#and i just have absolutely zero motivation to do it. it never crosses my mind as an option

[le-velo-pour-dru]

I'm genuinely so concerned about the fact that I don't have motivation for my creative hobbies anymore ._. I don't know what happened, and I don't know how to get back into them, and it freaks me out

[foli-vora]

my girl

A/N: look, I don’t even fucking know. I saw the reference picture and my mind just went absolutely feral. What started out as what could be a simple threesome, soon turned into this—whatever the fuck this is. I refuse to apologise. I enjoyed this ride and will now throw this out into the abyss like a grenade and run back to the safety of my blankets, ashamed to ever return.

This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writers Wednesday ❤️ such an incredible idea! Thank you for letting me join in!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: this is straight up filth. FILTH. SMUT 18+ NO MINORS!! Swearing, alcohol, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lactation kink—not everyone’s cup of tea, I get it... dirty talk, Dave’s a bastard and Frankie’s a pussy eating king—both things we know by now. Um, enjoy, I guess?

+

“Fuck.”

You laugh lightly, head falling back onto Dave’s shoulder as Frankie drops his cards to the table with a drawn out sigh.

“You can’t lie for shit, Morales.”

He shoots a half hearted glare at Dave, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, York.”

You snort quietly, fingers intertwining with the hand resting comfortably on your thigh. “It’s not a good thing, either. Drink up.”

“Two against one is hardly fair.”

Dave grins, momentarily pressing against your back to reach for his own beer before reclining comfortably back in the chair, pulling you tighter against him as he goes. “You say that like she’s a threat—she’s as hopeless as you.”

“Rude.”

The sun still warms your shoulders as it starts it’s descent below the heavy tree line behind your property, the bright summer glow fading into something softer, more relaxing, and you eye the mess of paper plates, cups and random toys strewn about in the yard—the leftover destruction of your sons first birthday.

Dave’s fingers softly pinch your chin and return your focus to the table and the drinking game currently taking place, coaxing another beer into your hands while he kisses softly below your ear. “Stop looking at it—we’ll do it in the morning.”

“Yeah, when I’m long gone.” Frankie mutters, grinning at you before tipping his head back and polishing off another can while Dave laughs quietly.

He liked Dave. The guy was strange sometimes, what with his out of town work and mysterious friends that made the hairs on the back of Frankie’s neck stand, but Dave was a good guy... adored the absolute hell out of you and that’s all that mattered. He served, too, but unlike Frankie choosing to retire, he took up an opportunity with the CIA. Not too shabby.

Frankie’s checking in with his babysitter a little while later, having lost again, when he hears a little moan. His eyes move towards the sound before he can help it.

What the fuck?

Frankie shifts in his seat, not looking straight at the pair of you in fear of fucking flat out moaning. He chalks it up to just not being with someone for a while but wow. He could see you from the corner of his eye, see Dave’s hands and the way they move to squeeze and pinch at your tits as his mouth practically devours yours. You’re complete putty in his hands, melting into his lap and taking whatever he gives you hungrily.

Maybe he should go.

Fuck. Did you just whimper?

Jesus. He needs to leave now.

“I’ll head off... give you two some space—”

Dave’s low voice stops his rise from the chair, his ass hanging awkwardly over the seat as eyes that match his in colour and depth zero in on him from across the table. “What’s the rush, Morales?”

“No rush. I just don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not. Sit down. Have another beer.”

Say no. Say no.

“Sure.”

He resettles in the chair, immediately reaching for another can as wonders why he suddenly feels so fucking studied under Dave’s watchful gaze.

“So how long have you wanted to fuck my wife?”

You blink in shock, “David!”

Frankie just about chokes. Beer spills from his lips and he hacks a cough in surprise, sleeve catching the drops of liquid that fall from his chin. Fuck. Fucking shit. What the fuck is he meant to do? He’s gonna get his ass kicked, and if he’s being honest with himself, he fucking deserves it.

He should’ve fucking left.

“Man, I swear—” He swears what? He can tell by the way Dave’s looking at him that the man already knows. He’s not angry—not even a little bit. He’s just... smug. And curious. What kind of fucking game is this guy playing?

“Oh god, Frankie, I’m so sorry—please ignore him. David, what’s the fucking matter with you?!”

You bristle when he blatantly ignores you, instead raising a brow in challenge at Frankie. “Am I wrong?”

Frankie works his jaw, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to work out Dave’s play. He doesn’t seem to be looking for a fight. Doesn’t seem to be doing it out of spite or wanting to upset you. He has no idea how to act, what to fucking say.

Dave nods, grinning. “Thought as much.”

His hand cups your chest, squeezing the flesh softly, and you squirm in his touch, cheeks flooding with embarrassment for your friend as Frankie swallows uncomfortably, eyes immediately finding the crushed cans on the table. “Dave—”

“He doesn’t mind—do you, Morales?”

You watch in slight surprise as Frankie’s eyes flutter to your chest, watching the way Dave handles you roughly before they’re moving away again, almost shy.

“It’s alright. You can watch. Can’t he, honey?”

And then Frankie’s looking at you, eyes unsure and questioning but burning with something that has a thrill running along your spine. You nod quietly, heart beating unsteadily as Frankie’s eyes widen slightly, body squirming in the chair.

“If—if you want to.”

He exhales softly, now watching with rapt attention as Dave brings both hands up, undoing each button of your dress until your modest cotton bra is on show, nipples poking through and straining against the fabric. He feels the air leave his lungs the second Dave pulls at the cups, spilling your tits out to the open air and his wandering gaze. He can’t help but make a noise at the sight of them, cock hardening to the point of discomfort as Dave massages them softly, your eyes rolling a little as he pinches at your nipples.

Frankie stiffens in the chair, breath catching and stomach dropping.

Fucking shit—

Dave hums lowly in appreciation, feeling a warm dribble across his thumb and fingers as you squirm from the familiar tingle in your breasts. “She’s trying to stop and dry it up, but it takes a while, doesn’t it, honey? Not that I care—more for me in the long run.”

Frankie almost whines. Fucking whines. He catches it just before it falls from his throat, close to embarrassment. Dave knows—the bastard. You look so good. So fucking good. Fuck, there’s so much—

“Have a taste.”

You moan softly at the idea, and Dave hushes you softly as he presses a kiss to your throat.

Frankie eyes the milk that falls from your nipple before glancing up and meeting Dave’s gaze, lips pursing in thought despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans. What was the ulterior motive here? Was it a test? Was he just looking for a reason to knock him out? Does he even care?

Dave watches him, expression unwavering, almost teasing as he coaxes more milk from your tits and runs his fingers through the warm stream sliding down your skin.

“What’s the catch?” Frankie eventually asks, voice hoarse, and Dave grins.

“No catch.”

Did he get up too fast? By the way Dave laughs at him, he probably did. He doesn’t care. He can’t get around the stupid fucking glass table quick enough.

Frankie drops to his knees in front of you, attention completely focused on the way Dave squeezes gently at your nipple and draws more milk from your tit.

He wants to double check. He knows Dave would never push you to do something you didn’t want to, but there’s been a bit of alcohol involved, and even though he knows your tolerance level is much higher than a few beers, hell—even tequila doesn’t bring you down, checking doesn’t hurt. “Are you—”

You nod, “It’s okay, Frankie.”

“Go on.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Frankie’s lip attach to you the second Dave opens his mouth, his tongue running immediately over your nipple and groaning when the taste of your milk sinks into his taste buds. So fucking sweet. You whine into Dave’s ear when Frankie increases his pressure, greedy for more as you flood his mouth, and your stomach tightens at Dave’s low hum.

“Feel good, honey?” He asks quietly, other hand cupping and rolling your free nipple in his hand as Frankie moans softly against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair so different to Dave’s clean shaven face, but no less pleasant.

“S-so good—”

Dave’s fingers gently pinch at the hem of your dress, sliding it up along your thighs and pooling it above your waist before coaxing your thighs open a little more, Frankie immediately moving into the free space as soon as he could. Dave pulls your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds with a low groan.

“You’re so fucking wet. Do you like him sucking on your tits?”

You whine quietly, hips arching into the two fingers that swirl around your entrance before they slide in and curl against your hot walls. He moves slowly, dragging them almost lazily in and out of your pussy as he feels more of your arousal coat his hand.

“Yeah, you do like it—so does he. Do you think he can hear how wet you are, baby? Do you think he can hear my fingers move in this greedy little cunt?”

Frankie groans. Loudly. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. He can hear it. It’s driving him fucking mad. He wants to look, wants to watch how your face moves as Dave finds that spot deep along your walls, but he can’t pull away from you. Not yet. If this is the only chance he gets to do this, then he’s taking it and fucking running.

Dave’s gentle as he pulls his fingers from you, swirling his slick soaked fingers around and over your nipple before coaxing Frankie to the other side. The obscene groan that vibrates against your chest sends flutters through your entire body as Frankie laps at your skin with a ravenous frenzy, tongue smoothing over every bit of wet skin he could find before latching onto your nipple without abandon.

Dave picks up on it immediately. “Easy. You hurt her, I hurt you.”

A tongue smoothes over your nipple in silent apology, and your fingers run through the flattened curls of Frankie’s hat hair in acceptance, his face nuzzling against your skin as you bring him closer. Dave’s fingers return to your pussy, leisurely circling your clit, swollen and throbbing from lack of attention.

“Do you want to cum, honey?”

The needy whine that leaves your mouth has him cooing into the side of your face, fingers picking up speed and pressure at the desperate little buck of your hips.

“Maybe if you ask Francisco nicely, he’ll eat this pretty pussy until you cum.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Is he serious?

Frankie shudders against you, cock straining so fucking hard against his jeans he almost wants to cry. He’d beg if he has to. If that tiny little taster Dave gave him was anything to go by, you’d drive him fucking wild.

“P-please Frankie—”

Dave tuts lowly in your ear, “‘Please Frankie’—you can do better than that. He can’t hear you.”

“Fuck. Please—”

“Please what?”

“Please eat my pussy—please—”

Dave winds his fingers into Frankie’s hair and tugs sharply, the other man detaching from your tit with a wet smack of his lips. He eyes the small trail of milk sliding into Frankie’s beard and scoffs quietly, “Messy.”

Frankie’s already flushed cheeks darken even further, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is how fucking stunning you look, legs spread and face morphed in ecstasy as Dave rubs over your clit with a shadow of a smirk—the man knew he drove you crazy.

God, so fucking wet—

You’re dripping. He can see it. He watches the way your entrance flutters, pussy clenching hungrily around nothing as Dave slows his movements.

“Well? You heard her.” He parts your folds, baring you in all your slick fucking glory, and Frankie all but fucking loses his god damn mind. He dives in, uncaring that Dave’s fingers are there and his tongues probably running over them more than he cares to count. Dave doesn’t seem to mind.

The cry that falls from your lips has Frankie pressing forward, mouth pressing greedily against you as his tongue works at your pussy, lapping at your weeping entrance before lathing attention to your clit, tightening his lips around the nerve and letting his tongue massage over it.

“Oh fuck, Frankie—”

Dave hums, curved nose trailing softly along the side of your face as you thrash in his arms, bucking into the mouth that all but fucking devours your pussy. His tries to ignore the way you shift on his lap, the way your ass drags so fucking nicely over his hard cock straining under you, tries to ignore the delicious fucking sounds coming from both you and Frankie, but he can only endure so much.

He bites into your shoulder, eyes tightening as he fights off the waves of tempting bliss tingling at the base of his spine. Not yet. He wants more.

“Come on, baby. He’s been so good—cum on his mouth. Give it to him.”

Your body thrums with waves of electricity at Dave’s words, each swipe of Frankie’s tongue driving you further and further until you’re stiffening, Dave cooing quiet praises and quickly slapping a firm hand over your mouth as you find your peak, crying out and shaking in his arms as Frankie holds onto your thighs, tongue burying itself in your fluttering pussy to take everything you give him.

Your cries turn into whines, and soon you’re squirming, trying to get away from Frankie’s mouth. He takes the message before Dave can intervene, pulling away with a shaky exhale and desperately trying not to blow his load in his fucking jeans. He had a feeling Dave would never let him live it down, but it was so fucking hard not to. You were wrecked.

He watches you come down from your high from the floor between your thighs, heart hammering as Dave softly runs his fingers along your skin, voice almost silent as he murmurs in your ear. Dark eyes are soon on him and Frankie briefly worries he’s overstepping his welcome, until Dave speaks.

“That’s what you get when you lose, Morales. Imagine what you’ll get if you win. Deal ‘em.” Dave nods to the cards on the table, acting like he didn’t have you still trembling in his arms with your tits out, and dress bunched around your hips with your pussy still spread and quivering.

Frankie swallows, nodding silently and moving back to his seat, reaching for the cards with a sudden urge to win and wipe that fucking smirk off of Dave’s face.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @mouthymandalorianalso @frannyzooey @wyn-dixie @intu-witch-tion @amneris21 @mad-girl-without-a-box @pinguinstudiert @sergeantbannerbarnes @betterthanbucky @kat-r-in @starlightmornings @randomness501 @antisocialthat70sshow @buttercup--bee @sleep-tight1 @spideysimpossiblegirl @greeneyedblondie44 @hope-for-the-best-98 @bunniwarrior @fangirl-316 @acourtofsnakes @leaiorganas @princess76179​ @mamacitapascal @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @lv7867​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @julesorwhatever​

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Detroit Evolution Character Studies.

If you haven’t seen the absolutely lovely Reed900 fan film Detroit Evolution by @/octopunkmedia, I highly recommend it. (This also contains spoilers for it so watch before reading this.) I’m not done with these character studies as I plan to do one more for both characters.

Essentially, these are scenes taken directly from the film where I wrote it out, action, words, and all, as well as tried to capture what I thought they would be feeling/thinking in those moments as a way of learning to write the character’s voices (or my version of them). Word Count: 2,345 TW: Cursing, blood/ injury/ death mention, brief mention of food.

Nines

Timestamp: 11:22

He carried the full coffee mug from the break room to Gavin’s desk, a spring in his steady step. Placing the mug down, he looked at Gavin, a challenge in his eyes.

Gavin looked up from his phone. “Thank god.”

Nines held back a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” Gavin sassed back.

Nines pushed at Gavin’s feet that were propped up on the desk. “Move your feet.” He listened to the small sound of surprise that came from the human and sat where the feet had been, waiting for Gavin to stop spinning. “Have you been reviewing the case?” He glanced at the inactive computer screen.

Gavin sat straighter in the chair and leaned forward. “You know me. When do I stop?” He pulled up the case file on his computer. “Our victim’s an AC900, right? That happens to be a model designed for athletics and endurance. So, her thirium pump is one of the most valuable out there.”

Nines tilted his head. “You think the killer could have black market motivations?”

“You can’t rule it out. Not with how advanced that part is. So, once I made that genius deduction, I went through a list of my contacts in the android parts market and they got back to me with some common drop sites for black market deals.”

Nines was wary of where this was going, his LED circling to yellow. “Contacts? There are black market dealers who collude with the DPD?”

Gavin sat back, posture relaxed. “They give me intel, I stay off their back.”

“That doesn’t seem legal.” it defied his sense of logic to work with criminals to catch other criminals, even if the method had some merit.

Gavin spun his chair to face him, voice becoming defensive. “Okay, Nines. Sometimes you gotta bend the rules if you want to catch a bigger fuckin’ fish, alright? I know it’s not your protocol or whatever but, that’s why you got me.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking pleased with himself.

Nines leaned on his hand. “How would I ever succeed without your obstinance and rule breaking?” Sarcasm was something he’d mastered soon after deviating and used often with Gavin.

Gavin set his mug down, crossing his hands over his lap. “Yeah, you got a real funny way of saying ‘experience and wisdom’.”

“Wisdom?” Nines almost scoffed. “Gavin, I have a database in my brain containing over two hundred thousand words in the English language and I believe you found the one that least applies to yourself.”

Gavin looked up at him. “Shuuuut the fuck up.” He reached forward to tap his keyboard, bringing their attention back to the case. “Look, if we can intercept some dealers and bring ‘em in, we’ll find out if our victim’s thirium pump has been making the rounds. That could lead us straight to the killer.” He looked at Nines for his opinion.

Nines hummed. “It’s a good start, but waiting for a dealer to cross our path could mean it could take weeks to find a lead.” His LED went to blue as he thought it over.

“Thought of that too, smartass. There are definitely some sites where black market activity is hot.” He pointed at the screen and Nines turned to look. “These apartments out in Ferndale and Slide Docks-” he moved to point at another part of the map on the screen. “-here.”

Nines considered the information and screen. “We’ll need to split up to cover both.”

“Nah, you won’t have to miss me.” He gestured to the new detective with his mug. “We’ll get Chris on one of them while we go to the other.”

Nines looked at Chris, who seemed to have a lot on his mind. “He’s been quiet, since Jericho.”

Gavin busied himself with gathering his things. “Okay. Maybe work will take his mind off of it.”

Nines hummed, watching him. “Burying troubles in work is your usual approach.”

Gavin stood and rounded his chair, blowing a kiss to Nines sarcastically. Nines turned his head in time to notice Gavin flip him off behind Nines’ back. He smiled at the antics and followed the detective.

Nines

Timestamp: 54:00

‘I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

Nines could hear Gavin, even as he was trying to search every line of his code for a way to fix this corruption.

‘You are my partner. Come back to me, Nines.’

Nines heard a glitch in the garden before Gavin’s voice spoke again, closer this time, different. “Hey, tin can.”

He looked up to see his simulation of Gavin standing there. Calling his name, Nines ran over to him. He said his name again as he tried to hold him, only to be met with loose pixels and glitching code. He took a step back, anger in his voice. “What did she do to you?”

Gavin’s voice was distorted and his pixels were out of sync. “Code’s all buggy from Ada. You gotta delete me. Delete all of this, start from scratch.”

“Delete it?” Nines felt panic rise in him at that. “No, I can’t do that. This is where I process everything. I can’t just erase it.”

“You can rebuild another one after.” Gavin looked up into the trees. “Doesn’t even have to be a garden. Hell, make it a theme park, I don’t know.” He looked back at Nines.

“I can’t rebuild you.” His voice softened. Nines had spent pain-staking hours programming Gavin’s code and making him as close to the real thing as possible and now he was being told to delete it all? He wanted nothing more than to just hold Gavin.

“Look. You don’t have to give a shit about me. It’s all just fucking fantasy, Nines. You got the real thing up there. And the only way to get back there is to let go of all of this.”

‘Come back to me, Nines.’

The Gavin standing before him glitched again and Nines nodded slightly. “Okay.” He moved away, unable to look at him as he did this.

‘I need you. I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

With the real Gavin’s voice echoing in his ears, Nines carefully and ruthlessly tore down every line of code he had to. Thoughts of the past few days, images of his friends and Gavin, tumbled through his mind as he destroyed his sanctuary, the place he went to relax and to process and feel safe. A place that had been tainted by Ada’s forced entrance.

As soon as the last zero was deleted, Nines regained full control of himself.

Gavin

Timestamp: 24:30

Gavin grunted as another fist connected with his face, breaking his nose. Faintly he heard a voice call his name. A hand reached out but instead of a punch- He jolted awake, hands reaching to fight off his attacker, whoever's hands were now on his shoulders, fighting him back. Nines’ voice broke through the fog of sleep and Gavin stared at him, calming down just a bit as he found one of Nines’ hands on his chest, the other holding his right wrist gently. Nines gave one more, comforting, “”it’s not real, you’re safe,” before releasing Gavin and standing up.

Gavin shifted, moving to sit up against his headboard as he tried to calm his breathing. He shifted the pillows behind him, all too aware of Nines’ concerned gaze.

When his breathing was slower, Gavin spoke. “What- What’re you still doing here?” He knew Nines had mentioned reviewing case files but thought he would have left, bored of Gavin. Most did.

“I stayed to review our case files.” Nines’ voice was soft, as if Gavin were a deer that would startle at a too-loud sound. “I heard you struggling.” He moved away from the bed a step or two. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Gavin shifted positions, shaking his head. “No, no, no, I”m fine. I’m fine.” If he repeated it enough, maybe he’d believe it himself. He cursed a few times, softly, as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Nines sat back down on the edge of the bed. Gavin cursed again, the loudest sound in the room being his still heavy breathing. He leaned his head back against the wall, too exhausted to care. “Guess now you know why I don’t sleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Gavin was grateful for the lack of judgement in Nines’ voice.

Gavin dropped his head down, shaking it as he stared at his sheets. “Nothing. I don’t even remember.” Not a complete lie, it was reduced to fear and feelings and flashes of memory now, so distorted from what it once was. “Probably bore you, if I did.”

There was a small smile in Nines’ voice, still soft but now holding a note of affection. “Learning more about you would never bore me, Gavin.”  Gavin didn’t quite believe him and Nines kept talking. “Would you like me to stay with you? Research shows that physical touch is good for humans, it releases serotonin which has a calming effect-”

Gavin’s skin crawled at the thought of touch and he began protesting as Nines continued. “-I think that-” Nines heard his protests and stopped.

“No.” Gavin shook his head, breathing almost under control. “I’ll take my chances with the cat.”

“Okay.” Nines stood. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He turned and began to walk to the door.

Before Nines could reach it, Gavin spoke. “It was about this one night.” He looked up at Nines, wondering if the android knew the level of trust Gavin was showing. “It just makes me feel like I’m back there.”

He paused as Nines came back to sit on the side of the bed where he’d been before.

He took a deep breath. “I was a dumb kid. Dropped out of high school, fell in with some shitheads dealing red ice for a little while. I just . . . I just couldn’t do it. I stopped. And they fucked me up, kicked me out. I’m wandering around the streets of Detroit, bloodied to shit, nowhere to go. Fowler found me. He was on patrol. He just, put me in his car, drove me to a diner. Bought me coffee. Told me I could intern at the DPD for a little while. Have something to do, you know.”

Nines listened patiently, only commenting at the end. “Sounds like a happy ending. Why is it a nightmare?”

Gavin’s eyes turned haunted. “‘Cause every time it replays in my head, he doesn’t show. And I just die out there. Bleeding in the fucking snow and no one cares.”

Nines stood, looking like he was prepared to go back to the living room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

Gavin looked up at him, his face illuminated by the light of the window, and didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just slid over and hoped he understood.

Nines did, his LED glowing yellow in the dark room  as he moved to sit where Gavin had been. He gingerly turned so his cloth-covered back was toward Gavin. The human appreciated the gesture, feeling comfortable and vulnerable enough to extend his hand, palm up, to Nines. The android carefully took it, his synthetic skin retracting but Gavin brushed that off as him offering less skinship.

Gavin’s breathing stuttered slightly but he slowly placed his head on Nines’ shoulder blade and shoulder. He felt Nines rest his head on Gavin’s, the android’s thumb running over the back of the human’s hand.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have you scrapped for parts.” There was no bite to Gavin’s words.

Nines shook his head. “Empty promises,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Gavin

Timestamp: 57:19

“I think I can help with that.” Nines’ voice came from the doorway.

Chris called his name while Gavin looked on in disbelief. Tina stood by Nines, Gavin was vaguely aware of her trying to get Chris to leave Gavin and Nines alone but he only had eyes for the android.

Nines stepped into the room as the two left. “Distracting yourself with work at two A.M.? Now I know you missed me.”

Gavin’s shock wore off at the playful banter. “You undead asshole. How did you wake up?”

They both approached, almost meeting in the middle of the room, as Nines spoke. “I heard you. Your voice broke through.”

Gavin backed up a few steps even as Nines continued advancing. “Goddammit. You mean you- you- you heard everything I said?”

