#and says that there's nothing he hates more than oppression. or something along those lines

[wereh0gz]

Will never understand how someone can claim to be a Sonic fan and also be bigoted

Like. Bro. You apparently like a franchise that's all about living life to the fullest, being unabashedly yourself(!!) and opposing oppression(!!!!) because it's the right thing to do, and you're still a homophobe? You're still a transphobe? After seeing Sonic's gay little ass beat the shit out of a robo fascist and fight the evils of the universe with the power of friendship??

Like are we even fans of the same thing or???

[kamenstranger]

X-men '97 (mostly) spoiler free Review.

I'll be honest, when X-men '97 was announced I didn't think much of it. I've held a long stance of (at best) indifference towards reboots, remakes, or continuations of legacy properties. At worst, I hold a deep cynicism towards the often mishandling and cheap regurgitation to cash in on nostalgia.

The thing that most often goes wrong with such things is either it becomes so different one questions why it has X name attached instead of being a whole new thing, or it's so similar it does nothing new and only serves to callback fond memories and memes spawned from the original. It's a delicate balance to be familiar yet fresh. More often than not, it goes terribly wrong.

X-men '97 does not suffer that fate.

The most shocking thing about '97 isn't how much it feels like a proper continuation in every sense one could possibly achieve, but how better it is top to bottom. Sure, it has surface level nostalgia like the intro, callbacks, and the occasional campy tone (although never quite as much as the OG series, which lets be real, is for the better.) But it also understands how paramount it is to elevate and evolve the narrative with what the show explores, rather than relying on the familiar. The kids who grew up with the original are in their 30s if not their early 40s, and the ones that didn't remain children want more nuance and complexity. Not to mention the original, for all the good, is extremely flawed.

There's a story I read about Genndy Tartakovsky having a sign outside his office in the heyday of Cartoon Network that said something along the lines of "Make the Cartoons the way you think you remember." The idea being that a lot of people don't recognize the flaws in the shows they enjoyed at kids and have false idealized versions of those memories. '97 feels like that philosophy in some ways. It feels like all the legitimately good aspects cranked up to 11, and a lot of the lesser parts filtered out; an idealized version of what the original could be. In fact, Tartakovsky might be an apt comparison in another way, in that it feels as natural a progression as Samurai Jack with how it matured upon a revival, but without losing the parts that made the original so endearing.

Where X-men '97 hooked me was as early as ep. 2. Magneto gives a speech to the UN stating "As a boy, my people's homes were burned to ash because we dared to call God by another name. Then, my people hunted me with those who had once hunted them." The balls to go there hit like a truck and made me realize where this series was going. It might be trite to say "This isn't your childhood X-men" as if to imply some dark bend to the series. But no, this is simply an X-men that doesn't play coy with the analogies or side skirt death because of broadcast standards. It's an X-men allowed explore topics and stories in a manner much closer to the comics. The greatest example of that here is with Magnus, who for the first time is treated with a level of complexity I've not seen in any adaptive work.

The thing I love about Magneto is his versatility as a villain. He's full of himself, and goes too far in areas, but often still makes a good point. And even if he has those two flaws, is that much different than Xavier? Is his way ultimately more correct even if not 100% so? Conversely, you can easily turn him into a megalomaniac, unquestionably in the wrong-- yet still somewhat sympathetic because much of Humanity has reinforced time after time that it's oppress or be oppressed, with no alternative or in-between. That also makes him very interesting as someone who struggles to change their ways, to avoid falling down that slippery slope of becoming that very thing he so hates.

It should come as no surprise that this added focus on Magneto results in some killer lines throughout the run. The trailer made it clear that he would become leader of the X-men after Charles' apparent death at the end of the original series (as an aside, pay close attention to the language used when referring to Charles, it's very clever.) About half this season deals with Magnus building towards something beyond the school and beyond the X-men with the Island Nation of Genosha, creating a proper haven for Mutants to exist freely and in the open. He's honestly one of if not my favorite part of the show, both as a character and how that characterization helps drive the plot. Of course it's just one of many. Another big focus is Scott and Jean's relationship, the pregnancy, the fear of and eventual birthing of a child into a world that hates and fears them. That added dimension makes Scott a lot more nuanced this go around. Ideally, Cyclops should make difficult and perhaps unpopular decisions that are ultimately for the better, justifying his position as someone capable of making choices others would not. In practice, a lot of instances have Scott making boneheaded decisions and being a punching bag for Wolverine. People like to hate on the dude, and I don't blame them. It's very easy to make someone like that unlikable, and most of time, writers do.

But '97 gives a lot more personal scenes with him, showing how he's scared of his position, how Xavier's absence added a great weight upon his shoulders. Not to mention one of their greatest enemies-- the one ideologically opposite of Charles-- is entrusted with carrying on Xavier's dream, not him, not even another X-men. Then there's the baby on the way, everything that happens afterwards which is just the cherry on the shit sundae. I felt bad for Scott, the poor guy is sent thought the ringer this season. But that also makes him and his relationship with Jean legitimately interesting.

Meanwhile, the latter half of a show blows up into a much bigger cataclysmic event that actually manages to pull off some of the best suspense, trepidation, and "Oh shit, what next?" moments that few series achieve with such a level of success or frequency.

All that said, as much praise as I have for the story and characters… the stuff with Rogue is a bit weird and will probably be the most off putting aspect during the first half.

This is one of those parts I can't really skim over in a mostly spoiler free fashion, so get ready. For half the show Rogue spends a lot of time with Magneto after he takes over the X-men, and it's a source of friction for Gambit. And you think you know how this is going; Rogue obviously has some sorta past with Magnus no one else knows about, which makes sense given her checkered history, and Gambit is horribly misinterpreting that prior relationship as something more out of jealousy.

But no, Gambit was right. It was a lot more than just partners in crime. See, Magnus' whole electromagnet field can protect him from Rogue while the two still feel a touch, as it where, and they took full advantage of that way back when. So yeah, that's a thing that happened.

I get what they're going for; giving Rogue a complicated relationship with a major antagonist, how fair is keeping that information from Gambit, what does that even say about Magnus etc. The comics have done or tried similar things, often to a worse extent. (In fact this is based on a bit from Age of X) Still, it feels a tad weird here, and the age gap certainly plays a role. Which again, I realize is the point. I think part of the hang up on my end is Animated Rogue and Gambit always felt just a tad younger than say Jean, Scott, and Storm-- and the thought of the much older Magnus hooking up with an at the time technically legal Rogue bothers me. Not in an ageist way, but in a Jerry Seinfeld sorta way.

But I think that they're a bit more up there then previously thought. So if this goes back 5 maybe 10 years, that makes it feel less like Magnus was taking advantage of a very lonely and still naive girl, but having a fling with (at minimum) mid 20 something, which has it's own baggage, but is far less creepy and but in-line with Magnus' ego. His crimes against humanity I can forgive, but not acting like a libertarian. As for Rogue…I mean I wouldn't judge her anyway. Especially from her POV. I mean… look at Magnus.

If I couldn't have physical contact with 99% of people, I'd jump at exploring that magnetic pole, too.

That's probably the biggest "issue" I have with the story, and honestly I'm sorta coming around to it because it's told so damn well and leads to some pretty great bits. Rogue's argument with Gambit in particular is heart-wrenching.

And we also get some lovely scenes later in the series with Nightcrawler being a supporting brother to Rogue, which I just adore. I'll admit I'm slightly bias here because Kurt was one of my favorite X-men characters along with Remy, Rogue, and Magneto. So I'm eating good this season.

What I don't care for however is the romance between Forge and Storm. In fact, Storm probably gets the worst arc this season simply due to constraints and timing. It's not bad, but you can really tell hers was meant to be a larger and more intimate tale that was condensed down to what is effectively a single episode hacked to pieces. The passage of time is very poorly conveyed, so it feels like Forge proclaims his love after a week and one romantic dinner. Storm's more internal demons and struggles with her powers, while interesting conceptually, suffers from structural and pacing issues as it's split over two episodes shared with other stories. This is compounded with the fact one episode in-between those two is on the much more grandiose story of Genosha-- which is itself is grounded by that love triangle between Mags, Gambit, and Rogue-- not to mention a number of character deaths as the mid season "Oh shit" moment. The result is a vast cloud being cast over Ororo's narrative. We don't even get to properly delve into the Adversary.

