help but chuckle and then turns his attention back to the medicine.

“I’m hanging up now, you whiny brat. Sleep until I get home. Yes, yes. Hanging up now, bye.” She sighs. “Sorry.”

Jihoon nods his head. “That’s okay. Thanks for—”

“Are you Woozi?”’

Jihoon blinks in surprise. Her ‘sorry’ had meant different things to both of them. “Oh.” He wonders if he could deny it, but he’s dressed in his signature ball cap, large t-shirt and shorts. “Yeah.”

She nods. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Oh.” Jihoon’s mind races, but fails him. All he can think about is his daughter’s spiking temperature. He can’t come up with a viable lie. Sighing, he says,“Yeah.”

She hums and notices Jihoon standing in front of the children’s medicine. “I usually get the Children’s Tylenol for my little brother when he’s sick. But…” She glances at Jihoon. “I wouldn’t give her anything if she’s sleeping. Let her sleep it off.”

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow. “You’re a nurse?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, squatting down to inspect the various Nyquils. “God, no. Just have a younger sibling her age. Spend a lot of time taking care of him when my parents are working.”

“Your medicine is for…?”

Her eyes tip up to him, two boxes in her hands. “My best friend,” she sighs. “Woman caught a cold from her boyfriend, who then refuses to let her stay in their apartment until she’s better.” She rolls her eyes. “Every other time, he’s great. But god, boys are pathetic.”

Jihoon smiles at this. “Yeah. We are.”

She grins as she decides on the extra strength Nyquil for her friend. When she straightens, she continues. “Orange juice, sleep, and soup is usually better for their stomachs.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows wondering if she’s referring to boys, her best friend or Eunha.

She clarifies with a laugh. “Kids. Be gentle on her tummy.”

Jihoon’s mouth drops in realization. “Right. Yeah. Thank you.”

She hesitates for a moment, but decides against whatever she was going to say and bows. “It was nice to meet you, Woozi.”

“Yes, you too.” He bows his head. “Thank you again.”

“I hope she feels better.”

Jihoon tips his head.

“Your daughter and my friend.” She waves the Nyquil in the air. “She’ll drive me insane otherwise.” Then she turns on her heel and heads towards the registers.

Jihoon watches her go and then heads towards the juice aisle, Children’s Tylenol in hand.

pt. 2

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Let’s Burn the World Down - AUgust Day 6

Title: Let’s Burn the World Down

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Background relationships: Bucky/Natasha, Steve/Sam

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Tony falls in love with the guy he keeps meeting in the ER. Too bad the guy already has a girlfriend... or does he?

+++++++++++

For a billionaire, Tony has to go to the hospital very often. Whether it’s a lab accident, a car accident, an assassination attempt, and/or anything else, Tony finds himself in the ER at least once a month. His insurance is higher than his standards, which isn’t saying much, Tony surmises, because he’s halfway in love with the guy he sees almost every time he goes.

 They’ve seen each other so frequently that they’ve started nodding to each other and saying, “What are you in for?” like they do in the movies at the police station.

 Although he’s being truthful, Tony knows that most of his incidents sound very made up. “Oh, they sent someone to assassinate me, but I managed to flirt my way out of it with only a stab wound.” “My lab exploded.” “My robot dropped a steel sheet on my foot.” “I tripped on something and fell off my porch to the porch below.” But he is even more disbelieving of this man’s injuries.

The guy says stuff like “I shot myself with a boomerang arrow.” “I was skydiving with my dog and my parachute got caught on a tree branch, and an eagle attacked me.” “I think that pizza I ate was too old.” “My old circus buddy tried to kill me. He failed.” “I fell out of the vents, and the bad guys beat me up.”

 Today Tony comes in because he had to jump through a window to avoid Sunset Bain. He now has glass sticking out of his side, and he’s sitting calmly until a doctor can see him. The man limps in, bloody and skin mangled on his leg. The others in the ER gasp as he signs in and takes a seat beside Tony. “Hey man, what you in for?” He asks.

 “Jumped out a window to avoid my ex.”

 “Mood.” The man nods sagely. “I just battled a cougar and won. Before you ask, yes it was the cat kind, although I don’t doubt that a middle-aged woman couldn’t do this if she was rejected.” He gestures to his leg. Tony barks out a laugh.

 “Oh, they could. Trust me. By the way, I never got your name. Or did you want to stay anonymous?” Tony asks.

 The man shakes his head. “We’d go great no matter how we do it. Name’s Clint.”

 “I’m Tony.”

“Yea, I know.” When Tony looks at him, surprised, Clint pats his shoulder placatingly. “You’ve got these people fooled with your greasy shirts and hats, but I never forget a face. Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out. But why do you come to this crappy ER all the time? Aren’t you supposed to go to the ones that are made for rich people?”

 Tony shrugs. Truthfully, the first couple time he came, it was because he had happened to be in the neighborhood when disaster struck. He had struck up conversation with Clint, and he decided that if he were able to talk with him, Tony would keep coming to this ER. “I don’t know. I’m in the area a lot, I guess.”

 Tony gets that he has problems. He knows that he quickly falls in love with anyone who will show him kindness or even just the time of day because he didn’t get enough love and attention from his parents as a child. He goes to therapy, and he does make an effort to figure out which people are being nice only because they want something, which people are just simply being nice, and which people are flirting. It’s still hard sometimes, like now. He doesn’t think Clint wants something because 1.) he just said that he won’t rat Tony out and 2.) he could have taken Tony’s wallet very easily many times. But is Clint just a nice dude, or does he like Tony?

 A nurse gets Tony just as another comes for Clint. Tony lies on his side for far too long as they pull glass from his body. When he’s cleared to go, the doctor tells him, “You have to be more careful, Mr. Stark. You’re not invincible, and I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

 “Thanks Doc. I’ll do my best.” He shakes the man’s hand.

 On his way out, he sees Clint talking to a beautiful redhead. She is reaming him out in Russian, calling him and idiot and a few other unsanitary words. Clint tries to console her, but she grabs his hand and pushes him into her car. She speeds off, still shouting in Russian. Tony’s heart drops. He has no chance with Clint now. No one would give up a woman like her for him unless they wanted something.

 The next time Tony gets hurt, he goes to the ER near his home. He is in and out shortly, but Tony feels incomplete. He misses the easy camaraderie with Clint. I can still joke with him as friends, right? There’s no harm in that. He reasons, but he chickens out the next time, when he accidentally burns his arm with his blowtorch, and then when he gets shot. This keeps happening until it has been at least three months since he last saw Clint.

 Tony gets drunk in a bar | in Brooklyn. Very, very drunk. The thing about being a Stark – you can hold your liquor very well, and even when you are so drunk most people black out, you can still walk and talk albeit hindered a little. Well, Tony is that drunk, and this is when he tends to overshare. He’s telling the bartender, a beefy man with long brown hair, about Clint. “So, there’s this guy, you know. Only time I see him is when I go to the ER. He’s really cute, he’s got like tons of biceps, and he’s funny. We used to see each other all the time, and I think I love him. But one time, I saw him, and he had a girlfriend. Super, smoking hot redhead – like I don’t even stand a chance. So, I’ve been avoiding him. It’s dumb because he doesn’t know I like him, and I keep convincing myself that I can still talk to him as friends and such, but then my brain just tells me he has a girlfriend, and I end up going to an ER near my house. You know?”

 “Not really.” The bartender grins. “But I’m not an ER regular.”

“That’s too bad. It’s fun there sometimes.” Tony pats his hand somberly. “Sometimes we freak people out with our injuries. But we’re calm. It happens so much that we’re just like ‘meh’.  The doctor told me to be careful because I wasn’t invincible, and I was like ‘ok, I’ll tell my enemies to stop trying to kill me. I hope it works.’”

 The bartender throws back his hand and laughs. Tony drains his glass of Scotch and asks for another. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” The bartender asks. What was his name? Barney? Barn?

 “Barnes!” Yells someone from the other end of the bar. “I need a mimosa stat!”

 “Shut your whore mouth Wilson!” Barnes yells back. “I’m not serving you anything after what you and Steve put me though last night!” He turns back to Tony. “The dude’s dating my step-brother, and our walls aren’t soundproofed. I hate them so much.”

 “I could soundproof your walls for you.” Tony offers. He’s not sure why he offered, but he did. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.

 “Thanks for the offer, but Nat and I will get them back at some point. Maybe we’ll do it on the couch.” Barnes grins. “Someone else can make Sam’s mimosa. Wanda’s working that end of the bar anyways.” He gives Tony one more Scotch and says, “This is your last one. I’m going to have to cut you off because I don’t want you to die.”

 Tony quietly sips on his drink while Barnes makes other drinks. Once done, he stuffs a few hundreds in the tip jar and turns to leave when a scarlet-haired woman sits on the stool beside him. Tony blinks at her for a second, thinking that she looks familiar. Barnes’ face lights up, and he comes over to her. “Hey, come here often?” He asks, fake seductively.

 “Don’t be an idiot,” She tells him and pulls his face in for a kiss. Tony realizes why he thinks she looks familiar. She’s Clint’s girlfriend!

He spins on his stool to face them. “You bitch!” He yells at her, then clamps a hand over his mouth as Barnes growls a warning. “I am so sorry. I don’t know your situation. You could have broken up with him, or hey, you’re a threesome, or an open relationship. I’m sorry. I was just caught up… and I’ll just go.”

 Tony stumbles off the stool and heads out of the bar. Mind swirling with liquor and shame, he doesn’t notice he’s in the street or the ugly purple car headed towards him until it’s too late. Frozen, he stares down the lights until the car smacks into him.

 Lying on the ground, the last thing he remembers is a person jumping out and yelling, “What are you doing, you idiot? Tony?”

 Tony wakes up in a strange place. He feels like he should be in the hospital, but he’s not. Looking around, he sees a lot of… purple. “Ugh, no one should have this much purple anything,”

 “I take offense to that.” A voice says. Wait… that’s Clint. Tony wildly tries to sit up, and Clint comes into his line of vision. “Hey, hey lie back down! I don’t think anything’s broken, but you should probably just let your body rest for a while.”

 “What happened?”

 “I hit you with my car because you were standing in the middle of the street. Why were you standing in the middle of the street?” Clint looks worried.

 Tony tries to wave him off. “You know, just for the thrill.”

 “Tony, most things I do are just for the thrill, and I know it’s idiotic to stand in the middle of the street.”

 “Yeah well, the thing I did before it was idiotic, too, so I’m pretty good at that.” Tony sighs. He doesn’t really want to get into it because Clint will probably make him leave. Tony’s good at leaving. Everyone makes him leave after they learn his true self. Ah, well, what does he have to lose but the love of his life?

 “So, last time we were both at the ER, I saw the woman who picked you up. I guess I just figured you were dating the way you both interacted with each other,” Tony explains. “Well, at the bar last night, she came in and made out with the bartender. I called her a bitch because my first thought was that she was cheating on you. Then I remembered that it had been three months, and I didn’t really know anything about you – you might have broken up, or were poly, or open relationship. Point is, I’m an idiot who speaks before he thinks then faces the consequences, even if they’re not direct.” He is very confused when Clint starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

 “I can’t believe you called Natasha a bitch and still live to tell the story.” Clint says between gasps. “That’s fuckin hilarious. I am sorry that I hit you with my car.”

 Tony is thoroughly confused, and Clint takes pity on him. “Natasha is dating Bucky, the bartender. She’s my best friend and confidante. She gets angry when I do stupid things, but I still do them. We are not dating, never have, and never will. Hopefully, that clears things up.”

 “A little.” Tony just feels disoriented. This is not something he has ever had to deal with before.  

 There’s a knock at the door. This “Natasha” pokes her head in. “Hey Clint, is he ok?”

 “Yea, come in. Tony meet Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, this is Tony Stark.” Clint gestures to the both of them.

 Natasha smirks. “Hi Tony.”

 “Hi,” He says weakly. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. I sometimes talk before I think, and I’m sorry.”

 “Just don’t do it again. Are you guys hungry? Bucky’s making blini.”

 Clint nods. “Tell him I love him. We’ll take two plates. You like blini, right?” He directs the question at Tony.

 “I think so. I’ve only had them once or twice,” Tony says. When Natasha leaves, he tells Clint, “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

 “Well this is my room, so I want to stay here. By the way, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while. I was starting to think you took my fancy ER comment seriously.”

 Tony grimaces. “Well, it’s a long story. But I did end up going to the ER near my house a couple times. It’s hard to get no injuries in the stuff I do.”

 “Well, I don’t blame you for going to the uber fancy ERs, you know, because there’s better service or whatever. But if you do, can we hang out somewhere other than the ER, then? I kind of missed you, man.” Clint looks at Tony earnestly.

 “The main reason I stopped going to our ER is that I saw you with Natasha and thought, ‘how could I ever compete?’ I would tell myself to just go. I could talk to you as a friend, and not me crushing on you, but I always psyched myself out when I got hurt, and I just went to the ER by my house.”

 “You’re crushing on me? Wow. I did not know that. I crushed on you the first day I saw you, and I thought you were just being nice. I’m a dumpster fire on my best days.”

 Tony shoots him a wicked grin. “Then let’s burn down the world together.” 

[rosaline-kei]

Bare; AruMika Fanfic (One-Shot)

Disclaimer:I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Synopsis: It was the first time Armin ever saw a woman’s bare back, bare chest. Exposed.And he had not expected to see it in this sort of situation.It was the first time Mikasa found herself this much exposed in front of him.And the last thing she felt was any form of uncomfortableness, but still, she wished that he didn’t have to witness something so unsightly.

Rated: T

Pairings: Mikasa Ackerman / Armin Arlert

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at my Ao3 / FF net (as stated in bio)

Author’s Note : A drabble that i decided to (semi)complete. I don’t think it’s that good but meh. You can interpret it as platonic or romantic but frankly, i think its leaning more towards (unresolved) tomantic tension lol.

-

He watches her fall.

Again. For the second time. For the second time, Armin hears her air-tank choke, and watches it come to an abrupt halt a second after. The next thing he sees is how she almost crashes to what could’ve been a close death if he hadn’t swoop in, scoop her in his arms before landing on the ground.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been in time to save her from the spiky branches that tore through her blouse, staining them crimson red all over, bestowing her yet another series of scars on her back and chest that would take a while to recover, heal from. And if she was lucky, they’d disappear for good.

But he had been in time to catch her before her head could’ve knocked onto something rock-hard, which could’ve led to a concussion. A coma. He is momentarily relieved when he sees that she is still conscious. He lays her down gently against a tree, with such caution as if he was handling a watchmaker’s intricate task, as if she is the most fragile thing he has seen or touched. He doesn’t want her anymore hurt than she already is.

But that relief soon washes itself away when he sees her wince in pain, and he can tell that its taking every ounce of her remaining strength to not let out a loud yelp that could possibly scare the creatures resting in the forest at this time of the day, or more specifically night.

After developing and improving on the 3-D manoeuvre gear, Commander Hanji had given an Okay for Levi and his squad to test it out while she busies herself with another pile of paperwork, with her responsibilities as Commander. They had split themselves up, in the forest at night, continuing their training as per normal while familiarising with the new gear that they’d possibly be wearing when they’d confront the man who had abandoned them.

He isn’t sure how far they are now, and figures that screaming for help would be pointless because he knows he needs to take action now as opposed to waiting for his calls to be answered.

Because Armin had been in front of the raven, he is unable to tell if it was her momentary carelessness and loss of her cool that had led her to her downfall or if it was due to a fault in the gear that had caused the gas to halt so abruptly. It doesn’t matter either way, for now. He has other things to worry about, like how her blouse was soaking up more and more blood.