Nines smiled. “Every word. A force you can’t live without?”

“I . . . hate you.” There was barely any force in his words.

Nines finally reached him, that soft smile still on his face as understanding shone in his eyes. “You love me.”

Gavin looked up at him and their eyes met. He looked down to see Nines’ skin retract on his hand, gently taking it into his own hands. Nines’ other hand came up to cup Gavin’s cheek and draw his gaze back to his face. Gavin closed his eyes, getting used to such tender touches, before opening them and looking at Nines. Then, they were kissing, both putting the emotions they couldn’t put to words into it.

When they broke apart, Gavin panted for a moment before speaking. “What dipshit programmed you to do that?”

Nines laughed, sounding just as out of breath as Gavin felt. “I’m the most advanced android ever made, detective.”

Gavin threw his head back dramatically, Nines’ hand sliding down to his neck. “Oh, you are such a fucking prick.”

“Takes one to know one.” Nines snarked back.

Gavin sniffed, finally noticing what Nines was wearing. “This is my jacket?”

“Yeah, you left it at CyberLife. They didn’t keep my clothes.” He laughed and looked around. “I see you’ve been making progress without me.”

“Yeah, uh. Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Nines didn’t respond, simply leaned down for another kiss.

[prodigious-ladybug]

wishmaker thoughts

in terms of it being a single installment in the larger narrative of miraculous ladybug, i don’t have a lot of thoughts on wishmaker other than ‘haha cool someone knows both of their identities at the same time wonder where this will go’ bc like. i am unable to separate myself from the idea that i absolutely cannot judge something (in this case, season- and series-long arcs) until i see it in its Entirety, in its Proper Complete State (which i know doesn’t exactly mesh with television as a serialised art form but jhdfghj wtvr thats a whole other discussion) so i don’t, and won’t, really have an opinion on luka knowing their identities until i see what the show does with it

on the other hand, in terms of its own merits as an episode (as in, the parts of the episode that are self-contained and are supposed to have their own story arc within the 20min) wishmaker was probably one of the weaker episodes of the show? alec’s akumatisation practically came out of nowhere - the show usually does a pretty good job of setting up the through lines that lead to a character’s akumatisation right from the start of the ep (you know, like with actual foreshadowing and good writing and shit) but wishmaker felt more concerned with the interactions between luka & adrien & marinette than having the villain feel natural within the story. which is all well and good, like this episode is about those three and should be focused on luka’s relationship with adrien & marinette if it wanted to have the proper impact of luka finding out their identities, but it just seemed like the episode couldn’t balance being both a run of the mill, monster of the week episode and an Event episode at the same time (that being said, i doubt this episode would’ve been enough to hold its own across a two parter so i get how the unbalance arose). instead of throwing alec’s characterisation out of whack they couldve used his early screen time to lead up to his akumatisation more naturally - surely something about being a tv presenter and having to be fake all the time for a living and not staying true to what his younger self wanted or SOMETHING would like. be putting him down in the dumps or smth. idk. that’s just off the top of my head surely the writers could come up with something more substantial. and yeah this might take away some attention from the emotional core of luka, adrien & marinette but it’d at least 1. tie in with the theme of the episode and 2. set some precedent for his negative feelings instead of him getting akumatised in like. ten seconds hgfdfghjk

the only other thing that kinda rubbed me the wrong way was how wishmaker’s power seemed especially contrived, even for this show? like i Know half of the akumatised powers are to either get ladybug and chat noir to kiss (contrived for the sake of romance which is. generally fine in a romance show and also approved by my shipper brain) or reveal their identities (which actually ties into the plot and the villain’s motivations and therefore makes it...not really contrived) so wishmaker being used to reveal their identities is fine. but um. the leap hawkmoth made in how his powers would do that is. wild. it’s like:

reveal people’s childhood wishes

???

reveal lb & cn’s identities

profit

and again, i know hawkmoth has given an endless list of powers to people that make you think ‘what the fuck was he hoping to accomplish with that?? what did he THINK would happen?’ and i’m all for hawkmoth having dumb plans, being soundly beaten and then having to figure out smarter ways to beat lb & cn, but i guess my problem here is that in this episode he was actually proven RIGHT. like he had no guarantee that lb & cn wouldn’t have childhood wishes a la dino man and mr banana, but he really put out this fairly weak akuma with the immediate assumption that it would reveal their identities and like?? if viperion wasn’t there he’d have achieved it! (well, idk abt ladybug, he’d at least probably hit chat noir, which is. an interesting au to think about). the link between revealing childhood wishes and revealing lb & cn’s identities seemed like a massive leap in logic to me (more than this show usually makes), and idk if anyone else felt that when watching the episode but like kjhdfghjk hawkmoth buddy can you explain your thinking for just a second like i’ll accept what you’re doing i just need to know why the fuck you’re doing it and how you got there

but other than that! i really really liked this episode and i was hyped up the entire fucking time!! i had to keep pausing it bc i was getting overwhelmed LMAO. i guess one thing i will say so that this doesn’t seem like a wall of negativity (which i swear i didn’t mean for it to be, there were only two (2) things i didn’t like about the episode that i felt weakened it, it just takes me a billion words to get to my point) is that however they handle luka knowing their identities in future episodes, i fucking loved the way they handled it in this episode. for some background, i’ve honestly never cared much either way abt luka, i have zero negative feelings about him, it’s just that he has the unfortunate case of not being a character type i particularly care abt, and the writing hasn’t done anything much to endear him to me. he’s fine, and i certainly like him more than other characters, but i’m pretty much as neutral on him as you could get. UNTIL THIS EPISODE! okay not really, something abt him agreeing to be friends with marinette in crocoduel made me go ‘:) what a nice boy :)’ BUT! THIS EPISODE! i’m proud to announce i’m officially a luka stan. LYING BALD-FACED TO LADYBUG? KING. LYING TO LADYBUG AFTER THE SEASON OPENER OF HIM GETTING AKUMATISED OVER MARINETTE LYING??? i am SO here for internal character conflicts YES! this is what i WANT! set up a character who has a strict line in the sand and put them in a situation where they’re forced to cross it anyway, and see what happens next!!!! i really would not mind a whole character study on luka after this. like....the fucking intrigue.......why did he lie, and how does he feel about it? does he regret it? does he consider it a necessary evil? i’m sure all of this will be answered in like. a single line from him five episodes down the road bc that’s how this show handles shit like this but. those last few minutes were really just straight bangers i’m still not recovered

well this was. longer than i thought it’d be. and again, i liked this episode a lot, idk what compelled me to write all this out. i usually don’t have a lot of formulated thoughts like this after an episode of ml; i think that it was just bc there were a couple things i could actually critique in the ep that it made it easier to pick apart my feelings. but anyways!

TL;DR wishmaker, in its self contained elements, felt a bit weak as an episode bc 1. alec’s akumatisation was mad rushed and 2. the way his powers were used to further the plot felt contrived to me (yes, even for miraculous). but, in the episode’s over-arching elements within the season/show, i immensely enjoyed it, primarily because of the amount of intrigue it set up in 1. luka’s characterisation and 2. the possibilities emerging from luka knowing lb & cn’s identities

[hyucks-archive]

september 19.

word count: 7,342

genre: fluff

member(s): the one and only lee donghyuck

warning(s): it’s a sort of feel good fic, so unrealism™

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken - ask & you shall be given! this post is dedicated to you my love, thank you for always supporting my works

September 19, 2017.

You look up at the azure sky, the gentle autumn breeze causing your baby hairs to tickle at your face. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of what you imagine to be of wilting leaves and fresh pumpkins. You shove your hands into the pockets of your block-coloured cardigan; while most prefer to stick to the monochromatic nude colour scheme in the autumn, you like to do the exact opposite. Summer is your season for monochromes, while autumn is your season for colour. There’s just something about contrasting the seasons that you’ve always loved to do.

Pulling out the ticket from your jean pocket, you hold it up against the backdrop – you smile, tilting your head to the side, eyes going back and forth between the photograph printed on the ticket, and the actual, three-dimensional scene in front of you.

“Looks even better than in the picture,” you murmur to yourself, shoulders dropping in satisfaction. You bring your hand down, allowing yourself to really take in the entirety of the one place you’ve hoped to visit for more than half of your life – the Nami Island. It first became popular because it was the filming site for Winter Sonata, but that’s not the reason you’ve always wanted to come. It’s the actual view that you’ve always been drawn to; the tree-lined roads, and the maple and gingko trees that would turn golden red and bright yellow in the fall. Autumn has always been your favourite season, but you’ve never really been able to really drown yourself in the things that are said to define autumn as a season.

You’ve always wanted to visit. But you’ve always only wanted to visit on a September 19th.

Why?

Because you first discovered the existence of Nami Island back in 2008, on September 19. You’re usually not one to care for such things, but when you have close to nothing to really look forward to in life, visiting Nami Island on a future September 19 became the only thing you looked forward to. Yet, it took you a good nine years to get here, because every September 19, you were never able to take an off day from your job at the café.

This year, however, you finally managed to. Granted, you only managed to, because you decided to stop being a beta, and start being an alpha. In other words, you submitted your application for an off day back in January, at the start of the year. It’s only because autumn is the busiest season for the café though. Autumn is the time where everyone rushes in for the pumpkin-flavoured drinks and treats. Autumn is also somehow the season that’s the most associated with coffee.

Placing the ticket in your wallet, you slide your wallet back into your bag, finally ready to begin your exploration of the beautiful island.

As you walk, you’re warmed by the site of numerous families and lovers, who scramble about, trying to get the most scenic shots of the island. There are two toddlers who are fascinated by the squirrel that dashed across the pathway, and another three toddlers who are busy picking at the fallen, dead leaves, while their parents attempt to buy steamed buns as a treat. Further in, there’s a waft of coffee, a scent that is all too familiar to you. You look towards the somewhat populated, hanok-looking café.

The atmosphere is so different from the café you work at. Here, it’s tranquil, there’s beautiful scenery to motivate you, and there’s zero signs of the hustle and bustle of city life (which is something you seriously detest). There aren’t business people who rush in for an americano before zooming out of the door, and there aren’t students who hog the seats to mug for their exams (although, you’ve been guilty of that at some point in your life). It’s just people who are here to really take in the flavour of the coffee, and to appreciate everything about the island.

You decide to buy a cup of tea to-go, just to support the business.

With the warm beverage in hand, you continue to venture further into the island, eventually arriving at a water body at the end of the trail. You look around, scanning the area. It’s even more peaceful here than it was back at the heart of the island; there’s barely anyone here.

You spot a boulder under the tree, so you decide that it’s a sign for you to take a seat, to enjoy your off day, sipping on your cup of tea, while listening to the soft, gentle sounds from the water. You really like this. For more than half of your life, you’ve spent it being overwhelmed by crowds, working ‘till your arms and legs go sore, trying to “get ahead” of everyone else. You’ve always quite liked the feeling of sinking in work, especially labour work, because it takes your mind off of every other thing that went on in your life.

Now that you’re older, and your body isn’t as lively and healthy as it used to be, you’re beginning to learn the importance of taking breaks. Sadly, it’s a little too late. The reputation that you’ve established in the café that you’ve been working at all along, is one of the ‘perfect-worker-who-never-ever-takes-a-day-off-even-when-sick”. You have this whole thing about not disappointing people that’s going on as well.

Sometimes you really hate yourself for it. You scoff – who are you kidding? You always hate yourself for it.

Even the thought of it makes your nose sting and your lips quiver. You blink fast; it’s a technique you’ve come to master, and it works absolutely amazingly when you’re trying to hold back your tears. Not everybody can do this, so you consider it a pretty big talent.

You hear the sound of dead leaves cracking, so you turn your head to the side, where the sound had come from, only to be greeted by a gigantic brown bear, that’s holding a tray of tiny cups, that you assume to be samples from whatever store this bear’s a mascot of. You notice the sunflower that’s pinned to the bear’s chest, reading the text out loud, “Smile! It’s a beary sunny day!”

You break out into a smile, murmuring, “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

The bear holds out a tiny cup, allowing you to take a peek at the brown liquid that fills it. “Is this coffee?” you ask, looking up at the face of the bear. It shakes its head, pulling out a card that he had hidden beneath the tray. He passes it to you.

“Try our brand new bear liquid! Contains everything bear-friendly.” You raise a brow, looking back up at the bear, “You know that doesn’t sound very appetising, right? No one’s going to want to drink,” you hold up both hands, gesturing inverted commas as you say, “bear liquid.”

There’s a hint of a shrug from the bear, before it reaches behind itself, bringing out a mini sunflower badge. It holds the sunflower badge out in front of you, gesturing for you to take it. “You guys give sunflower badges for free?” you ask, bringing the badge up close to inspect it. “That’s kind of a good marketing idea, actually,” you say, spotting the name of the café printed at the bottom of the badge. “But it doesn’t seem very cost-efficient,” you continue, poking the needle of the pin through your cardigan, hooking it back in, securing the pin on your left chest.

“Thank you,” you say, patting the bear on its shoulder, “You’re doing a beary good job.”

The bear holds out a thumbs up, turning around to take its leave.

You watch the retreating figure of the bear, wondering how tiring it must be for the person that’s inside the gigantic bear suit. Luckily, it’s autumn, which means cool weather, but it also makes you think about how tiring it must be for the bear in the summer. Getting up onto your two feet, you smile to yourself, “Well, I have nothing to do,” you whisper, allowing the curiosity to take over you as you leap forward, taking hurried footsteps until you spot the bear a short distance ahead of you. “I guess you’ll be my entertainment for the day,” you conclude, grinning widely.

You continue to follow behind the bear, taking cover behind trees whenever it gets stopped by a bunch of kids and their parents who wants a photo with it. It continues to give out the bear liquid, but you also notice that even though it has interacted with more than 50 different people, it hasn’t given out another sunflower badge. You wonder if it’s because it isn’t allowed to give out too many of those, which, obviously, would make sense. Then again, what makes you legible for the sunflower badge, and not the rest?

The thought swims around in your head as you continue to trail behind the brown mascot, the tiny cups of bear liquid slowly reducing in quantity.

You stare at the teddy bear sunflowers that decorate the exterior of the café. “Oh, that makes sense,” you think aloud, finally understanding why the mascot of the café is a big brown bear, along with the sunflower. You take a seat on a wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other, sipping on the tea that’s now cold.

Finally, the bear finishes giving out the samples of bear liquid. You watch as it poses with different children who are so amazed by the big, live-sized, animate bear. You take another big gulp of tea; it must be tiring, not only does it have to wear that heavy, stuffy bear suit, it also has to continuously entertain the tourists that come by every day. Because you’re so engrossed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice that the bear has spotted you. It wonders why you’re here.

“Oh, gosh,” you gasp, body tensing up for a split second. The bear is now suddenly in front of you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling. The bear bows its head. There’s a pause, then you decide to break the silence with, “Do you talk?”

The bear gestures at its wrist, before folding an arm, resting its chin in its paw, tilting its head to the side questioningly. “You want to know the time?” you gather from its gestures. It nods its head, so you check your watch. “It’s seven thirty-two PM,” you inform. The bear claps its paws excitedly, and you react with a confused smile.

“I can talk now,” he speaks, sitting himself down beside you. “Don’t you have to work?” you ask.

“It’s two minutes past my shift,” he replies.

“Cool,” you say. You lick your lips, pursing them, then deciding that you should ask the question that would get you the answer you’ve been wanting to know. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you start. The bear turns to look at you, “You followed me all the way here just to ask me something?”

“Well, kind of,” you say, “Technically, I derived the question after following you.”

“So you admit you were following me?”

“I didn’t deny it to begin with,” you state nonchalantly. You can hear the bear smirk under his bear head. “You’re honest, I like that,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“Go ahead,” he cues.

“Why’d you give me a sunflower badge, but not anyone else? I thought this was part of your café’s marketing.” You point at the sunflower that’s still pinned to your cardigan. You hear the bear chuckle under its mask, its body folding forwards as he does so, a sign of amusement. “I gave it to you because I thought you might need it,” he explains, almost matter-of-factly.

You’re slightly stunned by his reply. You think back to the situation earlier – you were busy dwelling in the thoughts that make you feel sad, that by the end of it, you were blinking away tears. Just how much of that did the bear see? You’re uncomfortable just by the thought of it; it doesn’t feel right at all knowing that someone might’ve caught a glimpse of your weakness. You don’t want that. You don’t think you can live knowing that someone potentially saw you struggling.

“But don’t worry,” he begins, as though reading your mind, “I’ve already forgotten everything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” you say, eyeline falling to the ground. The bear leans his body forward, mirroring your position. “It’s human,” he says. Your eyes travel up to look at his bear face. “I get really frustrated sometimes, too. But I don’t go all the way to an offshore island to release the stress,” he pokes, eliciting a small smile from you.

“I didn’t come here specifically to destress,” you share, “I came because I’ve been meaning to come for nine years already. I just only found the chance to now,” you finish.

The bear looks at you through its mesh eyes. When he first spotted you back by the water body, he saw the way your brows knitted, the way your lips quivered, and the way you were quick to blink away your tears. He felt bad for imposing on a moment that seemed so private, but he would feel twice as bad if he had just walked away, pretending like he didn’t see what happened. So he decided to build up the courage to go up to you – it worked out really well that he’s in the bear suit. In fact, it’s working out even better now, because he can stare at you, and you wouldn’t even know. He can sit beside you, talk to you like it’s nothing to him, because all you see, is a big, brown bear.

Still, he can’t deny the slight fluttering in his heart. It’s cliché, and it’s definitely not right. But he can’t deny, that he’s attracted to you. It’s superficial, he knows. But he’s also only going to be able to see you today, and today only. After which, you’d return to the mainland, while he’d remain here, continuing his job as a mascot of the café.

He likes the way you’re smiling fondly, just at the thought of being able to finally visit the island you’ve been longing to visit.

“Do you like the island?” he asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to come up with a better question.

“Of course,” you say, beaming. “It’s everything I imagined. And,” you pause, “I got to meet a really friendly bear, too.”

His heart does another thing at your declaration. It’s foolish, he’s well aware. But again, tonight’s his only chance to experience this. Then, you’d be gone, and he’d be back to his regular daily routine.

“Do you live on Nami island?” you ask.

“I don’t. I take the first ferry here every morning, and the last ferry back every night. The pay is good, so I don’t mind the tedious travelling,” he shares. “Wouldn’t you rather just live on this island?” you question. “Do you know how expensive that is?” he replies.

You shrug, “Wouldn’t your total expenses spent on travelling equate to renting a place here?”

“I travel for free,” he says, “The boss pays for that. I bring in customers by wagging my bear butt, so it’s a fair exchange.”

You laugh, amused by the way the bear phrases its words.

“Must be nice,” you say.

“What about you? You look like a student, so I’m assuming you work part-time?”

The bear notes the smile you force out. He can see the slight bitterness peeking from your eyes. He mentally slaps himself a second time – he must’ve said something wrong.

“I’m actually taking a gap year right now,” you share, “So I’m working full time, to save up for school.”

He understands now. It’s odd, to say the least. He feels a form of connection with you, even though he knows this’ll never come to fruition. Still, even if it’s just for tonight, he’d like to be able to just talk about what he’s been bottling up for the last few years with someone. Even better, that this someone is someone he mildly feels attracted to, and whom will go back to being a stranger after the conversation.

“Somehow, you’ll feel that whatever you make, it’s never enough,” he begins, turning his bear face away. You wait for him to continue.

“No matter how much I earn, it’s not enough. I was once naïve enough to think that I’d be able to eventually fund myself to do the things I want to do, but as I’m ageing, I’m starting to understand that that’s not possible. It’s all fiction. Fantasy. It’s all what I conjure up in my head.”

Your shoulders sink upon hearing what he has to say. Why does it seem to hit the exact points? Why do you seem to be able to relate to his plight? In other words, there are other people out there, dealing with the exact same things as you?

“Don’t say that,” you manage out, trying to think as positively as possible for the both of you. “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

The bear turns to face you, tone serious as he says, “Yeah, money doesn’t buy happiness. But money buys you the things that make you happy.”

You feel a sting in your heart. You’ve always tried to psycho yourself into believing that what you’re going through isn’t so bad. That you’d still be able to be happy, because money doesn’t buy anyone happiness. Because of that, you’d always feel guilty for not being able to find contentment in your situation. You thought it just meant you’re greedy.

You realise now, it doesn’t.

You try your best to paint on a smile. But the bear knows well enough that it’s all pretence. He wishes you didn’t have to try so hard to be okay. At least, not in front of him.

“Who knows where we’d be a year from now? We might even be doing the things we like,” you say, feigning a tone of excitement.

“We wouldn’t know where each other is a year from now,” the bear says.

“Will you still be working here, a year from now?” you ask.

“I’ve been here for six years now.”

“It must’ve been cute, to be able to see a bear mascot getting taller every year,” you comment, lightening the mood. You can hear the bear smile, which makes you smile in return. The bear’s heart does another flip.

“Anyway,” you say, “How about I see you, a year from now, right here?”

The bear’s breath stops for a moment – are you for real?

“Really?” he asks. You nod your head. “Really.”

“Okay,” he agrees, though you can’t see the goofy grin on his face.

“What’s your name?” you ask, only realising now that you’ve basically revealed just about everything about yourself to him, excluding your name, yet you don’t even know what he looks like under that bear mask.

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” you repeat after him, smiling, “Nice name,” you say, telling him your name in exchange. “So Donghyuck,” you say, getting up from the bench. “A year from now, I hope I can walk away with my memory of you, not being a bear.”

Donghyuck chuckles, agreeing.

“See you in a year, y/n.”

September 19, 2018.

You hold the bag of carp bread to your chest, your heart filled with excitement. You’ve practically anticipated for the entire of 2018, for the 19th of September to come. It’s interesting how just one conversation, of course, filled with mutual understanding and relatability, had created such a connection between you and Donghyuck.

There hasn’t been a day where you didn’t find yourself thinking about Donghyuck. You’d wonder if he had earned enough to do something he likes. You’d wonder if he’s staying adequately hydrated despite the scorching sun. You’d even wonder, if he still remembers his promise with you. A part of you is obviously afraid that after making a trip down to Nami island, that the boy in the bear suit would’ve completely forgotten about you. A part of you is afraid that when you greet him with a smile, he’d look at you with confused eyes, questioning how you know of him.

Then again, an even bigger part of you is simply hopping around in absolute joy at the mere thought of being able to reunite with a friend. You’ve never been able to meet anyone that could relate to you, the way Donghyuck can.

Upon arrival on the island, you rush off the ferry, immediately heading towards the café he works at. It’s close to 5PM in the evening. You were held up at work, because your boss had insisted that you at least take the morning shift, which made you jittery the whole day because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it. Luckily, it wasn’t that busy today, so you were even let off ten minutes prior to the end of your shift.

Just as the café comes into view, you spot the giant bear hobbling about, playing around with the group of kids. You immediately break out into a bright smile, a sense of relief washing over you. At the very least, he’s still here, like he said he’d be.

You bring up the bag of carp bread – will Donghyuck like this?

Donghyuck smiles at the adorable children who are rushing to cuddle him. He isn’t sure of the exact time, but he can tell that more than half of the day has gone by, and there is still no sign of you. He’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so naïve in the first place, gullible enough to think that a random stranger would actually come all the way back to the island just to meet with him again.

Heck, he’s in a bear suit. Nobody’s ever going to like a person that’s in a bear suit.

“Look here,” a mother coos, holding up her camera. Donghyuck bends down beside the child, holding him close as the mother begins to snap numerous shots of her baby son. “Thank you,” the mother says, reaching for her child as she presses a loving kiss to his forehead, gushing as she whispers praises to her little boy. Donghyuck has a pursed smile on his face; must be nice for that kid.