There's some more minor things I can think of; the first episode is a little rough because of the dialogue being very hamfisted. It's made to be friendly to newcomers that didn't watch the original series, which I respect, but the consequence is some very weird statements of facts from characters to others that already know them. I think they knew this, which is why the much better ep. 2 dropped the same day. Smart. Outside ep. 1 it's handled much better. Slight spoiler, but if you know the comics you know about Madelyne Pryor, a clone of Jean with all her memories. OG Jean pops back in, but has a fragmented memory which allows for a much more natural flow of information as she slowly remembers events like the Phoenix and such.

Another use of conveying information to new comers is the newest member to the team, Roberto da Costa AKA Sunspot. Early on Roberto doesn't really have much going on, he's used similar to Jubilee as the audience POV saved by the X-men and that's kinda it. There's sparks between him and Jubilee, but for the most part his story takes a back seat to the much larger going ons. In fact I don't really think he ever comes into his own this season, although he is getting there by the end. However, I do think his character is used well thematically. Roberto's mother is a very wealthy business woman and philanthropist, and she's basically the stereotype of every rich minority liberal. She doesn't mind her son being a mutant, but she wants to keep it secret for social and financial reasons. She holds big charities for mutant causes, but will sell her own son out to authority figures if pressed. I never got invested in Roberto as there simply isn't enough time to focus on how that affects him on a deeper level beyond "Maybe Magneto is right." But I am impressed at showcasing that type of performative ally-ship, and with a parent no less.

I guess the last thing to address the new villain this season. I won't get into the story stuff, but if you know who Bastion is, then you sorta know where this goes anyway. And if you don't, then I won't really be getting too deep into that stuff. To be honest, I don't have a ton to say about him. He is quite different from his comics version to better fit within TAS universe, and he's sympathetic as a result of those changes. Pretty typical with this iteration of X-men to mix, change, and mash storylines across multiple decades. So nothing new there. I think he's a good threat, I like the portrayal of the prime sentinels, he's built up very well as a mysterious puppet master and power house; possibly too good given a "get out of jail free" moment with Jean in the finale. Theo James also does a good job making him sound calm, collected, almost emotionless-- but not bored, which a lot of people struggle with. I just don't really find him all that captivating or fun as a villain compared to say Magneto or Mr. Sinister. What he is, is a good catalyst. And I'm fine with that. X-men thrives on its melodramatic interpersonal relationships to carry damn near any story. Take characters you like, build'em up, have complex emotions, then throw them into scenarios to exacerbate all of that. If you can pull it off, you've got a fine formula for entertaining stories-- so long as you keep evolving those characters and scenarios. So, sure, I don't think Bastion is an all time great, but I'm more interested in the team having to deal with his shit and each other than him specifically, and I'm still getting other villains I do find interesting, so I can't really complain. But that's enough but the story, let's get into the other bits. Animation On the Animation side X-men '97 looks damn good. Comparing it to the original isn't even fair. The original studio, AKOM, was constantly threatened with firing because their output was routinely bad. Be that from a massive workload, poor management, crunch, Saban being a fuck stick, etc. Whatever the cause, the end result was not good. The first episode of X-men aired in an incomplete state, and that sort of trouble plagued the entire production. Heck, fellow Fox Kids series Batman The Animated Series terminated their contract with them for similar errors.

The first episode on '97 meanwhile takes every opportunity to showcase dynamic action. It probably has the most clever combination and uses of the X-men's powers; Scott using his optic blasts for movement, Gambit charging Wolverine's claws, Jean creating a containment field for Storm's tornadoes to increase pressure. That standard of quality is mostly maintained throughout. The biggest critique I can make is that some of the more subtle movements; raised eyebrow; slight head tilt; gritting teeth, tend to have an…off look. It reminds me a lot of the adoption of Flash in the 2010s and other digital animation, where every now and then certain objects just sorta float and slide in an overly smooth fashion, as if someone is simply moving a png around.

Another quirk is that there are A LOT of close ups of eyes. Sometimes that's an artistic choice, but very often it feels like a work around to avoid animating mouth movements for dialogue, showing backgrounds, other characters, and so on. And it's a trick used a wee-bit too much, one I'm hoping is ironed out by next season because it did become distracting by the end. But ya know, this is also better than Castlevania's first two seasons.

Voice Acting.

The voice Acting is great, no surprise there. Hell, the cast was the best thing out of the original series. While the dialogue and the delivery varied wildly, the voices themselves were generally on point, weird takes or direction notwithstanding. Those to me will always be the voices for those characters. I still hear Alison Sealy-Smith when I read Storm's dialogue in comic form, or Lenore Zann's Rogue, or George Buza's Beast. Most of the surviving original cast is back, either as their respective characters, or in other roles if they didn't want/fit the role anymore, as was the case with Catherine Disher and Alyson Court. Hilariously, Morph's original actor, Ron Rubin, now plays President Kelly.

Oddly enough Gambit's original VA, Chris Potter, returns but in the role of Cable. Credit where it's due, this Cable sounds similar to a much gruffer Cyclops, but in such a way that's clearly a different voice. So I think that was a good change.

Speaking of Scott, Ray Chase is the new voice and he knocks it out of the park, absolutely perfect voice for the character that captures the smarmy routine Norm Spencer had. I'm frankly impressed how perfect he fills those shoes, while also adding a world weariness. Likewise, Jennifer Hales is a fantastic choice for Jean. She's played Jean before but this is much more influenced by Disher's performance. Ironically Hale's performance made me realize how perfect she would've been as Jill Valentine, and I'm sorta surprised she was never picked for any of the remakes. Additionally, Hale is clearly having so much fun in a villainous role as the Goblin Queen. In fact, her tone is slightly different for Pryor in general, but my god is the Goblin Queen stuff a joy. It's only like an episode, but Hale is just REVELING in being a baddy.

Nice to see X-men awakening things in people even years later.

Other new cast members include A. J. LoCascio, who does a great job as Gambit. Of course we have new addition Roberto, voiced by Gui Agustini, who fits lovely and speaks Portuguese to boot. Holly Chou takes over Jubilee and is so damn on point I had to double check it wasn't a time-displaced Court. You actually get to hear Chou and Court opposite one another and it is WILD how subtle the differences are. Ross Marquand is also pretty damn close to Cedric Smith's Xavier, albeit a tad younger sounding. One returning member I do want to give special mention to is Cal Dodd's Wolverine. Dodd was always a favorite, and like the others "the voice" of that character to me, and it's great to hear him again. Although I will note it doesn't really sound like 90s Wolverine, with exception to the penultimate episode where it sorta comes back. I'm not sure if they told him to do a rougher voice, if it's just the result of age, or if he's just getting back into it (Logan doesn't have many lines this season) but it's certainly different for most of the run. Every so often you'll also get a very slight inflection of an accent. Now Dodd is Irish born, but he doesn't have an Irish accent, yet I swear I hear one coming from Wolverine. Honestly? It weirdly works simply due to Logan's age and coming from Alberta, which was pretty heavy on immigrants from all the British Empire's isles. So…I kinda dig it, even if I'll always default to the OG performance in my head.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention the incredible music by the Newton Brothers.

But I also don't really know what to say about it beyond "That's some damn fine music and remixing of the Main Theme." Part of the problem is the Soundtrack isn't released at the time of this writing, there's only a single for the opening. But the harrowing vocal version of the theme, the BGM, all that's not released in a format I can point to and tell you to check it out, or even give a name to the ones I like. So... I just have to throw my hands up and say I love their work and am glad they're returning next season.

I hope they remix the second X-men theme from the later seasons. Final Thoughts

X-men '97 has been by far the most pleasant surprise this year. I loved the feeling of looking forward to each episode, wanting to know what events will transpire, waiting until next Wednesday for the follow up. Few series manage to capture my attention to the extent '97 did. In the wrong hands this could've been exhausting, but it's a masterclass in pacing and escalation without feeling tiresome. X-men '97 pulls off a perfect balance of new and familiar, maintaining and building upon a strong foundation of character drama to reach new heights that results in, above all else, an extremely rare example of a revival surpassing the original in every regard.

Now, I just hope the firing of the director wasn't a sign that Disney is going to sabotage this because the suits are rock stupid. Or that the series will become bogged down with cameos and references to other stuff. I gotta tell you, one of the best things was '97 not dealing with MCU and just having relatively subdued cameos and name drops. It was quaint compared to what it's like now. But that finale made me wince in spots. You can justify it all you want, but I'm tired, and I hope it's not a sign of things to come.