“Mikasa.” He calls her name as calmly as he could, but he is sure the woman in front of him can see through this false front he puts for her, and that he is worried to death even though he is aware that this isn’t the sort of tragic moment where this would be the last breath she takes. He knows she is stronger than that and that it’d take more than a fall to kill her. But he still worries. He can’t help but worry for her, for the future, her future. And he hopes when the time comes when they meet him—their ex-comrade who abandoned them—she won’t be so careless, reckless.

Before he knows it, he finds his hands gripping both of hers tightly, reassuringly. “Is your breathing fine? Is—”

He hates how she forces herself to sit up a little straighter, swallowing every painful shriek that she doesn’t want to let out because she knows it’ll do no good, and would only worry her blonde friend even more. What she doesn’t know is that Armin doesn’t care. He wants her to scream and let out all of her pain, because he knows it’s better than bottling everything up.

However, he doesn’t bring it up. Because arguing now would be a foolish thing to do.

“The wounds are not that deep.” Armin can’t tell if she’s lying to reassure him. He knows that the woman in front of him, who was worth a hundred soldiers, would not die so easily from a few scratches from the branches. But he also knows that this woman was still human. And humans are fragile beings, the surface of their skin is thin, easy to tear from something as trivial as a paper cut. And while he was sure Mikasa is aware of this, she doesn’t seem to apply that knowledge to herself. “Just… There was just a lot of branches.” She pauses briefly. “And it just happened to open up old wounds… but I’m fine. Give me a while.”

Armin is instantly reminded of the recent wounds that she received not too long ago from both a spar and from work; labour that she had been assigned to do (and from what he had heard, pushed herself a little too far. Something that he has already nagged and chided her for.).

His eyes narrow, and he doesn’t trust her ‘I’m fine’ completely. But there is still colour in her face, her breathing isn’t concerningly shallow and it doesn’t look like she is forcing her eyes to stay wide open to avoid the pitch black a person would see when they faint. And he reminds himself that she isn’t dying.

He hopes that something like this won’t happen again, on the battlefield, where her life would truly be more at risk. He doesn’t want to lose her.

He glances around the forest. Albeit dark, he recognises it. They have been training in these parts for quite some time now after all. “There’s a river nearby.” He quickly says, suddenly in a rush. “We’ll wash your wounds there.” He doesn’t give her a choice. He isn’t asking.

“I’m fine.” Yet she insists on the fact that she doesn’t need help. “On the battlefield, I don’t get the luxury of washing my wounds at a lake.” She is stubborn. “I have to put up with it.”

“But we aren’t at war now.” He sounds sterner now, fiercer. He isn’t usually like this; he is admittedly more of a passive person who probably had given into her more often than he should recently. However, he doesn’t know how else to respond to her stubbornness.

He slowly carries her up, and it seems like Mikasa’s body is a little too worn out to fight back.

Again, it is foolish to argue now. That’s the last thing Armin wants with her. He tries to reason. “And by the time you’re on the battlefield, all your wounds would already be healed. You’ll be stronger. At your fullest. But right now, you’ve been overworking yourself, getting new bruises. You aren’t at full capacity.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue back, because he is right. And she knows he wouldn’t yield to her stubbornness because he cares for her too deeply.

…

When they reached the river, Armin once again gently sets her down and removes both their gears, setting them aside. He notices that her wounds are no longer oozing out as much blood as before, and it soothes him… just slightly. It confirms the fact that they aren’t that deep, but it doesn’t mean Armin would care any less about it. About her.

His hands scramble about in his pockets, and finds a clean handkerchief that he isn’t sure how it ended up there, but regardless is thankful for its presence. He approaches the lake, soaks it with water before squeezing some of it out and turns back to Mikasa.

It was only then did he realise what he has to do and what he has just gotten himself into.

Mikasa already knows, has her back already turned and facing him as her hands move to unbutton her blouse.

It is probably an extremely inappropriate moment to flush, but Armin can’t help it. Instinctively, he turns away, sparing her some privacy even though that isn’t exactly a choice later on. “I- uh… ah…” There is no longer a sternness in his tone. It is lost, and nervousness overwhelms him. Mikasa notices it in the instant she unbuttons the last button, letting the blouse fall down her shoulders, down to the ground.

Armin is unable to believe how she removes the clothes from her body without that much hesitance. Does she not realise what she is doing? Or does she trust him that much? Or is it because she doesn’t see him as man?

The last thought irks him somehow, but that is far from the truth behind Mikasa’s lowered guard around him.

Mikasa knows the back of her sports bra is partially torn, too. And she knows it’ll get in the way. So, her hands move towards it, unhesitatingly, to take it off.

“W-Wait!” Despite his well-known intellect, clearly Armin didn’t think ahead for this scenario. He is red all over. “I- ah… y-you can keep that on. I don’t want to...—”

“I trust you, Armin.” She says this so confidently, even though admittedly, she’s a little embarrassed too. Because she is still a woman who has undeniably grown in certain areas, and this is the first time she exposes herself this much to a man. But there weren’t nurses around to tend to her, so she isn’t in a position to complain. And she knows that if she puts back on her blouse and tells Armin to forget it, he’ll go on a lecture and the cycle repeats.

And above all, she trusts Armin. He is her childhood friend, too. He would never harm her. He could never harm her. She knows this, and she never takes advantage of it, of his kindness because she cares for him deeply too. She cares for him, in her own unspoken way. “It’s okay.” She doesn’t look back to him to give a reassuring look that provides as much assurance as her tone, mostly because her cheeks are tinged slightly pink, and she doesn’t want that to distract him or make him any more uneasy.

I trust him. She thinks. But even so…this situation is…

Her cheeks, tinged with pink, says enough.

Armin gulps and nods and walks towards her silently before kneeling down behind her after she has removed her bra. Perhaps if Mikasa could’ve reached all the wounded areas on her back easily, the two childhood friends probably wouldn’t have found themselves in this sort of… predicament.

“I’ll… be fast.” He says, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be gentle. He dabs the cloth on her wounds lightly, wiping away the blood.

She winces, making Armin even softer in his movements. “It’s okay.” She says again, her arms crossed and covering the front of her chest. “We’re alone…anyway. We aren’t supposed to meet the others yet… they probably wouldn’t have noticed our absence.”

“Yeah…” Armin murmurs, “Does it hurt?” He checks on her, as he approaches the slightly deeper cuts that appears to be her re-opened wounds. He makes a mental note to inform Commander Hanji that they should have a wardrobe upgrade, have better material for their uniforms. A blouse and a jacket over it weren’t going to do it for them at this point in time.

“No.” Mikasa responds. “Sorry.” She responds, and Armin raises a brow, before he finds them furrowing in slight frustration.

“Does that mean… your fall was due to carelessness?” He asks, and he tries his best to ensure that his question doesn’t sound something close like a reprimand.

“I don’t think so.” What an uncertain answer, Armin cannot help but think. Neither a lie nor the truth. “I’m just… tired.”

He decides not to pry any further, and lets it go for now because pushing, and maybe even arguing won’t do either of them any good. And perhaps, its because he can empathise with her too. Deep down, he knows it isn’t just the training and labour that is wearing her down. There was him, too. In that way, they are alike. However, their connection extends further than that.

They aren’t just connected because of him.

Either way, He doesn’t want to think of his name, much less say it out loud now. So, he changes the topic.

Somewhat.

“Please…be more careful next time.” He finds himself saying this before he could rethink his words. In Mikasa’s eyes, Armin never had his guard up so high around her. Because just as she trusts him, he trusts her. However, hearing him so vulnerable now seemed to have surprised her a little, and it softens her heart. It makes her feel a little more vulnerable than she already is, too. “I can’t lose you.” It sounds like a plea, and he is referring to the next time they are out on the actual battlefield; a place where lives are truly at risk, at stake. More prone to death. “That is… all I ask from you, Mikasa.” He whispers that last part in a hushed tone, and she could only wonder why.

“…I don’t have any bandages now.” Armin continues before Mikasa could reply. “Otherwise… your wounds are a little cleaner now. Ah… we better get you back to headquarters quick…” He grumbles the last part, and walks over to the river once more, rinsing the blood absorbed from the handkerchief before walking back.

When he returns back, his anxiousness does too. “Uh… your front.” He is vague. “I’ll… clean it now… so… uh… I… d-do you—”

His words are cut halfway, and his cheeks become redder when the woman in front of him unexpectedly turns towards him, facing straight at him. And even if her arms are still covering her breasts, there is still the sight of her cleavage that he tries to avoid looking at but it is difficult not to when he’d start cleaning the wound in front because...

Either way, he is astounded once again that the raven doesn’t mind being so exposed in front of him.

“M-Mikasa! W-What are you—”

He looks away so fast when she turns anyway, so he doesn’t notice the light, faint pinkness on the raven’s cheeks. “I trust you.” She says again, “There aren’t that many scars as compared to my back… the blood is still oozing out a little, but nothing serious…” She remarks as calmly as she could, forcing every stutter to die and her words to be more articulate. It is hard to maintain her usual levelled tone in her voice, but she tries to because she doesn’t want Armin to think she is uncomfortable or hates it.

Armin gulps again, and with his eyes still fixated on a random leaf on the ground, he marches to her in an awfully stiff way, kneels down, and Mikasa swears it took him more than a minute to finally be able to face her.

Despite their shyness and silence, there seems to be an unspoken understanding between them that prompts Mikasa to slowly loosen her arms, exposing her chest completely but Armin’s eyes aren’t focused—he makes sure they aren’t focus on her… womanly parts. He doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, and he isn’t sure if he can contain his blush if he even dares peek at them.

Besides, the long scar that stretched from the top of her chest, down to her upper stomach catches his attention the most. And his worry sinks back in, numbing his flustered self temporarily. Even if the wound isn’t that deep, he worries. His eyes soften as he cleans the blood dripping. For the first time, he never knew he could hate the colour red so much. And he can only hope that she wouldn’t drenched in it the next time he encounters her on the battlefield.

He doesn’t say anything for now, in fear of making her uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know what sort of conversation to even make, in this sort of situation. And as he is finishing cleaning up, Mikasa speaks.

“Sorry…” Mikasa suddenly apologises again, although she sounds sullener. “For you to see something so unsightly.” She is referring to her scars. And although she knows she—that both of them had seen worse, more gory things in their life, she can’t help but feel bad. It’s not like anyone wants to see a friend’s bleeding wounds. “And I’m sorry for troubling you.” He wonders if she is referring to her earlier obstinance.

“…Gee… what are you saying? You’d have done the same thing for me right?” Armin murmurs, and when he finishes cleaning the last bit of leaking blood, he garners some courage as his ocean hues meet her greyish ones that seemed a little brighter, perhaps due to the moonlight. Unsightly? He scoffs to himself. What is she talking about?

She is beautiful. He thinks immediately, and blushes at the sudden thought. And then finds himself mesmerised by her, by the trusting, loving look in her eyes that she doesn’t bother to hide, that she lets him see. Because Mikasa Ackerman cares for Armin Arlert deeply and what is there in that fact to hide? He shifts closer to her sub-consciously, as if his eyes want a closer peak of the ‘colourfulness’ hidden behind her orbs. Unknown to him, he is hypnotized. “You aren’t unsightly…” Words like that spill from the tip of his tongue, “Your eyes… they sparkle in the moonlight. Like last time.”

Last time…?

Mikasa finally sees his face, a little clearer now, and unknown to Armin, he is moving closer to her, and she is unsure why he suddenly complimented her eyes. Or why her heart begins to palpitate, or why there is warmth accumulating at her cheeks.

“Armin…?”

“Mika—”

But alas, the moment is ruined. Armin’s arm grazes her breasts lightly and most definitely accidentally, when he moves closer—but the fact that it was an accident doesn’t make the situation any better as Mikasa’s cheeks officially burnt red while Armin, upon realising what he had just done, instantly turns around and becomes a stuttering mess.

“I-I-I d-didn’t m—”

Mikasa finds herself covering her chest again. And even though she knows it’s an accident, it is still flustering.

Then suddenly, she recalls something, a moment back before their lives had taken a terrible direction. A moment before they realised and saw what life outside the walls was truly like. A moment, which had revealed to Mikasa back then that Armin wasn’t as innocent as she thought he was.

“…Armin, weren’t you the one who… had those indecent books that you later circulated around the boys for a while… before they got confiscated?”

Her statement doesn’t make this… his predicament any better, nor does it cure his stutters. If anything, it worsens them, and to make things worse, he feels his heart beating rapidly as he struggles to find words to explain.

“I-I…! I-It isn’t w-what you t-think! I—”

“…Perv.” She says it flatly, in such a cold way that almost drives Armin into tears of embarrassment. That was, until he heard a chuckle that followed after a minute of him internally suffering from being labelled as a perv by her.

A beautiful, angelic sort of sound he hadn’t heard from her for a while.

“W-Why—”

“You can turn around now.” She says, and he does so, hesitantly. She already has her bra back on, and her smile still stays plastered on her face after her chuckle.

What a sweet smile, he thinks.

“I still trust you.” She says softly, and that relieves him a little. But he is concerned that she didn’t withdraw her remark about him being a perv. Then again, to be fair… that indecent book incident…

He cut his thoughts off halfway when he sees her about to wear back that bloodied blouse. He immediately stops her, and Mikasa frowns, confused.

“Arm—”

Before she knows it, Armin is the one unbuttoning his blouse and before she is the one who turns to a stuttering, confused mess the blonde speaks, “It’s dirty… don’t wear it back”

He goes behind her, removes the dirtied blouse after handing her his own.

“Ah…” was all Mikasa could say, and she feels embarrassed at the fact that she thought he was undressing for… other reasons. And she is too stubborn to admit it, or say it out loud.

“Thank you.” She ends up saying, and she is genuinely grateful. Slowly, she puts on his blouse as Armin takes a seat behind her, his eyes looking over at her wounds. He notices some of them bleeding a little again, and it aches his heart but there is nothing much he can do with just a handkerchief.

“Sorry… for you to see something so unsightly.” Her remarks echo in his head, and he doesn’t like it.

Granted, Armin agrees that scars are anything but pretty. Because behind each scar, is pain. You can rarely find any beauty in them.

But when Armin sees Mikasa, he still finds her beautiful. Not just the outer appearance, but her heart. She may be regarded as cold by strangers, cruel by enemies… but he cannot help but find her heart beautiful, because he is one of the very few people she has ever made room for in there.

He leans in closer to her back, and before the blouse covers all her back as she buttons them, he presses his lips against the area near the nape of her neck. It all happened too fast, too instinctive; at least on his part. Armin was barely aware of the affection he just gave her.

Mikasa is caught off guard, and she flushes at his sudden ‘attack’. But she doesn’t hate it. She is just confused why he did it and… is puzzled about the sudden fluttering in her heart.

“A-Armin…?” She stutters out.

When his lips finally depart from her back, it seems like he hasn’t snapped out of the trance he is in, and isn’t completely aware of what he just did. And all he manages to say is, “You aren’t unsightly.”

Mikasa goes silent, and for some reason, she feels her entire body and nerves relax, as if such simple words provided her some sort of solace.

“…You really are a Perv.” She cannot help but reply, because she finds it unfair how he could do something like that… how he can surprise her just like that.

It is only when she calls him a Perv again, does he become fully aware of what his instincts drove him to do. He is now panicking and blushing madly. And then, he is struggling again, to find words to explain, to justify.

“…I could’ve cleaned my chest myself you know.” Mikasa says these words as if she had been aware of this fact all along. But really, that thought has only now occurred to her; and it probably flusters her more than the blonde whose cheeks grew redder (if it can already be redder than it already was) as the word Perv automatically and continuously reverberates in his head. He hopes Mikasa doesn’t really think of him as Perv.

It seems both of them had been too caught up in the moment.