Donghyuck isn’t given the chance to dwell on the topic because a rush of kids come by, screaming and yelling excitedly at the sight of the bear. He joins in, chasing the kids around, and that is when he spots the one person he’s been waiting for (a whole year).

You’re standing there, a bag in hand. He isn’t even able to control the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey!” a child shouts, tugging at Donghyuck’s bear leg.

You bring the bag of carp bread back to your side, smiling widely as you make your way towards the bear. As though working in your favour, the kids begin to clear just as you approach your friend. You give a small wave, your heartbeat picking pace in fear that he might not remember you. Just as quickly, though, your heartbeat slows when he returns the wave. He points at the wooden bench that you were seated on a year ago, and you get what he’s trying to say immediately.

You head over to the bench first, taking a seat as Donghyuck poses for a few more pictures with different children.

Once he’s done, he jogs over, stopping a small distance in front of you.

“Look what I brought!” you say excitedly, waving the bag in the air. “It’s carp bread, because bears eat fish,” you giggle. You thought you were really witty to have thought of such an idea.

Donghyuck chuckles. Now it’s his turn to feel nervous, because he’s going to have to remove his bear suit to reveal himself, like he promised.

“Are you going to change out of that?” you ask, looking on with anticipation.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You wait patiently for the boy to return. He does, within five minutes. He tries to soothe his hair down as he approaches you, moistening his lips with his saliva, tugging at the end of his hoodie to make sure he looks decently presentable.

You look up, meeting eyes with a tanned skin, lean-looking boy, who is making his way towards you. You raise both brows – is that Donghyuck?

Sure enough, the boy stops just in front of you, scratching the back of his head in an attempt to let out his nerves. He smiles shyly, formally introducing, “Hi. I’m the boy in the bear suit.”

Your encouraging smile calms Donghyuck’s active nerves. He looks at you in the eyes, the same feeling of attraction he had felt a year ago, still evidently present a year later. He wonders if you feel it too.

“You know, you kind of look like a bear,” you comment, eyeing Donghyuck up and down. He rolls his eyes in response, scrunching his nose, “I don’t.”

“Here,” you say, holding out the bag of carp bread. “Eat your fish.”

Donghyuck scoffs, feigning offence, before taking the bag from you, and taking a seat on the bench, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He brings out a carp bread, splitting it down the middle. He hands you a half, and you take it graciously, biting a chunk off. “So how has your year been?” you start off, still in a little bit of disbelief that this is how Lee Donghyuck looks like.

For a whole year, the only image you’ve had of him, was the brown bear suit, with the sunflower badge. Even when you tried to imagine what he looks like under the mask; you’ve never came to the visual image of the being before you. He’s good looking, obviously, and by that, you mean that he’s way better looking than you had imagined him to be. There’s something that’s just really cute about his small little button nose, his doe eyes, and his round face.

“What you said was true,” he says, swallowing. “2017-me would’ve never been able to guess where I’d be a year later,” he continues, “I’m learning how to dance.”

You smile in pleasure, “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Donghyuck returns the smile. “What did you do for the past year?”

“I saved,” you say, smiling proudly. “I saved enough for now, so if I keep the momentum going, I’d have enough for university, too.”

“Then I guess it’s mandatory for me to tell you that you’re doing a great job,” he commends.

You feel something stirring in your heart. You’ve never been told that before. It feels funny, now that you’ve heard it. Donghyuck notices the change in your expression, and somehow, he knows the reason why.

“You can always come to me to brag and show off,” he says, tone gentle and encouraging. “I’ll always tell you how you’re doing a good job.”

You look at Donghyuck, meeting his eyes. He’s sending you signals of comfort through his gaze, and you’re receiving them well. Somehow, it’s only the second time you’re having a conversation with him, and it’s the first where you’re looking at the actual him. Yet, it feels as though he’s impacted your life even more than the people who’ve been in it for way more than he has.

“Want to know a secret?” you ask. Donghyuck nods his head.

“Back when I was younger, I was walking beside a classmate in school. We were about to go down the stairs, but she tripped on her own shoelace. She rolled down the stairs, and laid unconscious,” you recall, letting out a deep sigh at the end. Donghyuck looks at you with a brow raised, “And?” he prompts, urging you to continue.

“You’d think my first reaction would be pure concern for that classmate,” you say, focusing on the dead leaves that decorate the ground. You kick at a maple leaf, “But it wasn’t. When I saw the way everyone rushed forward, all attention on her, I thought to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one who rolled down the stairs?’,” you take a pause, turning to read Donghyuck’s expression. He doesn’t seem to have any real thoughts about what you said.

“Twisted, right?” you end off with a pursed smile.

“No,” he states, taking another bite of his carp bread, completely unfazed.

“No?” you repeat.

“No,” he reiterates.

“Why not?” you question.

“Because,” he says, “It’s not abnormal to think that way.”

“You don’t have to side with me just because we are friends, you know?”

“I’m not. I just think that it isn’t crazy weird why you thought that way.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s kind of like how it is in my dance class. There’s this guy, his name is Jisung. He’s younger by two years, but his talent is more than double of mine. He gets a lot of love and attention for being the youngest of the team, and for being the talent that he is. Sometimes, when I see the way he gets praised for executing a move really well, I’d think to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one being praised? I thought I did the move pretty well’.”

You chuckle at his kind attempt to try to make it seem as though what you had thought at the time was normal, though the circumstances are obviously far from being similar. Donghyuck is sweet, to say the least.

“I’m sure you dance well,” you say, eyeing his long legs, “You look like you’d dance well,” you correct.

“I’m serious about what I said though,” he says, reverting the topic, referring to how he’d be willing to listen to you brag any time.

“I might just take you up on the offer,” you reply, “As long as it remains valid, for a long, long time.”

“Are you trying to tell me to stay in contact with you?” he questions.

“You mean you didn’t intend to?” you raise a brow.

“You’d know where to find me when you need me, but I can’t say the same for myself for when I want to see you,” Donghyuck says, looking at you expectantly. Can you take that as a confession? Did he just say that he wants to see you?

Then again, so what if it is a confession?

You’re well aware of how you feel about the boy. You know that there’s a connection. You know that sparks are flying. You know. You know it all too well. But how can you be sure that Donghyuck is meant to be something more? You met him under circumstances that most wouldn’t even consider normal, and it’s barely the second time you’re talking to him. How can you be so sure, that he’s supposed to mean something more to you? How can you be sure that you’re only feeling this way, that you’re only feeling the butterflies and the somersaults inside you, because you’re truly attracted to him, and not because of how he makes you feel?

He makes you feel understood. That’s unfamiliar to you.

“Please,” you begin, in an attempt to try to brush off what he had said. “I kind of like that we see each other once a year.”

Donghyuck feels a light sting in his heart. “Why?” he asks.

“It makes our friendship special. How many people can say that they know of someone, who becomes their friend, on only one day out of the entire year?”

Donghyuck fakes a smile, “So you’ll be back in a year?”

“Yes.”

Donghyuck nods his head. Maybe he should just be happy that this means he’ll get to see you, at least another time, a year from now.

He shouldn’t be too greedy, right?

September 19, 2019.

It’s the third time that you’re going to be meeting Donghyuck. You’re starting to kind of understand what people mean by ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. Oddly enough, in the past year, Donghyuck wasn’t just a passing thought like he was in 2018. This year, he was quite a prominent thought. Sometimes, you’d even have sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning, just thinking about him. You’ve even gotten the urge to just go online to search for him, but there are so many Lee Donghyucks in the world, that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the exact one. It would also be a breach of your friendship terms, since the both of you are supposed to only rekindle every September 19th.

Today, you managed to take the full day off. You check your watch – it’s 10:47AM. Why have you arrived at Nami island at such an early hour? Knowing fully well that Donghyuck has a shift to fulfil?

Simple.

You miss him. A lot more than you’d like to admit.

Sounds silly, you’re obviously aware. How can you develop feelings for someone that you only see once a year, and that you barely know?

You’d like to think it’s just because of how curious you are as a person, which results in constantly being curious about Donghyuck. But again, that’s just you trying to talk yourself into denial. No matter what you say, you can’t deny that you’ve debated over fifty times about coming to Nami island before the 19th of September, knowing fully well, that he’d be here.

But every time you were about to purchase the ferry ticket, you’d stop yourself.

A year may have gone by, but the same worry still remains.

How can you be sure, that his presence in your life, is meant to be something more?

“Hey!”

Your attention snaps up to the familiar voice, the voice you’ve only been able to think of for the past year.

“Donghyuck?” you murmur. He isn’t in his bear suit today.

He dons a bright smile, jogging over towards you. “We must have more telepathy than we’re aware of,” he comments, chuckling to himself. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you ask, “You’re not working today?”

“I took the day off,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this early, though.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve sat at that wooden bench until you showed up.”

His non-hesitance as he said that elicits a feeling of warmth to spread through your entire body. Donghyuck really makes you feel things, huh?

“You’d do that?” you ask, just so you can hear it loud and clear. Donghyuck smiles, nodding his head. “You would’ve done the same. Otherwise, what did you intend to do while waiting for me to end my shift if I were working today?”

Your smile only widens.

“What do you have planned for the day?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and eat then?” you suggest.

So five hours later, you’re seated opposite Donghyuck, empty plates and half-empty cups between the both of you. He has his arms propped on the table, listening intently to whatever you had to say. Conversation is easy when it comes to Donghyuck. He shows you that he’s listening. He makes sure to pay attention to what you say.

You feel the connection growing by the minute.

“That doesn’t justify why you’ve never dated anyone before,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Says you,” you retort, “But I’m sure if I showed my co-worker a picture of you, she’d go crazy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” you defend, trying to put on the most serious expression you can possibly make. “She’s cute too. Come to think of it, she’s totally your type.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What makes you think I’m into cute?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Okay, then what is your type?”

“Shouldn’t you know best?”

Silence.

Donghyuck’s just staring into your eyes.

Your heart is thumping so hard, so fast, you’re starting to lose feeling in your hands and legs.

You let out an awkward laugh – there’s no denying it this time. It’s definitely a confession.

“Very funny,” you say, trying to change the topic. “I have to leave already, I’m working a full-day shift tomorrow and I’m in charge of opening,” you say, getting up from your seat. Donghyuck follows after, allowing you to lead the way out of the eatery.

“Hey,” Donghyuck calls, taking your wrist in his warm hold, turning you around to face him. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell me where you work? Or where I can locate you? Or your number, at the very least?”

You’re looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, and you can see the sincerity. Like him, you want this to be something more. But you can’t just turn a blind eye and rid the fact that you’re just not sure of what might happen in the future, and that’s what scares you. You don’t want to commit to something, at the expense of knowing all too well, that you might get hurt. What if Donghyuck was never meant to be a part of your life? You’ve seen it in the movies – when you let someone in, and they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with, it only ends in tears and sorrow.

“Look, Donghyuck,” you begin, trying your best to think of a way to get your point across accurately.

“What makes you so sure that we’re meant to be something more?” you ask.

Donghyuck’s brow twitches, a sign that he’s taken aback by your question.

“See? You don’t know it yourself. What if we commit, and it just bites us in the back?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, “How would you know that?” he counters, “What if it doesn’t?”

The both of you just stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to find the answer you’re both looking for.

“I believe in fate,” you say, breaking the eye contact. “On September 19, a year from now, I’ll be working at the café,” you continue, eyes finding its way to meet Donghyuck’s once more. “It’s located in Seoul. If, on that day, on the 19th of September, 2020, you’re able to somehow find me, I’ll take it as the sign that you and I are meant to be something more.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at your proposition, “But Seoul is so big, how am I supposed to-”

“If you can’t find me, it just means that’s the end of our connection,” you cut in. “And you can’t cheat. You can only start looking on September 19.”

Donghyuck thinks it’s the end. He doesn’t think it’s possible. But if he wants this enough, he’s going to have to try.

“Promise?” you ask, putting out your pinkie finger.

“I promise,” he says, hooking his finger with yours, pressing your thumbs together.

What’s going to happen a year from now?

September 19, 2020.

“Here you go, enjoy your drink,” you greet, passing the iced americano to the man in the suit. He tilts his head in gratitude, before scurrying out the door. You take a moment to stare at the door, it’s going to be afternoon soon, and there’s still no sign of Donghyuck. You wonder if he’s even taken up the challenge, and is actually going about Seoul right now.

“Why do you keep staring at the door today? Are you waiting for someone?” Eunha, your co-worker, asks. You shake your head, shrugging, “I just can’t wait to knock off, that’s all,” you lie. Eunha furrows her brows teasingly, leaning in close as she says, “Please, I’ve worked with you for years now. That isn’t your ‘I-can’t-wait-to-knock-off’ look,” she says, pulling back.

You roll your eyes, hitting her on the arm lightly, before re-busying yourself with preparing the orders of the customers.

Another few hours go by, and now, the sun is beginning to set.

“You’re staring at the door again,” Eunha lilts, a teasing smile on her face as she sips at her coffee. “Stop, I’m really just excited to knock off soon,” you say.

“If you want to knock off so bad, you can knock off now,” she says, placing her coffee down on the counter. “I’m cool with closing on my own tonight.” She blinks her big eyes a few times, smiling teasingly, knowing that you’d deny her offer.

“I can’t do that to you,” you say, laughing awkwardly, “Think about all the times you sacrificed your nights staying with me for closing. I ought to return the favour.”

“Ought?” Eunha repeats, giggling to herself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, moving on to do the dishes to avoid slipping up any further.

Donghyuck sighs, coming out of the eighth café he’s looked into today. As expected, this is basically mission impossible. How is he supposed to be able to find you, when you didn’t even bother with giving him any clue aside from that it’s located in Seoul?

He looks around, trying to spot any other cafés that might be in the area, before he’d move on to the next.

There’s still a good few hours before the end of September 19.

He might still have a chance.

You bite down on your lip. It’s five minutes to closing.

“I guess we weren’t meant to be,” you murmur, eyes refusing to leave the doors.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, they’ll show up,” Eunha chimes in, continuing to wipe down the counter.

“What makes you so sure?” you ask.

“Because it’s my first time seeing you anticipate something like that,” she says. Eunha might not be someone you contact outside of work, so it’s easy to forget how well she knows you. But Eunha is right. You've never anticipated anything this much.

“I hope you’re right,” you say, pursing your lips.

You didn’t know it a year ago when you made the proposition, but you know it now.

You really want to see Lee Donghyuck walking through those doors.

But as the time slowly dwindles away, you can’t be sure that it isn’t just your own wishful thinking.

Donghyuck kicks at the pavement, running a hand through his hair. The day is almost over, and still, no luck. He has been to eighteen different cafés already, and there’s just no sign of you.

If only he didn’t have to work the morning shift, then he’d have more time to actually look in more cafés.

He stops a short distance in front of the nineteenth café. He isn’t usually one to believe in anything like fate, but he’s desperate at this point. He looks to the sky, clasping his hands together, “Please. Make 19 our special number. Please let y/n be in this café.”

Taking in a deep breath, Donghyuck walks forward, towards the café.

Eunha checks the time, then looks over at you. You're sitting there, dazed, expression blank. She purses her lips in sympathy, calling out, “Do you want me to lock the doors or wait another f-”

Eunha is cut off when the bell chimes. You immediately turn towards the entrance of the café.

It's Donghyuck.

Oh gosh, it's actually Donghyuck.

Donghyuck makes eye contact with you. A sense of accomplishment and warmth overwhelms him. You feel your nose stinging, and your heart swelling.

“Sorry, we’re cl-”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you run forward. You throw yourself into Donghyuck’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Okay then, I’ll be over there,” Eunha says, excusing herself.

You pull away.

“You found me,” you sniff, grinning wide.

“I promised I would,” Donghyuck replies, reflecting your expression.

“I guess we are really meant for something more,” you mumble, taking in the moment.

“So,” Donghyuck says, holding out his phone. “Can I finally have your number?”

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Kaguya-Sama: Love is War S2, Episodes 1-3

Season 2, go! And holy shit, if these episodes are any indication, this season is gonna be great.

A Brighter Battlefield

Ask any World War 1 veteran, and they’ll tell you that the worst part of war is when everyone’s stuck in place. Staring down the enemy while stuck in a trench for years on end is the surest way to lose any motivation you might have once had to punch the Kaiser in the face. Sure, war never changes, but at least something has to change for a war to be worth something. And fortunately, that’s exactly what Kaguya-Sama’s second season is setting out to do. This is no longer the same battlefield, the same arsenal, or even the same advancing front as it was last season. The parameters of this war have changed; thus, the war itself must change with them. And I’m happy to report that the results are fantastic. This is possibly the most entertaining and the most emotionally engaging stretch of episodes in the show’s run yet. I was laughing my ass off pretty much from start to finish, but more than that, I gave a shit. I was hooked on every interaction and every sign of just how far these idiots have come. How good are these episodes? They’re so good that Hayasaka going full Mission Impossible in a leather bodysuit to give Kaguya and Shirogane some alone time, including pepper-spraying Ishigami to sleep and blowing a drone up with a baseball, isn’t even one of the top three moments. The season starts on that level and it only gets better from there. And if that’s how high the bar’s already been raised, then I could not be more excited for what else is yet to come.

The fact of the matter is, anime rom-coms have a bad habit of stalling romantic progression in its tracks for the sake of endless will-they-won’t-they wheel spinning. Even when the narrative seeming has no choice but to brings its lead couple closer together,- like, say, following a beautiful fireworks shower that punctuates one party finally stepping out of their shell and deciding to follow their desires- that’s no guarantee the show will actually follow through without another couple years of misunderstandings and bullshit drama. The scars of Zero no Tsukaima are testament to that. Thank god, though, Kaguya-Sama’s too smart a show to play that game. If there’s no logical reason to prevent Kaguya and Shirogane from turning up the spice level now that they’ve crossed such an important threshold, then it’s just gonna let that sweet, sweet progression take its natural course. They’re actually talking to each other now! Kaguya’s making more active efforts to be a part of his life! She even crosses the Rubicon of getting him a birthday present! With no qualifications or schemes to deflect her feelings! We’ve actually progressed to the point where she’s able to put her mind games aside and just let him know how much she cares about him! Even if she still has to fight against her family’s indoctrination to let herself be selfish, if only just for a moment! Little by little, this romance is moving forward, and the characters and their relationship are growing and changing with it. They may be small steps, but they speak volumes about how goddamn far Kaguya has come.

Moon Madness

Speaking of Kaguya, sweet merciful bananagrams is she incredible now. She’s always been a great character, but now that her inhibitions have started crumbling, she’s coming into her own like never before.  Her steadfast nature is clashing with her increasing lust for Shirogane, and the result is some of the funniest goddamn moments in the entire show. Every expression she makes is golden, every frantic inner monologue left me cackling, and she’s constantly switching from absolutely terrifying arrogance to absolutely flustered squeeing as her desire to keep her composure clashes with her desire to just fucking kiss the guy already. She tries to pull off a typically overcomplicated scheme to make the president go to sleep (The punchline that it was just decaf coffee and not some kind of sleeping drag laid me on the floor), but then he leans on her shoulder while asleep and she completely falls to pieces. She’s in the process of unraveling Shirogane’s attempt to put her on the spot, but her thought process shuts down because she’s too busy gushing over the fact he’s using the fan she got him for his birthday. (”He’s tapping his cheek with it...”) She tries to sweep him away under a starlit night, but he’s too busy stargazing that he ends up sweeping her away and turning all her tactics back on her, which flusters her so hard her mental image literally blows the moon in two. Fucking hell, I had to take a moment to recover from that. I love how one of Shirogane’s consistent character traits is that he’s only able to be smooth when he doesn’t realize he’s being smooth (”If it was me, I’d never let Kaguya go.”) There’s no funnier L Kaguya’s ever taken.

And it’s all consistent! All of this growth is a direct result of the experiences Kaguya’s been through, in comedy and drama alike! The Kaguya before the fireworks shower would never be this unguarded with her feelings; she kept her flirty, emotional side locked away tight as possible. But now that side’s come spilling out, and it’s just as much a part of her character as the Shinomiya lessons drilled into her from birth. Her stone-cold side and her silly side are beginning to stand on equal footing, to the point that even her usually composed inner monologue is more often than not descending into bratty tantrums and gushy freakouts as emotions overwhelm her in ways she’d never let them before. And it all climaxes in this incredible moment where we see three different versions of Kaguya arguing over the right course of action in the center of her mind, and they all sound like distinct aspects of her identity while still feeling like part of the same person. I seriously cannot praise seiyuu Aoi Koga enough here; she’s bringing all of Kaguya’s multifaceted sides to life without missing a beat, fully selling the incredible internal struggle Kaguya’s going through as she tries to figure out which version of herself she wants to be. Does she still want to be cold and shut off from the world? Does she want to throw herself headfirst into mushy feelings? She’s caught between wanting to reach out and still being held back by her family’s pressure, and the wild, whirling mess of emotions and personalities bouncing around in her head is a direct result of that uncertainty. And as fucking hilarious as that makes her- mindspace Kaguya being pelted with flowers from her bubbly side was absolutely perfect- it also instills even her funniest jokes with a true sense of growth and change. Little by little, she’s fighting back against the unconscious beliefs that weigh her down, working her way towards acting on what she wants one step at a time. Shine on, you beautiful mess.

What Happens Next

In fact, the inevitable passage of time seems to be a pretty big theme for this season overall. We’ve reached the end of a semester, and the student council we’ve come to see as family has to disband. Just like that, time’s natural flow has completely erased the status quo, throwing all its characters to the winds. Where will they go, now that they no longer have the locus of that familiar room to bring them all together? Where will the show go, now that it’s basically forced itself to switch up its usual formulas? Obviously, Shirogane’s gonna fight for that spot as student council president again, but will Chika and Ishigami come back too? Will anyone new enter their fold by the time the election’s over? And what about next year, when Shirogane and Kaguya graduate? Now that Kaguya-Sama’s acknowledged the passage of time, it can’t put off that deadline forever. It’s basically written itself into a scenario where it has no option of spinning its wheels forever. However things progress from here, there will be change. Things won’t stay the same. And that’s probably the most exciting thing about this season. We’re not just going to repeat the same old jokes forever; from here on out, Kaguya-Sama is going to be something new and different, something that grows from the foundation the first season set to bigger and bolder heights. And if these first few episodes are anything to go by, the results are going to be fucking spectacular. Let’s get going show. I wanna see how high you soar.

The Punchiest Punching Bag

Before we close this post out, though, I just want to give a shout-out to one of the show’s most unexpectedly hilarious characters: Ishigami. Somehow, this sentient Reddit Nice Guy(tm) brought to life is able to make me split my sides laughing at least a couple times per episode. And I think what makes him work so well is just how well balanced he is. His loneliness and sad sack nature is sympathetic enough that we can laugh with him when he’s dragging a deserving target (”I knew it! He’s here to humble brag!”), but he’s also enough of an incel-y loser that you can laugh just as hard at him when he’s the deserving target himself (”All humans mature with time.” “Can you really call this mature?”) And on top of that, he’s self-aware enough about his own faults that he can make you laugh with and at him at the same time when he drags himself harder than anyone else ever could (”The girls in my class all cry just from looking at me.”) In a way, he’s kind of a microcosm of how damn good this show is at character writing. He equally capable of delivering jokes and being the punchline to them in a multitude of different situations, never being too much of a punching bag or too much of a Gary Stu, all while feeling like the same consistent character. That’s hard enough to pull off once, but Kaguya-Sama makes it look like child’s play time and time again. No wonder it makes me laugh my ass off so easily.