I couldn't figure out where to put this in the review, but I did want to mention a moment in ep 2 that I loved. Jean goes into labor and while Logan is driving her to the hospital, her powers go a little out of control and rips the roof off his vehicle. She made him a convertible.

They do not draw attention to it, no smarmy comment, just something that happens. But I have to imagine it was an intentional reference, and that's my favorite kind of callback. All that said, thanks for reading this. It's not often I do spoiler free reviews, but sometimes the format is just right for what I have to say without delving into a big plot synopsis. Hopefully, if you were cautious like me, maybe you'll check out '97 and find something you really love.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Random Thoughts: A Dark Past

This came into mind; the Male reader is a prisoner of war and is taken back to the mainland. As usual, me and @softboy5393 fanboying over this.

I went overboard with this.

You were taken by a Titan with a long face, like a horse into its mouth. You fell unconscious during the whole time.

When you woke, you were in some room. You looked around to see where you were, you noticed you had a red armband on your left arm. 'What the... where am I?'

Then the door opened. "Ah, I see you're awake." the unknown person said along with others. He had blonde hair and an undercut style which was pushed back. [This] He also had an armband on, but his was more of a lighter red.

You took the people that walked and noticed that Reiner was there. "YOU DAMN TRAITOR!" you attacked him. You didn't do that much damage before getting pulled off of him.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! DON'T TOUCH ME!" you yelled trying to get away from them.

"So, you're the guy that Pieck took? You island devils are sure are something." The one with blonde hair said, sitting down. Reiner was dusting himself off.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves? I'm Pieck. You already know Reiner. The one with glasses is Zeke and the one next to you is Porco." The girl- Pieck said. She had long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose, and relaxed dark brown eyes.

"You probably have questions as to where you are?" you calmed down a bit to respond.

"Yes. And why am I here? Why did you take me from my home?" you said, backing away from them.

"You're in the nation of Marley. And it was Reiner's idea to take you."

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It had been 4 years since you were captured. You've kind of gotten used to the new environment. 'So, humanity didn't die after all?'

You were shocked by the outside world. There were these flying ships in the skies, a cart that was driving without horses leading it. The food you have never seen before. A picture that was too detailed for any person to draw.

"That's a blimp, that's a car, and that's a photograph," Zeke said, showing you everything.

You also got to meet others. "That's Gabi, Falco, Sophia, and Udo. They are the next in line to inherit the Titans."

Gabi looked at you with mistrust. She had hatred in her eyes. "Don't mind her, she hates anyone from the 'Island of Devils.'" Zeke whispered into your ear.

It has taken a while for Gabi to get used to you but in due time.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You were walking with Pieck, Reiner, and Porco in the Liberio Internment Zone. There were stands everywhere and colorful decorations everywhere. You were amazed.

"Today's the festival, M/n. Ambassadors and famous families from all over the world are going to be here for Willy's speech. Of course, since you're with us, you'll be joining too." Pieck said she was your favorite out of all of them.

"Let's go try some things. Try this." she gave you some kind of dessert with a cone?

You gave it one lick... "WHY IS IT SO COLD?!?!" you said, others were looking at you weirdly.

"What's this?" You picked some triangle-shaped food with toppings and cheese? "Mmm, this is good! I never had anything like it!"

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You had a fun time at the festival but now it was time for Willy Tybur's speech. You sat with the others but Porco, Pieck, and Zeke were requested.

Then the sounds of instruments began to play and Willy came on stage. He bowed before starting. "Allow me to tell you a story."

(This is the entirety of Willy's speech)

"Approximately one hundred years ago, the Eldian race ruled the world with the power of the Titans."

"Between the appearance of the Founder, Ymir, and the present day, Titans have stolen the lives of so many people that the present population of the world..." showed Titans eating people. "Could die thrice over and still not compare."

Then the lights turned red, people appeared covered in blood and screaming. "Because of Titans, and an extraordinary number of races, and the cultures ad histories thereof, have been stolen from the world."

"That slaughter has defined human history and the history of the Eldian Empire. And when the Eldian Empire ran out of enemies, it turned to the killings of its own kind."

You were shocked. Was this the history of your ancestors? Were they like this?

"Thus began the Great Titan War."

"Houses holding eight Titans shed blood in combat among themselves. In these desperate times, one Marleyan saw a path to victory. He was our hero, Helos."

"By artfully waging an information war, he led the Eldian Empire's biggest threats to turn against and kill one another. By joining hands with the Tybur family, they forced the unbeatable King Fritz to flee and retreat to Paradis island." the crowd began to clap. You were awestruck.

"But even exiled to the island, the king still held power. Tens of millions of Titans are capable of crushing the world flat still slumber on that island." the crowd gasps at the revelation and fear.

"The fact that our world still exists undisturbed to this day is pure luck. That is the only explanation our Titan experts could muster up. My fatherland, Marley, decided to take the initiative against the island and sent four Titans to neutralize the threat, but that plan failed and only the Armored Titan returned."

'That's why Reiner broke down the walls.'

"In other words, the Eldian Empire, the scrounge of human history, is alive and well."

"Now, the story up to this point consists of facts known to everyone. The truth, however, differs slightly. From here on, I'll discuss the memories passed down in my family alongside the Warhammer Titan."

"The complete truth will be revealed here and now for the first time. Approximately one hundred years ago, the one who ended the Great Titan War was neither Helos nor the Tybur family." Two people standing side by side to him.

One was represented Helos and the other, the Tybur family.

"The man who brought an end to that war and saved the world was King Fritz. He came to regret the Eldian Empire's savage history and the infighting among his own people."

"Above all, he grieved for the Marleyans and the oppression they lived under. When he inherited the Founding Titan, he and the Tybur family devised a plan." The lights turned blue with King Fritz and the Tybur family shaking hands in agreement.

"To establish a single Marleyan as a hero in the war. His name: Helos. After that, King Fritz moved as many Eldians to Paradis as he could. Erecting the great walls around them."

"He left a warning if anyone threatens his peace, countless Titans would be unleashed in retaliation. However, he never intended make good on this threat." Things began to add up to you. That's why the world hates Eldians. 'I'm not what they say we are!'

He continued. "King Fritz made a vow of renouncing war and bound his successors to uphold it, just as he had. Thus his ideology was passed down to each new King of the walls and the Titans with the power to crush the world remain dormant."

"Marley didn't stop Eldia and pure luck hasn't kept the world from being crushed, it was the king of the walls, Karl Fritz, a man who yearned for peace. That's it. That's all he wanted. He said if Marley grew strong someday and came in force to shatter his peace and seize the Founding Titan, he would accept it."

"He believed the sins his people committed were so horrific that they could never be atoned for."

"When the day of retribution finally comes, I will accept it until then let me enjoy this walled paradise, free from strife and conflict. I ask for nothing but a brief span of peace."

"Those were the final words the king left us with." King Fritz stood next to Willy bowing.

The crowd erupted into chatter. "What does this mean?" Gabi was shocked to along with her friends. You were twice as shocked as they were.

"If what he saying is true..."

"So, Marley and the Tybur family didn't save the world?"

"Willy wouldn't lie..."

"That means Paradis doesn't actually pose a threat, right?"

Willy spoked, the crowd went silent. "It's true, to secure our own safety, my family joined hands with King Fritz and became heroes to the world. While our fellow Eldians became devils but plainly, we Tyburs are petty thieves, growing fat on honor we did not earn."

"I stand before you willingly parting with my false glory because I have come to understand that the world we share is in grave danger" the crowd began to chat again. The drums began to ring.

"With the Founder's might, King Fritz erected three walls, using a great host of colossal Titans..." the background changed to colossal titans conjoining arms. "Counted together, the walls surely contains tens of millions of colossal Titans."

"They guard the King's peace as his shield and his spear or they did, but now, that peace is being threatened from within. An uprising has taken place on Paradis, the king has been deposed, the Founding Titan stolen."

The background changed to a devil. "The thief is an enemy to every man, woman, and child outside his island. An enemy of peace, his name... IS EREN JAEGER." Your eyes widen...

"If the colossal of Paradis are ordered to walk, the rumbling will be felt across the Earth and death will follow. Until now, only royalty has had the power to wield the Founding Titan and King Fritz's vow has kept his descendants from using it, but this Eren Jaeger has found a way to use the founder without having royal blood."