Well, what’s done is done and Mikasa doesn’t seem to be bothered about Armin’s actions as much as he thinks she does. Not even the kiss on her back, which is something she chooses not to question now. Because she is sure they are both tired and given the current predicament—the one where they are in the middle of the forest, unable to head back using their gear since hers is faulty— and that it isn’t the best time to bring it up.

For now, the raven merely watches the blonde’s shyness grow increasingly as he mumbles out inarticulate words that she assumes are meant to explain and justify himself, and prove himself unguilty of his Perv nickname.

This is the same man who is able to use words as weapons against enemies, to push forward his beliefs. That same man was stammering, unable to find the right words and a part of Mikasa finds this side of his amusing. And maybe cute.

She doesn’t say anything after, as her heart chooses to treasure this little moment they have.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Prince! Harry Hook x Chosen Knight!Reader - Remember your past life

Inspired by botw story of link and Zeldas friendship

---

Long ago, almost 500 years, the was a prince, named Harrison Killian Jones, son of the savior Queen Emma swan and the thief turned hero King Killian jones, he was prophecized to be the savior of his kingdom, a power locked within him.

When he was 16 he was assigned a knight, but not just any knight, the wielder of the sword that seals the darkness.

(y/n) (l/n) his chosen knight, his guard.

And he hated her, for they had been able to unsheath the powerful sword when she was only 15, only trying once before the sword allowed her to wield it.

While Harry had been hounded and pressured to access his stupid magic since he was a child, to no avail.

Every time he looked at her, he saw his failures, his duties, his fate, his destiny.

He hated it, doing his best to run, keep her at a distance, but she always found him, keeping pace behind him and watching him.

The darkness soon erupted, and the knight lost her life, the prince ordering her into the shrine of resurrection, heading to his home to face the dark one alone.

It has been 500 years since then, and the kingdom had long been forgotten, the prince long since reincarnated, and the knight had awoken, though her memories, were scarce, only remembering her name.

This is where our story begins

=

“We need ta get to ȋ̷̢̫́͗n̶̜̫͂͗̕a̷̹͔̳̒ụ̵͓̼̈ͅd̸̡̉̅͘͠ȉ̴͍̫̥b̶̧̛͖̤͆̾̈́͜l̵̬͐e̶̳̼̟͂̈̕͝ as soon as possible, and make some adjustments on that divine beast so G̸̘̤̙̤̀̇͗̚î̶̬̘̄l̷͕͊̋̚ can use it as easily as possible”

You walked behind the taller black haired prince, listening as he prattled on about the divine beast.

“I still can't believe he figured out how to get it to move” the prince muttered, looking down at the high tech tablet “he still has yet to figure out all the secrets and tricks.”

“it's odd to think that these beasts were actually built by people, but that means they are not out of our understanding, and we should be able to figure it out.”

The prince finally looked up from the tablet looking to the sky, a determined tone to his voice.

“and we can use them to our advantage, these divine beasts…there is so much we don’t know about them, but if we want to seal back the dark one, they're our best hope”

The dark-haired prince slowly came to a stop, his shoulders slumping, turning to you, his bright ocean blue eyes meeting yours.

“tell me…that sword, how proficient are you at using it?”

You glanced at the hilt, gleaming over your shoulder, before turning back to the prince.

“Legend says that a voice can be heard by the swords chosen, can you hear it yet, Hero?”

=

Your horse huffed as you made it gallop up the hill, heading towards the prince as he tried to unlock the large shrine.

He turned, his ocean blue eyes simmering with surprise and rage. You hopped off (horses name) quickly jogging up to the prince

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t need someone to guide me around!” the prince rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

“I, the prince, am perfectly fine by myself, regardless of the kings orders” you simply stared at him, tapping your fingers on your thigh nervously, not that he could see “return to the castle, and tell that to my father….please” he added as an afterthought, strutting angerly to his horse, you watching him before starting to run after him.

The prince’s fists clenched, hurridly turning and yelling in your face.

“and stop following me!!”

=

The prince leaned against his sister fast asleep, the dark-haired girl staring softly down at her little brother.

“you sure got her’e quick” she muttered, turning slightly to greet you “I guess I should have to expect that from meh little brother's own personal knight. He was out on a survey all day, still as water now”

She smiled at the dark-haired prince, before turning back to you, a slight coldness in her eye “so? Spill it (y/n), how are you two getting along?”

You sucked on your teeth, shrugging slightly, the princess let out a light breath through her nose “I got it, he's not letting you two get along, he gets frustrated every time he looks at you carrying that sword on your back”

the dark-haired girl sighed, staring at her peacefully sleeping brother “makes him feel like a failure with his own destiny” the princess smiled at you “don’t worry, no need to carry any blame, its unfortunate, he's put in more than enough time, ever since we were kids, da’s pushed him to access his “magic”, even passing out in freezing water to try to unlock it…and he has nothing ta show for it”

the princess looked into the distance “that is what motivates him to research every little thing about all this, technology, he feels it’s the only thing that he can do to help”

she turned to you, a determined look on her face “protect him, understood, with your life, it will be your highest honor”

you nodded, staring right back into her charcoal eyes. She nodded back, turning to her brother “it's getting cold, we should get him inside” she smirked deviously “or~”

the princess’s eyes glowed for a second, and she snapped her fingers, lightning striking the ground, thunder roaring around you, you crouched low as it resounded and shook the earth.

The prince awoke suddenly, squeaking and tumbling forward

“Ah! Ḥ̴̢̥̲̅̽͝ă̷͓̚r̵͕͓̩͛̋͗͝r̸̼̝͒͊͝i̴̭̬̣͓͊͝e̸̡̦̻͊̓t̴̛̠͙͍̐̂! What was that! Did you feel that?!” the prince slowly took notice of you, his striking ocean blue eyes squinting in confusion “wait, what-how did you- what are yeh doing here?!”

The princess snickered before she burst out laughing, the prince turning his confused face to her.

“what? Why are yeh laughing?!”

=

(y/n) wake up

Wake up!

You must save prince H̷͓̤͎͖̺̣̎̒̓̃̉̕ą̴̡̪̼͕͚̦̓́̆̓̔r̸̹̼̥͓̲̤̐͝ṟ̵̡̛͎͇̝̿̃͊̔̆y̶̟̙̞͛̚

You are our only hope

(y/n)!!!

You jerked awake, gasping as you stared at the ceiling of your room, the birds chirping outside.

Those….dreams, had been plaguing you again, more often now that the new vks had started school here at Auradon prep.

You sat up, holding your head, trying to remember the boy in the dreams, he seemed so familiar, but yet so…distant?

You couldn’t recall his name, you couldn’t recall his face, you couldn’t remember anything about him.

Only his ocean blue eyes.

Sighing you looked at your alarm clock, the glowing numbers showing it was 5:00 am, you had always gotten up at this time, you didn’t know why it was just instinct.

Tossing your blanket, you stood from your bed, grabbing a towel in the process, going into the bathroom to wash the sweat from your skin.

=

You sat, silent as the others sparred, watching as Lonnie parried chads sword, knocking him to the floor, her sword now at his neck.

“Valid!” jay called, grinning as Lonnie took her helmet off, “nice one Lonnie!” she smiled, high fiving him

“Thanks, jay! Okay, whos next?!”

You looked around, seeing the rest of the members shuffling on their feet, not wanting to fight the skilled daughter of Mulan.

“ill take a whirl” that voice…you looked up, seeing striking ocean blue eyes, dark wild hair, this person…he was so familiar?

Lonnie grinned, putting her helmet back on, “you're on harry!”

Harry?...why did that name sound so familiar?

As Lonnie drew her sword, an instinct tried to take over, a scene flashing before you.

“Hello your highness, I believe you need to come with us”

“fuck off, im not goin anywhere with yeh!”

The clan member growled, unsheathing his sword and dashing toward the prince, you kicked off the one straddling you, quickly springing forward and blocking the sword, flinging it up into the air, and slashing the clan members' neck.

“gahk”

He fell to the ground, choking on his own blood, you stood in front of the prince, guarding him, as the other clan members backed away slowly.

“leave” you spoke, hearing the prince gasp behind you, having been the first time hearing your voice.

A pounding headache split your head. Groaning you leaned forward, holding your head in your hands.

“(y/n)? you good?” Jay asked, walking over to you, avoiding Lonnie and Harry sparing, patting your back softly

headache you signed, wincing as the pounding increased as you watched harry fight. Jay nodded, helping you stand.

“let's get you to the nurse's office okay?” you nodded, looking back, eyes widening when striking ocean blue met (e/c)

Save prince Ḩ̷̧͙͕̩̗̞̤̱̟͊ä̸̢͖̙́͐͋̈́̉͌̕͝r̵̡͚̭̙̬̹͈͉̩̙̮̖͆͌̂̏̈́̚͝ͅr̸̫̞̤̞̎͗͂̀̀̈́́͐̅̊̎̋͝y̴̨̯̻͖͉̥̙̞͔̩̎ͅ

---end of part 1---

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | one

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid seokjin is (i’m sorry for always making him so dumb) → words: 10.4K → a/n: i know i say this a lot, but this literally the STUPIDEST thing i’ve ever written in my life. i’ve lost maybe ten braincells per word in this fic, and i’m proud of it gdi!! some of my best jokes are in this mess, and that’s saying a lot considering my whole life is a joke. also: check bio for the chapter links for now!

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When you feel yourself awakening, for a moment, you think you might have been hungover. The usual disembodiment you feel after a night out of drinking is what greets you when the last dredges of sleep start to fade out of your periphery, added with the insatiable urge to piss the equivalent of the volume of the Atlantic Ocean. There are weights over your eyes, you surmise, because there is no way you will be able to open them long enough to see whether you were actually dead.

But of course, you are still subjected to the curse of human curiosity, which allows you to gather enough strength to squint blearily and access your current surroundings.

You are greeted by the sight of unfamiliar overhead lights and sterile white walls. The window just to your left shows the darkened sky, the moon creeping just behind the evergreen trees. Groaning slightly, you push yourself into a sitting position, a sudden wave of vertigo slamming into you like a supernova. As you survey the room some more, you notice the sound of muffled conversation going on behind the nearby sheer curtain, and the smell of antiseptic wafts its way into your nostrils. You’re in the nurse’s office, you realize belatedly, grasping the threadbare sheets of your university’s barebones version of a hospital bed.

You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply as you try to remember the last thing that happened to you.

Yoongi’s dick. The stupid e-mail. The poem. The conspiracy group. Seokjin on a pedestal giving a TedTalk about himself. Yoongi’s dick. Namboob. Fainting in the utility closet. Yoongi’s dick.

The mental gymnastics that your brain is currently undergoing elicits a sound akin to a dying squirrel from your open mouth, and it must have sounded terribly loud and unnerving because the nurse bursts into the room just a few seconds after. The nurse, who must have been an underpaid med student by the looks of the designer purple handbags decorating her sullen cheeks, looks at you with less genuine concern and more acute abhorrence.

In your drowsiness, you don’t realize that your throat had somehow converted into the Sahara desert when you had fainted, so you are just as surprised as the nurse when you start doing a wonderful impersonation of Sadako instead.

“Hoo bwat meh hey?” you articulate, your tongue feeling like an oversized fist trying to work its way from out of your larynx. At the very least, no one can blame you for not trying your best to sound coherent. Seeing your struggle, the apathetic nurse has the decency to reach behind one of the shelves and hand you a cup of water. You grab it from her, gulping the entire thing in one go all while you proceed to not care about the rivulets of water and drool trailing down your chin and onto your crotch.

“Sorry,” you say, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. Perhaps for existing? “I was trying to ask who brought me here.”

The nurse, unsurprisingly, only gives you an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Some gray-haired twink came in with you on his back. Apparently, you fainted in front of him for no reason, and when we checked your vitals, everything seemed to be fine.” She gestures at your ragged form, almost as if she didn’t believe that they hadn’t found anything wrong with you. You are obliged to share her sentiments.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. Just make sure to sleep more and eat. University is tough on kids like you,” she says, turning to leave without another look in your direction. Somehow, you feel insulted even though the nurse hadn’t really done anything to you. Perhaps her lack of concern for your mental wellness and the fact that your newly acquired PTSD after today’s events only warranted “a good night’s sleep” as a form of treatment. Ah, the woes of having zero healthcare. Regardless, you decide to take her up on her advice and head home in hopes of acquiring some semblance of sleep after today’s traumatic episode.

Exiting the clinic, you find that almost no one is left on campus, save for the occasional student on their way to their evening classes. Being at your university during the evening had always been an odd sensation for you, as it reminds you of all the nighttime finals you have had to take in the past. Whenever the sun set and darkness enveloped the campus, it is always a given that you would be able to hear someone shouting obscenities from somewhere in the distance, especially since your university is well-known for the bars and clubs that litter its outskirts. Nonetheless, you hopelessly pray that you won’t pass by any drunk college kids, especially on this Friday night.

Just as you are about to cross the street to get to your bus stop, you notice a familiar face waiting by the entrance of the clinic. You backtrack, staring at the back of her head as she inconspicuously tries to peer into the curtained windows like some sort of pervert. Knowing her, your assumption probably isn’t that far off.

You approach her quietly, carrying your footsteps so that she doesn’t hear you until you place your mouth just beside her ear. Even at this proximity, she is none the wiser to your presence. You blow gently against her neck, whispering, “Sera. What the hell are you doing?”

As expected, she shrieks at you in surprise, almost landing a karate-chop on your face but you are saved by the fact that she had as much hand-eye coordination as a dead man in a coffin. You step back as you watch her slice through the air for another few seconds, her gaze wild before they finally land on your smirking face. Realizing that she had overreacted, she straightens up in a huff, glaring at you with as much annoyance as she can muster (but really, who can stay angry at your cute face for long?)

“Trying to look for that hot doctor again?” You joke, peering inquisitively at her hunched form. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of binoculars behind her back at this point, given by how many times you’ve caught her “observing” potential boyfriends.

“How dare––!” She splutters, ears turning red from your accusation. When she shifts slightly, you notice a black object passing through her hands and trying to covertly slip into her bag. Ah. The binoculars.

“How dare I what? Accuse you of stalking a poor med student who is probably overdosing on Adderall as we speak? Oh, sorry for overstepping my boundaries,” you drawl, grinning at her affronted expression. “Unless, of course, you happened to hear about me fainting this afternoon and you wanted to offer me a ride home? Since you’re such a good friend, after all?

She looks at you, alarmed. “You fainted? When? How?”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned. I could’ve died with the image of Min Yoongi’s penis tattooed under the backs of my eyelids, and my best friend never would’ve known… Who, then, would avenge me and clear my name? Who, then, would take care of my growing collection of scantily clad women figurines––?”

“Did you just say you saw Min Yoongi’s penis? Holy shit!” Sera shrieks, eyes bugging out of their sockets. You are sure everyone within a 5 mile radius must’ve heard her, but you didn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Death always did sound like a great vacation idea, anyway.

“Sure, just scream it out for everyone to hear. Maybe we can get him to come back and do it again so you won’t think I’m crazy,” you mutter, grabbing Sera by the sleeve and tugging her towards the parking lot. “You brought your car, right? Bring me home.”

“Jeez, you drop this major bomb on me as if you were just talking about your cat taking a shit on your bed or something, and now you’re ordering me to bring you home? Cheeky,” Sera huffs, but she lets you drag her regardless.

Luckily, her car is parked relatively close because you honestly don’t know how much longer you can take before your knees give out from under you. It seems that despite the little nap you had at the nurse’s clinic, you hardly feel refreshed at all. All you want is to pass out on your comfortable bed for an indefinite period of time and pray for the demon under your bed to drag you to its depths and skin you alive. Knowing your luck, even the demon wouldn’t be that merciful towards a gremlin like yourself.