Odds and Ends

-I have no idea how this couple is still functional, but god bless them.

-”Today’s battle outcome: none.” sdkjfhskjdfhsdhf that was fast

-”I never thought you were such a good person after all!” pfft

-”Everyone, be careful. This game is hot garbage.” “You only just realized?” THE SASS OH MY GOD

-”Uh, not your real money.” Kaguya is getting absolutely wrecked this episode, good lord.

-”President, you scumbag.” STOP HAVING SO MUCH FUN ISTFG ISHIGAMI

-”You’re marrying Fujiwara!” BEST ENDING BEST ENDING

-NEW OP LET’S GO

-I... why is Chika’s sister a predatory lesbian stereotype? The fuck?

-”And he leaves his clothes inside out after changing.” Damn, call me out some more.

-Was... was that a fucking Umaru-chan reference?

-”THAT’S SO SWEET!” Oh my god, Shirogane best Oni-chan.

-I swear, if this show ends up going the yuri route with Kei Shirogane I am going to laaaaaaaaaugh my ass off.

-”Your present is... me?” HAYASAKA FUCKING HELL I LOVE YOU

-Once again, good on Shirogane for not hurting Kaguya in his pursuit of a confession. He’s a good egg.

-”Boom, yo!” Ah, memories.

-Lmao at Ishigami just casually pocketing the toilet paper during the walk down memory lane.

-”Hey now, I’ll punch you in the face.” It’s the little moments where the Shamiko comes out that make me appreciate Chika all the more.

God, I’m excited. See you next time!

[huxandthehound]

Why Levi is Still Going to Kill Zeke and Why it Matters

Levi is going to kill Zeke.

You can’t change my mind.

I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff going around recently. None of it has been rude or angry, just lots of people writing off Levi’s role in the story going forward. And I can understand that to some degree. The series is quickly coming to a close and we’re in the endgame now. (Sorry, I had to.) Levi has been sidelined for over a year. Zeke is absolutely no longer the Big Bad. But none of this means we can throw away a character’s entire motivation because we hear the orchestra warming up to play everyone off the stage.

We haven’t seen Zeke in eight chapters. We haven’t seen Levi do much of anything since getting blown up in chapter 114. Their relevance to the story is seemingly diminishing month by month. Zeke has been, presumably, lying in a pile of rubble or (insert your favorite theory here), and Levi has been getting hauled around Paradis like a small child on a family road trip. Neither of them has done anything remotely relevant, at least in regards to the current state of things with Eren, in a very long time. However, there is one thing Levi has done since then. And he’s done it multiple times: reiterate how much he wants to kill Zeke.

THE PROMISE

The entire reason we’re talking about this is because of something that happened way back in chapter 80. In a grand gesture amongst the chaos and devastation Zeke himself was raining down on them, Levi knelt before Erwin and lifted the weight of his dream from his shoulders. And simultaneously vowed to kill the Beast Titan.

Now, Levi never explicitly swears to Erwin. He never really uses the words “promise” or “vow.” But Levi knew the intent behind his actions, even if his words didn’t convey it, and that kneeling implied his solemnity and dedication to his goal and the commander. And within just a few hours, perhaps less, he reiterates the intent behind his words: “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.”

Interesting choice of words.

I think the “no matter what” is an important addition. This is clearly something he’s added on his own. Unless we’re missing parts of his speech to Erwin, he doesn’t say this, but he clearly thinks it’s implied and is going to hold himself to it.

This is the point where Levi fees the brunt of his words to Erwin. This is the turning point for him, the point of no return, where he begins to feel the effects of his promise that will reverberate well into the future.

Levi does not seem like the type of person to make a promise lightly. He never minces his words or says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s just not who he is. We know this. And not only did he make a promise, he’s recalled it multiple times over the years, reminded himself over and over again of his last words to Erwin. They meant something. They weren’t some hollow promise, some death bed appeasement. Levi fully intends to carry through with it. No matter what.

THE FLASHBACK

After chaperoning a presumably very annoying Zeke at their secure location in the forest for about a month, Levi gets an update regarding the goings on at headquarters. He is not pleased with what he hears, and decides on his own to change the plans and, in the process, kill Zeke.

It doesn’t take long for Levi to make this decision, perhaps because the thought of not only killing Zeke but simultaneously maintaining the power of the Beast Titan is too hard to pass up. Perhaps it’s because the plan would ultimately result in Zeke’s death that helps him come to the conclusion so quickly. I also presume the thought has crossed his mind innumerable times during his stay with Zeke, and he just needed a little encouragement.

Then, he recalls in depressingly accurate detail the vow he made to Erwin, four years later. It’s so knee jerk. It happens so quickly and seamlessly, like Levi has been haunted by this for years, that he’s always had this nagging thought in the back of his mind subconsciously affecting his decision making.

“Erwin, It looks like I’ll finally be able to fulfill the vow I made to you that day.”

The fact that Levi sees the scene from an outside perspective, and not the images of Erwin’s face from below as Levi has recalled before, I believe is important to his memory. It’s not just his words that meant something that day. His words, actually, weren’t the binding part. The fact that he bent the knee to Erwin is what signifies his commitment, and he is reminding himself of his actions that day.

He also says “finally.” These are the words of a man who has thought about this moment for a very long time. I can sense the relief Levi must be feeling when he says this. This thing that he’s wanted so badly to do but has been putting off because of a sense of duty. This is Levi’s “fuck it” moment, when he decides he’s just going to bend the rules a bit, still play along, and get what he wants.

I have a feeling Levi is also recalling the last time he was closest to killing Zeke: in Liberio. It would have been so easy to slice a little too deep or misplace his explosives. The look on Levi’s face in chapter 103 certainly leads me to believe he perhaps tried a little harder than was necessary. Zeke even calls him out on it in the air ship. Levi wasn’t acting. Their battle as a whole might have been a farce, but Levi was taking his frustrations out on Zeke and going through the motions, only to stop just short of his goal.

“Finally,” Levi thinks. This time he’s got a plan that he can see through to the end. No more faking it. No more holding back.

His vow has also seemed to become a little clearer, at least to himself, over the years. Back in Shiganshina, Levi was livid. He’s had time to more fully grasp what his vow truly means, what it stands for. He promised Erwin he would kill the Beast Titan, and while I’m sure most of his hatred is because Zeke killed Erwin specifically, Levi also recalls his other fallen comrades. The ones that died to get them to this point, the soldiers whose deaths Zeke is directly responsible for. And then, as if he didn’t have reason enough to go after Zeke, within just minutes of this flashback, Levi is forced to end the lives of thirty of his comrades.

Another nail in Zeke’s—hopefully literal—coffin.

IN HIS OWN WORDS

Levi knows what he needs to do for his people and the greater good of humanity, and as such, he can’t allow himself to follow through with his promise just yet. He’s waiting—not patiently, but he is waiting—for the perfect moment, one that aligns with his desires and Paradis’ needs. And he’s not hiding it from Zeke.

It’s almost become a running, unfunny joke at this point, for both Zeke and the audience. (I feel like Levi is not as appreciative of these instances as we might be.)

It all starts in chapter 81 when Levi is essentially speaking directly to Zeke after he gets scooped up by the Cart Titan. “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.” He’s telling Zeke. Whether Zeke can hear him as he gets carried away is one thing, but this is ground zero for Levi telling Zeke exactly what he’s going to do to him.

Chronologically, our next on screen instance—though I’m sure there are more we are never shown—is in chapter 105. Zeke is the one to bring it up this time. It’s unclear where he’s gotten this information from, but he knows Levi is still hell-bent on killing him, especially based on what Zeke considers to have been a convincing display in Liberio. Levi ends that conversation with one of my favorite taunts, which I’m going to delve into shortly.

Then, at the tail end of chapter 106 and to help close out the volume, we have a little snippet from what I’m sure was a terribly uncomfortable carriage ride with Levi and Zeke. Levi deflects the conversation away from the supposed victory in Liberio to tell Zeke that he’s going to “kill [him], send [his] corpse to Marley, and reveal everything about [his] plot.” Subtlety has never been Levi’s strong suit. He ends it by telling Zeke, “I wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer before slicing you to pieces.” Levi is more than aware that there is a certain order this all needs to happen in, but no matter how long he has to wait, it will not make him lose sight of his end goal.

THE EVIDENCE

Levi has shown us time after time that he has never given up on his promise. That he will stop at nothing to fulfill it. That he will go so far as to defy direct orders to achieve his goals. Everything is telling us that it’s actually going to happen.

Levi’s first move in twelve chapters, after he wakes up from getting knocked out by the thunder spear, is to promptly call Zeke a “piece of shit” and ask where he is. Keep in mind this is after hearing Eren’s apocalyptic broadcast, and Levi’s focus is still on Zeke. True, Hange and Levi are a bit out of the loop at this point in regards to Zeke’s involvement in Eren’s plan. But the point still stands. Levi is hyper focused on his enemy from the moment he wakes up.

Then, as if it weren’t clear enough, Levi says it again, more plainly, to Magath and Pieck the following day: “My goal is to kill Zeke.” Levi’s motives and goals are not up for interpretation, and he’s not just saying this to appease them either. Magath has his sights on Levi, quite literally, and Levi couldn’t care less. He’s blunt and to the point, as always. He also takes personal ownership of the goal. I think at this point he is slowly starting to come to the realization that he is going to follow through with this no matter what anyone else says. He doesn’t have orders to kill Zeke on sight. He definitely doesn’t have orders to transfer the Beast Titan. But his goal, his mission at this exact moment, is to kill Zeke. And if he has to team up with people to get shit done, he’ll do it. But he’s not hiding his intentions, and I doubt he would even if their goals didn’t align.

Since all of these events, it’s only been a few days, and nothing is going to change Levi’s mind in that short period of time. He’s held onto this promise—this vow to a dead man—for years. I’m not under the impression that Levi is going to suddenly change his mind because of a few new developments and one very cryptic line from a tall blonde woman that I’m pretty sure he hates.  

One thing that Levi says that has always stuck out to me is his eagerness to clarify to Zeke when he plans on killing him: “Not yet.” I know this could be Levi just further emphasizing his ultimate goal (kind of a “don’t mistake my kindness for weakness” sort of thing), but I can’t help but feel like it’s also a nod to the audience. Levi doesn't need to tell Zeke he won’t kill him yet; he knows that. Zeke knows Levi can’t kill him yet, not in the middle of the forest for no good reason without having a titan nearby. The “not yet” seems a little too heavy handed to me, and for that reason I like to cling onto it for dear life.

Additionally there are a few context clues, if you will, that lead me to believe we’re getting set up for the ultimate showdown between Zeke and Levi.

One of my favorite lines from Levi is when he tells Zeke, “I like to save the best parts of my meal for last.” (Levi used taunt; it was super effective.) That line is peak Levi and just everything I want and expect out of any of his interactions with Zeke. I think it might be a little deeper than that though. My interpretation, from a literary perspective, is that this is foreshadowing disguised as snark. I would not be surprised if this is insinuating that perhaps the very last thing Levi will do in this story is kill Zeke. That he’ll kill Zeke or die trying.

I also think that this being one of the last things Levi does would allow him to appreciate his accomplishment. To “savor the taste,” so to speak. I’m not sure what Levi really has to live for if they all come out of this on the other side. We don’t get a lot of insight into his life over these last four years, but I’m willing to bet he feels a little aimless. Killing Zeke would be one of the last things that Levi really feels needs to be done, one last regret to eliminate before he dies. I believe once he’s done that, he’ll be able to move on, and he might be able to rest. I unfortunately don’t see any future for Levi post-war that includes him having closure or relaxing or anything of the sort. This may be his only way out.

If you want to look a little deeper, past Levi’s bluntness, the “no matter what” Levi throws in back in chapter 81 is another thing that piques my interest. Lots of people have pointed out that Levi has also said he’d be the one to kill Eren if he gets out of line (chapter 18). Clearly those parameters have been met. But what happens when Levi’s duty, in a sense, is overshadowed by this promise? The moment Levi said that he’d kill Zeke no matter what, he voided every other task he ever signed up for. I think this is no exception. Is Eren about to kill a bunch of people? Probably. Should Levi be more concerned with Eren at this point than Zeke? Definitely.

I don’t disagree that Levi does seem pretty single minded at this point in the story. But I’m finding it hard to blame him or say it’s a “bad” thing to have happen to him. While fulfilling this promise has become somewhat of an obsession for him, he’s always maintained his professionalism and focus on saving humanity first. He was able to control himself in Shiganshina, in Liberio, in the forest when lord knows Zeke was getting on Levi’s every last nerve. However, the odds are stacked against him now. And if Levi’s going to do it, he’s got to do it now.

Lastly, something that most recently caught my attention was something Zeke says in chapter 113. He’s having a one-sided dialogue with Levi while Levi attempts to escape the 30 titans Zeke has just sicced on him, though I’m sure Levi can hear none of it. “You thought you had strength…” Zeke begins. “Time. Choices. It was those foolish beliefs… Levi… they were your downfall.” Now we know Levi comes out of this battle victorious, if only for a moment. But if we look at this “downfall” of Levi’s to mean only that he was taken advantage of and not that he was doomed, as Zeke obviously thinks, if we accept that Levi ultimately lost this battle in the sense that he also lost his comrades and the fragile plan they had, we’re left to wonder what would then aid in Levi’s eventual salvation...

Look where we are currently. Levi has, presumably, lost his strength. He is injured and weak. Levi has run out of time. Eren is rumbling the world and Levi’s days aren’t getting any longer. He’s also run out of choices. The path laid out before them is bleak: stop Eren or let the world end.  Maybe knowing he has none of these things will be to Levi’s advantage. Maybe that will be what causes him to ultimately make the decision to kill Zeke. He doesn’t have the capability to take down a crazed, Eren dinosaur, but he might have it in him for one last fight with a bearded bastard. He doesn’t have the time to save the world, but he’s got just enough time to fight one guy. And Eren has pretty much made the decision for everyone about how to move forward, and Levi can take that as the last sign he needs to say “fuck loyalty” and collect the Beast’s head.

THE SHOWDOWN

Everything before this was just reasons why Levi is going to be the one to finish Zeke. I feel like we don’t have as many clues as to how he’s going to accomplish this.

I know what comes up a lot in the discussions about Levi’s relevance at this point is the story is his current state, his health and his injuries. I think that’s what makes it interesting, though.

Yes, Levi is injured. But so is Zeke.

We’ll go with the idea that Zeke isn’t stuck in the endless sandbox that is paths. (It’s just easier not to think about all of that...) But the last time we see Zeke in the real world, he’s got a chunk missing out his back. I’m also pretty sure he’s unfortunately placed at the bottom of the walls, which don’t exist anymore. Side effects of this may include death by trampling or being buried under a pile of rubble.

And then we have Levi. Poor, tired, depressed, so done with everyone’s shit Levi Ackerman who honestly would just like to kill Zeke and move on with his life.

Levi is injured. Levi has no gear. Levi is missing two fingers and, very likely, half his eyesight.

However, Levi is Levi. He is nothing if not tenacious and driven. He will make this work. With his bare hands, if that’s what it necessitates.

And I think that’s what it’ll come to.

Zeke has known this day was coming for years and has been under no illusion that he has ever been truly safe from Levi. He knew that he was only spared by Paradis’ need to keep him alive. Their banter is evidence enough of this; Zeke knows his days are numbered. Now, with the world literally crumbling around them, there isn’t much holding Levi back. And Zeke, for his part, has had his dreams ripped out from beneath him while watching his dear little brother betray him and choose to rumble the world. He’s not got much left to live for.

Now, I won’t get into speculating where or when this fight will take place. Over the last month or so, since chapter 129, I’ve been (only half-jokingly) arguing for the theory that Levi may have slipped off of his booster seat on Uber Pieck and remained on the island. Which would obviously make it easier for him to find Zeke or Zeke to find him. If Levi is indeed on the ship (proof where??), then that means the alliance will need to cross paths with Zeke on their way to Eren. Which I suppose is plausible too. We haven’t seen Zeke in quite some time, so who’s to say what he’s been able to get himself into—or out of—in the time being.

So, while it might take a little footwork to get Levi and Zeke in range of each other once more, I wouldn’t exactly count it out.

Regardless of how it happens, the next time these two meet will be far from uneventful. Levi is angry. Levi is resentful. He won’t let Zeke get away again.

I can see another epic Levi panel, similar to the iconic “Kenny!” we get in chapter 57, as he happens upon Zeke one last time. Imagine. Levi rolling up to an oblivious Zeke, calling him “Beardy” or “piece of shit” as the bandages fall away from his face from the force of yelling. We’ll be treated to what I imagine will be Levi’s final form, a presumably partially blind and sliced up version of himself, with rage in his eyes that’s only exacerbated by this damaged façade.

There’s the alternative to this, too, in which Levi heals quickly, perhaps some Ackerman magic as Hange pointed out. He is no longer bloodied, but scarred. Levi may even know this and might just be biding his time under the bandages and only pretending to be unable to fight. I feel like this scenario would horrify Zeke even more, though he needs no help in that department. We already know he’s terrified of the Ackermans.

In either scenario, Zeke will perhaps let his inherent hubris get the best of him, and, seeing Levi weaponless, let his guard down, as he is wont to do. Zeke knows they’re both injured, down for the count. Even if Levi has healed a bit, I have no doubt there will be lasting effects to his injuries. He’s not a kid; he’s older and battered and incredibly tired.

I’m predicting Zeke will remain in his human form. He may be too injured to shift. Or perhaps timing is everything and he might be relieved of his titan curse at a very inopportune moment. My favorite theory would be that in Zeke’s infinite wisdom and pride, he’ll perhaps decide that he’s oh-for-two in Beast vs. Levi fights and maybe he should take Levi on mano a mano.

Ah, Zeke. But Levi is no man.

Imagine, a titan and an Ackerman, both reduced to their most basic selves.

I think we’re going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned fist fight.

Levi knows he’s in a bad state. He’s under no illusions about his health. But we know his heart will be in it. And where Zeke may think this is a level playing field, he will be sorely mistaken.

I just think we’ve seen all we need to see as far as Levi fighting titans is concerned. He goes a little feral, slices them up easily. But Levi fighting Zeke as Zeke, not as the Beast Titan, will inject a little reality into the fight. It’ll allow Levi to really see his enemy, and while it might not make him hold back, we might see Levi get a little more introspective about the whole thing. Maybe the fight is slow. Maybe it’s a bit lousy. I’m not sure how much gas either of them has left in the tank. I can see these two throwing around more words than punches at this point, but blood will be drawn. We’ll have a little more breathing room to take in what’s happening, and, hey, who knows? This might be a good time for one last Erwin flashback.

Levi might have one last knife up his sleeve, a timeless Choice with No Regrets weapon brandishing, one last fancy flourish of his blade before lodging it in Zeke’s gut. Preferably his lower left quadrant. For reasons.

But I think that’s what we need. A messy, emotional fight. No titans. No gear or gas or swords. One last chance for Levi to give Zeke his comeuppance. One last chance to showcase this Ackerman strength that Zeke has been so terrified of and which he has never actually seen the full force of. Levi has been holding back to some extent during each of their fights. He had to. But no more.

Ultimately, Levi will kill Zeke and, in the process, himself.

He’ll fulfill his vow, and he’ll get to rest. Finally.

BUT WHAT’S THE POINT?

Why does it matter? Why does Levi have to kill Zeke?

Ultimately, it’s all about Levi.

Firstly, I love Levi. I think it’s safe to say a lot of people do. And I don’t think it’s a stretch for me to say that we’d like to see him squeeze one last ounce of goodness out of his life.

I believe it would be in very bad taste for Isayama to kill Levi as he stands (or sits) now, broken and sidelined and helpless. That’s not who Levi is as a character. And that’s how you waste a perfectly good scar. So his options are to stop Eren or kill Zeke. And I personally believe there are far better people than Levi suited for the job of stopping Eren, both physically and narratively (cough Reiner cough). Though I don’t deny it would be nice to see Levi have a role in taking Eren down, however bittersweet that may be for him, and us.

But let’s look at where we currently stand. I’m not sure about how everyone else feels at this point in the story, but chapter 130 gave me some interesting vibes. This feels like the second act of an action/horror movie, where the ensemble gathers around a campfire or a lamp in a darkened home, and admits defeat. They look around wearily and kind of decide they’re just going to do whatever the hell they want to do because the world is going to end tomorrow or the zombies are going to break down the door by morning. Obviously, most of our remaining characters want to help, but I can’t help but feel some intrusive feelings of… despair? Obviously most of these feelings are coming from Annie, and Hange is admittedly trying to keep her around. But the zombies are breaking down the door. The Colossals are trampling the mainland. I’m not sure the alliance would have it in them to force Annie to stay, even though they could absolutely use her titan powers to help fight this war.

But when posed with the question “Should Levi be allowed to abandon ship (literally) and go make good on his own promise?” the answer always seems to be “absolutely not.” Levi is denied his dreams. Because people expect better of him. Which is valiant, I suppose, for us to think he’s above that pettiness. But I think most people aren’t really examining his character as a whole.

Points can be made that his drive to kill Zeke is a devolution in his character, that his tunnel vision has changed him and he isn’t the same person with the same goals and motivations as he used to be. On one hand I say: Good. This isn’t a fairytale. This is Attack on Titan. Flawed characters are good. Character development, in any direction, is good for the story. (I mean, have you met Eren?) On the other hand I say: This is who Levi has always been. He’s never been the “good” guy. This is the same man who was called a madman and didn’t deny it. I don’t believe we’re necessarily seeing a different side to him but more of what makes Levi himself is coming to the forefront.

Levi is in his mid- to late-twenties when he joins the Survey Corps. His time underground up until that point had been less than desirable. We all know the story, and it’s not a pretty one. Watching his mother die. Being raised, then abandoned, by Kenny. Followed by who knows how many years of struggling to survive on his own before he found his family with Furlan and Isabel. And even then, it wasn’t easy. Levi is a flawed, fully developed character when we meet him. He is violent and imperfect and deadly. The man tortured someone without blinking. I think wanting him to forego this instinct that he’s known his whole life, in favor of some more angelic or heroic outcome, is a bit too optimistic. It’s almost disingenuous.

Levi isn’t going to be the big hero of this story.

I know... I’d like him to be too, in a sense. But that’s going to fall on our other protagonists. It’s going to be the kids’ tasks to slay the bad guys and tie up the loose ends.

The only reason Levi even began caring about humanity is because of Erwin, and now Erwin is gone. Levi may have found a greater purpose with Erwin and the Survey Corps, but that didn’t change who he was, who he has always been. Letting Levi follow through with his vengeful dreams won’t make him any less of a character. If anything, it’ll cement who he truly is, which is someone that I think most people have forgotten about.

But who knows. Maybe Levi is to be denied, one last time, forever frustrated and regretful. Maybe that’s what Isayama is getting at. Maybe he’s trolling us. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe we’ll have all this build up only to get the rug pulled out from under us. Sike, Levi isn’t going to kill Zeke. No dreams will be fulfilled here. Wrong manga.

However, I choose to remain cautiously optimistic. This will very likely be the denouement to Levi’s arc. Let him go down in a blaze of fiery revenge if he so chooses. He’s earned it.

[sleep-i-ness]

The Nature of the Beast

Blurb: The Doctor is taking you to the one person who has dealt with the Monks before and you weren’t expecting the ‘monster’ in the Vault to be quite so hot.