"Which means he could begin the rumbling at any moment. Once the walls of Paradis begin to walk, there will be nothing we can do. Except flee in vain from the sound of Earth-shaking steps that will herald our doom." your face turned into a worried one. Was this going to happen?

"These monsters will crush every city, trample every tree and flower, they will literally flatten our world. I have always hated my blood and more than anyone. I have wished that my race would disappear."

Willy sounded like he gonna burst into tears. " However, I confess that I want to live. That despite everything, I believed this world is my birthright just as it is yours."

"The people gathered here may belong to different races, different nations but if we're to survive this crisis then for the first time in history, we must join as one. SO PLEASE, if you wish to live and lend me your strength, help me protect our world's future!" The cameras began to flash. The crowd erupted into cheering.

"If we work together, we can overcome any obstacle, any threat! I ask each of you to join me as I go to fight the devils who would plunge our world into hell! HELP ME DEFEAT THEM!"

The crowd continued to clap and cheer. "Here and now, as a representative of Marley's government, I send this message to the devils of Paradis!"

"CONSIDER THIS, A DECLARATION OF WAR!" As Willy said that, a Titan erupted from the building behind the stage. A Titan you knew very well.

"Eren..."

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

--

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

--

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

--

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

--

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[ecrivant]

tendresse | reiner braun

(reiner braun x reader)

a.n. –  dude!  you just posted tender, slice-of-life aot cringe!

in the woods, away from the world, you and reiner take a moment to yourselves to just exist; a tender respite in the eye of the storm. emotional catharsis, a consideration of what could have been.  

takes place during the marley arc, right after reiner’s confession at the campfire, but there are no spoilers.  reader is gender neutral.

word count: 1.4k

He sat alone, away from their temporary settlement, swallowed by trees and the oppressive nocturne which had long since appropriated the respite of the campfire in which the group dined.  Yards away, Warriors and the Paradisians together in repose—both groups, two-sided coins, unaware that their flipside lay in each other’s own counterpart.  He listened to their stirring bodies—their restlessness, indistinguishable.  The wind’s steady respiration rustled the trees, and his eyes, sensitive from the prolonged darkness, made out moving branches against the moonlit sky.   The relentless ether, pitch-dark but not void, hung precariously above the canopy, threatening to crush anything beneath it if its suspension happened to fail.  Perhaps he wished for such a swift end, one where everyone was stripped of their agency and had no choice but to submit and relinquish their will.  Only if it were that simple.

“Reiner?”

The sounds of footfalls against the detritus.  Each step, a tightening of the vise.  You extended a hand to touch his shoulder, trembling digits meeting tense muscles. His name, again, left your lips in a whisper.  He wouldn’t turn to look at you.  Or couldn’t.

His eyes stayed on the ground as you collapsed beside him, legs giving into exhaustion.  Despite everything, your auras still emitted a warmth the two of you could quietly share.  Neither spoke.  

An image materialized: one of you and Reiner, blithely inebriated after sneaking into the superiors’ liqueur stash, seated atop a once-virescent knoll, now bathed in the pitch of night.  Another moment shared in silence from years before. You frowned at your memory’s disquieting betrayal.  

“I don’t know how much more I can apologize.”

“Please, don’t.”  He finally turned to look at you.  The contours of your profile, tenebrous and barely there, the same he impressed upon himself years ago and returned to during all the sleepless nights in Marley, were still intoxicating.  Your brow, furrowed in frustrated thought.

You continued, eyes facing forward, “I’m tired of hating you.  I just want a moment without brooding.”

Reiner nodded.  He, more than anyone, wished for a moment free of the merciless despondency.

The groundcover rustled as you moved to sit in front of him.  Your eyes, pupils blown wide, bore into his.  He felt read by you, self-conscious under your gaze, but refused to look away. Your hand came to rest against his cheek, a touch that held all your unvoiced tenderness and compassion and betrayed your ocular intensity.  He severed your eye contact to close his eyes and feel—feel the warmth of your palm burning onto his frigid skin, feel the memories of your timid touch.  A quivering whisper, cracked:

“It’ll all be over soon, Reiner.  Then we can rest.”

Your words hung in the air, but you allowed the moment to move around you, through you, eventually taking your words with it.  

Different circumstances, and he would have married you.  He regretted the thought.  

“Why do you care so much about me?” he asked quietly, moving beneath your touch.  

 Your sternum imploded, winding you.  The prickle of tears bloomed in your sinuses, spilling over before you could compose yourself.  

His eyes opened, half-lidded, as your hand pulled away from his face.  He saw your lips parted in shock, quivering.

“Why do I care?”  A ragged query, laced with tears.  

Reiner looked at you with clouded eyes, and you pulled him into your arms, desperate.  You sobbed into his shoulder, and you cried for him. He sat unmoving before he eventually held you back, wrapping his arms around your form.  He felt grateful you couldn’t see his tears but then wondered why—in cathartic surrender, he allowed a sob to reverberate through his body, and then another, and soon his form gave way to violent palpitations that caused you to grip onto him tighter.  He wished, consumed by a twisted machoism, for this to last forever—to be held by you, flayed open and made raw, basking in your shared heartache and effusions.  This was pain he could endure eternally.

He was pulled back to the present as you murmured something, quiet ululations swallowed by your gasping breaths and tears: I love you, said over and over again like an ephemeral mantra rather than a confession.  Words that Reiner had unrelentingly fought against, suppressed; words that threatened to self-articulate and spill forth in the quiet interstices you shared, late at night, tucked away from the soldiers’ barracks; in the moments walking to and from the dining room at HQ; in the moments where you would laugh and his chest would swell and his face would flush and he would want nothing more than to take you into his arms and hold you; in the moments of silence pervaded by things unsaid.  

Now, in this moment, he loathed himself for not saying anything, for not being the first to say it.  To have exacerbated the torment of his betrayal in exchange for a few blissful moments of ignorance where you loved blindly and unabashedly—would it have been worth it?  Cruelly, selfishly, he wished he had done it.  He would have taken those moments to the grave.  

Your lips, still engaged in a distraught glossolalia, ghosted along his neck, voltaic, jolting him out of his ruminative daze.  He pulled away from you.

“Can I kiss you?”

His shaky whisper, boyish and innocent, silenced you.  You were faced with a younger Reiner—the subtly shy cadet who once carefully asked to hold your hand as he snuck you away from the grounds—and felt your heart seize.  Why couldn’t it always have been this way?

Your noses bumped as you leaned in.  The kiss was callow, both of you unsure of how to move against the other.  Reiner’s hands still rested on your shoulders and yours remained in your lap.  Awkwardly immobile.  He pulled away, and you were both smiling, flushed, teenage.  Even in the dark, his worry lines seemingly dissipated; you wish you had appreciated his youthful features years ago.  

He closed his eyes again, surrendering to bliss as your soft fingers traced the contours of his face. Up and down the bridge of his nose, along his lips, over his eyelashes; your lips shadowed your touch, softly kissing the tip of his nose, the side of his mouth, his eyes, one by one.  Delicacy that would never see the waking hours, instead confined to private moments in the obscurity of night—you both silently and implicitly acknowledged there was no room for tenderness in a world so inhospitable.  

“We would be married,” he began.  Realizing what he was doing, your heart clenched, eyes begging him to stop—but Reiner wanted to indulge.  Emotional machoism.  

“And we would have a home by the sea.”  His resolve fractured—his voice began to shake.  

“Reiner, please—"

“We could grow old together, and,” he paused, swallowing the tremor in his words, “we could even have a kid or two, if you wanted.”

You couldn’t look at him. To speak of dreams was linguistic torture, mental contamination: the vocalization and deception of an aching beauty, a deceptive chimera.  

“I would love you until there was nothing left.”

He grasped your digits, begging you to imagine it with him.  Your eyes shut.  The rhythm of undulating tides and the crash of waves, the scent of saline breeze.  Reiner on the beach, his fair hair full of sand and bright against the unbroken azure of the sky and the sea.  The warmth of the sun against your complexion, caressed.

The cruelty of reverie.

You sat together, awake, until the dim morning light edged over the horizon.  The blue dawn, cool and encroaching, enveloped the woods in an ethereal glow.  Fog hung low, and as the blue gave way to golden light, rays cut through the haze and the trees, collecting around you.  Reiner’s creased features returned, but his gaze remained soft.  You looked at him, intense as always, and saw him plead.  You respired slowly, focused on your beating heart, and apologized.  Neither of you knew exactly why.  