Sera begins backing up the car, stealing looks at you as you slowly became one with the car seat. You clench your eyelids shut, hoping that Sera would have the decency to respect your space for now and save the questioning for later. That pipe dream is immediately dashed, however, when she starts speeding down the empty streets and opens her big fucking mouth, her shrill voice reverberating in the small sedan.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me now, young miss! You have an entire weekend to hibernate so crank up that brain of yours for two more minutes and tell me what the fuck happened,” she says, nearly crashing over a trash bin in her haste to interrogate you.

“My brain? What’s that? Pretty sure that old thing disintegrated months ago. I think I shat it out when we had Taco Tuesday that one time in November,” you say, missing the way she snorts back in response. When Sera pinches your side to force you to face forward, your fatigue addled consciousness doesn’t even register the pain until a few seconds later.

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

“That literally took you five seconds to react,” Sera whistles, running over a child’s bike in the process. Neither of you look back to check the damage. “Damn, Min Yoongi’s penis must’ve been hella impressive if you’re this mindfucked. Are the rumors true? He must be packing down there, am I right?”

“Please stop saying the word penis. I’m getting triggered again,” you groan, slapping her lightly. She guffaws loudly, shoulders shaking at your misery.

“Sorry, can’t help being a horny bastard. But seriously, what’s the context? I wasn’t even aware you still talked to him after first year. He was your RA at your freshman dorm, right?”

“I don’t talk to him,” you say. You fidget in your seat, hands twisting and turning on your lap. “I mean. We were never close or anything.”

“Then care to explain how you managed to stand in the presence of Min Yoongi junior and behold his glory? Were you guys about to fuck before you realized his penis probably isn’t going to fit? Or, holy shit… Is he actually fun-sized like the rest of his body is?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally fun-sized!” She gasps, snatching up her phone while you two waited at a stoplight. “Wait ‘til Cassandra hears about this––”

Despite your diminished motor skills, you manage to grab her phone away from her before she can spread any misinformation to the rest of the student body. Min Yoongi’s penis is his business, and consequently, it seems to have become your business as well. Cue existential dread.

“Will you shut up for two seconds and let me explain? No, he is not fun-sized. I will not divulge any more information regarding that subject,” you say. Sera deflates noticeably beside you. “And no, we were not about to fuck. I just happened upon him while he was… in the midst of some recreational activities.”

“Oh, he’s into that type of shit. Understandable,” Sera nods, sagely. You have no idea what her tone might be implying, but honestly at that point you were too scared to ask. “How’d you find him like that, then? Did you hear him tugging his meat and decide to join in? Because honestly, big mood.”

“No!” you exclaim hotly, slapping her once again. “I’m not like your perverted ass! I was just––” You halt in the middle of your sentence, recollections of the past hours swimming through your mind and the fear and anxiety that had taken over you this afternoon starts to consume you once more.

“Hey, you alright? You got pale all of a sudden,” Sera notes, slowing down in her driving as she makes her way to park in front of your apartment. The two of you can see the lights of your crotchety landlord’s living room are still on, and you hope to God that he isn’t peering outside his windows and preparing to call the police on your friend (again).

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” you sigh, staring ahead of you and into the empty street. You don’t know why you’re hesitant to tell her what had happened earlier today. Normally, you would be exploding at the seams right now, weeping in despair at the sorry state of your existence. Then again, you’re not sure if you’re ready to go through the agony of reexperiencing the worst 12 hours of your life. Also, you just wanted to go pass out in your bed and never wake up.

In the end, you decide to tell her. Maybe she could offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. “Okay, so don’t laugh but… You remember the poem that got posted on the CCU Love Letters Facebook page this morning?”

Sera nods, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your palms begin to sweat as hot licks of shame run down your back. You whisper, “Well. Yeah. I’m the author.”

There is a tangible silence inside the car. You’re afraid to look at Sera, dreading what sort of expression might appear on her face. Disdain? Pity? Mirth? Whatever it is, her quietness makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in alarm. You’re about to book it out of her car and make some shitty excuse about needing to feed your goldfish when you hear the locks of the cardoors click shut. You whip your head towards her, eyes widening when you saw the smug look on her face.

Not a good sign. At all.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Miss ‘i’m-never-going-to-date-because-romance-is-dead’ Y/N really the author of the sweetest and most romantic poem of the century?” she singsongs, her smirk growing with each word that leaves her lips.

“Who ever said I was against romance?” You retort, cheeks flushing so hotly that you’re sure there is steam coming out of your ears. Sera cackles loudly, slamming her hand so hard into the car horn that it causes one of the wandering cats to jump up high into the air. You are half concerned when you don’t see the poor cat come back down.

“Oh please! When was the last time you dated anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone the entire time we’ve known each other!”

“We met in freshman year. You didn’t know how I was in high school,” you pout, huffing crossly. “And besides. I write romantic poems sometimes. You’ve read my blog posts.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sera giggles once more, switching her phone on to search for something. When she finds what she is looking for, her eyes light up as she shows you the damned poem that got you into this mess in the first place. “You literally wrote ‘how wonderful is it to find that the dips in your hands look awfully lonely without mine in them?’ and you’re telling me that you wrote that?”

You push the phone away, groaning into your hands when you happen to glance at the number of likes on the post. “Fucking 2000 likes? Really? I’m gonna commit seppuku with your 13-inch dildo, I swear.”

As you let yourself descend into madness once more, you feel Sera’s hand pat your back comfortingly, though you can still hear her stifled giggles. “Okay. To be honest, I kind of knew it was you. No one else can write sappy lovesick bullshit like that and be sincere about it. Who the fuck compares skin to moonlight anymore? Are we in the 16th century?”

“You just said you didn’t believe that I’d write it,” you say. “I need people to not think it’s me. It’s so embarrassing as it is!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think people are gonna think it’s you. There are a bunch of people in our Creative Writing class. It could be anyone,” Sera says, pinching your cheek lightly.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sera hums, her thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. She pauses, chuckling lightly at something. “Though, I must say. You’re incredibly lucky. If you had used your actual e-mail address instead of your… burner one, you would have been found out immediately.”

“Little victories,” you say, wondering if the prepubescent version of yourself would have known that creating xXxteamjacobpuppyloverxXx@gmail.com would eventually save your life 10 years later in the future. Probably not, but you’ll take it all the same. “Will you unlock the doors now, please? I’m gonna sleep the trauma away and hopefully not be alive by Monday, but if I am… then I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Hold on sister,” she says, restraining you back into your seat with her arm. You cough in surprise, shooting a glare back her way as she keeps you away from your bed longer than you would already like. “If you’re the author of the poem… Then can you tell me who the muse of the poem is? And more importantly, is it someone I know?”

Judging by the salacious look on her face, you know it would be a bad idea telling her. Not that you wouldn’t trust Sera with your life, but––actually, you really would not trust her with anything. Now that you think about it, telling Sera would be the equivalent of giving Kim Seokjin full access to your internet search history, and you have enough brain cells in your inventory to know that some things are worse than death.

“Ugh, can we just drop the subject, please? I really don’t want to have an aneurysm inside your car right now. I can see Mr. Park staring at us through his living room window and we both know you can’t afford bail for the third time this year.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” she sighs, relinquishing her hold on you and allowing you to unlock the door. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go! You’re telling me everything when we see each other on Tuesday, understand?”

“I’d rather die, thanks!” You call out, slamming the door shut. “And besides, I’m gonna try to kill the rumors as quickly as possible before someone figures it out.”

“How are you gonna do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to go to each of the guys and explain? Maybe tell them it’s a misunderstanding?” Sera asks, watching you curiously. The very thought of doing that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You gaze downwards at the wet pavement, the feeling of impending doom rapidly becoming familiar.

"That would mean outing myself as the author, so that's definitely a hard pass."

"Suit yourself." Sera shrugs, already beginning to pull away from the driveway. She waves lazily at you, before driving away into the night. You stand outside for a moment longer, sighing deeply as you resign yourself to your new life filled with tomfoolery and bullshittery.

At the very least, there is no where to go but up, right?

[Life Lesson #1: It's important never to test fate with foolish declarations of optimism such as this. It only tempts whatever sadistic force that controls your pathetic human life to do their worst. So of course, it gets worse.]

To your credit, you don't spend your entire weekend wallowing in self-pity and despairing at your current situation. You only spend maybe 90% of it doing just that. The other 10% is used to plan your next plan of action.

Like an idiot, you fill yourself with too much misplaced confidence and Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You think to yourself, "Man! I have the whole weekend to think of something to do! Surely my brain will be able to make some sort of plan by the time Monday comes!"

It is a wonder that you are still somehow standing, in a state that some might say resembles being "alive," with how bad your forward thinking is. As it turns out, the weekend slips past you before you know it, with no more than a seedling of a plan than you did during the peak of your mental breakdown.

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

Monday comes just as surely as the sun rises from the east, which is to say that time continues to pass despite how much you'd be willing to pay for it to stop. You could live with one kidney, right? (Fate is probably more of a vegan, you surmise.)

Even when the world is ending all around you, it seems that your 8AM music composition class will wait for no one. And so, there you are: dragging your feet to what is usually one of your favorite classes, but with the added bonus of death clinging to your elbows. Perhaps your cosplay of a corpse is a bit too convincing, because most passersby are quick to step around you. Honestly, this is probably for the best, as you aren't sure what type of state your human compassion is at the moment, should someone dare disturb your "peace."

But of course, there is always that one idiot who manages to ruin your day––for the sole reason that he exists, much to your disappointment and chagrin. Hell, even his voice is enough to make your hairs bristle from just how he lilts his words ever so slightly. It is an absolute shame that the shortest route to your class is past his hair salon, so you can only imagine the speed at which your blood pressure rises when you hear him say––

“Miss Park, your split ends! Oh my word, Miss Park! Whatever shall we do but snip, snip, snip all those wretches out of your life, just like how I snip up all my haters! Aha, this is your cue to laugh by the way!” Kim Seokjin guffaws, his stupid voice unable to be muted by ten inches of concrete. Through the hair salon’s windowpane, you can see Seokjin’s hands make quick work of an elderly woman’s hair, his eyes in crescent moons with how loud he laughs. You mentally make a sign of the cross for the disaster that will soon befall that poor woman’s head.

Now, normally you would make haste to your class, with head bowed and shoulders hunched in hopes of that fool-mouthed ninny from seeing you and engaging in some of his usual buffoonery. For whatever brain cells he lacked, Seokjin always seems to have the ability to rope you into his many harebrained discussions, with topics ranging from “how often do you think people think of sleeping with me?” to “do you think if plants could dream, would they dream of sleeping with me?”

You know. The works.

As it is, today is not an ordinary day, and encountering Seokjin has only made you recall the distressing events from Friday. From your panic induced haze, you can only remember murky images of him holding court amongst a crowd of people, telling them how he must be the muse of your damned poem. The faint memory fills you with abject horror as you are reminded, not for the first time, how big his terribly well-sculpted mouth can be and how he will stop at nothing to make sure that everyone believes what he wants. (Despite how horrendous he is as an organism of this earth, you would be a fool to call his looks anything but mediocre. But that’s as far as anything worth praising concerns the likes of him.)

Something takes over you in that moment, something animalistic. As if your dumb monkey brain is going “hoo hoo eek eek… must… eliminate… AWOOGA… BIG THREAT…” and your sensible and empathetic sides are consequently forced to lie dormant in the meantime.

Hence how you find yourself bursting through Spick and Spock Hair Salon, with no plan whatsoever. All you can think of is Seokjin hanging from his balls on the school’s flagpole, and honestly you weren’t all that concerned with how Point A was going to reach Point B(alls). But we’ll deal with that later.

“What was that?” Miss Park hums, her hearing aid somewhat short-circuited with the sensory abuse it has already had to undergo. To Seokjin’s credit, his hands do not falter despite your loud entrance; however, that could mostly be explained by how much louder his own voice is in comparison, but that’s just your humble onion.

“––and basically, Miss Park, there is this poor soul out there who must be dying with embarrassment because their love poem has been exposed to the world without their consent! Now, I may be Aphrodite incarnate, but I am also a gentleman, and so I do not condone force of any kind,” Seokjin drawls, incognizant of the world around him. He continues to apply the perm solution on Miss Park’s curls, the precision at how he works almost impressive if not for the fact that he was entirely abhorrent.

“That’s nice, Jinnie, but will you please shut up? I’m two steps away from turning off my hearing aid, you know,” Miss Park says cheerily.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, KIM SEOKJIN! STOP FEEDING LIES TO THE ELDERLY!” You cry, filled with the same type of distress that a young peasant might feel from their first licks of capitalism. Seokjin, the wicked businessman in this terrible analogy, is the one selling his counterfeit goods to the unsuspecting innocent.

Miss Park gasps, turning to Seokjin with betrayal in her eyes. “Oh, I knew it! My perm does make me look older! Just give me the pink highlights like I told you, Jinnie. I saw the youngsters doing it on Facebook,” she says.

Seokjin turns his head towards you in slow-motion, like an ass, and even takes the care to flick his beautifully styled bangs away from his forehead so he can gaze upon you with faux interest. “Oh? Miss Y/N? In my salon? I knew you’d be back here soon enough, especially with those roots… Come, take a seat. Let me bump your sorry 2/10 looking ass to a 2.5/10 at least.”

“If it were not for the laws of this land,” you seethe, cursing him through gritted teeth. You stalk towards him, rolling up your sleeves to show that you mean Business. (Funnily enough, you were wearing a tank top that day.) “I can’t believe you’re even being considered a suspect of the poem’s muse in the first place!”

Seokjin fakes a contemplative look. “Isn’t it because of my moon-like radiance? People have told me that I glow like a newborn babe.”

“You sure have the brains of one,” you retort.

“I heard from my niece that it was because he was an extra in a play as a moon or something,” Miss Park quips helpfully. Seokjin makes an affronted noise, but does not reject her claim.

“You were, like, a prop?” You snicker, forgetting for a moment what you were doing. You watch with wicked fascination as his ears turn red.

“Everyone has to start from somewhere! And so what? I had to hang ten feet in the air with a wedgie the entire time! My battle scars are what make me stronger.” He sniffs, upturned nose and all. You and Miss Park snort, not at all inconspicuously.

He pours the remainder of the solution all over Miss Park’s head and slaps her not-too gently on the back, clasping his hands together gleefully. “Well! That should do the trick. Relax, Miss Park, and let the chemicals do all the talking or whatever.” You take mental note to never come back to his establishment ever again so long as you live.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to save yourself from listening to the avalanche of anger that I’m about to unleash, I would suggest turning off your hearing aid for a moment,” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders, reclining further into her seat and resting her legs on a nearby bench. “Sure. YOLO, as the kids say.”

At her consent, you promptly slap the hearing aid out of her ear so you can scream at Seokjin in relative privacy. Miss Park doesn’t even seem to notice, and this should’ve been an indicator of how fucked up Seokjin’s salon is if she didn’t even seem slightly shocked by your actions. (How could she, when Seokjin literally just dumped fucking chemicals all over her scalp? Isn’t that illegal?)

“I’m going to sensibly reason with you first,” you scream and jab at his chest, being unreasonable.

“Okay, sounds believable,” Seokjin replies, raising a brow. He gestures for you to follow him to where the cashier is supposed to be, except that it is so early in the morning that the other employee that works with him isn’t even in at the moment. You still have yet to know why Seokjin opens the shop at 8AM in the first place.

“Why the hell are you spreading misinformation to random people like that? You know damn well that the poem isn’t about you,” you huff, crossing your arms. Seokjin, the ever-loving twat that he is, matches your pose to mock you. He even juts out his hip the way that you do.