Content Warning: hopeless lesbian, a thing for hands (because who doesn’t)

Taglist: @kjaneway1​ (if you would like to be added please fill in this form)

Beep. You eyed the Doctor with some worry as he fiddled with the extensive locks, each part letting out a further bleep of approval as he came closer to completely unlocking the Vault. He had said he had to do this, that he had no choice and that’s what scared you the most. What monster could he have locked up deep in the basement of the university? You’d never seen him so visibly nervous and your muscles felt frozen at the prospect of coming face to face with the creature. As the doors swung open, you gripped tightly onto Bill’s hand, bracing yourself for whatever beast was within.

The delicate strains of a single melody echoed around the expanse, the piano eerie in the total silence. A woman sat at the stool, head resting on one hand while the other fiddled with the keys, playing the repetitive melody. You shared a confused look with Bill as you dropped her hand, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

The Vault was bigger on the inside, perhaps Time Lords needed to overcompensate for something, and there were even wide windows letting in grey light. As you continued further into the room, you noticed that the woman and the piano were inside a hexagonal containment field. Glowing blue posts outlined the raised podium, sparse bar the figure and her piano, and a few ratty-looking pieces of furniture were scattered around the rest of the room. The Doctor flopped into a leather armchair as the doors swung shut behind you, flicking his coat out before sitting. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But it's, it's just a woman,” Bill blurted, arms spread wide as she hesitated. The aforementioned woman stopped playing and turned around to fix the Doctor with an unimpressed look. “God, the way you and Nardole have been carrying on, I thought you had some kind of monster in here, or something!”

You eyed the woman curiously, wondering what about her was so terrifying. Hair awry, eyes a brilliant burning blue, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the spellbinding figure.

“I do.” His gaze never once shifted from eyeing the woman and he sighed. “Missy, Bill and Y/N. Bill and Y/N, Missy, the other Last of the Time Lords.”

Bill raised her hand in a small wave as the woman eyed the two of you up and you smiled weakly. You shivered involuntarily as her eyes brushed over you, feeling oddly drawn towards her.

“Wait a sec.” Bill turned to the Doctor with a frown. “Why have you got a woman locked in a vault? Because even I think that's weird, and I've been attacked by a puddle and she’s snogged a Zygon.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a snort as you realised it was not the time nor place to be making fun of the current state of your love lives.  Although it was understandable why they were in such a state, considering you had the hots for an incredibly dangerous Time Lady.

“She's going cold turkey from being bad.” The Doctor glanced up at Bill, eyes finally straying away from Missy. Missy hmphed, not looking away from the piano as the Doctor zeroed back in on her. “I want to ask if you've had any dealings with the Monks before.”

“Of course. I've had adventures too,” she preened, her voice lilting as she twisted her torso to face you all. She had a strong Scottish accent, maybe that was another Time Lord thing, and her voice dropped as she teased. “My whole life doesn't revolve around you, you know.”

“Did you defeat them?” Bill piped up, desperate, brow creased. The guilt was dripping off of her and you winced, wishing you could do something to alleviate it. You knew she blamed herself for the state of the world but, despite the Doctor’s remonstrations, she’d done what she believed was right and you would stand by her for that.

“I did.” Her self-satisfactory tone was tinged with affront, as if there was no doubt in her ability to defeat the Monks. Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as you watched her, completely enthralled.

“How?”

Missy seemed amused with Bill’s bluntness, painted lips pulling into a savage grin as she exhaled a short laugh. Giving her a once-over, her eyes caught on you again, lighting up as you fidgeted under her gaze.

She turned away again. “I've got some requests. I want some new books, some toys,” the Doctor sighed, “like a particle accelerator, a 3-D printer, and a pony.”

“I don't think that you really grasp what's going on here,” he huffed, his accent bleeding through stronger as his frustration grew. “Nice people generally don't haggle over the fate of a planet.”

“I once built a gun out of leaves. Do you think I couldn't get through a door if I wanted to?” The tension hanging in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife and you gulped as her stare drilled holes into the Doctor. You weren’t sure what you were feeling at her somewhat veiled threat, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t solely fear. Missy jumped up, spinning to face the Doctor by the side of the piano. “I'm here, all right? I'm engaging with the process.”

“Okay,” Bill jumped in, glancing at you for support. You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we can, we can get those things for you.”

“C'est supère.” Missy overenunciated the French and you bit back a grin, noting her disappointed expression at the lack of reactions. She sighed, crossing her legs, and tilting her head. “So, what have you got so far?”

As the Doctor rose, so did Missy. He began to pace, each step leading to more thoughts tumbling out of his mouth. But you were distracted by the divine figure in front of you, enshrined in a tight purple suit and sinfully demure white blouse. “They hold on to power by targeting the part of the brain specifically to do with memory and perception, correct? Right?”

Missy closed the lid of her grand piano, fingers deftly clasping around the stand for the lid and folding it down. “Getting warm. Fingers tingling.”

“But they target it with what exactly? How do they sustain it?” Missy sat on the piano lid; hands clasped in her lap as the Doctor rambled. “How do their lies infiltrate the brains of billions? Is it some kind of airborne psychoactive?”

She shifted to lying on the piano lid, gaze following him as he paced round. Something in the shrewd look in her eyes reminded you of a cat watching a mouse.

“Oh my God.” The reverent gasp slipped your lips as she kicked her legs up. The smirk tugging at the corners of her lips gave away that she’d heard you and you flushed.

“No, no, that's very cold, very cold.”

“Something that's constantly being fed to the populace, constantly consolidating its hold. Is it in the water?”

“God, no. It's freezing, freezing.” She gestured wildly; legs kicked up in the air behind her. “Absolutely freezing. Couldn't be colder. Very, very, chilly. So, so chilly.”

Missy swung her legs round and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as she straightened up and jumped off the piano. She winked at you, smoothing down her skirt.

“Oh, come on. I'm bored!” She whined. “You haven't been to see me in six months. No-one has! Not even that bald bloke who looks like an egg.”

“What, you left her alone in here for six months?” You and Bill both whirled on the Doctor, mouths agape.

“Six months,” Missy whispered, repeating Bill with an expression of mock horror.

“I was in prison for six months.” The Doctor protested.

“Start at the beginning.” She ordered, treating him as a teacher would a little kid. “How do they get a foothold on a planet?”

“Some idiot asks for their help.”

Bill glared at the Doctor and you narrowed your eyes at him. Sure, it hadn’t been the greatest idea to ask the Monks for help, but he could have at least been somewhat grateful for how much she was willing to sacrifice for him. And for regaining his vision.

“Well, not just any idiot. It has to be a properly consenting human mind. A pure request, one without agenda or ulterior motive.” Missy’s lips twitched as the Doctor spun on his heel, stalking away from you all. The mania lurking in the back of her eyes frightened you and you shrunk closer to Bill.

“It's them.” The Doctor faced you again, a resigned smile on his face. “That person creates a psychic link, which forms an anchor that keeps the Monks in power. They're the lynchpin.”

“Scalding. Ow.” Missy’s eyes darted surreptitiously from the Doctor to you and back again, lips forming a perfect ‘o’. Your brain short-circuited, eyes caressing the sharp contours of her cheekbones and jawline. God, she was hot.

“But the brainwaves of one person wouldn't be powerful enough to contain an entire planet,” he trailed off; you could almost see the cogs whirring in his great mind. He paused, waving a finger. “The statues! As soon as they got here, the Monks put up statues in every town square, and every park, and every playground.”

“You're on fire, you're literally on fire you're so caliente. That's Spanish for hot.” Missy called back to you and Bill, who could do no more than stare and try to follow on with the Time Lords’ discourse.

“The statues are transmitters. They boost the signal and beam it out all around the world.” The Doctor grinned smugly.

“Boom! You've exploded.” Missy gestured with her hands, the light glinting off the tops of her cheekbones. You inhaled sharply. “Now, all you have to do is find whoever opened the door to the Monks in the first place.”

The Doctor glanced at Bill, raising his eyebrows. “Say I already have.”

“Oh! Well then, you're sorted. Just kill them,” the Doctor’s grin dropped, “that weakens the Monks' grip on the world.”

You grabbed onto Bill’s hand tightly, watching as her face fell, crestfallen. She almost seemed resolved and you rubbed your thumb over the back of her knuckles.

“No, no. No, no, that can't be right,” the Doctor scoffed disbelievingly, somewhat taken aback. Though wasn’t this response unsurprising? “There are planets that the Monks have ruled for thousands of years.”

“It's passed on through the bloodline. Usually the lynchpin goes on to lead a normal life, have their own family, and the link is passed down through the generations.” Missy strode forward, resting one arm up against the supporting poles, the other resting on the enticing curve of her hip.

“But the Monks must have worked that out. They've been doing this for millennia.”

“Why? If the link is passed on, the Monks stay in charge, through, they think, their ruthlessness and efficiency. But if the lynchpin dies and the link isn't passed on, and the Monks get booted off the planet, well, they just chalk it up to experience,” Missy gesticulated, each new point greeted with a flick of her wrist.

She sat down once again, resuming her place at the piano and her fingers ran daintily over the keys. You followed her hands with an unnecessary fixation, wetting your lips nervously as the joints flexed and danced across the notes. Bill’s sudden movement broke your concentration, and you shared a look with the Doctor.

Bill caught the expression on your faces. “No, it's okay. I want to speak to her.”

“Yes?” You couldn’t help the rising disappointment as Missy turned to face her, hands dropping off the piano.

“So when you defeated the Monks, that's how you did it?”

“Well, at this point, all that was left of the bloodline was a wee girl,” you swallowed harshly at the thickened accent, “and I just pushed her into a volcano.”

You could have sworn Missy glanced at you when she repeated the stressing of word in her heavy Scottish accent, that her lips had twitched at your visceral reaction.

“It's me. The lynchpin is me.” Bill’s voice trembled, tears threatening to break from her eyes. You inched closer to her, not close enough to touch but enough to provide some sort of support.

Missy’s attention jumped straight back to Bill, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“Awkward,” she sang, leaning back on the piano with a hint of smugness at the discordant chords.

“So you're saying I have to die.” No. The Doctor would come up with something else, he couldn’t just let your best friend die.

“No. If you were just to die, everyone's false memories would have to fade, and that could take ages. It's actually better if you keep breathing, if your brain just keeps transmitting, well, nothing. That would blot out the residue false memories.” The grin on her face almost convinced you that the option she was providing was an improvement. Almost.

“What would be left of me?” Bill’s eyes never left her face.

“You'd be a husk. Completely and irrevocably brain-dead. You couldn't even get on Celebrity Love Island.” It was her matter-of-fact tone that riled you, the inevitability in her voice.

“No.” You stepped up beside Bill, face to face with the Time Lady and almost fearful at the feral look buried deep in her eyes. A hand clasped around your elbow as the Doctor yanked you and Bill back from the containment field.

“Even if that was the truth, the fact that you're suggesting it shows there's been no change, no hope, no point.” The Doctor’s words were harsh and the spark in Missy’s eyes fizzled out, replaced with an all-encompassing sadness. Your heart ached for her, despite her sole resolution to your problem being for Bill to virtually die. “We don't sacrifice people - it's wrong - because it's easy.”

“You know, back in the day, I'd burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I'm sorry your plus one doesn't get a happy ending, but, like it or not, I just saved this world because I want to change. Your version of good is not absolute.” A watery sheen covered her eyes, missable as she blinked it away moments after it appeared. “It's vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

As the Doctor backed down and you were left staring at the forlorn Time Lady, a pang of empathy struck a chord in your heart. The Doctor made it very hard for you to feel like a ‘good’ person - the very first time you met him, he had yelled at you for taking a decision which had saved the entire planet, albeit whilst risking your own life. And forever was a long time to be stuck in his shadow of goodness.

“If you're waiting for me to become all that, I'm going to be here for a long time yet.”

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 16 - Flame Twin

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

What happens when two Weasleys get too involved?

Absolute chaos. 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

OKAY! After 14 hours of traveling back home yesterday I fell asleep editing this chapter! So...I mean I do and I don't have any excuse for that. Thank you for your patience!

I am back to updating every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)!

I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it! And as always, please, please, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog. I LOVE interacting with you all!! 

Masterlist

<<<Chapter 15

   You are the hider

I am the seeker

My twin, I’m in flames

I’m rolling about

  I have a name

You call me by none

My twin, I’m on fire

Come put me out

  George Weasley loved his siblings very much. His eldest brother, Bill, was easily the coolest bloke he knew – somehow being a prefect, Head Boy, and working for Gringotts, without being dull as dishwater. His second eldest brother, Charlie, always knew what to say in a pinch; certainly, the most level-headed person in England, but then he’d have to be to work with dragons for a living. Percy, for all his downfalls, worked harder than anyone he’d ever known and sometimes George secretly wished he had an ounce of his ambition. Ron was always down for a laugh which George liked very much, but he also wasn’t afraid to challenge George more than any of his other siblings. Ginny, his little sister, was unapologetically herself and took zero shite from anyone. She also had a fondness for trouble, in her own special kind of way. But out of all of them, Fred had to be his favourite sibling by far. Sure, he was a bit biased considering Fred was his twin and all, but George reckoned he’d have no trouble disliking Fred if he were any different. While he and Fred were similar in many ways, they were also very distinct. Fred was more outgoing, daring, and had a penchant to take things a bit too far where he was more laid back, erratic, and carefree. George supposed that was because Fred cared more about things than he did. Most people assumed, if they even bothered to assume anything about him and his twin brother’s differences that is, that Fred was the more callous of the two. But where others saw reckless cruelty, George knew it was really the opposite.  

  Fred cared – a lot. Too much, in George’s opinion. He let his emotions get in the way of his thoughts and it often resulted in him taking things too far. He pushed people past their limits when he thought he knew what was best for them. He punished people too harshly when he felt they deserved it. For example, Fred was the first to suggest they find Percy and beat him to a bloody pulp when he’d made their mother cry. Fred didn’t care what the consequences were. No one made their mother cry.

But he also let the poor actions of those he cared about slide too much. Like with Angelina at the moment – there was no way George would ever put up with his girlfriend ignoring him without any proper excuse. But Fred wasn’t George. So, he sat in silent misery, justifying, and making excuses for why his girlfriend wasn’t in the wrong.

  Fred also forgave too easily where it wasn’t deserved. That’s why George knew without a doubt that Fred would be the first to forgive Percy if and when he inevitably apologized, and when Angelina eventually broke his heart, he would probably find some way to make it not her fault.

  All these things George loved about his brother. But it was also all these things that led to the one thing George did not love about Fred. He always had to be a bloody martyr.

  George knew Fred liked Hermione. He had had a subtle inclination that Hermione liked him back. And after yesterday morning’s little show in their bedroom, there was no question the two had chemistry. The way the electricity sparked between them…George was almost convinced they’d have started ripping each other’s clothes off if he hadn’t reminded them he was there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they’d already hooked up before, or something like it. But if that had happened Fred surely would have told him.

  In George’s opinion it would be the easiest thing in the world for them to just fess up to each other and finally snog it out. Damn Angelina and damn Ron alike. But that was too easy – no, Fred had to take everyone else’s feelings into account. He couldn’t possibly take what he wanted if it chanced hurting Angelina’s or Ron’s feelings and somehow those factors had made him blind to the way Hermione looked at him. Which only made it worse of course, because he was annoyingly convinced Hermione would never be interested in him. George didn’t know why – he was a handsome chap. But then again, he was a bit biased.

  It didn’t surprise him when Fred wasn’t in their room when he’d finally turned in for the night. He was probably somewhere in the house, sulking like the right stubborn prat he was. It was surprising, however, when he’d woken the next morning and found that Fred had never returned to their room. Where could he possibly be? wondered George, stepping out into the hall. He started with the kitchen. Fred was known to wake up early and enjoy a nice cuppa while he waited for the rest of the house to wake up. But the kitchen was empty – no signs of Fred or morning tea anywhere to be found. Peaking into the nearby dining room, he also saw no Fred in sight. Perhaps the parlour, thought George and he walked up to the second floor. Again, no Fred. He was irritated now. Was this tosser really going to make him search the whole bloody house for him?

  Stomping across the hall, he thrust the door to the library open and paused. He could just make out the top of Fred’s head, his red hair peaking out at the end of the sofa in front of the fire. George crept quietly across the room, expecting to give his brother a bit of a scare. He supposed the only benefit of having to go searching for his brother would be to get a good laugh out of it. But when he got close enough to peer over the top of the sofa, he didn’t find just Fred. No, instead he found Hermione Granger wrapped around his brother like a Grindylow attacking its prey. Even more curious, Fred was very much awake looking down at Hermione like she was a goddess divine sent from the heavens to please him.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” asked George, crossing his arms and grinning widely.  

  Fred’s gaze snapped from the girl sleeping on top of him to George. He looked guilty, splendidly so.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” whispered Fred, giving Hermione a tense glance when she stirred slightly. Fred only relaxed when he was sure Hermione was still asleep. She nuzzled her face further into his chest and her breathing deepened once again.

  George took a step closer, leaning against the back of the sofa and staring down at his brother who was looking especially uncomfortable. “Really? Because it looks like you’re cozied up on the sofa with Hermione,” George whispered back, fighting everything within him that wanted to jump and scream ‘GOTCHA!’.

  “We were only talking. She was knackered. She fell asleep.”

  “And you just decided to be a gentleman and be her mattress for the night?”

  Fred sighed quietly. “I fell asleep too.”

  “Mmm, I’m sure.”

  “Look, there’s no ulterior motive here. I’m going with Angelina.”

  “Sure didn’t look that way when I walked in. Now, correct me if I’m wrong since I’ve never had a girlfriend or anything, but are you allowed to lovingly stroke other girl’s hair when you’re in a relationship?” George tapped a finger to the end of his chin in mock contemplation.

  Fred let out a small groan of frustration, trying his best not to wake Hermione in the current situation. “Alright, fine. You’ve had your fun. You’ve taken the mickey out of me. Happy?”

  “Not necessarily, no,” answered George, not at all amused by Fred’s lack of fight.

  “What do you want from me, mate?” Fred asked in exasperation. He was bordering hysterics and George could almost see a bead of sweat forming at his brow. Good.

  “You know what I want.” George fixed him with a pointed stare. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Now’s the time Freddie boy, thought George.

  Fred opened his mouth as if to say something in response, but no sound came out and he quickly closed it, scrunching his brow. This process repeated a few times, making Fred look very much like a fish in George’s opinion. It took a while, but George was willing to wait as long as it took for Fred to give him what he wanted. That’s it, that’s a good boy, you can do it, George thought encouragingly in his mind, hoping that Fred could hear his thoughts.

  Finally he answered in a harsh whisper, “Fine! I like her! I’m raving mad about her! I fancy her more than I’ve ever fancied anyone in my life. Are you happy now?”

  “Extremely—” George pushed off the back of the sofa and headed towards the library doors “—see you at breakfast.”

  An hour later George was seated at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of earl grey, and flipping through the Daily Prophet. Goblin stock options – boring. New cauldron regulations – boring. Which witch and wizard’s fashion were in and out – double boring. A feel-good piece on the Minister – nauseating. He threw the paper down and folded it roughly with a sigh before pulling out his wand and charming the pages to fold themselves into individual little chickens. He didn’t know why he bothered with the paper anymore. It was just like his father said these days, all a load of rubbish.

  The house was mostly awake at this point. George could hear the hustle and bustle of his family combined with the odd Order member. They were always popping in. Sometimes they brought news, sometimes they were simply asking on the whereabouts of other members, and sometimes they simply needed a place to sleep. Despite housing a majority of the Weasley family, Sirius Black, and a full-grown Hippogriff, Grimmauld Place had more than enough room to spare. The kitchen was oddly empty that morning though, not even his mum had come down yet to start on breakfast. George heard the distant shuffle of shoes on hardwood as someone descended the staircase. He sat up a bit straighter hoping it was Fred. They needed to continue their conversation. The fact that Fred had admitted his feelings to George was a good first start; now he just needed to admit those feelings to Hermione.

  However, it wasn’t Fred who rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Instead it was his little sister Ginny, looking incredibly rumpled and cranky.

  “Orite, Gin?” George asked, eyeing her misbuttoned blouse and wrinkled shorts. Contrary to the last few days, the morning was uncharacteristically warm and when George had looked out the window earlier he saw nothing but bright sunny skies. Perhaps summer had finally come at last.

  “No. It’s going to be such a nice day out and mum’s got us cooped up in this ghastly place! I asked her if we could take the day off and go home to play some quidditch, but she said she found another Doxy nest in one of the fourth floor bedrooms,” whined Ginny, grabbing a loaf of bread from the breadbox on the counter and slicing into it with a sharp knife. “Toast?”

  George nodded, watching the paper chickens on the table chase each other down it’s length.

  “It’s just mental! We’ve always had chores and I’ve never complained…much, but we’ve also always had time for fun things too. But here it’s like every waking moment is devoted to cleaning this trash heap of a house and for what? Sirius doesn’t care, obviously and if Kreacher cared, well there wouldn’t be this mess in the first place!” She held a piece of bread over the flame of the stove, browning the side before turning it over carefully in her hand and toasting the other side.

  “Fuck!” Ginny exclaimed, dropping the toast onto the flame, and sucking on her singed pointer finger. She kept the digit between her lips for a moment before pulling it out of her mouth and inspecting the damage. “You know, this process would go a lot smoother if I had magic.” She shot George a pointed look.

  George rolled his eyes good-humouredly. With a flew flicks of his wand the bread began to balance itself over the stove flame, toasting to a golden brown before depositing itself onto a plate. While the bread toasted Ginny grabbed butter and jam from the fridge and placed it on the table before George.

  “Why don’t you just try out for the quidditch team Gin? You’re well enough at it,” said George, not really wanting to get into the endless number of chores they did daily. While he agreed, he’d also been listening to Ron and Ginny complain for a month now and he was growing tired of it. At a certain point whinging got you nowhere and it was better to shut up and put up.

  “Well enough? I kick yours and Fred’s butt more often then not. I’m bloody fantastic.” Ginny grinned widely, grabbing the now full plate of toast, and walking to the table with it. George grabbed a piece and began to butter it before globbing on an ample amount of raspberry jam. One of the paper chickens pecked at his hand and George broke a piece of his toast off, tossing it to them. The chickens pecked enthusiastically at it and George took a large bite off of the remaining slice. As he chewed, he looked across the table at his sister. She had four slices on her own plate, piled high with butter and jam. The amount was no surprise. Ginny always ate to excess. It was impressive more than anything. He honestly didn’t know where she put it all.

  “I think I’d want to try out for chaser this year. Are there any open chaser positions?” asked Ginny, taking a large bite.

  Fred shook his head. All the chaser positions were full. Ginny frowned.

  “But we need a new keeper. Still haven’t filled the position since Wood left,” George offered kindly.

  Ginny made a face that George didn’t quite understand. There was nothing wrong with keeper. It certainly wasn’t as cool as beater, but it was a respectable position. Perhaps it wasn’t exciting enough for his dear sister. She always did enjoy a bit of thrill, just like him and Fred. Speaking of Fred. His twin entered the kitchen looking wary as he sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. Shortly after Ron and Hermione joined them. The atmosphere around the table was tense. Or at least George thought so. Everyone was too quiet. They chewed too slowly, as if the lot of them had stayed up late the night before drinking deeply from a bottle of Firewhisky.

  “Everyone excited for a day of Doxy wrangling?” George asked cheerily, trying to lift the mood at the table.

  His three companions groaned, their shoulders sagging. Ron, who’d snagged a piece of toast from the pile, dropped his slice onto the table and laid his head in his hands. Honestly, what was everyone’s problem these days? People needed to learn to lighten up, live a little.