The others began to rise.  The coals of last night’s fire were grey ash, crushed and scattered underfoot.  You and Reiner blinked tears out of your eyes, sharing one last look, before joining the rest of the group.

—

wow!  reiner simps rise up!  thank you so much for reading this piece!  i legitimately think reiner has some of the most compelling character development ever + he’s hot, so who better to write something for?  

i haven’t written anything, much less fanfiction, in a very long while, so things are probably real rusty.  feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome but also… please be nice to me.  i have a very weak emotional constitution.  also, i honestly think i fell back into writing because aot s4 is getting to me and i need a place to process shit.  hope you enjoy a live view of my mental degradation.  feel free to shoot me a request for a piece here!

[babybluebex]

sugar pie, honey bunch [lee bodecker smut]

➽ pairing: lee bodecker x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 4.3k ➽ summary: lee gets tired of your secret rendezvous at work, so he comes to your house and does something about it.   ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, unprotected sex (pls wear a condom), daddy kink, degradation, infidelity by both parties, loss of virginity, mentions of anal sex ➽ a/n: if you know me irl no u don’t <3

It was quiet. Too quiet. I hated that. The silence let my thoughts run amok and that was never good for anybody, but least of all me. I had a tendency to overthink things, and quiet and still only amplified that. Knockemstiff, Ohio was the absolute worst place to live if you hated silence, because nothing happened in that little town. About twelve years ago, there had been a veteran who killed himself after his wife died, but that was the loudest thing that had ever happened to my little Knockemstiff. I should know; I worked as a secretary at the police station. I heard all of the gossip from around town. Earlier today, someone had been arrested for being drunk, which I think everyone in Knockemstiff could be in violation of. Every other day was quiet. It was hell. 

I could hear the crickets way out in the fields as I walked around the house. Those bugs served as my soundtrack as I found a box of matches and quietly slid a few into my mouth, and I padded through the house until I reached the front door. Knockemstiff was the sort of town where people didn’t use their front doors unless the Pope was showing up; it was all side doors and garages (if you were lucky enough to have one, which most of us didn’t). All that to say, I knew I could smoke by the front door and nobody would smell it. 

The night was hot. Oppressive and stifling, nearly suffocating. My skin was tacky against my nightshirt as I struck a match and lit a cigarette, and I leaned up against the side of the house. The moon was full, casting silver light onto my barren front yard and the dirt road that stretched exactly from one side of town to the other that ran in front of the house. It was a weird sort of beautiful. But quiet. Oh so quiet. 

Quiet, until I heard the far-off rumbling of a car. It wasn’t unheard of to get visitors in the night-- usually someone coming to ask me about the police station, because nobody had the balls or willpower to call our sheriff after hours-- but the noise drew closer at a snail’s pace. Whoever this was wasn’t in any hurry at all. Finally, a car rolled up in front of the house, the headlights off. There was a moment where I watched the car, then I sighed when the door wrenched open to reveal Lee Bodecker. The sheriff was a nice enough guy, maybe at the risk of being too nice sometimes and a total prick at others, but I was at a loss for why the hell he’d be here this late at night with his cruiser’s lights off. If it were an urgent police matter, he’d have his flashing lights on. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Sheriff Bodecker told me, his voice carrying across the yard. 

“Do what?” I quipped. 

His boots brushed the porch as he climbed the steps up, and I caught his eye in the moonlight. “Smoking’s unbecoming of a young woman,” Bodecker told me pointedly. “Anyway, it’s a bad habit.” 

“You come to lecture me on smoking?” I asked. “I ain’t quite finished typing up that arrest report yet, if that’s what you’re after.” 

“No, no,” Bodecker said. “Nah, I ain’t here for that, sugar.” 

“Oh?” I said, crossing my arms. “And what are you here for?” 

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” Bodecker said. “Ain’t you gonna invite me in? It’s awful late.” 

“Exactly why I’m not gonna do that,” I said quickly, taking an exaggerated drag on my cigarette. “People talk, Lee. Blowjobs in the supply closet during lunch break are one thing; showing up to my house unannounced at half past midnight is something else. And I ain’t gonna be no Whore of Knockemstiff, ya hear me? Run along. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Invite me in, Y/N,” Bodecker said, tilting his head down to look me in the eyes. Bodecker was imposing: six feet tall and sturdy as a mule, even if his middle was getting a little soft. He had these steel-blue eyes that cut right to my core and gorgeous eyelashes, with puffy pink lips and a little cleft in his chin. Maybe if he were ten years younger, thirty pounds lighter, with one less marriage, I’d be into him properly, but that wasn’t the case. Our relationship was one of necessity (but aren’t they all?). His pretty little wife had stopped sucking his cock and he had a thing for my pink lipstick. It worked. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy our little trysts, because I definitely did, but something felt off about this certain encounter. He had never paid me a visit at home before. “Be a good little host for me.” 

I huffed and stamped out my cigarette. “Come in, won’t you?” I grumbled, throwing open the squeaky screen door. It felt off to have Lee in my house, but everything about us was off. I guess this was only normal. 

I flipped the light on and settled myself against the counter as Lee pulled off his tan sheriff’s hat. His hair was dark as pitch, shorn short on all sides but getting a little long at the top, and little wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes as he squinted at the pictures I had on the fridge. “And who’s this?” he asked, pressing his thumb into a picture. 

I looked at it and clenched my teeth. “Boyfriend,” I answered simply. 

“Oh?” Lee chuckled. “And where is he?” 

“Well, right now, he’s in ‘Nam,” I answered. “He enlisted, got sent over.” 

“And he didn’t propose before he left?” Lee asked, and I shook my head. “Hmm. Usually when men go to war, they make sure that they’ll have someone waiting for them when they get back.” 

“Why are you here?” I asked suddenly. “What do you want?” 

“The wife’s mad at me tonight,” Lee said. “She was drinking and started yellin’ at me. Said I was better gone.” 

“And you came here?” I said. “Why?” 

“Got nowhere else to go,” Lee shrugged. “And I figured that you’d welcome me.” 

“You couldn’t go to a bar?” I asked. 

“Not unless I wanted to run into my sister,” Lee said. “And I don’t feel like having a fucking lecture.” 

I sucked in air through my teeth. “Fine,” I finally said. “But you’re on the couch.” 

“Aw, c’mon, babe,” Lee groaned. He approached me at my place at the counter, and his arms went on either side of me, keeping me right where he wanted me. “It’s been a long day for me. You’re not really gonna make me sleep on no stinkin’ couch, are ya?”

“I sure am,” I told him. “‘Cause you’re sure as hell not sleeping in the bed.”

Lee tilted his head. “Not even a good night kiss?” he asked. 

“No,” I said. “This is an inconvenience for me. I got shit to do tomorrow and I need sleep.” 

“Which is why you were outside smoking,” Lee said. 

“Helps me calm down,” I snapped. “Lee. Let me go.” 

“You sure are a stupid little bitch, huh?” Lee sneered. “You really think I rolled up to your house just wanting a place to sleep? Honey, you shoulda been expecting more.” 

Lee regularly spoke to me like this, but it was usually while I was tying my hair back and kneeling down in front of him. “Don’t call me that,” I said. 

“It’s true, though, ain’t it?” Lee asked. “Just a dumb bitch, that’s all you are. You fuck a married man and try to act like you’re better than everyone else. And you don’t think everyone knows?”

My ego deflated in half a second. “Do they?” I asked shakily. 

“That’s why the wife kicked me out,” Lee said. “Someone told her I was fuckin’ you, and she got mad. Asked for a divorce and all.” 

“We’re not fucking, though,” I tried to counter. 

“Oh, so you’ll put my cock in your mouth and call it ‘convienience’, but you draw the line at calling that ‘fucking’?” Lee scoffed. “C’mon, sugar. The whole town already knows it.” I tried to keep my chin up, but I know that Lee saw my lip trembling. “Oh,” he chuckled. “Except the whole town doesn’t know, do they? Your little boyfriend goes to sacrifice himself for the betterment of our fuckin’ country, and you’re here, whoring yourself out for me? Is that why you don’t wanna fuck me proper? Saving your first time for that bitch-boy?” 

“I’m not a virgin,” I said, but Lee instantly saw through my lie. 