“Of course it’s about me! How could it not be about me? Did you not read the part about how the author looks at the moon and thinks about my skin? Everyone knows that Etude House is dying to have me as their face mask model!”

The prickling urge to strangle him strengthens. “Listen,” you say, teeth gnashing from the effort of keeping yourself from leaping and ending it all. “For once in your life, is it really that hard to believe that the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“Oh, you’re one of those heliocentric believers? Jincentric is where it’s at, Miss Y/N!” He laughs, slapping his knee at the pure hilarity of his joke. He does not pause once at your disdainful visage.

“Fine! Believe what you want! But I need you to stop telling everyone that you’re the muse of that poem. The rumor won’t die if you keep stoking the flame with your inflamed ego.”

Seokjin ponders your words for a second, looking at you with a contemplative stare. He does not speak for so long that you’re almost willing to let yourself hope that he has acquiesced, until––”When have you ever done anything for me?”

You gape at his sudden accusation. “Excuse me? I’ve done a lot for you!”

“Like?”

You pause, racking your brain. “Uh. I haven’t killed you?”

“Fair,” he nods, stroking his chin. “But that won’t be enough to stop me. I love being admired, so fuck you for even assuming that I would stop talking about myself. However, I’ll do it for a price.”

“Price?” You groan, fixing him with a glare. “You know damn well that I’m poor, but name it and I’ll try to pay it as soon as you can.”

Seokjin grins, his pearly whites much too incandescent with how dark his soul is. “Invest in my JiHope t-shirt business. I need, like, $500 left to reach the first goal of my kickstarter.”

You stare at him, completely baffled. Is this dude for real, or is he just a caricature turned to life? “You’re a heathen, do you know that?” you say, disgust oozing from every orifice of your body.

“I am feeling quite heathen-ish today, thanks for noticing,” he replies, somber. “Does that mean you accept my proposal?”

You hate how his voice sounds even the slightest bit optimistic, because that means he really does think you’re as stupid as he is. “Can you be serious for once? And before you say it, don’t fucking pull a dad joke on me and say some shit like ‘how can I be serious if I’m Jin?’ because I will not hesitate to bite two inches off your dick.”

“That would still leave 13-inches, so to be honest I should be thanking you.” He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed of existing in this day and age. “And no, I can’t be serious. It goes against my brand.”

“Your brand of being a fucking menace to society?” you grouse.

“Exactly.”

You are seriously ready to explode, and it isn’t going to be pretty. Lord knows that Seokjin would hate having your guts splattered on his overpriced Gucci slides. “Please, can you just stop talking about the poem? It’s bad enough that the original post is getting hundreds of likes by the hour, and if I know one thing, it’s probably mostly from your own influence.”

With a hundred thousand followers under his belt, it probably isn’t that much of a stretch. As much as he is the spawn of Satan, he is rather popular among your peers. Not that popularity has ever been a good measure of compassion. Case in point:

Seokjin grins, misleadingly angelic. “Aw, are you calling me an influencer? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, glowering at the overly-smug theatre student. You stomp your foot on the ground, pointing a finger in his direction as your nostrils flare in annoyance. Like hell that you’re going to let this shithead make you his bitch! “If you’re not going to do as I say, then I’m going to pester you throughout your entire shift and follow you to class if I have to!”

Big words from such a weak-willed person such as yourself. It does not take you long to realize how fatal of a mistake it is to make such a promise, because you never really stopped to think about the actual logistics of such a stunt (i.e. having to be around Seokjin for longer than your recommended daily dose). You can only imagine what such an experience would entail.

After a 3-hours of watching a buffoon salvaging humanity’s hair-do’s and don’ts (his words not yours), you feel as if his very demonic energy was sucking your life force with a curly straw. You fear that when you close your eyes tonight, you will be haunted by images of his Pacific-wide shoulders and his head tilted back in maniacal laughter as he snips away with less care than a toddler. Well, at least that’s what he appears to be doing, because occasionally you will zone out but then return to the sight of a fairly satisfied customer with glossy looking locks, so perhaps he isn’t as inept as you had imagined.

Your amazement is short-lived, however, when he opens his mouth and the cycle begins anew.

After finishing his last client for the morning, he makes his way to his first class of the day. You are reminded of the fact that you are missing your own morning classes as a result, but you know that you cannot afford to let him off your sight, lest he make a bigger fool of himself (and consequently, make your life a bigger hell than it already is).

You trudge behind him, ensuring that he never strays further than three feet away from you. It’s pretty easy to keep up with him, due to the fact that he always makes a point to pause whenever he sees his own reflection (in windows, shiny surfaces, some poor boy’s bicycle helmet––his narcissism knows no bounds.)

When he finally makes a full stop outside one of the lecture halls, he intentionally sidesteps in front of you. The suddenness of it causes you to bump against his steely back, bruising your nose enough to make you yelp in pain. You’re just about to cuss him out when he turns to face you, uncharacteristically serious.

“Now Y/N, I need you to stay out here in the corridor like a good girl, okay? There’s a strict rule of having no pets allowed,” he coos, making the fatal mistake of trying to stroke your head. He shrieks when your teeth meets his palm, but you are unrepentant.

When you let go, he tries to appear unfazed, blowing you a kiss instead as he saunters off into the lecture hall. Not wanting to disturb the class anyway, you decide to heed his words and squat outside in the hallway, occasionally looking through the small window to glare menacingly at the pink-haired bastard. Despite the holes you wish you were burning into the back of his skull, he remains aloof to your imaginary death ray as he continues to take studious notes of whatever his professor is saying.

On the other hand, his classmates are a different story. They send each other wary looks, wondering why the hell this random person was doing a Jack Torrance impression. When the clock strikes, they all make a beeline for the exit, clearly avoiding looking you in the eye as they speedwalk to their next classes. Seokjin makes it out last, his gait the picture of perfect nonchalance. He has the audacity to look surprised to see you there, like you were an old friend he had not expected to meet until you both reached the pearly gates (or fiery pits, but that’s unimportant right now).

“You’re still here, Miss Golum? Have you been good? I’m honestly surprised that you are as stubborn as I am.” He whistles lowly, shouldering his backpack with a smirk. He walks down the hall towards the exit, not checking to see if you were keeping up or not.

You proceed to bite his penis in half to keep him in place. Okay, not really, but you know… one can dream.

What you actually do is follow him as he heads to the cafeteria, presumably to sustain the mortal body he has chosen to possess. It takes him an agonizing thirty minutes to decide what he wants to eat for lunch, and another thirty minutes to say his extensive list of food products that he will most likely be consuming within the next hour or so. You’ve never seen a fast food worker look so dead before, and you’re sure the poor college student behind the counter had zoned out after Seokjin ordered his tenth happy meal.

As the two of you stand to the side to wait for his order, he turns to you expectantly. “So,” he begins.

“Fa,” you retort, followed by a gasp of shock from the elder.

“Do my ears deceive me? Your first dad joke… And to think, all it took was for you to hang out with me for four hours to initiate you as an apprentice.” He weeps loudly, faking tears in an impressively short amount of time. That doesn’t stop you from kicking him in the shin, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m already dead inside. There’s no soul left for you to consume,” you reply dryly. He tuts, shaking his head.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was just about to ask… As much as I have enjoyed our quality bonding time together––”

“I’ll gladly piss on your grave, don’t forget,” you interject.

“––I was wondering why you’re so adamant to dispel the rumors about the poem? You don’t seem like the type to engage in campus gossip.”

Oh shit. Perhaps there is something more than hot air in that tiny head of his.

You flounder about like a fish for a bit, your mouth opening and closing as you think of an explanation that wouldn’t out yourself in the process. You feel your cheeks reddening, only two seconds away from steam whistling out of your eardrums. Broken stammers are all you can manage as he waits expectantly, but luckily, you don’t have to think of a response when a nearby commotion forces the two of you to back away from each other.

A gaggle of freshmen storm through from out of nowhere, forcing the both of you to be swept away as they all made their way towards a pop-up stand in the middle of the court. Accustomed to the borderline cringey overexcitement of the youngest students in the university, you are quick to dismiss their behavior and decide to search for Seokjin, until you hear one of the little freshmen say something that catches your attention.

"You think the t-shirts are still available? Chaeyeon said the hoodies sold out this morning, so I'm scared that we'll be too late," a young girl says, her hands clutched to her chest as she tries to tiptoe over the crowd to survey the state of the merchants just up ahead.

Her friend pats her back assuringly. "Don't worry. The announcement on the page said they're bringing in the reserve stocks from the backroom, which is probably why everyone's here. We just have to get there first." They proceed to elbow their way through the throng of people, and completely disappear from your view. Where they stood, more people soon took their place until a sizeable swarm has taken over half the area of the floor.

Now, this exchange isn't necessarily a red flag to most people, since many clubs and organizations at your university often sold different types of goods to raise funds for their projects. However, given the circumstances that you have become entrenched in the last few days, you can never be too cautious of innocent utterances such as this.

You take a few steps back, trying your best to see over the heads of the crowd that is steadily growing larger. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to squeeze through sweaty pits and cacophonous teenagers, you are ready to just give up and let it go when the same pair of girls from earlier exit from the side, with numerous folded up shirts in their arms.

You hasten towards them, barely being able to latch onto their shoulders to stop them from escaping. The shorter of the girls squeals in surprise, dropping her prized possessions onto the floor. She turns to you, anger ready to burst forth from her tongue when she looks you in the face. She softens almost immediately, wrath evaporating in the wind. Confused, you're just about to ask her if she knows you from somewhere when her friend cuts you to the chase.

"Oh my God! It's her!" she squeals, reaching for your hand and shaking it so vigorously that you swear you hear your shoulder bones pop out of its socket. The girl who had dropped her shirts just continues to stare at you in awe, her mouth agape as she remains speechless, apparently from your presence alone.

You feel the dread begin to build in the pits of your stomach. "It's me?" you say, pointing to yourself with your free hand.

"Yes! Miss Y/N, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you! We are big fans of your work on the CCU Pen Blog! Your short story about the talking brick wall honestly brought me to tears," she gasps out, eyes twinkling with unrestrained reverence. Judging from the death grip she has on your hand, you can certainly say that this girl isn't lying.

While you are aware of the small following that you've accumulated over the past two years as one of the top contributors in your university's open writing forum, that isn't to say that you have ever met a fan as fervent as the two before you. Still on edge from everything that has been going on, you still can't let your guard down around them.

After a bit of effort on your part, you are finally able to pry yourself away from the girl's tight hold. Coughing lightly into your abused fist, you fix them with a wary glance. They return it with unnervingly excited stares of their own.

"Um. Thank you very much, ladies. I just wanted to ask you about the function going on over there?" you ask, pointing over at the still bustling shop booth. At your query, the girls actually look confused, as if you are the weird one in this interaction.

"You don't know? I thought you of all people should know about the merch sale happening right now," the quieter girl speaks up, bewildered. She bends down to pick up the shirts she had dropped, turning it over to show you the design that you had previously failed to notice. What a terrible mistake you have committed.

(Was the mistake looking at the t-shirt? Was it waking up today? Was it deciding to live after your mother conceived you in the womb? Truly, where does the blame game truly end in this foul existence that you call your own?)

The scream that is elicited from your throat cannot be described as anything from this world, because you are sure everyone in the vicinity might have stopped breathing for a few seconds after hearing it. The macabre quality of your voice even caused the two girls in front of you to flee in fright, leaving you with the wretched t-shirt in your trembling palms.

There, printed on the t-shirt, right in front of your mortal eyes, is an image you would rather that you had not seen even if it meant having to suckle from Kim Seokjin's teets for all eternity.

In all its poorly printed glory, your face is plain as day. Anyone would be able to recognize that it was you: in the middle of chewing what appears to be a whole turkey leg.

There you were, with ketchup dripping down your cheek, sitting just outside the Fine Arts building as you scarfed down the poor piece of poultry because you had been too lazy to cut up into smaller, more refined chunks. Like the fucking caveman that you are, you had held the leg like a police baton, mouth open so wide that you'd think you might have unhinged your jaw to get the entire thing to fit in there.

You think that's all? It gets worse.

Somehow, the perpetrator of this terrible t-shirt just has to make you look even less attractive than humanly possible. Superimposed beside your sauce-stained self is none other than a PNG image of Jeon Jungkook in his prime. With his sleek black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, you are sure that this photo is the same one that everyone on campus had swooned over just a few weeks prior, when he had been chosen to model in an advertisement for some club's fundraising event. He is the picture of quiet confidence, which might make you laugh on any other day, since the boy is anything but that in his day to day life. You only ever interact with him when you see him manning the front desk of the library, and he always has his head bowed over a book, unaware of the stares of his many admirers.

Clearly, the injustice of having a literal god beside your hulk-ish photo is downright cruel, but this optical torment does not stop there.

Underneath the photos of the two of you, there is a short line of text that is honestly the worst part of the entire thing. In bold, sans serif font, it reads “Y/NKOOK SUPPORTERS INITIATIVE” with a copious amount of black heart emojis tacked on. In a smaller, but similarly visible manner, it also reads “The Moon Poem is about them and I will stand on this rock until I die!” There are also numerous 100 and fire emojis scattered around the entire shirt.

It’s terrible. It’s downright despicable. It’s the worst thing to ever grace your vision, and that’s saying something, considering that you’ve met your fair share of delusional graphic designers.

Another scream rips from your throat––more livid, this time.

It is at that moment when you realize that maybe Thanos was right––maybe some people really do deserve to die for the betterment of civilization.

Perhaps the crowd of eagerly waiting customers can sense the heat from your unfathomable anger, because they quickly part like the Red Sea as you stomp over to the front of the lines where you will likely find the perpetrator of this heinous crime.

There is a young boy with droopy eyes standing by the tables of merchandise, his hands quickly counting wads of bills as he jams them haphazardly into his pink Hello Kitty fanny pack. He doesn't even bother looking up when you approach him, still busy with his profits, when you clear your throat to catch his attention.

"Are you the one in charge of this fucking circus?" You snarl, fists itching to come into contact with his cheeks. He hums disinterestedly, zipping up his gaudy fanny pack with a tired sigh.

"No, ma'am. I'm just the hired help," he drawls, turning away from you as he gestures vaguely at the mountains of goods still left for purchase. "Are you interested in something or what? There are still 30 people waiting to buy, so I'd rather you not back up the line please."

At the end of your patience, you admit that perhaps grabbing the poor boy by the collar might have been a bit drastic. Still, you're itching to know who the source of all this madness is, so you don't feel all that guilty when he makes a choking sound from your act of brute force. Despite your strong grip on his windpipe, his dead fish-eyes do not disappear. In fact, he looks exasperated more than anything.

"Listen lady, are you going to buy something or what? Who even the fuck are you?"

You splutter, staring incredulously at the younger. Who the fuck are you? You aren't the type to expect people to know who you are but you can at least expect that the person selling goods with your face on it would know who you are! Like, how the hell does he not know that you were the same person on the damned picket fans and keychains?

"I don't––what the hell––" you stammer, speechless for the first time in a while.

"OWO what's this? Is this a new campus couple shipping booth that just opened? Do you guys sell JiHope versions too?" Just in time to witness your second mental breakdown of the day, Seokjin makes his convenient re-entrance as he sidles up beside you. He has two burgers in hand, one of which he is halfway done eating.

You gape at him. "Did you buy a burger for me?"

Seokjin snorts, stuffing the entire remainder of the sandwich into his unfathomably large mouth. "No, you idiot. They’re both for me," he replies, with surprising coherency despite the dribbles of meat and bread product spilling onto his chin. You swear you can see him unhinge his jaw just the slightest bit.

He bends down to pick up one of the fallen pins from the floor, groaning at the sound of his back cracking. "Oh shit, that hurt!"