  George did not try to lift the mood again. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth trying, especially when Fred wasn’t in the spirit to help him. The largest of the paper chickens hopped across the table and pecked at Ginny’s hand. She gave a little giggle. George smiled. At least his little sister could still be agreeable when she was cranky. Looking to the others at the table, George caught Fred and Hermione sharing a look. To anyone else it might seem innocent enough, but George assessed the situation like a trained auror looking for clues. It was much easier to spot things when you were looking for them. Their smiles were a bit too warm, their glances furtive, and whenever they came close to touching they both stuttered away from each other. The idiots clearly liked each other but didn’t want the other to know. Ridiculous.

  “Could you pass the sugar please, Fred?” Hermione asked politely, pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot in the middle.

  “I’ve got it, ‘Mione!” said Ron enthusiastically. He grabbed the sugar before Fred could reach it and placed it in front of Hermione.

  Fred gawped, looking slightly put out, and sat back heavily in his seat. He crossed his arms, decidedly mopey once again. Great.

  “…thank you Ron.” Hermione swallowed thickly and began to pile sugar into her cup.

  The table fell back into a thick silence. Thankfully, it only lasted for a few moments more as the distant sound of his mother calling them from the parlour on the second floor broke the tension. Ron, Hermione, and Fred seemed to jump from their seats, rocketing towards the door of the kitchen like they’d been waiting at the starting line and his mother’s voice was the signal to run. George and Ginny hung behind, cleaning up the last bits of breakfast before they went to their mother.

  “Merlin and Morgana…could you believe the tension between them? Could cut it with a bloody knife,” said Ginny, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  George paused, the plates in his hand hovering in the air as he went to place them in the sink. “How did you…?”

  “Oh come on George. I mean, it’s pretty obvious they fancy each other. Hermione doesn’t think he does of course. Just wish that brother of ours would finally fess up and tell her. That way we’d finally stop having to watch them make sad puppy eyes at one another.” Ginny laughed, pushing off the counter and heading towards the door out of the kitchen.

  George stared at his little sister in disbelief. He clearly hadn’t been giving the girl enough credit. That or Fred and Hermione’s actions were more obvious than he previously thought. Either way, it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one in the house suffering because of them. He just wished there were a way to force them to—

  “Ginny! Wait!” George reached out and grabbed his sister’s arm. Ginny spun around, giving him a confused looked. A large smile spread across George’s face and he knew he must look like an absolute maniac in that moment, but he’d just come up with a brilliant idea. An absolutely brilliant, devious idea.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Ginny reproachfully.

  “Gin…how would you like to help me with something today?”

  “What? Like one of your pranks?”

  “No, not a prank. More like a…mission. A mission of love you might call it.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened in understanding and her mouth stretched into an equally evil smile.

  “Oh George, I thought you’d never ask.”

    Fred groaned. Just when he thought the day couldn’t get any worse, life found a way to torture him further. It was a hot day. England had finally found its summer heat and soon the temperature rose so high even the strongest cooling charm couldn’t cut the stifling warmth. As a result the lot of them had divested themselves of their layers until they were as stripped as was proper. Fred, George, and Ron were shirtless as they cleaned out the Doxy nests in the upstairs bedroom. Getting rid of the Doxies had been fairly simple, but the compact, intricate nests they’d made in the wardrobes and drapes was another story. It would have taken less time with wands, but Fred and George had made the mistake of launching one too many Doxies at Ron, and their mother had taken their wands as punishment. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had glared daggers at them as it really was a punishment for all of them. Now they’d all be forced to remove the nests by hand. Sweat rolled down Fred’s chest as he pulled out an old box from the top of the wardrobe to reveal another clump of nests. Damn Doxies.

  Across the room, balancing on a ladder, Hermione prodded at the drapes. Staring at the girl, he thought this must be what they meant when they talked about forbidden fruit. She’d pulled her hair up, twisting it into a knot at the back of her head, but after several hours of work, tendrils had fallen loose, sticking to her damp neck. Her vest top had risen at some point, revealing the creamy skin of her midsection just above a pair of shorts that had to be the tightest things in existence, Fred thought. She hadn’t been wearing them earlier in the day, but after lunch when they’d returned to their work, she’d entered the bedroom and Fred had nearly swallowed his tongue. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’d done it on purpose. To torture him. But that wasn’t right. It was foolishly arrogant to assume Hermione wore anything for anyone, especially himself.

  In addition to the true agony that Hermione was causing him physically, George was causing him equal turmoil mentally. No, he hadn’t done or said anything, but that was entirely the point. After catching him and Hermione together that morning and finally getting Fred to admit his feelings for the girl, he expected a bit more from his brother. He was sure his twin would pull him aside to continue their conversation, or at the very least make pointed jokes. But there’d been nothing. In fact, it seemed George was hellbent on acting as if that morning never happened.

  Fred’s thoughts drifted back to earlier in the library. Once George left, he took a few more minutes to bask in the glory of having Hermione in his arms before he woke her. She had been mildly embarrassed when she roused to find herself wrapped so tightly around him. But Fred played it off like it was no big deal. But despite the moment of embarrassment something definitely felt like it had shifted between the two of them. Fred felt a little less on edge around her and she seemed to be more relaxed around him as well. Perhaps realizing that she could be physically close to him without him making a move had her less concerned about being around him again.

  Although Fred figured if Hermione could hear his thoughts at that moment she’d feel anything but an ease. He had to physically bite his tongue when she’d hopped off the ladder and bent over to pick up the duster she’d been using. A tightness formed in the front of his trousers and Fred turned his gaze away, banging his head on one of the open wardrobe doors to. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he thought about boring things like owl post, third year herbology, and potions essays. When that didn’t work he thought of disgusting things like Blast-Ended Skrewts and Hippogriff dung.

  “Hermione, could you give me a hand with this please?” asked Ginny, motioning to the second pair of heavy drapes as she attempted to get behind the tangled mess of them.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Fred watched as Ginny piled the ends of the drapes into Hermione’s arms. “There’s a nest back here. I think if you lift the drapes high enough, I’ll be able to reach it,” said Ginny, instructing Hermione to lift the drapes higher in her arms.

  There really shouldn’t be anything sexy about cleaning out Doxy nests, thought Fred. But as Hermione raised her arms higher and higher, she revealed more of her sweat-slicked body. The wild-haired girl struggled under the weight of the drapes, now hold them high above her head. Fred supposed if he hadn’t been checking out Hermione in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen the way her arms buckled, dropping some of the drapes and tangling them in her legs. Sprinting across the room, he caught her just as she lost her footing, trying to untangle her legs from the heavy material.

  “Whoa!” Hermione exclaimed, landing hard in Fred’s arms, as the drapes fell back onto Ginny.

  “Hey! Hermione, what gives—oh…you okay?” Ginny had scrambled out of the drapes to see Hermione in Fred’s embrace, looking up at him in surprise. Fred’s mouth went dry as he looked down at the witch in his arms. Her face was delightfully flushed, and he could feel bare skin under his hands. He felt the tightening in his pants return and practically threw Hermione from his hold, stepping away from her.

  “Thanks,” Hermione muttered, looking pointedly down at the ground.

  “Yeah,” coughed Fred.

  He was just about to try and come up with an excuse to flee from the room when his mother entered, looking around the space appraisingly. “I think that’s enough for the day dears. It’s quite hot, why don’t you wrap up and we’ll finish this room tomorrow?”

  “Alright, thanks mum,” said George, wiping his grubby hands on his jeans and walking over to swing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

  “Uck! You’re all sweaty George!” cried Ginny, shrugging off George’s arm in disgust.

  George took a moment to assess himself, looking down at his sweaty form. “You’re right Gin. I think I could use a shower actually. What about you lot?”

  A chorus of agreement rang through the room from them all and they exited it, heading down to their rooms and more importantly, the bathrooms.

    Ginny was only slightly disappointed in herself. Her first “mission” with her older brother George and already she was failing at it. She’d never tell him, but she considered his invitation to be quite the honour. Sure, she’d helped Fred and George with some of their little schemes over the years, but never had one of them asked her specifically to help without the other. At first she wondered why Fred wasn’t involved in their plan, but they she realized it might be because Fred didn’t know Ron was desperately in love with Hermione and vice-versa. Perhaps Ron had only told George in confidence and didn’t want Fred knowing too – Fred was the type to tease Ron more than George would about something like that. Finding out that Ginny was clued in was probably a huge relief to George.

  “I’m not really sure how doing this will make them confess their feelings though,” said Ginny, knitting her brow and looking sceptically at her older brother.

  “Trust me, it’ll work. All we need is a bit of sexual tension to break them. Get them hot and bothered enough and they’ll be attacking each other before you know it!”

  She still wasn’t sure if she was 100% sold on the plan, but George knew about these things more than her. It had been her idea to spill pumpkin juice all over Hermione’s clothes after lunch, forcing her to change. She’d subtly offered Hermione a pair of her shorts, her smallest and tightest ones and a when the older girl had asked whether or not she should just wear her vest, Ginny encouraged it. A small part of her felt like it was a bit demeaning to resort to primping Hermione up like a prize fair farm animal for Ron to ogle, but at this point she was desperate to get the two of them to admit their feelings. Her wants in the world were simple. She wanted her siblings to be happy and she wanted her friends to be happy. If she could accomplish those things in one fell swoop then even better.

  When she’d piled the drapes in Hermione’s arms, she fully expected Ron to be the one to catch her. Bloody Fred and his chivalry. He already had a girlfriend, she thought bitterly, why couldn’t he just step aside and let Ron save the day?

  Either way, they were on to part two of their plan and Ginny would not let George down. Her job was to direct Hermione to the right place at the right time. Third floor bathroom at the end of the hall. George would take care of the rest. Easy.

  However, to her dismay, when she’d reached the third floor she saw Ron entering the first bathroom on the right and close the door. Damn him! Where was George? Wasn’t Ron his responsibility? Putting her ear to the bathroom Ron was currently in, she heard the rings of the shower curtain slide against the metal pole and the water turn on. Fine, she could improvise. This was fine. Ginny spun around at the sound of a door opening and closing and saw Hermione exit their bedroom with her towel in hand.

  “Ginny are any of the bathrooms on this floor open?” she asked, wiping a hand across her brow.

  “This one is—” Ginny stepped aside the door “—I started the shower, but mum called me and needs my help. You can take it!”

  “Thanks Ginny!”

  “No problem ‘Mione. What are friends for?”

    Hermione was grateful for Ginny giving up the bathroom. She was in desperate need of a nice long shower. For more than one reason. There was a moment in the fourth-floor bedroom that she thought she was surely going to combust. In what fair and just world should she be forced to stare at a shirtless Frederick Weasley for an extended period of time? It was painful how good he looked. Hermione cursed her inappropriate thoughts. He was a taken man. But then there was the way he’d held her in her sleep – the way he’d gently woken her in the library. She’d been embarrassed at first, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he almost seemed sad to part, but that was ridiculous. Again, he was a taken man.

  Entering the small bathroom, Hermione scowled slightly at the running water. Really, Ginny should wait until she entered the shower to turn on the water. It was such a waste to keep it running. She placed her towel on one of the hooks on the wall and grabbed the hem of her vest top, sliding it up her torso. The fabric stuck to her skin, damp from the sweat of a hot day and good, hard work. If she’d known she’d be spending a majority of her summer doing exhausting chores, perhaps she would have thought twice about abandoning her parents. But then Hermione’s mind drifted to the thought of her grandparents’ cat-fur covered sofa and dry Madeira cake and suddenly she was sure of her decision once again. She was just bringing the vest top over her head when something very odd happened. The sound of water stopped. Hermione froze, arms raised over her head and top covering her eyes. Turning towards the shower, she pulled her top completely off, freeing her sight just as the shower curtain pulled back revealing a very wet and very naked Ron.

  While in reality it was probably only a few seconds, for Hermione it felt like an eternity that she stood still as stone staring at Ron absolutely starkers. Ron stared back, eyes wide and mouth hung open. How? Why? What? Hermione had so many questions and yet, nothing came out of her mouth. In fact the only thing her mouth could do was open and close like an idiot before she finally let out a high-pitched scream.

  Ron screamed as well, bringing his hands down to cover his more…vulnerable bits. It was a bit late for that thought Hermione but closed her eyes tightly all the same.

  “What are you doing in here?!” she screamed, blindly feeling for the door.

  “What am I doing in here?! What are you doing in here?!” screamed Ron back, the tile squeaking under his wet feet as he exited the tub.

  “Oh my god—” Hermione desperately felt for the door handle, letting out another scream when she felt wet skin “—OH MY GOD!”

  “Bloody hell, Hermione! Get out!” Ron yelled.

  “I’m trying!”

  Finally Hermione’s fingers found the doorknob and she flung herself from the bathroom, running as fast as she could down the hallway.

  “What is it?! What’s going on?! I heard scream—oof!”

  Hermione collided into someone, her frantic fleeing impairing her ability to watch where she was going. Whoever it was, she hit them hard. Hard enough to knock her backwards. Desperately, she reached out to catch herself on instinct, but the only thing her hand found purchase on was the soft fuzzy fabric of a towel that gave easily as she fell backwards. Hermione landed hard on her backside, feeling slightly dazed. Looking down at the towel in her hand, she looked up in mortification. There standing before her, at eye level she might add, was Frederick Weasley’s entirely naked body. She screamed again, covering her eyes quickly this time, a little more prepared and a little more experienced at accidentally seeing naked boys now.

  “Merlin!” Fred cried, yanking the towel from her hands, and most likely covering himself. Hermione didn’t know for certain though as her hands were still tightly glued to her face. She wasn’t risking it anymore. If another Weasley boy were to show up in the hallway naked, she was prepared.

  “Oh my god. I’m so, so sorry!” Hermione cried, attempting to stand without her arms or her sight. She wobbled and bumped a bit, but eventually found her feet.

  “What the hell is going on?!” asked Fred.

  “Hermione I—” she heard Ron’s voice start and then stop suddenly before he let out a confused exclamation. “What’s going on here?!”

  “What’s going on here? What was going on in there?!” Fred asked back, sounding quite angry.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” Hermione chanted in humiliation as she was now blindly trying to find her bedroom door. She needed to get out of there desperately.

  “Bloody hell Hermione. You can open your eyes now,” groaned Ron.

  Hermione shook her head frantically. “Nope! Sorry. I’m not chancing it.”

  “What was she doing in there with you?” Fred questioned indignantly.

  “What was she doing out here with you?” huffed Ron.

  “I heard screaming!”

  “So you decided to come and investigate naked?!”

  “I wasn’t naked! I had a towel, but she pulled it off!”

  “Why would you run out in just a towel?!”

  “Sorry, next time I think there’s an emergency, let me just take my sweet time getting dressed before I come and help,” Fred bit back sarcastically.

  “Boys—” Hermione felt completely lost at this point, walking into a wall, and hitting her head “—ow! Please. Now is really not the time to fight. Can someone please just direct me to my room so I can kill myself?”

  “Stop being so dramatic Hermione,” Ron sighed. She could almost feel his eyes rolling in his head.

  “Yeah, it’s just a bit of skin ‘Mione. No need to be so affected,” said Fred.

  Hermione let out a high-pitched sound of disbelief. “Are you two seriously turning on me now?”

  “Well, you were the one who walked in on my shower,” Ron said sounded very irritated.

  “Yeah, and you pulled down my towel,” added Fred.

  “How in the world is this my fault now?!” cried Hermione, no longer attempting to find her room. Instead, she stood in the hallway, eyes still covered but entirely invested in the argument that was now happening between the three of them.

  It was that moment that they heard the loud and raucous laughter of two people from down the hall. Hermione knew at once who it was. Of course.

  “Ginevra Weasley, I swear to Merlin I will kill you slowly in your sleep for this!” Hermione threatened. “George, I know you were involved in this too! Don’t think for a second you’re in the clear!”

  Ginny and George’s laughter continued, both of them in hysterics at this point.

  “You two?!” cried Ron. “Why?!” He sounded deeply betrayed, as if he expected a lot from the two, but never something as horrible as this.

  “Merlin, this is…this is better than I ever could have hoped,” said George in between laughs.

  “Really George? Really?” asked Fred pointedly.

  “You know George, I was a bit disappointed you failed on your end of the plan, but I think this laugh was worth failing,” Ginny commented, finding her voice through deep breaths.

  “What do you mean?” asked George. “It was you that got it all mixed up!”

  “Me?! What do you—”

  “I can’t believe you two! Actually, George I could expect this from you but Ginny?” Hermione scolded.

  “Oh lighten up Hermione, it was just a bit of fun!” scoffed Ginny.

  “I mean, what was the point of this? Really?” asked Fred, continuing his rant.

  “I’ve been so nice to you lately George. I even did you chores the other day!” said Ron dejectedly.

  “Indecent George and Ginny! Absolutely indecent behaviour!” yelled Hermione.

  “That’s rich coming from someone only in their bra and trousers,” said George.

  Hermione gasped, pulled her hands from her eyes now and covering her upper half. In all the chaos and confusion she’d completely forgotten she was half naked herself.

  All five of them were now talking over each other, everyone yelling at someone different as they argued in the heat of the moment. The noise was beginning the rise in magnitude until the only thing that could be heard was the overwhelming sound of screaming voices.

  “SCUM! MUDBLOODS! BLOOD TRAITORS! IN MY HOUSE?! OUT! OUT! DISGRACESFUL! DIRTY! DIRTY!”

  Their arguing was suddenly drowned out by the horrid sound of Walburga Black’s portrait two floors down. Everyone stopped. Now they’d done it.

  Mrs. Weasley’s shrill and angry voice drifted up the flights of stairs and mixed horribly with the shouting portrait. They heard stomping feat on the wooden stairs and looked at each other in fear.

  “Don’t just stand here like idiots—” said George quickly.

  “—Scatter!” finished Fred.

Chapter 17>>> 

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Rhythm Section {Poly BakuJiro}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Again, something different that I tried but still the self-indulgent train keeps a-rollin’ choo choo ya’ll

Class A’s contribution to the culture festival in their first year had become the stuff of legend at UA. By the time the next culture festival was approaching, they were all but told that they would be putting on another concert for their second-year program. Another hit song by Jiro and great routine by Mina might’ve been even more successful than the first depending on who was asked.

Third year was the same but not as much of a surprise—A Band would be taking the stage for the final time as UA students. As expected it was spectacular, cheers and compliments raising up from the audience before them while they stood in awe at the reaction.

Well, she stood in awe at something different. She was in awe at the sight of Bakugo and Jiro, both sweaty but energized from the performance and looking amazing. Handsome, pretty, beautiful, attractive… all of the above on both accounts really. That night had been the one that made her realize that she had two crushes.

She was okay with crushing on both a guy and a girl—she’d known about that aspect of herself for a while but hadn’t shared it with anyone quite yet—but did it have to be on the two people in the class who were effortlessly cool in everything they did? It was like they were both trying to kill her at every turn.

Studying with Jiro? She’s twirling one earphone jack around her finger mindlessly and biting her lower lip as she concentrates on the material in front of her. The wide neck of her ripped tshirt slips down her shoulder slightly to reveal smooth skin that she just knows is as soft as it looks.

Training with Bakugo? The muscles in his arms are flexing as they practice traditional hand to hand and the smirk on his face is wild. When they finish and he lifts his tank top to wipe sweat from his face she can see every ridge of abs and has to move away before he lifts it higher and makes her stop breathing.

It was difficult having crushes on the two hottest people in the class and having zero chance with either. No one knew she liked girls (did Jiro even like girls?) and stepping in the way of becoming Number One seemed like a death sentence.

“This is hard,” she groaned, dropping her face into her arms at one of the common room tables.

Jiro laughed. “Music theory can be, even if you’re a musician. I only know it because of my parents.”

“Do you think the greats struggled with it too?” she asked as she raised her head to look at her. “Like was Jimmy Page as done with this as I am right now?”

“Ohh someone knows her classic rock icons,” she teased.

“He was just the first name that came to mind! I should’ve said Bonham instead.”

“What, you’re not into guitarists?”

“I mean I don’t think I’m not into them?” she replied. “I just prefer the rhythm section, that’s all.”

Jiro raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Well yeah, they’re generally hotter. Bonham is case in point.”

“Any other data points to back that up?” she asked curiously.

“There’s a lot but think Fall Out Boy, All Time Low, Zeppelin like I mentioned…” she trailed off as she locked eyes with the girl across from her.

Was this—was this an opening? Could she even…?

“And, you know,” she finally continued, “A Band.”

A smirk took over her lips and she tapped her pen against her notebook as she looked over her, the smirk growing every passing second.

“I think Kaminari would be a little sad to hear that,” she mused.

She shrugged. “Kaminari’s not exactly who I’m trying to impress.”

Jiro dropped her pen and crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward with interest sparkling in her eyes. She was grinning and looked like someone who couldn’t believe the luck they’d had. And the fact that she’d done that to her? Incredible.

A hand landed on Jiro’s shoulder making her jump, and when she whirled around in her chair she saw an annoyed Bakugo. His scowl deepened when Jiro tried to smile at him and from across the table she could see the muscle in his jaw jump.

“We need to talk,” he ground out through clenched teeth, squeezing her shoulder in warning. Then he let go and stomped towards the hallway to the elevators.

“Uh, sorry,” Jiro said with a blush as she began gathering her things. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting and knowing him it’s gonna be awhile. Sorry to cut this short, but can I text you later?”

“Oh, yeah, totally! I hope everything goes okay with Bakugo.”

She gave a weak smile as she stood, lifting two fingers in a wave before she went towards the elevators.

Watching her go made her frown as she too began grabbing her materials to head to her room. That was quite possibly the bravest she had ever been when talking to a crush and of course it had to be interrupted. It was likely for a good reason if it was Bakugo doing the interrupting but still.

‘At least she’ll text me later,’ she thought.

With a sigh she clutched her textbook and notes to her chest and started toward the elevators. But as she neared the corner she could make out a conversation that made her pause.

“…said I was sorry!” Jiro whispered. “She’s the one who—”

“Oh sure, blame her!” Bakugo snapped in a low voice.

Were they talking about her? Were they—was this a couple’s argument? Was she getting between them by essentially telling Jiro she was trying to impress her?

Her two crushes getting together and her inadvertently driving a wedge between them was the absolute worst-case scenario she could imagine. She was ready to faint.

“She brought it up, okay? I didn’t say ‘hey, who do you think are the hottest members of our class band? It’s totally me and Bakugo, right?’, she just said it and then it got flirty! Doesn’t it at least help to know she thinks we’re attractive?”

"That’s not—I thought we agreed that we would both be cool and not lay it on so damn thick? What happened to seeing who she likes more? You just took a fifty-meter head start and now I don't even know if she likes guys!" Bakugo hissed.

“I like both.”

They had both turned to look at her, surprised at her sudden appearance and declaration. Beneath that there was something else that she couldn’t quite place—hope?

“I… I like guys and girls. I’m bi,” she said for the first time out loud. Then, with a bite to her lip, she added, “And more specifically, I like the both of you.”

“Damn,” Jiro mumbled as Bakugo looked off to the side.

She had no idea what she was doing and was internally panicking. What was she supposed to say now? Should she say anything? Yeah, yeah she should. She had to.

“I do like you both,” she repeated softly, “but I also know you two are close. Don’t… don’t make it a competition. I don’t want to choose because you’re both amazing.”

Bakugo looked up at her, his eyes calculating. “Then don’t.”

Jiro went wide-eyed but covered it as she turned to her. “Maybe we should all talk privately. This isn’t something the class needs to hear.”

She nodded, following behind them as they made their way into the elevator.