“Bullshit,” he said. “You know how I know? You suck cock like a high schooler.” Lee’s hand went to my waist, and he held me a tight, bruising grip. His hands were so much stronger than I had imagined, and an unfamiliar heat bloomed between my legs. My arousal wasn’t usually a part of the supply closet moments between us, and I had never really felt that before my boyfriend left. This was uncharted territory for me, and I hated that Lee seemed to instantly know that. “I bet you think about me every night, don’t you?” Lee asked. He leaned into me and pressed a kiss to my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you?” He growled, taking my skin between his front teeth. 

“Fuck,” I hissed. “You’re a dick.”

“Answer me,” Lee snapped, smacking my ass hard enough to make me gasp in pain. “You think of me fucking you stupid every single goddamn night, don’t you? I can tell, with the way you eye me at the station. You’re not subtle, honey, not in the slightest.” 

“Lee,” I whimpered. “You’re hurting me.” 

“Good,” Lee huffed into my neck. He shoved his hips against mine with enough force for my waist to collide with my countertop, and I became well and truly stuck between Lee’s rock-hard cock and the counter. I knew what he was offering, and I couldn’t deny that the thought of his thick cock inside of me made butterflies erupt in my tummy. He kissed my neck, becoming more needy by the second, and he finally sank his teeth into my skin. “Gonna have to make up your mind, sugar, or I’ll do it for you.” 

I gulped down my anxiety, and I whispered, “Be gentle.” 

“That’s a good girl,” Lee chuckled. “Show me where that bed is, sugar. I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own goddamn name.” 

As soon as I pulled Lee into my bedroom, he had pushed me onto the bed and was kissing me hard. He bit my lips and sucked on my tongue, and he swallowed every pathetic moan I let out. God, I was pathetic. I was shaking, I wanted him so badly. Lee obviously knew that and had no problem with letting it go to his head, because he situated himself over me and gave me a wolfish smile. “You want me to undress you, sugar?” he asked. 

“I can do it,” I told him. 

Quickly, I rid myself of my nightshirt, and my skin tingled at the exposure to the air. Lee gave a gentle sigh, almost like one of relief, and dipped his head to my chest. He ran his tongue from the dip of my neck to between my breasts, and he latched his teeth onto one of my nipples with no warning. I nearly gave a shout of surprise, but I kept it contained. If this bit of foreplay was any indication, there would be enough time for shouting and crying later. 

“These…” Lee growled, grabbing at my breasts with rough hands. “Perfect fuckin’ tits, sugar, Jesus. Wanna come all over them. I just might have to.” 

Lee’s mouth went to my other breast, and one of his hands fluttered down from my chest to my waist, and even lower. Again, without so much as a censure, he pushed a finger past my folds and sunk himself knuckle-deep into my throbbing heat. My back arched against my will and I cried out at the amazing feel of it, and Lee laughed into my tits. “I’m only doin’ this ‘cause it’s your first time,” Lee told me, slowly dragging his finger in and out of me. It was a feeling like nothing I had ever experienced before, and I felt tears welling in my eyes. It was so fucking good. “If I had it my way, I’d already have my cock in you. Have you on your belly, fucking the hell outta you, watching myself fuck you so deep.”

“Please, Lee,” I sobbed. 

Through my watery gaze, I saw Lee smile against my chest. “Oh, what a good girl,” he moaned softly. “You’re my little fuck-toy, ain’t ya? Just fuckin’ desperate and begging for it. I guess it won’t take too long to fuck you absolutely stupid, will it?” I shook my head, and I jerked in surprise when his calloused finger drove itself into that spot inside of me. I called out his name; I was too far gone to care about the sick pleasure I knew it gave him. “Beg for it, sugar. Beg me to fuck you dumb.” 

“Please, Lee,” I whimpered. “Lee, fuck, please. I-I want you to fuck me so hard, please, babe.” 

Lee withdrew his fingers from me and sent a hard slap to my throbbing clit. This time, my gasp was one of genuine pain. “That ain’t what you call me and you fuckin’ know it,” he grunted. “Do it right or don’t do it at all.” 

I knew what he wanted, and I was too far gone to care. “Oh, Daddy, please,” I mewled, squirming, longing for his touch once more. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me ‘til I can’t walk. I want you so deep in my pussy, please.” 

“That’s more like it,” Lee whispered. Then, with a strength that I didn’t know that he possessed, he turned me onto my stomach and tugged my hips into the air. My arms shook as I tried to steady myself, and I felt my wet arousal drip down my thigh. As I tried to steady my breathing and remove the fog from my mind, I heard the sounds of Lee undoing his belt and shoving his pants down his thick thighs. His big hand captured a handful of my hair unexpectedly and he tugged me upright with only a small huff of exertion, and he bit my neck again. Lee Bodecker was an animal, and I liked it that way. 

One hand stayed in my hair as his other guided himself inside of me, and I nearly felt sick. The stretch was otherworldly and, dare I say, painful. Maybe the prep he had been doing wasn’t such a poor idea. But I had made my bed; now I had to lie in it. “Slow down,” I panted, feeling the tears return, and I writhed in his grip. “Fuck, Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know it does,” Lee whispered, biting my ear. “But you asked for this. You asked for me to fuck you, and I’m gonna do just that. And ya know what? I think I’ll come in this pretty little cunt. What do you think of that?” I started to protest, but Lee shoved his fingers in my mouth, effectively shutting me the hell up. Even if I wanted to say something, I couldn’t. “Fill you up to the fuckin’ brim, have it drip outta you, it’ll be such a filthy thing to see. Your little boytoy comes home from the war and you’ve been letting an older, married guy stuff you full of cum? You think he’ll like that? Think he’ll wanna share?” Lee snapped his hips forward, fully burying himself inside of me, and I gave a wrecked sob around his fingers. I thought for sure that he would split me in two. 

Lee’s fingers dug into my hip as he started a steady rhythm. I truly had no idea how old he was-- I imagined probably late 30s or early 40s-- but he was fucking me hard and fast with the stamina of someone my age. Either he had a lot of expertise in the field or he truly had the fantasy of coming inside of me and was wanting to hurry the process along. The more I thought about it, I realized that I really knew nothing about Lee. Not his wife’s name or if he had kids; I didn’t even know that he had a sister until he had mentioned it earlier. However, something about not knowing was better than knowing. At least, this way, I could sort-of distance myself from the act. I was fucking the sheriff (or, technically, he was fucking me), but we weren’t an item. I was just his favorite toy. 

Lee suddenly wrenched my arms behind me and captured them against his chest, fully restraining me and leaving me pliable for him. With his fingers still in my mouth, I could hardly do anything but submit, but I liked that. I couldn’t tell if the throbbing in my pussy was pleasure borne from the way he was punishing my g-spot, or pain derived from his taut balls hitting my wet pussy every second. I had gotten my wish; there was to be no walking in the morning. I could feel spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, and I nearly choked on it, but Lee suddenly slowed down, molding his soft body against my back. “Fuck, honey, I’m gettin’ close,” he panted in my ear. “Now’s the time to tell me if you want me to come in ya or not.” 

His fingers left my mouth, and I tried to form any thought. Lee was the only thing in my head, though, and I could only whimper out his name. That was answer enough for him, because he released my arm and shoved me down onto the bed. His hand grasped the back of my neck and held me down as his hips pounded in and out of me, huffing and panting. I never could have imagined that the sound of that would have turned me on as much as it did, but my muscles tightened around his fat cock, and he laughed. “Aw,” he cooed. “Does the little cunt need to come? I’ll be honest, I forgot all about that. Wanna make a mess all over Daddy’s cock, don’t you?” 

I answered with a keening whine, but that didn’t seem to be enough for Lee. He smacked my ass hard, surely adding to the redness and bruising that I know already existed, and he fisted my hair tighter. “Answer me, bitch,” he growled. “Say it. Say ‘I wanna come on your cock, Daddy’.” 

“I wanna--” I started, and a shudder went down my body when I felt something warm and wet find home on my asshole. I was so far past the point of degradation, and my mind instantly went somewhere else. I had heard about that, sure, but I had never imagined that that could be something that I wanted. And yet, here I was, Lee’s spit coating my ass, mumbling out words that would send me to hell. “Fuck, Daddy. Can you fuck my ass?” 