Unable to help yourself despite still having a freshman in a chokehold, you quip automatically "Yikes, that sounds like a couple of dinosaur bones creaking. You alright?"

Not missing a beat, Seokjin replies "Nah. I just can’t help having a bad back with how big my dick is."

The young boy taps you on the shoulder, reminding you once more of the situation you are in. "Can you let go? My shift is over so you can interrogate the next dude instead," he drawls, having the audacity to yawn at you.

Taking pity on him, you do as he asks. He straightens up, pulling his rumpled collar down before unclasping the fanny pack from around his waist. Another similarly dead-eyed young boy (who was incredibly tall, much to your chagrin––obnoxiously tall young men ALWAYS had agendas, take Seokjin for example) takes the bag from him. He gives you a short once over, no signs of recognition present in his expression at all. When he sees Seokjin, however, his reaction is a lot more than you expected.

"Oh my God, Seokjin? Holy shit, I'm a big fan!" The new boy gasps, pushing aside a customer in favor of reaching over to shake Seokjin's hand. Ever the slut for praise and appreciation, Seokjin shakes his hands with the ease of a seasoned politician.

"Aren't we all?" he laughs, haughty. The other boy laughs too, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained admiration. You sneer in disgust at the hearts visibly emanating from his body.

"My name is Soobin, and I just love your performance in last week's production at the Campus Theatre! Would you mind signing my assh––"

"Hold on," you interrupt, glaring daggers at Seokjin. "Did you fucking do this? Did you make this fucking merch booth of me and Jungkook?"

Seokjin frowns, annoyed that you had been impetuous enough to stop this spontaneous meet and greet session between him and his loyal fan. "No, of course not. Who even the fuck is Dungcock, or whatever the hell that dude's name is."

"You fucking dumb piece of shit––" you say, about to bite off his balls for real when your phone begins to ring, saving Seokjin for the time being. You recognize the ringtone to be the one you set for your alarms, and you realize that after all the commotion from this morning, you have forgotten about the tutoring session you are supposed to have with Hoseok today. Since you had cancelled last Friday's session after your spectacular psychotic meltdown, you know that you couldn't possibly skip this one as well.

Shutting your phone off, you groan, fixing Seokjin with your most solemn gaze. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I have to go tutor Hoseok soon, and I've already skipped all my classes today by trying to convince your imbecilic ass to be empathetic for once in your miserable life so I'm begging you for the last time––please stop spreading the rumors about the poem," you finish, tears welling up as you finally register the fatigue weighing down your bones. It's only Monday, and you can't wait for the sweet release of death.

Seokjin is silent the entire while. The merchandise boy, Soobin, has already left the two of you alone, becoming disinterested the moment you uttered the word "listen." You're breathing heavily, bracing yourself for the inevitable sound of his windshield wiper-esque laughter. To your complete and utter surprise, his mocking does not come.

Instead, he puts down his second burger, stuffing it inside his back pocket (presumably for safekeeping). He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing ketchup sauce on it before levelling you with his gaze. He appears like he is about to acquiesce to your demands.

Is this it? Will you allow yourself to hope? Has Kim Seokjin actually developed compassion during the last 20 seconds of your heartfelt plea? Are you finally going to lay to rest the rumor that he does not actually have a second stomach where his heart should be?

Then, "Okay Y/N. I'll do it."

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

And just like that, hope takes a pounding to the ass (lubelessly) and dies before it even has the chance to break past the peaks of your mountain of crushed dreams.

"––you have to admit that you're the author of the poem and then I'll stop exacerbating the rumors."

You can feel the demon living inside you just itching to climb its way out of your ass and circle its hands around Seokjin's larynx. Hell, you can't say you wouldn't do it yourself. "WHAT? NO!! THAT'S LITERALLY––I'M NOT EVEN––" you scream, shocked and enraged at the same time.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing his perfectly manicured hand on his hip. "Save it, babe. I know you're the author. As annoying and stupid as you are––"

"Hey!"

"––you've always been a pretty good writer and I would recognize your writing style anywhere. Not to say that I read your works religiously or anything, but I mean... I see your writing on the newspapers that I use to pick up my dog's shits, so I guess I read them sometimes," he says, not looking you in the eyes. The tips of his ears are turning red, but you hardly notice his embarrassment when you're more amazed that he even acknowledged your talent in the first place. You guys aren't even friends!

"Wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Just admit you're the author and we're good." Seokjin smirks, patting you lightly on the shoulder.

You frown. "Isn't that counterproductive? I want the rumors to stop, not for them to be related to me."

"Which is a sentiment that I cannot fathom at all, since I crave the attention." He sniffs, glowering at you. "You can imagine the sacrifice I am bestowing upon you by having to relinquish this newfound fame just so your little crush stays hidden."

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

"And since you didn't deny it, I'm assuming that you are the author after all. Besides, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, mostly so I can bully you for writing sickly sweet love poems about yours truly."

"Okay, I'll admit. I am the author. You got me," you grunt, rubbing your temples. "But there is no way in HELL that I wrote Moonlight Sonata for you. I'd rather eat my own intestines than write anything remotely flattering about you."

"That's what they all say," Seokjin says, sighing dreamily. "To be honest, I knew you were the author from the beginning and I just wanted to annoy you until you caved. I didn't think you would be that stressed over the stupid poem enough to follow me around for an entire day. That crush must be embarrassing, huh?"

"It's not!" you exclaim hotly. You clear your throat, forcing the blush around your cheeks to die down. "It's just... It was supposed to be private." Your voice breaks off into a whisper, vulnerability lacing your words.

It's true––the only reason you wanted all of this to be over was because it was never even supposed to have happened in the first place. Your words and stories were always open to the public eye. You gave and you gave and you gave, although that has never been a problem. You loved sharing your thoughts and feelings; it was one of the greatest things about being writer. You enjoyed hearing how people related to your experiences because it made you feel seen, it made you feel known. You were not alone in this journey, and that had made all the difference.

This time, however, you had preferred to go through this alone. Mostly because even you were not sure what it was that you were going through. How were you supposed to share this part of yourself with others when you did not even know what it was that you were feeling? You had poured every inch of your soul onto those pages, and to have yourself completely barren to the world like it was nothing––

That had been catastrophic to you. But at the end of the day, there was nothing you can do except to try and silence it.

Seokjin considers your sad form, watching you until a small secretive smile inches its way on his lips. You scowl, not liking the way he looks like he knows something that you don't.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," Seokjin whistles, winking provokingly. He laughs obnoxiously, not faltering even when you kick him in the sin. "Just that I know you have a crush on me and you're just embarrassed to admit it. Thank God that I'm a great actor, so I guess I'll pretend for your sake."

"You're not my––" you start, before giving up mid-sentence. Was there truly any use to arguing with Seokjin? You'd rather not waste any more saliva than you already have. "Whatever. Believe what you want. All that matters is that you do what I asked you to do."

"Sure thing, Shakespeare," Seokjin scoffs, flicking you lightly on the forehead. "Also, in payment for my services, you are required to watch my next play AND attend at least three of my rehearsals and cheer for me every time I appear in a scene. I require a bouquet of flowers at every appearance."

You're about to argue, (fruitlessly, you might add), when a barrage of buzzes coming from your back pocket stops you in your tracks. You slip out your phone, and you see dozens of texts from a worried Hoseok asking where you are. You reply a quick "otw" to him before focusing back on Seokjin.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll fucking kill you the next time I see you, but... thank you. I know it's hard for you to be kind to anything other than your reflection." You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows. Saying thank you to a troglodyte is harder than it seems. "And thanks for reading my works. We're still not friends or anything, by the way. Hope you remember that."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Seokjin chuckles. "Me? Friends with you? A 10 walking around with a negative 1? Fat chance." He waves goodbye, blowing you an obnoxiously loud kiss before stalking off away from you. The bulge of his smooshed burger has left an unsightly grease stain all over the back of his jeans.

Before you turn to go to the exit, you pass by Soobin who was still busy with customers.  You slip a few bills into his pocket, tiptoeing to whisper into his ear. "Here's twenty bucks. Go kick Seokjin in the balls for me."

When the double doors slam behind you, the beautiful sound of Seokjin's pained howl bids you the cheery farewell that you deserve.

[tippitv]

RECAP: Supernatural 15.03 “The Rupture”

Watching episode three and I finally understand the warding logistics better now. Note that just because I understand it better doesn’t mean I think it makes any kind of sense.

So it seems the “mile wide salt circle” encompasses both the town and the cemetery. Like the entire town and entire cemetery and the space in between them is somehow less than a mile wide as seen in the shitty map I made in MS paint last week.  

This is poppycock of course. It’s also bizarre that somehow all these demons and ghosts didn’t manage to spread any further out than that in the hours in took the Winchesters et al to evacuate the town and for Belphegor to perform the spell.

I’m so distracted by this that it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief.

Rowena tries to reinforce the warding but there are too many ghosts attacking it. More ghosts keep spewing out of the ground. I think it’s weird that Hell is an actual physical place somewhere under the Earth’s crust while Heaven seems to be some kind of otherworldly dimension that looks like an Apple store.

Rowena’s feeling very defeated. Ruth Connell is doing a much better job than the crummy ghosts we've seen so far would seem to warrant. Her acting makes them seem scary and the situation desperate, whereas the writing for the actual ghost characters is...meh. Dean wants to go fight the ghosts but like… there’s really nothing to be done. Shooting them with iron or rock salt only works for a few minutes at most. To make any dent, you'd need all the salt in the Hannibal fandom after NBC canceled it. Shout out to my Fannibals!

I still think somebody needs to be thinking about contacting Billie. Reapers take souls to their great reward or their eternal punishment, I feel like they’d have some useful input. Plus I just want to see Billie again because Lisa Berry is dreamy.

Also Belphegor is such a weaselly jerk about the whole thing. I won't miss that guy. He's the Martin Shkrelli of demons. Shout out to everyone who hates jacked up pharmaceutical prices!

Sam says they're out of ideas. That's because y'all haven't sat around reading books out loud to each other for half an episode! 

Jack mentions something called "Lilith's Crook." Ah, Martin Shkrelli again. He has to explain it's that curved stick thing shepherds use while everyone is being ignorant. "Thing's actually more of a horn," he says. She designed it to control demons on Earth while she was in Hell. You'd think that kind of thing would've come up when Lilith was topside but no! Also there really should've been a call back to that. "You know Lilith... you killed her to let Lucifer out?" That kind of thing.

They work out a plan for Belph to summon the demons and ghosts back to Hell and the Rowena can heal the big spewing fistula in the earth. She wants Sam to assist her, which makes me

Dean coolly volunteers Castiel to accompany Belph. "You've been to Hell before." Cas should've been like, "Yeah to grip your ass tight and raise it from Perdition!" Also how's he supposed to get out again?

Aw jeez here's Ketch in his hospital room. I hope the only reason he's in this episode is to die. The nurse doesn't want to clear him for discharge so a pretty doctor walks in and kills her with a telekinetic neck snap. And that's why we have a nursing shortage in this country! Oh the doctor is Ardat, the demon who hired Ketch to kill Belph.

Fisticuffs ensue even though she could just pin him in place with demonic power. When he refuses to give up the Winchesters, she rips out his heart and shows it to him. He Pikachu faces at her.

I mean, did she really need to ask him? Wouldn't the most likely place be the mile-wide anti-ghost dome? She texts Dean pretending to be Ketch.

Belphegor goads Castiel about his friends sacrificing him, so Cas pushes him down into the ghost fistula. Lol. It doesn't shut him up for long, though. As they wander around Hell, Belph continues to sow the seeds of doubt. Anyway, opening the chest that contains the Doohickey of the Week requires Castiel to sing an Enochian song of praise, but we cut away on the third note. BOO.

Also, having now met Lucifer the whiny petulant manbaby, it's really hard to understand why Lilith or anyone would be so devout for so long. Maybe it's because he was locked in the cage so they didn't actually experience a lot of his pouting. It's all I can think of.

Before Castiel can hand over the Doohickey, Ardat knocks him out of the way. She looks like Joanna Gaines. Maybe she IS Joanna Gaines!

Castiel and Ardat fight. She tries to warn him about Belphegor, but he pops up behind her and kills her with Cas's fallen angel blade. Now we'll never know what she was gonna say! I bet he ends up just blabbing it out himself in the time-honored tradition of villains talking too much.

Indeed, he goes on about how the crook/horn is actually a leash/siphon. This thing is the Swiss Army knife of Doohickeys. He's going to blow the horn and suck all the demons and ghosts into himself to gain their powers. "I'll be a god!"

So while Belph is blowing and sucking, Sam and Rowena and Dean are dirtside working the spell. Ghosts are zooming back down the hole like the Indiana Jones Ark of the Covenant scene in reverse. Castiel tackles Belph and punches him in the face a lot which seems like the equivalent of flicking a dandelion at a law mower to stop it.

Improbably, it hurts jazzed-up Belphegor enough that he pretends to be Jack again to get Cas to stop beating him. Castiel screws up all his angel power and somehow kills him even though there's a buttload of evil spirits in him. Jack's empty body burns like a Thanksgiving turkey left on broil all day.

The ground starts sealing up but something's wrong. Rowena uses a knife to gouge out a "resurrection sachet" she's been keeping buried under her skin. It's why she came back after Lucifer killed her, if you'll recall. It takes Sam a minute to catch on that she intends to sacrifice herself in one final spell. He has to be the one to kill her because prophecy and she can't bring herself to to it for a lot of good reasons.

Now, I don't understand here. She says she's going to absorb all the demons and ghosts, throw herself into Hell, and they'll be trapped. But... didn't Belphegor absorb them? Or a lot of them? I hate that Ruth is doing such a great job and this just feels like forced drama.

Speaking of forced drama. Castiel returns to the surface and tells Dean he killed Belphegor. This could be cleared up with a five second explanation but he makes a lot of pained faces while Dean berates him for ruining their one chance. Forced drama.

Sam reluctantly stabs her in the lower belly... you know, in the uterus area... and she becomes a vessel... with her uterus absorbing all the evil...

"Goodbye boys," she says as she Last of the Mohicans throws herself into the abyss.

Well, it's better than Charlie's death but I still don't like it.

All the surviving team members return to the bunker for the denouement. Sam is taking things pretty hard, which is to be expected, so Dean goes to check on him. "God threw one last apocalypse at us and we beat it," he says to baby bro. Oh honey.

Anyway we're all pretty sure Rowena's going to be running Hell now, right? RIGHT??

Now we come to the part where Dean and Castiel act out a bad soap opera scene. It's just a thin reason to get them to break up for a while. Maybe in the final season they couldn't work Misha into the budget for every episode or maybe the writers couldn't think of more for Castiel to do. So he's gotta go off and it couldn't just be because "you know my surrogate son just died and I need time." 

No it's gotta be all "you always screw up our plans!" and "you don't trust me!" and "are you hearing that romantically sad cello music or is it just me?" and "it's not just you but now I must leave GOOD BYE!"

Onward and upward, readers! Stay tuned for the next recap.

In the meantime, please reblog if you enjoyed this recap and drop by my Ko-Fi tip Jar if you're able. Henry Hound and I are perpetually trying to make ends meet and appreciate your help!

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[venus-says]

Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Episodes 01-15

Press START button.

Ex-Aid is one of those seasons that when you look at it sounds like something that shouldn't work. I mean, putting doctors and video-games together? Is this what, a Dr. Mario live-action, an adaptation of Surgeon Simulator, or an actual Kamen Rider season?

This odd combination of factors always made very skeptical about this season, there's also the huge anime eyes in the helmet that never sat well with me too, but this concept combo always seemed pretty wild to work. But then I watched Gaim, which also had an odd combination of themes, and I saw that those odd concepts mixed together can be doable and be something fun so I started to look forward to the season. But even with the excitement, a small fear started to linger because as I started seeing more and more of Kamen Rider and seeing more of the community I always saw Ex-Aid popping up as one season that everyone thinks it's top-notch and well... the last time I saw a highly acclaimed season in the fandom I hated it so the chances of that happening here again were there.