As they stepped out on the third floor she could feel something shift between the three of them. With each step down the hall it got warmer, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt it. Bakugo’s clenched jaw and Jiro’s constant glances between them both made her think that no, it wasn’t.

It was only after they were all standing in Jiro’s room that Bakugo began to speak, his voice not as harsh as it usually was.

“You don’t need to choose,” he said again. “I like you and so does she. You like me and you like her. She and I get along just fine.”

“So by not choosing you mean…?

“I mean you can have both of us. Or neither of us. If you don’t want competition it’s an all or nothing type deal.”

She looked between him and Jiro. “You two have talked about this? And you’re both okay with it being all or nothing?”

“Yeah we uh, we’re good. Not like he and I haven’t done everything already, you know?” Jiro chuckled nervously, pulling her sleeves down over her hands.

“Okay,” she replied. “Then I’m all in.”

“Oh thank fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad,” Jiro sighed, starting towards her.

Bakugo grabbed the back of her cardigan and yanked her back to his side, glaring at her when she squirmed to try and make him let go.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs closed for five minutes,” he snapped, dropping his hand from the fabric.

She bit her lip, not sure what was going to happen now that the decision had been made. Plus she was a little disappointed; she wanted to kiss Jiro too.

“Listen, we gotta get some shit straight first alright?” Bakugo said. “This ain’t exactly the norm, so if we gotta start small, we do. First thing’s first, do you want us both at the same time or are we workin’ up to that?”

That had been the shift: sexual tension. And yeah, she definitely wasn’t the only one who felt it judging by the subtle tensing of Jiro’s thighs and the not at all subtle outline in Bakugo’s pants.

“Same time is what I want. I’ve… never done it with two people before and I’ve never been with another girl but I want you. Both of you.”

He nodded. “You been tested? You on anything?”

“Work study tests us all for literally everything imaginable each month so yeah, three weeks ago and I’m good,” she said, her skin hot. “I’m on the pill but I would really prefer you use a condom too.”

“Same,” Jiro offered with a smile. “On both accounts.”

“Tested last week and I’m good too,” Bakugo said. “Hard no’s for this first time?”

“Grabbing is the only thing that happens to my ass and if anyone hits me they’re losing whatever limb made contact.”

“No problem,” he shrugged.

Jiro laughed. “I think that tonight we keep it tame, yeah?”

With a smirk on his face Bakugo stepped out of his slippers and came towards her, laying a hand on her waist before stepping around her and pressing himself against her back. “Tame as a threesome can be.”

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and she shivered, closing her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them, Jiro was in front of her.

Smiling, she brought her hands up to cup her face and kissed her. Lips pressed against the side of her neck too and she realized that stepping around that corner on the first floor was the best decision she could’ve made. If she hadn’t she wouldn’t be enjoying the two sets of hands slowly roaming her body or the two tongues that were sliding past her lips and tracing a reddening mark on her jaw.

Her shirt was gently pushed up and bunched around her stomach as large, warm palms slid across her skin and tried pulling her slightly away from Jiro, but her grip on her hips held her steady enough to not break the kiss. The hands dragged up to cup her ribs just below her bra and Bakugo rolled his hips into her from behind, making her gasp into her kiss with Jiro.

She smiled, eyes half lidded as her fingertips brushed against her cheek. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

“Wanna make you two feel good too,” she murmured, feeling the bites to her neck pause.

“Y’already are, just let us have our fun,” he mumbled before pushing her top up over her head and dropping it to the side. He pulled his own shirt off quickly and let his hands roam the newly bared skin of her back.

Shakily, she reached forward to tug at the hem of Jiro’s cardigan, receiving a smile and an easy shrug to remove it. A moment later the undershirt followed and she pulled her into a kiss again as the hands at her back lightly snapped the band of her bra.

She jumped, breaking the kiss. “Bakugo!”

“Tch, pretty sure we can go for given names now, right Kyoka?”

“Katsuki’s right,” she giggled, kissing her once more.

She felt overwhelmed in the best way. She was on a first name basis with both of her crushes and was between the two of them, holding Kyoka close and kissing her with everything she had while Katsuki ground himself against her and unclipped her bra.

With more gentleness than she expected, he guided the straps down her arms and lightly tugged her arms from around Kyoka so the loosened fabric could fall to the side. Kyoka took that time to step back to undo and shed her own which allowed Katsuki to spin her around to face him for the first time. He smirked, fingers gliding up her sides until he was able to cup her chest in large palms.

She cradled his jaw and brought him forward to press her lips against his, surprised at the lack of roughness she’d expected when he kissed back. Was it testing the waters or savoring the first taste? She was willing to bet both.

Cool hands smoothed over her back and slow, careful kisses trailed down her spine. The drag of lips against the curve of her lower back made her shiver and the nudge of fingertips just below her waistband made her heart race even more. Fabric slid down her legs to leave her completely bare and she felt her face heat up, self-conscious of being the only one, until a moment later she heard the soft sound of clothing hitting the floor behind her and felt bare skin against her back.

Breaking apart from Katsuki to breathe she leaned forward to press open mouthed kisses to his collarbone, the definition like he had been chiseled from stone. Her hands fell to his hips and hooked her fingers into his sweats and underwear, tugging them down to pool at his feet. She traced over the ridges of muscle across his stomach as she continued kissing up his neck, careful not to leave marks where his costume couldn’t cover.

She felt Kyoka rest her chin on her shoulder, then a brush against her arm and a twist of muscle beneath her lips. When she glanced up she saw her kissing Katsuki, one hand on his cheek to keep him turned towards her. One hand dropped from her chest and moved behind her, knuckles at her back and a soft gasp coming from Kyoka making it obvious where it had gone.

Then the hand still on her chest slowly slid down her body before settling between her legs and the hand at her back returned to her hip. Cooler hands would around her to cup her chest, a shudder running through her at the temperature but her fingers traced down the sculped stomach in front of her.

Two fingers pressed into her as she wrapped her hand around Katsuki, a soft gasp escaping her and a low groan coming from him. Kyoka’s light laughter followed and she began pressing kisses across her shoulders, mouth free from Katsuki’s head tipping back as more groans were drawn out from the slow stokes.

She bit her lip as the fingers between her legs curled perfectly and his thumb drew firm circles on her clit.

“Good with his fingers, right?” Kyoka whispered.

She could only nod with a whimper as she felt her thighs tense. Her strokes grew faster and she rocked her hips forward slightly to chase the feeling, her back arching at the two pairs of hands treating her so well.

She whined loudly as the fingers between her legs withdrew and the solid warmth disappeared from in front of her, but she couldn’t dwell on it as she was turned around once again and pressed against Kyoka. Their lips found one another’s easily and she felt those cool hands on her cheeks, her own fingertips tracing the soft skin of the curves of her chest and stomach. Even with inexperienced nerves tingling in the back of her mind she ventured lower to the apex of pale of thighs and reveled in the pleased hum into her mouth. Knowing what she liked for herself she rubbed familiar patterns and curled her fingers just so to keep the noises flowing, swallowing them proudly as they grew louder.

“I like how you sound,” she murmured breathily as they broke apart and dark hair tickled her chest as Kyoka rested her forehead against her shoulder with a gasp.

“And I like the view,” Katsuki chuckled from behind her, the crinkling of foil lost to the low timbre.

Hands came around to cup her chest from behind once again and those lips were back on her neck, the rhythm of her fingers stuttering slightly at the sensations.

“Let… let me show you what I’m good at,” Kyoka panted, kissing her cheek before pulling back. Their eyes stayed locked as she kneeled down, her palms gently widening her stance to make room between her thighs, and it was only at the first brush of her tongue on her clit did she close her eyes.

Her fingers dropped to thread through the dark hair that was just as silky as she’d always imagined, tightening slightly as fingertips trailed closer to where her lips and tongue were working her closer to cumming faster than she could comprehend. The teeth scraping against her neck and jaw gave just the right amount of pain to combine with that pleasure and her legs started to shake from the effort of standing.

Katsuki noticed immediately, the mark he’d been working on abandoned as he ordered, “Bed, Kyoka.”

The hum of agreement between her thighs nearly sent her over the edge right then, but the promise of experiencing even more was too alluring to succumb to it so soon and she let herself be guided to the bed on weak legs by her two partners. It was a bit difficult for the three of them to lie together in the small dorm bed but they managed to arrange themselves well enough to be comfortable and continue.

She was one more kissing Kyoka as they laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki’s chest was pressed against her back, smooth latex brushing against the back of her thigh. Familiar rough hands parted her thighs, lifting one leg slightly, and she felt him move against her to position himself before rolling his hips forward.

A soft moan escaped her as her hand trailed down the soft skin in front of her, the fullness she felt something she wanted to share at least somewhat with Kyoka. She traced her tongue along her bottom lip as she pressed two fingers into her and began to draw firm circles on her clit, her pattern hesitant and uneven as Katsuki started to move. It took a few moments for them to sink into a rhythm that suited all of them but once they did it felt like everything had fallen into place.

Deep groans vibrated against her shoulders as he mouthed more bites along her back, the sting of his teeth and the soft pinches to her nipples from Kyoka giving her more sensations than she could comprehend. She had to break the kiss to rest her head against her collarbone, panting breaths making her chest heave and muscles clench as their newfound rhythm amongst the three of them sped up.

“That’s it,” Katsuki mumbled, his fingers ghosting over her hip to find a place on her clit.

One hand left her chest and a whisper of, “Katsuki,” over her shoulder let her know exactly what happened next when he shifted higher and so did Kyoka, her chest now directly in front of her. She took advantage, curling her fingers just so and laving her tongue over her left nipple; her free hand came up to knead and pinch her right.

Katsuki dutifully swallowed her moans but the trio each silently hoped that the rest of the class were still in the common room because there was no possible way for them to hold back the gratified sounds. As their rhythm grew steadily faster and the muscles coiled even tighter the louder they were surely becoming.

It was Kyoka who came first, tossing her head back and cupping the back of her neck to keep her to her chest, her hips rocking into her hand as she rode out the pleasure with breathy moans.

“Fuck!” Katsuki grunted, his fingers adding more pressure to her clit to bring her over the edge just before he himself toppled over, the tightness around him almost unbearable with how amazing it felt as he ground his hips into hers as they came.

The three of them collapsed into one another breathing heavily and weakly clinging to each other, willing their heartbeats to slow and their pleasure to linger. Easy kisses were shared between them and fingertips traced sweat-damp skin as they laid together for a few peaceful moments.

Kyoka nudged both her and Katsuki. “We gotta clean up.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, getting to his feet and helping them both up and into Kyoka’s bathroom.

Within ten minutes they were semi-dressed and piled back in the bed with Kyoka spooning her and her head on Katsuki’s chest. Fingers tangled in hair and lips pressed to exposed skin let that bliss continue in a sweet way as they laid with one another.

She giggled, thinking back to hours before in the common room when she wasn’t sure what was going to happen in regard to her crushes yet here she was cuddled between them after what was most definitely the most pleasurable night of her life.

“Oi, the hell you laughin’ at?”

“Yeah, no secrets between boyfriends and girlfriends,” Kyoka teased.

She smiled. “Just thinking about how this morning I had crushes on the two hottest people in the class and now I’m dating them.”

“Weird how that shit works out sometimes but I can’t complain when I got the two hottest girls in the class,” Katsuki smirked.

“I’m with you, babe,” Kyoka said with a kiss to her cheek. “I’m just excited I got the drummer and the groupie.”

Damn, she was lucky.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! So yeah I love rhythm section members irl and no I’ve never written a threesome before, why do you ask?

[punksarahreese]

Please for rehearsal AU pls 🍑

Please | Rehearsal

Theatre!AU; Ava’s charms don’t work as she had hoped this time

Word count: 960

Prompt: please

***

“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Bekker?”

Ava rolled her eyes a little at those words, disregarding everything she usually stood for. Ava was raised to be a good girl, always polite and doing as she was told, especially when it came to authority figures. That had died the second she left South Africa, though, because this is what her parents signed up for. If they were going to ruin her chances at a great medical school and early education all for some job in America, then why shouldn’t Ava have a bit of rebellion to teach them a lesson? Besides, this principal was insufferable and she had become sick of her ridiculously cold office. Maybe everything in Chicago was just cold and unwelcoming, that would certainly make sense.

“I have no comment, ma’am,” the honourific held no respect despite its implications and it made Ms. Goodwin raise an eyebrow.

“Your lack of respectful etiquette is glaring, Miss Bekker,” she glanced at the computer which must have had Ava’s student files pulled up, “And yet your previous school spoke so highly of you. You were set to graduate early and had applied to so many medical schools in the country, were you not?”

“I was. Unfortunately adults in my life decided my future didn’t matter. Now I’m in this dump, dragged out of class yet again; so you can probably infer why I have zero respect for any of you.”

“I would watch it if I were you, Ava.”

“Is that a threat, Sharon?” Ava questioned pointedly, running a hand through her perfectly kept hair. She was pushing it, more than she had in the month she had lived there, but her patience was running thin. Her parents had been arguing all night and she barely got any sleep, now here she was stuck in the office instead of her biology lab. Really it would be their fault if she failed, since she had gone to class on time as she always did.

“Clearly detention doesn’t teach you anything. Five separate instances in the past month where you’ve ended up in my office, don’t you get tired of acting out, Ava?”

“I’m getting tired of this conversation.”

“The security video shows that it was you who broke the sprinkler latch and triggered the fire alarm yesterday. Absolutely nothing warranted that, so clearly it was another one of your antics, wasn’t it?”

“Can you blame me?” Ava leaned back in the squeaky chair, crossing one leg over the other languidly, “Those assemblies you hold are absolutely insufferable. I was already missing class for a mind numbing reason and standing outside for an hour was much more enthusing, if you ask me.”

The principal’s look for exasperation was amusing, making Ava quite pleased. She would never act like this back home but at this rate she had nothing to lose. All they did in this school was give out detentions, which were just boring above all. It gave her a chance to sit in silence and finish homework anyway, and any place was better than the joke of a house she lived in now.

“The school corrections officer and I have decided that you need a bit more motivation to behave, miss Bekker, so here is the deal. You will deal with a two week suspension that will go on your permanent record and have you marked as absent for those 14 days, which should give you some incentive to do better in the future.”

That had Ava’s stomach flipping anxiously, realizing she had maybe pushed a bit too hard much too fast. As much as she had developed a “didn’t ask, don’t care” attitude since her move, attendance and grades were still the top priority for her. She was never absent, not even tardy without a reason or excuse, and she had sustained her top of the class status even in Chicago. Detention after school she could handle, since it didn’t impede directly on the school day at all, but a suspension was not part of the plan. She understood she had stepped out of line maybe a bit too far but this was unexpected, considering Gaffney high school didn’t seem to be much of a harsh punishment type institution.

“Respectfully, Ms. Goodwin,” she said slowly as she tried to turn the script, “I would prefer another option.”

“This isn’t a prize to be bargained, Ava.”

“I understand that, I just think it is an unfair punishment. Taking away my education for two weeks because I was peacefully protesting an irrelevant assembly that interrupted my learning? A bit redundant, don't you agree?”

“Causing panic and wasting the time of first responders for a fake fire is not my idea of peace. I think you would benefit from this punishment, as it clearly upsets you.”

“That’s cruel,” Ava retorted, “Is there no other option?”

Sharon stopped, looking at the teenager with an unreadable expression. Her annoyed exhale was very audible, clearly wishing Ava had just decided to go with the two weeks off school like every other delinquent kid would have. Ava Bekker was a mystery, she decided, and she had no clue what to do with her.

“Please…”

“Community service,” she said firmly, “That’s your only other option. The rest of the term, every school day after hours for two hours.”

“Done.”

“Miss Bekker, are you serious?”

Ava shrugged, “What are you making me do, clean up trash? That’s better than permanently ruining my academic standing.”

“You will be an assistant for the drama club’s spring production,” Goodwin answered, “Odd jobs, line reading, clean up, stage decorating; whatever they need.”

“I-”

“Drama club or suspension, that’s final.”

[doomstypewriter]

Warmth

I’m back with some Moceit because, god, the new video shook me. 

AO3

Summary: 

Patton wants to say something very important to Janus.

What anyone can get from that in the end is that he is very gay and in panic and should probably just talk things out with Roman.

It would have made it easy if Patton had clearly taken a side in his and Roman’s vicious back-and-forth. But he’d mostly maintained himself neutral. Not to mention how laughably good it had felt to hear him imply he was right. And now that. No implications. Outright appreciation. Why did warmth feel so unbecoming? “What?” he answered in a tiny voice shoved in the middle of an exhalation. His face puckered ever-so-slightly. Yearning. It would have been more useful to keep it as a thought

.

Word count:

1690

TW: 

Maybe unsympathetic Roman, but this is all from Janus' point of view (the general posture is neutral), Janus being a sarcastic bitch, a mention of Remus doing some whacky stuff but nothing mayor, mild arguing but gets sorted out. (Nothing more I can think of, still, if you do find something, please tell me).

Warmth

“So, Janus…” Patton began to speak feeling his way around.

He saw a change coming, on Thomas’ position regarding the dark sides and how that would affect them all. He had already taken a chance with Virgil at the time. He’d never regret that choice. Maybe that was the reason why he had gone there. 

“Yes, that’s my name, don’t wear it out so soon, you just found out about it” answered Janus, leaning his elbow on the back of his left hand, while the right one bent in a dramatic gesture, almost touching his shoulder.

Janus looked everywhere except at him. In all honesty, he found everything about that situation perfectly comfortable and, no, the interaction was not at all forced nor the silence awkward. 

“By all means, do stay there just standing” after hearing this Patton made a sound of confusion, as if he was frowning with his voice. Because, heaven knows he’d sooner pass out than frown in public. As amusing as that mental image was, he had to clarify it, otherwise Mr. Nice over there would never cut to the chase. “By that I mean that we both got stuff to do, and, even though I enjoy your company so, so much, I have complots to plan and Remus won’t get unburied by himself; I imagine you’ll have cookies to bake, camp songs to sing or something equally vital for this world”. 

Patton took a breath. For a moment it seemed as it a confession was about to happen, something trascendental, information of a caliber that changes lives, ideas. Not yet. 

A small, apparently unrelated, laugh escaped him. 

“I didn’t mean to make you nervous”. 

This time, Janus did look at him straight in the eye. Patton felt he had been shoved under the bus of his gaze, it was not painful, but quite intimidating. Which was weird because, if Virgil was anything to go by, Janus had the tendency to shove people down a flight of stairs, not busses. Still, he played dumb and kept his goofy facade on.  

“Nervous?” the eyebrow of Janus’ human side raised to a height that could have been a mile, in a road trip straight to an expression of dubiousness. What a time on the cat-bus, or, well, snake-bus. 

He could have explained he’d come to realise that Janus had the pesky habit of deflecting with sass and not-so-subtle melodrama when confronted with something he did not like or when he got nervous. After all, his way of acting centered around getting what he disliked out of sight. Patton knew this first hand. Not because he knew Janus well, rather, due to the fact that he knew himself well enough. There are things one prefers to ignore. 

Patton had preferred to ignore the familiarity in Janus’ purpose and his, their personalities and motivations; which wasn’t exactly neat, being a dad and all. 

Perhaps it was time to step forward. 

To grow up. 

“I didn’t say it before and I think it’s not right for me to not let you know--”. 

Pursing his lips in an almost duckface, the reptile looked done with everything, and he hadn’t even heard the entire sentence. He rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows, surprisingly proving that more of a bitch-face was indeed possible. 

“The entire interaction has been a delight and all, but let’s cut it here. If this is about Royal Pains then you don’t need to ‘let me know’ anything, he made himself clear, contrary to popular belief snakes are not deaf”. 

“That was not what I wanted to say” and, in all honesty, he would have rather not have Janus mention it. Now he was morally compelled to address the elephant in the room. He placed his hands on his hips to give himself an air of authority. “But both Roman and you said pretty nasty things and should go apologise each other”. 

“What a pity, there’s something in all of that jazz about talking to playground bullies that does not appeal to me. If I wanted to speak to children I’d just sit with Remus all day”. 

Patton frowned. 

That didn’t throw Janus off, and, by no means it made him want to comfort him to stop him from being upset. To suggest that would be ridiculous. But, if, let’s say, he did want to provide him with some degree of support, and this is one hundred percent hypothetical, he would hug him. Not that he’d ever  wondered about how that would feel like. 

“Do you think it is okay to just leave Roman feeling awful because you feel awful too?” Patton’s tone was kind as always, but his words did not tell the same story. “It might seem ‘fair’ but it’s not right. Using some other people’s vulnerabilities just because you’re angry, it is not even making you feel better. It only makes everyone more angry and sad. You too. Specially since you need to hear an apology as badly as Roman does--” 

“What would you know about me? I have told you my name, that’s about it. And.what.a.party.that.was. I am so thrilled that when I am at my most vulnerable, when I let my guard low cause I think: come on Janus, maybe it’s worth it, you could finally be heard and actually do your job… sorry, NO!” as if to further his point, or, most likely, his anger, he added a single fake laugh. “Someone has to barge in and make me feel like an absolute idiot for not hiding something for once. How is it that when Roman repeatedly uses others people’s vulnerabilities against people, for the sake of satiating his own need for self-importance, you turn a blind eye on it; but, when I do it I must be reprimanded? You’re all so self-righteous. Let me be the villain if needed be. I don’t need no apologies because neglecting the validation of the importance of my role is something I have always been able to handle. I don’t want your praise. Telling you my name is the last thing--” 

“Thank you”. 

The air left his lungs in a rush. All determination carried within his words deflated like a soufflè that had had the oven door opened too soon. A part of him bent to the gut punch of that sentence. He wanted to pry the mask of his eye caps. Cry. Always thinking that hearing it would leave him satisfied, proud, not disgruntled. Nevermind that quiet voice in the back of his head, screaming: yes! Finally! Finally. 

It would have made it easy if Patton had clearly taken a side in his and Roman’s vicious back-and-forth. But he’d mostly maintained himself neutral. Not to mention how laughably good it had felt to hear him imply he was right. And now that. No implications. Outright appreciation. Why did warmth feel so unbecoming? 

“What?” he answered in a tiny voice shoved in the middle of an exhalation. His face puckered ever-so-slightly. Yearning. It would have been more useful to keep it as a thought.

“That is what I came here to tell you. I forgot to say so before, with all fuzz, taking care of Roman and Thomas… I’m a busy dad, but I have to give an example, and when someone does something nice for you, you say thank you. I apologised so many times I forgot to say it more”. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you. Caring for Thomas… I was just doing my job”. 

“Yeah, but you did one snek of a job,” Patton laughed in a poor effort to break the tension between them. Only to fall back into the saccharine section of his disgustingly and not-at-all-endearing registre.“Janus, and it’s not okay to ignore that. Also… you kinda saved me”. 

Validation was something, huh. 

“You’re welcome, I guess”. 

It seemed that almost giving him a heart-attack was not enough. Patton had zero self-control and simply threw himself at Janus to capture him in a constraining hug. Who was the albino boa constrictor here? 

Not only did Patton smell like vanilla, cinnamon and a taint of chocolate, he was also oven-level of warm. The pillow-like feeling to his embrace would have made anyone sink in like a baby. 

Holy shit. 

If it hadn’t been so sudden Janus would have lost any shred of dignity and poise he’d hope to keep. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous again” Patton disentangled himself from the other, seeing no reciprocation occuring. Maybe he should just change the subject and leave.

That had been horrible. Janus would forever deny the impulse to just melt Patton had so thoughtfully gifted him with. 