“Oh, is that what you want?” Lee asked. “As tempting as that is, I’ll save that for another night. I’m not sure you’re a virgin, sugar, begging for it up the ass. But, fuck, it looks so good… I guess we have something to look forward to, huh?” 

Lee’s arm wound around my body and he instantly went to my poor clit. His fingers had tugged at it enough to make it tender to the touch, and he abused it as he fucked right into my g-spot. “Jesus Christ,” Lee whispered. “Squeezing the shit outta me. I’m serious, honey, let me know if you don’t want me to come in you. You’re about to not-- fuck, Y/N-- have a choice.” 

“I want it,” I told him. “I fuckin’ want it.” 

That seemed to be the final straw, because Lee sent one more hard fuck into me, and I felt his cock twitch before warmth spilled into my pussy. The squelching as he continued to fuck me through his orgasm was so loud that I was afraid that the whole of Knockemstiff would hear it, but I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I cared or not. Somewhere in the middle of that, Lee cussed and began to rub my belly, whispering sweet things to me that would have felt out of place only minutes before. I didn’t realize that I had come. I liked the feeling of it, though, especially with how sweet Lee was suddenly.

“Good girl,” Lee told me. He shushed me as I moaned and cried, my pleasure edging on pain, and he pushed my hair away from my neck and placed gentle, open-mouthed kisses on my throat. “So, so good for me, ain’t ya? So goddamn pretty when you’re coming all over my cock. I can’t tell you how much I dreamt of this…” 

My entire body trembled as Lee pulled out of me, and I collapsed onto my bed, panting and trying to form a coherent thought that wasn’t just the sheriff’s name. Only a few seconds passed before he was on me again, but it felt different this time. Lee moved the two of us under the blankets and rubbed my back, and he kissed my forehead gently. I nearly thought it was love. As my tears dried and feeling returned to my fingers and toes, I became aware that Lee was naked against me. As far as I knew, he hadn’t undressed as he had fucked me. His skin was so warm and it was comforting, and I nuzzled my head into his soft chest. My throat was so dry as I tried to swallow to form words, and Lee titled my face up in order for me to look him in those pretty blue eyes of his. 

“How’re ya feeling, sugar?” He asked, his voice as wrecked and raw as mine. “Feelin’ alright?”

“Sore,” I mumbled. “It hurts, Lee.” 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Lee whispered, and I knew that he was being honest. Lee was perhaps the biggest jerk in town, his elected title obviously inflating his ego more than it should have, but I never knew that he was capable of being sweet in this manner. “I was real rough with ya and I just shouldn’t have been. I feel plum awful ‘bout it.” 

“No,” I croaked, splaying my hands against his chest. Underneath the coarse hair, I could make out white marks on his skin, and I pressed my forehead against him. As I studied his body, I saw more and more of the marks, and it was only when I saw my hip against his that I connected the dots. Stretch marks. My Lee had stretch marks all over him, just like I did. “Please don’t. I woulda stopped you if it was too much. Thank you.”

Lee nodded and sighed into my messy hair. “You looked so beautiful,” he told me. “Any man that calls you his is a lucky fuckin’ bastard, I’ll tell you that much.” 

I couldn’t help myself. My lips pressed against my chest, and I took care to kiss every mark I laid my eyes on. “You’re…” I began. “You’re gorgeous, Lee.” 

“Nah, knock that shit off,” Lee chuckled. “I ain’t nothin’ compared to you, sugar.” 

“No, really,” I told him. “Those big blue eyes, your pink cheeks… Your fat fuckin’ cock--” I laughed at myself, and Lee kissed the top of my head. “You’re the most handsome man I ever met.”

“Even more than your soldier boyfriend?” Lee asked. 

“My soldier boyfriend’s like a twig, Lee,” I told him. “There’s nothing there for me. But you…” 

“I’m fuckin’ fat, s’what I am,” Lee said with a smile, but I saw the hurt in his eyes. “I’m old and I’m fat--”

“Alright, shut up,” I said. Suddenly, a different sort of desire burned in me, and I pushed Lee onto his back before I straddled his waist. “There ain’t nothing wrong with you, ya hear? You are fucking perfect, Lee.”

The insecurity flashed across his face, darkening his features for only a second. “But the marks--” 

I twisted my body to show him my hip and thigh. “I got ‘em too,” I said. “And don’t act like you didn’t see them, not for one second. And what did you do? You didn’t give a shit. I don’t either. They’re a part of you, and you are so sexy, Lee. I wanted to jump your bones from the moment I met you, and nothing ‘bout that’s changed and nothing’ll make it change. And ya know what? I’d reckon you’re stuck with me, so get used to it.” 

“Oh, I’m stuck with ya, am I?” Lee asked with a smile. He tugged me down to him, pressing his tongue into my mouth once more, and the ache between my legs was replaced with the now-familiar pleasing tingle. “And I get no say in it?” 

“I think you got your say when you wanted to fuck me up the ass,” I said, sinking my teeth into his plush bottom lip. “What a fuckin’ cliche we are, huh? The sheriff fuckin’ his secretary.” 

“When I first hired you,” Lee began, his warm hands traveling all over my body, and his fingers took special care to trace the white marks along my thighs, hips, tits, and ass. “My wife hated the idea. She said she was worried that late nights at the station would wreak havoc on me, and having a pretty little thing like you there with me was dangerous.” 

“Don’t go talkin’ ‘bout your wife,” I groaned. “That’s such a turn off, Lee.” 

“Oh, is it?” Sheriff Lee Bodecker laughed, stuffing his fingers back inside me, just like nothing had ever happened. “‘Cause you seem all wet for Daddy, just the same.” 

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 19- Goodnight Princess

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for brief depiction of sexual harassment (not from Bakugo), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia (crying kink), overstimulation, and dirty talk

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

As you walk up to the AHA building you spot Aizawa talking to a man with his back to you in a black bomber jacket, a white hood pulled over the back, with a black baseball cap on. Curiosity drives your feet forward a little faster until you get close enough that recognition finally hits and causes you to slow down again. Even with his back to you you’d recognize Bakugo Katsuki anywhere. Part of you wants to turn around and run home, message Aizawa some half hearted excuse about getting tied up in a villain attack and no longer being able to help out. Before you can though Aizawa notices your arrival and waves you over. “Here’s who you’ll be working with,” you hear your former teacher tell Bakugo and just as it sinks in that Bakugo was also clueless as to who he’d been working with, he turns around to see and your heart skips a beat. Yes he looks unfairly attractive the way he always does but what really caught your attention is his outfit. Right there in the center of his white hoodie is a black Mercury symbol, the same symbol stamped somewhere on almost all your merch and the same one you’ve been using as your profile picture on social media since your debut. Bakugo follows your gaze down to the incriminating symbol, his cheeks going bright red. He mutters out an excuse about tossing bags in the car so he can turn away although you’re a little surprised when he extends his hand out to you expectantly. You consider the man in front of you who still won’t meet your gaze. Hurt still burns unpleasantly in your chest but you hand over your duffel bag and with little more than a sheepish glance and nod as acknowledgment, Bakugo moves to the trunk of the car to load it up. “You and Bakugo can handle this right? I saw the news call you a dynamic duo so,” Aizawa asks and you nod immediately. “Yea, we’ve got this. You got nothing to worry about,” you assure the older man. “Good. Get into town, get some rest, one of the local heroes will fill you in on the situation in the morning,” he explains. You nod your understanding and then go to join Bakugo in the car. Once you’re settled in, Bakugo starts up the engine and pulls off into the night.

The silence is awkward. You stare out the window as the cityscape slowly starts to thin out. Once Bakugo pulls the car out onto the highway it doesn’t take long before you’re leaving the city lights behind entirely. When the silence becomes too oppressive you pop open the glove box and root around until you find a USB port. You use your phone charger to plug in your phone, scroll through to one of your chiller playlists, and press play. Music floats through the speakers and you feel yourself relaxing although a quick glance at Bakugo reveals he doesn’t feel the same. He’d discarded his jacket in the backseat once he’d gotten in the car and, as usual, had pushed the long sleeves of the hoodie up to his elbows. As a result it’s easy to see the tense line of his shoulders and the popping veins in his forearms. His grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles are almost white. You’ll be genuinely surprised if there aren’t permanent indentations of his fingers in the steering wheel by the time you two reach your destination. You’re tempted to just let him stew in whatever emotions he’s feeling at seeing you again for the first time since you’d hooked up, but then your eyes fall on where your hero name is written on the sleeve of his hoodie and you decide you’re feeling just generous enough to break the silence.