And you know, I think my fears became reality and I feel like I'm having another Drive experience here. Maybe not at the same level as Drive, I feel like Ex-Aid got me less angry and annoyed, but this season really didn't click with me. I see that it can grow on me because after episode 11 I started enjoying it more, but the general feeling for these 15 episodes and this movie was... meh? Like, I don't like most of the characters, I have a serious problem with the comedy, and there's something in the dialogue of this show that really tickles me off. I also don't like how CGI heavy this show is, and most of the CGI looks horrible.

One thing that really pushed me off at the beginning was the structure that wasn't very interesting, we had 4 episodes to introduce the riders, 4 episodes to give a power-up to each of them, and 2 to introduce a shared power-up and defeat the first general of the villains, and I felt like I came out of these without that much story, it felt like they were just going through a checklist of toys they had to sell and not actually telling a story. It's only from episode 11 onward that it starts to feel like this show has some sort of plot.

I also don't like how this starts similar to a Rider War thing, with all riders competing to see who cleans 10 games first and gets the most Gashats, but they make all characters out of the main one be completely hateful so we have no choice other than root for him. And like, it's okay to give us jerk characters, but you gotta give us something about them so that we can hang on, you don't need to make them redeemable or anything but you gotta have enough for us to love hating on a character otherwise it's just annoying.

Going back to my weird dialogue point, probably one of the things that I dislike the most is how there are times where they don't seem like real people talking? Like, the image I have when seeing the dialogue is that a bunch of old men in a writers' room sit down thinking "what will sound very trendy to hit off with the kid gamers", "what's a young people language we can put here" and they think they're being very smart and clever, but just sounds odd as hell, especially with the gaming aspect and the catchphrases (that at this point in this franchise I'm already tired of them because most of them aren't even charming anymore).

Another thing that doesn't sit well with me is just how special they make these characters be when there's no necessity for it. Like, being an actual doctor is already special enough, you don't need to have your main rider be extremely good at games to justify the gaming motif, you don't need the secondary rider to be a famous prodigious surgeon to install a rivalry. I mean look at Kiriya, as far as I can't remember he doesn't have any special trait and yet he manages to be interesting and stand out on his own. Heck, you don't need to have Emu be patient 0 of the gaming disease when you already have him being really good at video-games and when you're starting to add another element to him with a possible second personality, it's too much for a single character RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING. It's not like we're seeing those characters evolving into becoming special, they're already special and we just have to buy it. Of course, there are still routes that they can go with that will make the show more interesting, like for example they can do something with Taiga and Emu and their game addiction/obsession and that can be really great, but all this special feeling since the beginning really bugs me.

I think since I'm already here let me talk about the characters. Emu is a precious kid, there are times in which he kinda gets under my skin, but I overall like him. I especially love that he works as a pediatrician, in the beginning, especially considering this is a kids' show, I like to have this idea of doctors being heroes in the mind of children because they really are (despite the health care system in a lot of countries make it looks like they're villains). Other than him being extra special there are two things the show does with him that I don't like, the first one is that after the first arc is done they make him leave pediatrics to start doing surgeries and while I understand that as an intern that's the normal course and he probably has to go through different areas before choosing a specialty, but I feel like that was done just to hone more the rivalry with Hiiro and I don't really care for that, I hope he's back at pediatrics later on because I feel like it's what makes more sense for him and for the target audience of this show. The other thing I don't like is his personality change when he "starts a game" because it never felt like there was much of a change in any of the cases, they just make a gust of wind and he shows a grim for a few seconds, but nothing changes. And seeing that this is a plot point they want to explore it annoys me that they never made that play out before, it's bringing something up when it's convenient and saying that they had a basis for that but the basis is a single small thing that was never brought up to attention before.

Moving to Hiiro, I Hate Him and that's all I have to say. And I hate him even more because the show put him in a relationship where he was very cold and dismissive of his significant other and still they want to make us sympathize with him, they frame it as "the girl left because she didn't want to bother your studies" instead of "she left you because you were a jerk". But of course, they can't make that because then they wouldn't be able to make the stoic character they want so much, they would have to make someone who's trying to become a better person after he lost someone important that he didn't give the proper attention to, and that's much harder and they don't want that. UGH, I hate this man so much.

Taiga. Taiga is... interesting, I like the concept of someone who worked at CR before but lost himself to addiction, that's a great plot point. It's sad they don't do much with him and we end up with another obsessive jerk. Still, don't hate him as much because I can see the potential for them doing something very cool with him, but as of now, he's in the pile of hate.

Kiriya was probably my favorite character of this cast, it was really fun seeing him go from a mysterious man lurking around to someone who looks very deceptive, and all the journey of him investigating the truth as the episodes where going, and seeing his credibility be questioned but he never gave up despite that, it was all very great. Do I think it was a cheap move to kill him before he could tell the truth about Emu? Yes, I do. Because this is something we see everywhere, it's not a new trick. But I still felt his death, and if they don't come up with a way to revive him somehow I'll give this show props because it was a bold move to kill off a character during the Christmas special.

About Genm, and all the villains for that matter, I don't have much to say. I don't get them, I'm not curious to understand them, thus I don't care for them. It's interesting that the powers of the riders end up coming from the main villain? A bit? But then again, if you have all of these powers and you're handing them to people who oppose you, it seems like it's very counter-intuitive. At least they have the excuse that he's gathering data from them, but if he never recovers those gashats, is he really getting the data he wants? I don't know, everything about him and the villains seems very odd. But for what's worth, he almost killed himself to gather data for a zombie game and that was pretty wild so I guess that counts? About Graphite and Parad, I don't have anything to say, don't really care for them.

This leaves us with the side characters. Asuna/Poppy, I wanna like her but sadly I don't. If she is the "token girl" of the season, I'm at least glad she's not a romantic interest and that she fills in as a support role, but still, don't know why she can't just be a regular nurse that goes a little crazy sometimes. Though I guess if they had gone this route with her she would probably become Kiriko 2.0 and that's also bad so... There's the Director of the hospital, and I just hate him, I hate that they make someone who's supposed to be the leader of the hospital sooooo stupid. And he's stupid at all times, he doesn't even get the treatment Jun had in which he was there for comedy but he also had his moments where he was serious and those moments were pretty good. This dude is just here to make his eyes pop and drool over his son and I hate that. Mr. Minister should've chosen someone better suited for this job. And last, there's Nico who just seems like another jerk I don't like, but I'm holding on talking about her because I think I've only seen her for 2 or 3 episodes and she appeared very little so I can't say much about her.

I intended to talk about the Dr. Pac-Man movie, but they actually integrated that plot in the show in a much more flashed out way this time around so I feel like it would be redundant to talk about it since the bigger points I would have to make were already touched on. But let me say, what a mess of a movie. Like, there was no reason for Wizard and Gaim to be there, like how did Gaim even get there in the first place? This movie would be much better with only Drive, Ghost, and Ex-Aid, because they actually had a decent plot going around there that connected very nicely. But it's still a cross-over movie and they make a lot of things I hate about these cross-overs, the awful rider forms are there, there was an awful huge CGI battle scene that looked ugly as hell (though props to them for making this fight happen mid-way and not at the end), there was that scene were the riders started to speed-run through their old forms that were also pretty awful because I could barely understand what was going on in the scenes, all the mess that every rider cross-over movie has. But the thing that annoyed me the most this time around wasn't even that, was Ghost being Ghost again and putting another countdown to doom into Takeru and bringing Akari in this hell with him, and having ANOTHER fake-out death for him at the end. GOSH, THIS ANNOYS ME SO MUCH, LET THIS DUDE LIVE, STOOOOOOP.

And before wrap-up let's talk about what everyone loves, the designs.

This is probably the group with my least favorite designs EVER in this franchise, I'm sorry. I get, they're taking inspiration of different game genres, and the different forms are like they're leveling up, and in concept, I like that but in actual looks, only a very few of them get to pull it off. To begin with, I don't even know what those belts are supposed to be, they look way too busy and I can't define what that shape is.

The Level 1 forms are a mistake. I know, it's Mario before he eats a mushroom, it's still ugly as hell, and I hate that when they grow to their Level 2 forms the head of Level 1 goes to their back like a backpack. In terms of Level 2, I wasn't a fan of Ex-Aid's eyes at first but the design grew on me a lot, I love the colors and how vibrant it is, I also like Genm's because it's just a color variation and it looks good so... Kinda wish his hammer arm stayed as a hammer all the time though, makes Brave having a sword less special. And speaking of him, despite hating his character, as an RPG fan, I do love his design. Snipe, on the other hand, is an abomination. That thing on his right eye that is supposed to hair? What the fuck Kamen Rider, you can do better. Well... at least he's not just a bike, I guess. Thinking about it now, I should've known that Kiriya would end-up dying when his level 2 form was just a bike, that was a major red flag. At least he looks cool.

Sadly Level 3 starts to make everything look ugly again because the power-ups are attachments and they usually go only in the upper body making everyone look like an ice cream cone. I don't think there's a single Level 3 design I like, all of them look awful. I think Shakariki Sports and Jet Combat offend me the most, but all of these can be thrown in the trash. Together with the shared Level 5 power-up, gosh talk about an awful form, it's so bulky, and that dragon head looks so ridiculous, I think the only Level 5 that works is Brave's because in the end it just looks like he's branding his sword, but everyone else looks awful, in special the Full Dragon form.

The Level 10 forms are fun because I love Genm's zombie version, black and white is an easy combination but it works so well, and this dude looks so freaking cool, also NO BACKPACK HEAD! Also, he has a much better belt than the others, this should be the design for all the riders, it's not very big, it's easily recognizable as a portable console, it just looks good you know? But then we have Ex-Aid's Level 10 and he's chibi ex-aid again and he looks awful, thankfully this form is just a set for us to get Level 20 Left and Right that is a concept I love and definitely my favorite suits out of the ones for this season so far. Would I like it better if there wasn't the shoulder piece with Lv.10's head? Definitely, but I still love these forms. I personally love the right side more because after all we already have a light blue rider on the team, but I also think the bright orange with blue accents looks more appealing and stands out more than the blue with orange accents. The last form present in these 15 episodes is Para-DX's Puzzle and Fighting game forms, and I hate the puzzle form, it's really ugly, the fighting game form works way much better, but the back of the helmet being Puzzle's head brings it down a little.

And that's it for this post. Not gonna lie, considering how much I didn't enjoy this show at the beginning, I'm very surprised by how long this post is. I think it's a sign I'm invested so I'm hoping we'll have only good things from here on now. If you have anything to add, please share your thoughts in the comments down below. Stay healthy, stay safe, never stop resisting, thank you so much for reading me rant for so long, and until the next time. See ya in the next game.

[tmnthpdisneyjurassicpark-blog]

Meeting Raph

Warning: Swearing and Major Character Injury

Pounding heart, pounding feet, that's all Raphael could focus on in his blinding rage.

It wasn't a good day, to say the least.

It started when he woke up this morning to having Splinter chew him out for being out late with Casey the night previous. As furious as he was with his father, he had enough control to take it out on his old punching bag instead.

Bang!

Damn I ain't a kid anymore! I knew what I was doin'!

Bang!

Why does Masta Splinta gotta be up in ma shell?! Does he think I'm not good 'nuff or somethin'?

Bang!

I CAN HANDLE MASELF!

With every one of these intrusive thoughts whispering against Raph's ear, the angrier he got. It wasn't until a gentle hand landed on his shoulder that he realized he wasn't alone.

Swinging a fist out in retaliation, the figure darted back to avoid being pummeled.

When his vision cleared, Raph saw Leo was trying to get his attention.

"Easy Raph, it's just me." Leo called out softly.

Typically, Raph would snap back a remark to get Leo to leave him alone, that he didn't give a rat's ass what was happening, just to have Leo back off.

But something was different with Leo this time around. Something in his brother's eyes scared Raph, like the ocean he often saw in the leader's eyes turned into a hurricane of emotion.

Immediately Raph's anger stifled.

"Leo, what's goin' on? What's wrong?" Raph responded in his heavy accent.

"It-it's Casey, Raph. He's in the hospital." Leo spoke in a low voice, keeping eye contact with Raph.

Pure rage flared in Raphael once more.

"WHAT?!"

"April and Don found him surrounded by the foot, Karai leading the ambush. She knew Casey is close to us and was trying to get information out of him. Don was able to take the remaining foot down while April rushed him to the hospital in the Shellraiser. They-" Leo paused, biting his lip. He seemed to be struggling with giving Raph the harsh truth.

He blinked tears out of his eyes and Raph tensed. It took alot to make Leo cry, the leader often internalizing his own emotions for the sake of his brothers. For Leo to be this shaken, things couldn't be good.

Leo continued, placing a reassuring hand on his younger brother's shoulder, stealing himself enough to talk.

"They don't think he's going to make it."

Like taking a physical punch to the stomach, Raph doubled over. His legs were shaking, his heart racing in frustration, shock, heartbreak and fury.

His best friend got hurt, and he wasn't able to save him.

It's all ma fault! I shoulda walked 'im home! He said he was fine! I shoulda known!

Now he's gonna die and....and it's all...

ALL MA FAULT!

Raph felt the tears run down his cheeks. He was barely aware of turning and taking off through the sewers.

He heard his family calling his name, telling him to stop and chasing after him.

He didn't care.

All he could see was red.

He would kill the damn bitch for what she's done if it was the last thing he'd ever do.

"RAPHAEL WAIT! THEY'RE TRACKING US!" Don's voice boomed out.

Raph didn't stop. He didn't care. Let them try. I just meant he got to fulfill his promise even sooner.

"RAPH WAIT! THEY'LL HURT YOU!" Mikey cried out, right on Raph's heals. Enraged, Raph took a sharp right and Mikey was left skidding, trying to regain his footing and his balance.

Raph could see the manhole cover now, not even three feet infront of him.

"RAPH AS YOUR LEADER I ORDER FOR YOU TO STOP!" Leo's voice rang in the sewer, but all Raph could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

He broke through.

The manhole popped and fell to the side with an audible crash to the left. Before it could hit the ground, Raph had scaled the building and was jumping onto the next roof.

He was running. Running towards Foot Headquarters. To end them once in for all.

He was vaguely aware of how sinister it sounded and he knew he wasn't acting like himself.

He didn't care.

The sound of thunder boomed overhead.

Raph didn't stop.

Lighting crashed behind him. It only furthered his adrenaline.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

At the sound of a scream, Raph stopped in his tracks.

It was like the voice had snapped him back into focus, he needed to find the source of the voice before it was too late.

His pounding heart slowed and in the moment, only one thought became clear.

I can't let anyone else get hurt 'caz of meh. I failed Casey, I ain't gonna let anyone else get hurt.

Another scream and Raph was taking off towards the left, trying to see who was danger.

A few buildings down and he saw her.

Standing there, wet (h/c) hair a dirty and tangled mess, you stood there holding onto a gun and aiming it at the ninjas, a fallen officer bleeding out by your feet.

You were wearing a red sweater and a black skirt that was soaking in the rain. Your (e/c) eyes were wide with fear.

"Stay back!" You roared in a voice louder than Raph thought was human.

The black ninjas parted to reveal a lean female, dressed in silver armor, carrying a katana glistening with blood. She had dark, black almond eyes with fair skin, her smile as deadly as the blade in her hands.

Karai.

It took all of Raph's self control not to jump down there and kill the foot that instant. He knew he needed to plan the moment right, otherwise you might not make it out of there alive.