“I know Roman isn’t always... the kindest, but he really doesn’t mean it. He’ll change his mind about you eventually. I hope you can forgive each other then”. 

Janus looked at him with intensity. 

“I… need time”. 

“That is okay” he paused, considering. He might as well just take the second cookie. Fingers extended, because crossing them would make it really hard for him to grab the cookie, heh. “I’m not the smartest one, but if you ever need anything, I make really good muffins and always listen. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to, you can say you came over because it’s warm”. 

“Only in for white lies. Lacks style, but it might make you slightly tolerable”. 

It was a bit sad to hear. Patton had hoped for a different kind of answer, but if Janus didn’t want to confide in him that couldn’t be forced. He’d have to give him some space and prove his good intentions one little step at a time. 

“Well, this frog is getting back to his pond. I’ll let you get back--” 

“I won’t consider your offer”. 

Oh? 

Oh!

Patton’s face lit up in the brightest of smiles. 

‘Great timing’ thought Janus. So opportune to just keep on nagging him towards a heart-attack. Wonderful.

“Oh, Janus” said Patton, just before he left. 

“What?” he asked, yet again. 

“It is a lovely name”. 

Taglist: 

@girl-with-many-fandoms , @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me  , @snek-snacc , @oddpopsicle , @your-boi-leon  ,  @many-fandoms-trash , @rubixn , @theantisocialghost

[thevindicativevordan]

Terra-Man

I created a section for Superman Rogues in my Superman masterpost so I feel obligated to actually write about a character for there. But I don’t really want to dive into the nuances of Lex or any of the big guns just yet, so how about we talk about a guy most people don’t even know exists?

Terra-Man friends! The Pre-Crisis version was created by Cary Bates, Curt Swan, and Dick Dillin. Based on Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name”, he was a child of the old American Wild West, with his father killed by an alien. Young Tobias Manning was then adopted by said alien out of guilt. The alien took Tobias with him out into the cosmos, trained him, and crafted high tech weaponry for him that resembled weapons used by 19th century cowboys. He was also gifted with slowed aging that gave him nigh-immortality. Tobias killed his alien guardian and struck out on his own as an interstellar criminal, taking the name “Terra-Man” to homage his Earth roots. His Pre-Crisis fights with Superman varied between him being treated as a bizarre gag villain and a deadly serious threat.

Spoilers: The guy who ages up Superman is Tobias. He actually comes across as a legitimate threat in the story, using preptime to outwit Clark repeatedly:

And it was the first time I had read a story with Terra-Man in it that made me go “this guy could be a legitimate threat”. Of course Bates had more creativity in his pinkie than a lot of creators produce in their entire careers, and the Post-Crisis revamp of Terra-Man really sucked:

They got rid of his cowboy hat (a creative felony if I ever saw one), and revamped him as a businessman who had a crisis of conscience over the environmental damage he was causing, and thus set out on a crusade to protect the environment. They kept the high tech weaponry, and gave a lot of it an ecological spin, he had gadgets that allowed him to drain Superman’s solar levels to make him susceptible to weaponry, but the background motivation has aged poorly. Given the current environmental state of the world, more people would probably cheer this version of Tobias on as a hero (just look at Green Arrow or the Poison Ivy fans!) than want to see Superman beat him up. Also he still talked like an old school cowboy for some bizarre reason? Or maybe that was just how writers thought every Texan talked.

Anyway he ended up getting ripped in half by Black Adam and basically has been gone ever since as far as I’m aware:

 So he’s been absent for two whole reboots now, New 52 & Rebirth, so I feel entitled to give my idea for how to make him work as a Superman Rogue. First up: his design. None of the ones I posted above really worked for me, none of them look “cool”, and if Venom and Carnage have taught us anything it’s that 90% of why some villains stick around is that they look cool. The Pre-Crisis one is too plain looking, he looks generic, the Post-Crisis look lacks a hat and the cowboy theme and is thus unacceptable. Luckily there’s already two very cool looking sources to draw on for a new design:

Guy front and center is Terra-Man from the Legion of Superheroes cartoon, and my first introduction to the character. His backstory was heavily modified for the show, but he was a stone cold badass, forcing Imperiex and Superman X to team up to beat him. Think Cad Bane from The Clone Wars by way of Terminator and you basically get the gist. I honestly wouldn’t mind just straight up taking that design and adding the mustache of the comic version. But there’s another source to draw from:

How the hell this guy never caught on I’ll never know. Maybe because Morrison never gave him enough badass moments during their Action run? But Nimrod has a very cool design, and he also has some crazy weapons like a gun that shoots telepathic bullets, he already feels somewhat like a Terra-Man revamp to me. I’d take the idea of a helmet/full body suit and the crazy high-concept tech weapons from Nimrod & Pre-Crisis Terra-Man, and combine it with the color scheme, basic outfit and hat of the animated Terra-Man. That would be a really cool design that would get people interested in Tobias I feel.

Second off: the name. Maybe I was just dumb as a kid, but I was always wondering why animated Terra-Man never used his earthbender powers. He clearly had them, why else would he call himself Terra-Man and not Space Cowboy? In the interest of retroactively justifying my young self’s stupidity, I propose a new name: The Terran. I think that does a better job of conveying what his deal is, that he’s a former resident of Earth aka Terra who has gone out and made a name for himself in the cosmos. Think of the children who will no longer be confused about why he’s not throwing boulders at his foes. I rest my case.

Third and finally: The motivation. Why does this guy show up on Earth? What’s his deal? Why does he hate Superman? Well I think there’s some easy justification in explaining why he would finally return to Earth in the first place by making him a hunter like Nimrod was. Terran is out to hunt the most dangerous creatures of a species for sport and profit. Guess who has an Intergalactic Zoo in his Fortress, containing last members of extinct species some of whom posses hides or organs that would fetch high prices on the galactic black market? That’s an easy way to justify why the two would first come to blows, and where the root of the contempt for each other would begin.

But that would only be the beginning. See there’s some very interesting twists on the Superman concept with Tobias. He inverts a lot of the core components of Superman. He’s a human who was abducted and adopted by aliens as a child. He got his “powers” from his alien father, and his “name” from the aliens he worked for and killed. He’s a human straight out of Earth’s past, a literal Man of Yesterday. I think you could do some very interesting stuff by contrasting the two, and one of the big ways to do it would be to make Tobias Manning gay.

Yeah yeah get your jokes out of the way but hear me out: Tobias is from 19th century America, not exactly known for it’s tolerance of homosexuality (or anything non-WASP really). Part of why Tobas stayed away for so long then was that he felt alienated from his home planet. He thought he would never be accepted there, and thus stayed away and tried to carve out a life for himself in space where at least no one looked down on him for who he loved. So when he finally comes back and sees the way things have improved he’s overjoyed. Finally he can be himself among his own kind, he doesn’t have to stay away from Earth anymore, he can stay here and reconnect with his heritage. But then he runs into another barrier: He was raised according to 19th century American norms as a kid, then by alien norms for the rest of his life. He has zero in common with regular humans in the 21st century DCU Earth. His speech is antiquated and peppered with alien words no one understands, marking him as odd. Nobody shares any of his interests, and his job, which would’ve been cool and badass in the 19th century, now invites disgust in everyday conversations. Tobias may have been a human born on Earth, but he was born in the Wild West and raised in space, and he’s become totally alienated from the rest of humanity.

Enter Superman, an alien born on another planet but perfectly able to live amongst humanity since he was raised by them and educated in their modern standards. He’s white-passing and straight, and those two attributes help him be accepted. It would absolutely piss Tobias off that this alien is viewed as more human than he is, is accepted where he is not, and that would fuel the fires of resentment. So when he and Clark cross paths, Tobias is out for blood. Not just to beat/kill Superman, but to embarrass him, humiliate him, make him the outcast for everyone to point and gawk at. Also killing one of the last Kryptonians would really help cement Tobias’ reputation as a stone cold badass hunter which doesn’t hurt either.

On Superman’s side, part of him would absolutely despise Tobias for being a poacher, for hunting and killing endangered species, for trying to kill or humiliate him. He’d be put off by Tobias’ 19th century ideal of manhood and enjoyment of killing, something Superman wholeheartedly abhors. But on the other hand he would absolutely empathize with Tobias’ frustration. Clark has felt alienated from humanity at points himself, but also recognizes that he was lucky to look and be like he does given where he landed. He’d want to try to reach this guy, to connect with him, given how much he can sympathize with the longing for a place where you can be yourself without fearing rejection from others. Whether he would ever succeed is anyone’s guess.

I realize the possible pitfalls in making a prominent villain, who is also a cowboy gay, but I do think what I have here is an interesting way at looking at the very concept of “alieness”, a topic often explored in Superman stories. I’d add a prominent gay member to Superman’s supporting cast as a counterbalance too, either to the Daily Planet or the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit.

So yeah that’s how I’d revamp Tobias into the Terran.

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms- Goodbye Cruel World

Part 22

Second to last chapter. The last chapter is almost going to be more like an epilogue, by the way. I fit... A lot into this? It feels like a lot even though it mostly stays all in one room in pretty much one continuous scene. Anyways, it's almost the end, my friends.

CLOSED LIST of wonderful people: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

"You are no longer permitted to leave the house," Damian huffed, crossing his arms and staring Mari down.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Every time you leave, you come back with even more strangers. You are obviously incapable of going out on your own without collecting strays."

"I don't know, you seem to enjoy all our guests so far," Marinette answered, ruffling the boy's hair before picking him up onto her hip and wondering over to the couch.

Dick dropped into the seat across from them, observing the way she coddled the boy settled onto her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to Damian, tracing fingers through his hair as Jason sat beside her, arm thrown over her shoulders. The rest of the team had dispersed, staying within the city despite the urge to travel, not comfortable leaving the two completely, though respecting their need for privacy in these times.

Tim stood across the room, carefully blank, but everyone in the room could tell he felt unsure which side he belonged on more. Closer to the man who acted as his older brother despite the distance or the two teens who took him in and provided him shelter as though he were their own.

"So. You're the soulmate who toyed with me all those years ago," Dick broke the silence, faulty irritation maring his expression.

"Oh don't act like you were oh so sure of my having one," Jason cut in, smirk inching across his face.

"I told you, you acted off sometimes! I even suggested it wasn't you really in there," he perked up at the easy response.

"Suggested, but never truly caught on enough to say for sure," Mari responded now.

Here, Dick narrowed in on her once more, "You're the one who altered my suit, weren't you?"

"Might have done."

"And adjusted my equipment?"

"Guilty."

"The haircut?!"

"That one was me actually. That mullet was burning my eyes," Jason admitted.

"And… saving Tim?" He asked with heavy, guilt ridden eyes, catching the yet silent teen's attention at the focus lying on him instead of the events surrounding his capture.

"Both," they answered together.

"I can't thank you enough for looking out for him. Preventing his death. I can't say what I would've done had Bruce gotten another Robin killed that way," Dick looked down at his clenched fists, his past fights over his successors with Bruce flashing into all of their minds. There was never meant to be a second Robin. Now one had died and another came close. "I'm sorry, you know. I should've been there for you. For both of you. I probably couldn't have stopped you from helping. From taking the title. But I could've done more, been there for you when you needed it. Been a better brother."

"It wasn't your responsibility to look out for us."

"Excuse me?"

"It would've been nice to be closer, but you had no duty to us. You never adopted us or asked to have your retired position given away. I won't hold it against you for not playing house with some kid who took your place when Bruce kicked you out."

"But I-"

"Act too much like a martyr. Come back apologizing for things you weren't responsible for. Seriously, it's fine. You weren't a thought in my mind when I went after Tim, over there. I just refused to watch someone else follow our fate. You have no place in this mess, beyond having some similar skeletons in your closet."

His fists loosened and his pupils widened, glinting in a watery haze, "No place in this? Jason, you can't think I-" Mari cut him off now.

"That isn't to say we wouldn't want you to stick around and find a place. Just that you shouldn't hold guilt over what happened to us. Your reactions and emotions held no merit in our death. You need to let this go. It wasn't your fault."

A smile lit his face, a perplexed little thing, as though he couldn't quite grasp the concept of not being responsible for the shortcomings of his adoptive father. He opened up his mouth as though to correct them, only for the door to open just then, an older man entering the home.

"Master Jason has become quite wise in his time away, has he not?"

Jason was the first to react, removing himself from the couch and meeting the man halfway to pull Alfred into a much needed hug. As the two embraced, Mari nudged Damian up to stand and led the way over. The two men seperated and turned towards them, Alfred appraising her with warm, knowing eyes.

"Miss Marinette, what a pleasure to see you in your own body."

 Letting out a bark of laughter, she lurched forward into a hug of her own before turning to gesture her boy closer, "Alfred, this is Damian. We came to be family before our escape," she picked her words with care, knowing he would understand her meaning without making it too easy for the other two in the room. Likely, the little bird in the room would figure it out without the added help.

The elderly butler introduced himself to Damian, taking the distrustful look and tense posture in stride as the kid took his hand carefully for a small handshake. He, however, did cut his eyes back to Marinette afterwards, a question in his eyes that she offered a shrug to. She couldn't answer with complete certainty, but knew Alfred saw the possibility of the kid's parentage. It helped that he already knew she had spent years in close proximity to Talia, explaining how this could come to fruition.

Damian took the moment to grab onto Jason's hand and tug slightly, letting his grip on Mari fall away as he was brought back towards the living room where the other two still watched, though Dick had stood up and now made his way over to offer his own greeting.

Marinette took this time to speak with Tim, who stayed quiet and still until now, "Tim?" His shoulders tensed in an aborted jump, "Would you like some time alone with Alfred?"

His eyes bore into her, studying her as though for ulterior motives, unsure what to make of the offer. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"You saw him nearly everyday for two years. Your main caretaker and likely only human contact as a civilian that was consistent. To go from that to zero contact for weeks on end… surely that must be quite the adjustment. I can keep the rest occupied for now if you'd like."

His gaze stayed weary for only a second before gratitude leaked in, nodding once, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course. Go ahead, dear, I'll keep Richard from trying to hover and butt in," she smiled, ushering him forward right as Dick joined Jason back in the living room and Alfred made way to the kitchen, ever knowing exactly where he was needed. The layout may be open, but the position of the furniture and distance gave the two some privacy for the time being.

"Damian, was it?" Dick began as they settled into their seats once more.

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Why do you ask?" Dami retorted.

Dick's surprised look told them that Barbara had not felt the need to inform him of where the boy came from, if she even bothered to mention the child at all.

"Just curious is all. I would like to know who got so close with Jason and his soulmate."

"Marinette is more than just his soulmate, she's her own person," he growled, tensing up only for Jason to wrap his arms about him in a comforting gesture.

Dick immediately backtracked, "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. You're absolutely right and I'm sorry for implying anything else."

Damian glared before turning to look up at Jason, "Who is he, again?"

"That's Dick, my… older brother. So kind of like your uncle," Jason laughed at the kid's sour expression.

…

Over half an hour passed before Alfred and Tim made their way back into the living room, the four already present taking the time to catch up and get to know each other. Damian took this moment to suggest putting on a movie, which Marinette whole heartedly seconded. 

"Alright, anyone spending the night, get ready for bed! I'm not dragging you lot around half asleep and whiny," Jason announced, ushering Dami into his room as Tim headed for the bathroom and Marinette found herself grumbling on her way into the bedroom as Jason set up the movie. 

Upon returning, all in pajamas with teeth brushed, Marinette settled into the arm of the couch, Tim sat to her side and Dick remained in the armchair as Damian went into the kitchen for water, The Chronicles of Narnia starting up on the screen. When Jason joined them, he drew Alfred into a hug, the man having already offered his goodnight and well wishes to the group, and showed him out.  Having locked up and settled opposite to Mari, he let Damian pull himself up beside him only to drag the kid into his lap where he huffed in indignation, but snuggled closer.

No one fully bothered with the movie, softly speaking over it.

"Everything alright?" Mari whispered to Tim, the boy scooting closer to hear her better.

"Yeah, we just had a lot to talk about."

"Did it help?"

"... Yeah. He helped me work through some things. To make some decisions," he glanced at her, lips quirking up hesitantly.

"Oh? Anything I should know about?" She felt her own face lilt up with mirth and encouragement in equal parts.

Tim seemed to stop breathing for a second, wholy still and silent, before breaking into a slow, steady breath, "Marinette, would it be alright if I stayed here? Permanently?" 

She looked over his head to meet Jason's gaze, his eyes soft and warm, nodding in agreement. She saw both Dick and Damian lean forward, eyes fixed on them in rapt attention, awaiting her answer. She felt certain Tim knew of this, but kept his eyes firmly on her. Settling further into her seat, she took his hand gently and nodded.

"Of course you can, Tim. This is your home now too. We'll have to make some adjustments, though," she saw his expression turn wary, "No way are you living on the couch."

At that, his face twisted into a relieved gratitude, shoulders slumping and body falling back into the cushions, "Thank you," he murmured.

She felt her eyes soften as she slowly drew him into a hug, leaving room to escape, "Welcome to the family, Birdy."

…

Within an hour of the movie's start, Tim fell asleep, slumped against Marinette, where she wrapped her arms carefully around him, almost completely out herself.

"I'm glad he has you guys. I would've taken him with me when he first showed up, but let's be honest. I'm hardly equipped to take care of myself. At least there, he had Alfred," Dick spoke in hushed tones, taking in how the two almost cuddled together, how the small child, Damian, curled up against Jason's chest in a sleepy daze of his own. How they made a makeshift family unit. He couldn't help the pained twitch to his smile at their easy love for each other, "He's in good hands here. You make a much better older brother than I did."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Jason half sneered, eyes narrowed, "You did your best. Don't think I haven't noticed what you did for him. Went out of your way quite a few times. For all of us, whether you needed to or not. And this better not be goodbye either. I'm fed up with losing people. You're ugly mug better make a regular appearance around us or I'll never forgive you," Jason gave a cruel smirk, knowing Dick will see the sincerity of it despite this. He couldn't help but enjoy the return of their old antagonistic relationship.

An appreciative little smile spread over Dick's face as he stood up, the movie having ended already. He followed as Jason lifted Dami and made way to deposit the boy into his bed for the night. 

"Yeah… I suppose I could visit every now and then."

Stopping in front of the other two on the couch, he stared down at them for a moment, unsure how to move them. Mari took that moment to open her eyes, blinking blearily at them. They carefully maneuvered Tim up into Jason's arms so that she could stand up, only for her to tug them towards the bedroom where she made him place Tim into the bed, following him back out to say goodbye to Dick.

"He sleeps with us tonight? Poor birdy is touch starved," she sleepily asked, receiving a fake sigh of exasperation and agreeance.

They then watched as Damian snuck out of his own room and went into theirs as well.

"They're going to take over our room at this rate," he spoke without an ounce of regret. She only shrugged in acknowledgment.

At the front door, Dick tugged Marinette into an easy hug, wishing her a goodnight and to get some rest. Turning, he froze before dragging Jason into a tight, crushing hug, "I'm so happy you're okay, Jay. I missed you so damn much."

"Yeah. I missed you too," Jason hovered only to hug him back, face ducking into his shoulder. They pulled back and offered each other small, hopeful smiles before offering one last goodbye. And then Dick was gone.

Door locked, the two turned to each other, reaching out for the other's hand simultaneously. Their eyes met and without another word, they headed to bed, where the rest of their little family awaited them.

[sylvie-writes]

No Way No

I definitelyyyy didn’t change the title so it matched the song by Magic...No way no *nervous laugh*

Request: can i request a fluffy fic where steve comforts the reader who is maybe afraid of flying on planes or riding with him on his motorcycle and he's just very lovely and sweet about it -anon

Thanks for the request, lovely anon! Oh! I hope you don’t mind that I kinda changed up a part of this. Fair warning this is unedited, so there might be some mistakes.

Honestly you have no clue how you got here. No really, it all happened in a flash and now you couldn’t go back. Whatever idea motivated you to do this, well you were insane at the time.

Stupid Steve...

You could NEVER tell him no, and vice versa.

So here you were with a very animated Steve trying to coax you to get on the motorcycle.

“Babe it’s completely safe. I promise. C’mere.”

Steve waved you over to the motorcycle as you just stood in utter shock at the demon vehicle. When you didn’t budge, Steve defeatedly sighed before walking over to usher you towards the vehicle.

“C’mon--” His hand was on the small of your back, gently pushing you to get on.

With all your strength, you pushed his rock hard abs, but to no surprise he didn’t move at all.

“NO WAY. I’VE SEEN THE WAY YOU DRIVE, ROGERS!”

“Babe-”

“NO! YOU DRIVE LIKE A MAD MAN.”

Steve just laughed at your over dramatic statement. Quickly, Steve straddled the seat and motioned for you to get on.

How in the hell you managed this next part, no one knows, not you, not even Steve. For some odd reason you complied.

Like a koala you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, laying your head in the crook of his neck. Sure it might’ve been a death grip, but Steve still smiled happily, and leaned back to kiss your head.

Needless to say the whole ride you were muttering profanities, putting no trust in Steve whatsoever. When you got back to the compound, you practically kissed the ground, thanking God you made it home in one piece. It hadn’t really set in that you had just done that, and when the reality hit, your blood went cold and you immediately popped up from the ground.

“NEVER AGAIN, STEVE ROGERS!” Angrily, you waved your finger in his face and stomped away.

Turning on your heel, you were about to say one more thing when you caught Steve shrugging to the security camera. You put two and two together. Bucky and Sam.

The two of them were probably getting a kick out of this and you weren’t gonna let that happen. You could imagine their stupid grins as they watched the footage. Instead of giving a piece of your mind to Steve, you flipped off the camera, or more so the two guys watching. Once he saw what you did, Steve tried to stifle his laughter which didn’t work and he was now full on laughing.

Of course it didn’t end there.

Nope, the next week Steve had managed to make you do another thing you were absolutely terrified of. SKYDIVING.

The man would jump out like it was the easiest thing in the world, no fear or anything. But, when it came time for you to try, you were positive that it was the end. Sure, you had seen him jump out on many missions, but there’s a difference. Steve is a super soldier who could care less what would happen to him.

The back end of the quinjet was open and Steve was once again trying to coax you. This time he had a parachute in his hands, attempting to harness you in it.

“Sweetheart, we have to jump.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and walked closer to Steve.

“Fine. I’ll only jump if I go with you.” Your arms were tightly crossed over your chest in a challenging manner. This had to be the deal breaker, you were hoping Steve would reject and you wouldn’t have to jump to your ultimate death.

“Ok!”

Oh my gosh was he a little too excited for this!

How was he excited???

In your baffled state, you just froze, not expecting his answer. Even when he came back with the harnesses, you were still stuck to the ground. Steve had to move your limbs around as you were still processing what just happened.

When everything was settled and in place, you and Steve moved forward to jump from the pad.

What was even more terrifying was that it was nighttime, meaning zero light. You couldn’t even see below. As you stared into the endless void, Steve walked forward, launching you both from the quinjet, and startling you, erupting more profanities.

“HOLY SHI--” Steve quickly covered your mouth with his hand before returning to the flying position.

It was absolutely impossible to have a conversation at the moment.

“YOU DON’T WANT BUGS.” Steve was yelling at the top of his lungs trying to warn you.

It felt like forever till you reached the ground, and when the grass was under your feet, you unbuckled yourself. You just shook your head disapprovingly, turning to stare Steve in the eyes.

“Never again, Steve Rogers.” And with that you walked away, still internally screaming.

a/n: So sorry this was short and full of repetitive and dull wording, I was pretty slammed today, but i wanted to get this out for you anon!

Check out my other work where it’s a lot nicer (≧∀≦)