"Y/N, was it?" Karai drawled, making you shiver.

"If you want to kill me get on with it. You know I'm not going down without a fight!" You snapped, eyes blazing with a fire Raph didn't expect. It was the same fire he saw in his own reflection everyday.

Karai laughed.

"You idiot. If I wanted you dead, I would have already killed you." She hissed, taking a menacing step forward.

You stepped back, raising the gun.

"THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" You roared, acting tough despite your shaking hands.

"Your help. Or rather, your fathers. I wonder what he would give up to see his pretty little girl come home safe." As the words left Karai's mouth, the ninja's made their move towards you.

Now.

Just as Raph jumped off the building, you pulled the trigger. The bullet buried itself in Karai's arm, who screamed in pain.

Raph took the opportunity to slash her with his sai. She saw the move coming and tried to block it, but not before a shallow cut was made against her throat.

Gasping in pain, she stumbled back as Raph pummelled the other ninja's that were trying to make their way towards you.

"Retreat!" Karai rasped out.

The ninja's picked up their leader off the ground and took off, but not without throwing a few shuriken your way.

"Look out!" Raph yelled as he ran towards you, using his body to shield you from the projectiles.

Wrapped up in his arms, you took a good look at your hero, the figure that was so fast that you hadn't the opportunity to see him before.

You heard him cry out.

The final shuriken had buried itself in his leg.

He fell to the ground with a heavy thump, the shuriken digging into his green flesh.

You didn't think twice.

Rushing to his side, you took off your sweater and ripped it, tying it around the wound to stop the bleeding. Now, in your black tank top, you reached into your bag and brought out your first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic wipes.

"This is going to hurt," You warn him.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you. You, a human, who just saw an officer die before your very eyes, was threatened to be held hostage and shot a goddamn gun was suddenly helping out a giant mutant ninja turtle without a second thought.

Raph felt his heart soar.

The application of the antiseptic has the terrapin hissing in pain. You winced at the sound but then proceeded to pull out medical needle and string.

As you threaded the needle, Raph found it in himself to ask you a single question.

"Why aren't ya afraid of me?" He called out in a hoarse whisper.

You cocked an eyebrow up, eyes never leaving from your task.

"I'm a nurse. I have seen much worse. But I must admit, this has has to be one of the strangest cases I had. Top five for sure."

Raph gave you a low laugh and you smiled to yourself. You considered it a personal win if you could make your patients laugh.

Your eyes finally met his and you gasped.

Golden irises burned into yours, with a passion so fierce it seemed to pull at your very soul.

You couldn't look away. Neither could he.

"My name's Y/N." You said, a little breathless.

Raph smiled.

"I'm Raphael."

@midnightrebel669

Note: Casey survived :)

[mahreemari]

mari’s collection of perfectly safe 2nu goodness

collection of safe 2nu fics i filtered through both ffn and ao3 to find. will be a total of four to five separate postings. first will be completed works on ffn, ao3, and then the incomplete works in the same posting order. 

if i made a mistake, please notify me asap so i can fix the list, i tried my best but i’m just one person and something might slip my eye by accident. at the same time, if there is a fic that i missed, please let me know so i can add it! as well as new publications. suggestions to improve the list are appreciated. 

noodle must be 19/20 minimal during the romance period in order for the fic to be included. any underage is prohibited. 

here are all the completed works from ffn:

Rated K/K+:

Behind the Mask – Rated K+ –  After a four-year absence, Noodle has finally returned but what is she hiding behind the mask she wears? 2DxNoodle

Black Eyes, Blue Hair – Rated K+ – Noodle's view on her blue haired bandmate. Rated K

Blue Haired, Green Eyed Freak – Rated K+ –  Murdoc may have gone too far. He has made a clone, named Natalie, using 2D and Noodle's DNA, and it's convinced it's their daughter. 2DxNoodle pairing. Be gentle, my first Gorillaz fic. Please read! COMPLETE.

Early Conversations – Rated K – Just a short story that came from I and Cooliochick5 RP. Noodle is six months pregnant and wakes up finding 2D talking to their unborn child. Pure fluffiness!

English Rose – Rated K – "You know very early on where you belong and who you're meant to be with, 'D. That's not something that can ever change. Those people and places will always come back." 2nu.

Far, Far Away – Rated K+ – For a while, both 2D and Noodle have been sad, have been in pain...but finally, after being reunited on Plastic Beach, Noodle confesses to 2D what she's been thinking about for a long, long time...

Nightmare – Rated K+ – Noodle's had another nightmare. And this time, she's made herself bleed. A bit of a 2DxNoodle, but more brother/sister. First 2Nu fic! Noodle's POV

The Steadfast Black-eyed Soldier – Rated K – Some sort of the re-telling of the 1976s cartoon "The Steadfast Tin Soldier", but with "Gorillaz" characters on the roles.

unconventional – Rated K+ – For a couple years and a half, they lived in Honeymoon Avenue until Noodle had to leave again. Almost five years later, she's close to accomplish her mission and more than ready to go home. / An "end of phase 4" family reunion.

You Are My Medicine – Rated K – 2D always needed his pills to take care of his migraines. But someone can also take the migraines away from him too.

Your the Best Present – Rated K – It's 2D's birthday! And of course 2D forgets that it is his birthday. But Noodle is also sad about something. Sorry, summary sucks.

Rated T:

A Midsummer's Wedding – Rated T – Noodle is getting married... but not to 2D. And he's not taking it very well, poor guy.

A Step Too Far – Rated T – Noodle catches the end of an argument between 2D and Murdoc. One that ends with 2D punching Murdoc and in trying to figure out what happened she learns of Paula. Confronting 2D about it seems like the only way to get answers even if they lead to an unexpected ending.

Bleeding Out – Rated T – "FACEACHE! Faceache, holy shit!" Murdoc yelled, pulling him from his bunker to the lift. "What? What's going on?" 2D squeaked, following the bassist. "It's- It's Noodle! Somethin' ain't right with her!" (2nu-centric, but not actually 2nu.)

Blimey, You're TwentyOne Already! – Rated T – It's Noodle's birthday and she has a special request. What on earth is 2D going to do?

En Route to the Vending Machine – Rated T – En Route to the Vending Machine that I'm Pretty Sure Doesn't Even Exist. Yep. That's all.

Fisticuffs And Frozen Peas – Rated T – Murdoc Niccals has the innate ability to get on the wrong side of everyone. Picking a fight is just the way he communicates. But picking a fight with Noodle? that's a different story. Contains some 2DxNoodle fluff, Oneshot. R&R xX

Gravity – Rated T – Oneshot. 6 years have passed since the release of Plastic Beach and the band reunited. Everything is going great and the Gorillaz are enjoying being together again as they prepare to release their new album. But what happens when 2D finds a letter to him inviting him to Paula's funeral? What will he find when he gets there? And more importantly, what had Paula been hiding from him?

I Promise – Rated T – It wasn't until 2D's head began to feel extremely light, and his eyes rolled back until he realized what he was doing, but there was no turning back now. Warning: Suicide Attempt and Aftermath

Just Say The Words – Rated T – 2D has a special surprise planned for his beloved Noodle and something to ask her. But it seems that he just can't find the time or place to tell her.

Louder Than Words – Rated T – '...They both felt safe and happy with each other...But now she was feeling an old worry tug at her mind's corners again…' The small trials and triumphs of a new relationship. 2DxNoodle. One shot, rated due to mild fluff.

May 23, 2011 – Rated T – Her presence in this stoic world he'd created sent him into an emotional spiral that brought about the worst of his migraines. The emotional detachment he'd grown fond of now mocked him, & he was forced to hold his tongue because it was too hard to speak.

May 23rd – Rated T – It's 2-D's birthday, but no one remembers, well, almost no one.

Melancholy Hill No More – Rated T – Noodle had always been good at finding 2D's secret spots... 2DxNoodle

Memories and Chocolate Pudding – Rated T – A short story I wrote as a request from a friend. She wanted a cute story that had to do with Phase 1 Noodle and 2D, something brother and sister like. Of course I added my own 2DxNoodle touch in the end. 10 years later of course. ; Enjoy.

No Rain – Rated T – If Noodle stays with him, then he's really gonna have it made! 2DxNoodle Song Fic.

Nursing a Flu – Rated T – 2D is sick, but he has a certain guitarist to take care of him.

Plastic Beach: Phase Three – Rated T – A 22 page story we had to type for my English class. It could be about anything we wanted so I chose this. 2DxNoodle.

Something's Up at the Spirit House – Rated T – Something is very wrong with the Gorillaz new home, and it's driving 2D mad. Will he and his bandmates be able to handle the mysterious forces at work at Saturnz Barz? A story to tie together the music videos and events of phase 4. Will be a little silly, a little eerie, and contain a dash of 2/nu.

The Meaning Of - Salt Skin Drafts – Rated T - A series of one-shots revolving around 2D and Noodle and the growth of their relationship between phases 2 and 3. Would-be continuations to my discontinued story Salt Skin. Friendship/Eventual Pairing.

Ups and Downs – Rated T – Noodle and 2-D both have strong feelings for eachother, but can there relationship take the challenges life throws at them? 2-DxNoodle COMPLETE!.

When You’re Close to Me – Rated T – Noodle has returned home to her boys, and is ready to face the feelings she'd had while away.

Rated M:

A Look I Used To Know – Rated M – He bit his lip as his eyes returned to her, studying her unsure movements while she tried to ignore his presence as he watched her. He felt his heart ache as she stood to her feet, the dejection in her body unclear to most was a scream in Stuart's ears...

A Simple Understanding – Rated M – Their grief was eating away at them, but all it took to save them was a simple understanding of feelings. 2DXN

Another Story – Rated M – This is not based in kong nor plastic beach. In fact this is just based between 2D and Noodle. Russel and Murdoc are mentioned but not by name. Please read and review!

Awake – Rated M – After a night out, 2-D awakes with a familiar face next to him, and very little memory of what happened the night before. A 2Nu fic. Rated M for strong language and sexual content.

Confessions – Rated M – 2D wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk threatening to break out. "Yeh think yeh better than meh?" Noodle scoffed. "Of course I am, 2D, I could beat you at any game you throw at me." She tried to ignore the fact that he had edged much closer that he was previously sitting. "Well," 2D breathed. Noodle swore she could feel his breath tickling her face. "Wah 'bout this one?" STRONG LANGUAGE

Just Passing Through – Rated M – A reunion between two band members after four years apart. 2DxNoodle. Rated M

Plastic Beach Romancing – Rated M – 1st fanfic ever! Yay. Everyone from the Gorillaz. So Noodle makes it to Plastic Beach and finds 2D just before he overdoses. I'd love to get comments please. Noodlex2D! 3

Reuniting – Rated M – To make matters worse, somehow, some way without Noodle's consent or knowledge, the three men had thought it would be amazing to vacation in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, while staying in a log cabin of all things. This is a gift fic for WreckTangle. Rated M for sex...you've been warned. 2DxNoodle. O.o

She's My Collar – Rated M – Noodle and 2D have a secret that they feel has been kept long enough. They want to figure out a way to tell the others and come up with something rather creative. When Russel and Murdoc hear the lyrics to "She's my Collar" for the first time what will their reaction be? Can 2D and Noodle defend themselves or will their secret affair become just a memory? Rated M.

That One Day – Rated M – This fan fic has the song "Girl Gone Wild" in it by Madonna because it fits the plot lol. There is also an outside character by the name of Marcus that is mentioned. Rated M for lots of sexual scenes lol. Enjoy!

The Rube Goldberg Effect – Rated M – Poll winner! 2D has fallen asleep on Plastic Beach. His back now lobster red, he's in desperate need of relief. A hot summer day, a sunbite, a bottle of Aloe, and a bathing suit covered body. So what's Noodle have to do with this?... Aloe can be fun, too

[myvelouri]

Whoa I just remembered my sister's friends had a crush on me. Then she followed me on Instagram somehow! She then sent my sis pics of some model dude and said it looks like me.

I totally forgot. She still follows me, I just realized. Omg. I remember I didn't know she was over, and I was in my underwear, I came downstairs and she looked totally, like, she was blushing hard.

I don't know if she would even be attracted to me anymore. She said to my sis she thought I was really cute. Um, but that was back when I looked healthy and was doing better. I wasn't super scrawny, I had a good weight! I looked the same but different. Better... A lot better. Doesn't make sense but it's just how it was.

Man, my back is killing my today, this chronic back pain is so bad. Everyday for years now.

Bleh, anyway, yeah. Oh yeah she actually had a boyfriend too, but she still liked me. Crazy.

Back then a lot of girls liked me. Not all, I still got rejected, but as soon as I got a GF all of them came at me. Ffs when I broke my foot, the foot nurse who was cool liked me so much. I didn't realize she liked me that much. She out of nowhere added me on Snapchat. She was definitely trying to fuck. I couldn't because I had a GF. I told my GF of course. Had to delete that gal off, no problem for me. I'm a loyal boyfriend.

Omg actually my sister's friend who had a crush on me was very touchy feely with me at my sister's graduation! I thought she would not be into me anymore as I had lost a lot of weight and didn't look so good anymore. But meh who knows.

My life is weird. None of this makes me feel any different. I still want to be in a different body, one where I'm comfortable in. Or just not be around at all.

Sorry I just feel off today. A lot of "friends" I make are randomly disappearing and rumors of me at work seem to be in play. I didn't do anything though. But just my awful luck is making me feel so bad. There was that awful date last month, there was that one girl I actually really liked who I thought was genuine who ended up not even adding me back, confuses the crap out of me. There's been a lot of girls I hit on too and I was rejected everytime. I mean. A lot of them had boyfriends already. So I shouldn't bitch. But the ones that didn't, it's just bleh. I wasn't even looking for sex initially. I'm still not. Seriously. Sex seems so tedious to me right now. I hate my body, hate that part of my body too, it's just not good enough, and I mean, bleh. I WOULD however like to have a lot of friends, and definitely female friends that are flirty. I mean, I would still like to hang out, flirt, make out, and goof off. I don't need sex. I love sex, don't get me wrong, I'd want it all day everyday with every girl, but it's just because of my own specific body that I don't want it. It's just not fun. My body is bad. I don't like my equipment, I don't like how my stamina runs out, I hate how much I sweat, I hate how I have pain after sex, and I certainly hate this mysterious issue where if I have sex often I actually break out on my face, armpits, and my bottom. Its really weird and it's unacceptable because it leaves permanent scars on my face. So I already limit myself to how much sex I have or masturbate, I really have to. It's such a curse. But even if I didn't have this mysterious issue, I still don't want sex that much... I hate my junk dude, if maybe I had a porn star dick and I could actually stay hard I'd be happier, but I also don't even like having my clothes off because of my loose skin, it's mild, and from when I used to be fat, but it makes me feel ugly af. It's why I wear loose clothes. But um. Yeah sorry for the TMI. I've posted this shit more in depth before. I don't really want to.

I'm even only posting here because I'm still sick. I have recurring MRSA which is absolutely painful, I lost a job cause of it already. And I have this awful skin virus that docs say will take a year to go away. Lil bumps. They are so annoying. I actually can't have sex or masturbate or really touch my skin. It's really fucked. For a year. So I haven't been going out. It's okay, I don't need sex and I don't really feel horny these days.

Depression has been bad. Really. I hate how it's damaged my brain. I used to be more intelligent, funnier, clever and free. It's hard to even do schoolwork. I used to be really good at all that. I miss being funny the most, just to joke non-stop and build or riff on a joke with someone hahaha. I can't even do that anymore. Sigh. People used to gravitate towards me! Even my family. I was just big energy. It's really sad that depression stripped away my personality completely.

Maybe I feel okay now. I always write to make myself feel better. I think maybe I do. Okay sorry, byeee