“You’re wearing the hoodie I got you.”

“Yea.”

“Why?”

Bakugo’s hands somehow tighten even more on the steering wheel before he bites out “Because I like it,” defensively. You roll your eyes and return your gaze to the window. No one can say you didn’t try. You’re about to give up and lament your fate to the groupchat when you hear Bakugo sigh next to you. “That’s not it. I mean I do like it but I didn’t think your dumb ass was gonna be here and it’s not the only reason,” Bakugo confesses. “Insulting me is not a strong start but what’s the other reason?” you ask. The pause is long before Bakugo speaks up again to admit, “I’ve missed you.” The incredulous look you give him almost makes him wince. “You’re the one who stopped messaging me you asshole!” “I know that!” “Then you don’t get to miss me!” “Well I don’t know what the fuck to tell you cause I do!” “Then why’d you ghost me?” “I panicked!”

Both of you go silent after that particular admission. This time it’s Bakugo who speaks up to break it. “Look I don’t date,” he sighs. “Who the fuck said I wanted to date you?” you ask defensively, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to apologize.” “Apologize better.” “If you shut the fuck up I will.” “I don’t think apologies are supposed to include telling the other person to shut the fuck up.” “I’m trying here (y/l/n),” Bakugo growls and the almost desperate edge to his voice is enough to make you swallow your next retort, instead motioning for him to continue. “I don’t date and I don’t usually fuck people I enjoy having around. I already fucked up with you enough so I didn’t want to do it again. I panicked and that only made shit worse until I didn’t know how to fix it, ok? People care about me and I’m shit to them, that’s just how it goes. I’m sorry you got caught up in it,” he finally admits.

You weren’t expecting that level of honesty from him, nor were you expecting his answer to be so vulnerable. You turn to face him as much as you can within the confines of the seat of the car and take in his body language. Had he always been this insecure about his relationships with the people around him? Maybe if you hadn’t spent years cataloging his every move and expression from afar you would’ve missed it, but looking at him now he looks cracked open. You get the distinct impression that as small as his list of people he likes is, the list of people he’s allowed to see him like this is even smaller. “That’s not true,” you offer but that only makes Bakugo scoff. “It’s not!” you insist. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” he grumbles. “Jesus Christ you really are an idiot. Midoriya, Kirishima, and Denki all have plenty of other friends asshole. If what you said were true they would’ve dumped you a long time ago so cut the pity party bullshit and give me a real fucking apology so I can forgive you already,” you insist, and it reminds you a little of how he’d encouraged you during the reunion. The glance he shoots you is calculating, as if trying to assess how much you mean those words. “You’re going to forgive me?” he asks skeptically. “With an actual apology? Yea. I swear to god you’re the only one who still sees you as the same person you were when we first got to UA,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “I’m sorry for ghosting you,” he grumbles out, cheeks slightly flushed as he does so. “Good. You’re forgiven. Now what songs should I play the rest of the drive?”

The ride gets a lot easier after that. You’ve missed Bakugo and it’s nice slipping back into the groove the two of you seem to have with each other. He talks shit about your song choices but you still catch him humming along or tapping the steering wheel to the beat a few times. He reveals he got around to finishing your favorite movie and so you guys spend a long time talking about that and your recommendations for other movies going forward. It’s comfortable and before you know it Bakugo is driving past the welcome sign for the tiny town the two of you will be working in. There’s only one hotel. It’s small and could probably use some updating but it’ll do just fine for the short duration of your trip. As the two of you grab your bags and start to head inside Bakugo asks “What are the odds the old man sprung for us to get our own rooms?” “Doubtful, you know the association is cheap as fuck. It has to be. You’re stuck with me,” you tease. “Guess that ain’t so bad,” Bakugo shrugs, which causes your heart to pound a little harder in your chest. “I’ll check us in if you wanna grab some shit from the vending machine,” Bakugo offers and you easily agree, the two of you heading in opposite directions to complete your tasks.

As you make your way over to the vending machine you catch the attention of a middle aged man, likely another guest, who follows you over that direction. “Well hello beautiful, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing around here?” he calls as he makes his way over. You roll your eyes but otherwise ignore him as you instead focus on selecting something from the machine in front of you. “C’mon hot stuff, don’t ignore me. I can tell you’re a big city chick, probably been around the block right? What’s one more?” he insists, sliding his body in front of you. “Do you mind? I’m trying to grab something,” you reply as levelly as possible. It’s moments like this where you hate the spotlight of heroism. You would love nothing more than to make the man blocking your way move but that would be unbecoming of a role model for future generations. “Aww don’t be like that doll, lighten up,” the man grins before having the audacity to move away from the vending machine just enough to smack your ass. You are livid, your hand immediately grasping hold of his wrist to stop him from touching you again. You whirl on him to tell him off but before you can he’s being wrenched out of your grip and violently tossed to the floor. Before you can even fully process what’s happened Bakugo stands like a wall between you, all fury and fire and brimstone. You haven’t seen him this angry in a very long time and even if the man who’d been hitting on you doesn’t know who Bakugo is, the glare and overall body language is still enough to have him cowering at Bakugo’s feet. “If you ever fucking touch her again, if you so much as fucking look at her, I will make you wish you were never fucking born,” Bakugo growls out and god maybe you do have a murder boner like Nejire said because you should not find any of this hot but you definitely do. The older man scrambles to his feet with a nod and runs off with barely a glimpse behind him and certainly not one in your direction, allowing you and Bakugo to heave a sigh of relief. “I know you had that handled but dude pissed me off,” Bakugo explains. His voice is still rough and anger-laden and you try to ignore the way it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks Bakugo,” you reply, grateful both for his defense of you and his acknowledgment that you don’t need defending. “Katsuki,” he corrects you immediately. “What?” “You’re not mad at me anymore right?” “No?” “Then call me Katsuki,” he insists gruffly. You can only nod in response, afraid that if you open your mouth something embarrassing will come out of it like how incredibly fucking hot it was watching him defend you or how saying his first name right now is bringing back a few too many memories of when he’d first demanded you use his first name in the alley.

Bakugo leads you to your room as you try in vain to rein in your rampant thoughts. Even as you finally arrive all you can think about is the feeling of his lips on yours, the feeling of him filling you up, and what it was like to, for a moment, be the sole owner of his attention. He tosses his stuff on his bed and sits down as you move towards your own but your mind insists on picturing him fucking you relentlessly into it. “What’s up with your face dumbass?” Bakugo suddenly asks and the question makes you jump about a foot in the air, warmth filling your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught mid-fantasy. “Nothing is up with my face!” you defend and you hope it’s the truth because you can feel how much wetness has pooled in your panties already. Bakugo rises up and stalks towards you and you can’t help but feel like prey, stepping backwards away from him until he’s got you crowded up against the wall. The similarity to that day in the alley is not lost on you and it only makes things worse. “What’s running through that head of yours princess?” he asks and the nickname is too much, a breathless curse slipping past your lips unbidden. You don’t have much time to be embarrassed by how obviously flustered you’re getting because one of Katsuki’s hands finds your waistband as if on instinct at the sound of you breathless. “If you don’t stop I won’t be able to hold back,” he admits and you can tell by the flush in his cheeks that he means it. “I thought you don’t sleep with people you like,” you reply with bated breath. “You’re the exception,” he growls out, pressing closer before seeming to think better of it and closing his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as if trying desperately to control himself, before adding “if you want to be.” “God yes,” you reply and no sooner have the words left your mouth is he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips as if he’s been quietly suffocating and you’re the last bit of oxygen left.

Katsuki tugs you away from the wall and you go easily, allowing him to push you towards your mattress until you’re lying down on it and he can comfortably hover over you, his lips barely leaving yours the entire time. It doesn’t take long to get you both down to your underwear, the entire process a blur. “You’re such a fucking mess for me princess,” Bakugo practically purrs as he runs his fingers along the damp fabric of your panties. Your hips buck up into the attention eagerly as you nod your agreement at the statement. “Yea, it’s only for you,” you tell him breathlessly and it might’ve been embarrassing if not for the way it draws a deep, satisfied growl from Katsuki’s chest his mouth dropping to your neck and then your chest and working further and further down. “Think you deserve a better apology then I gave you in the car,” he says suddenly looking up the length of your body to find your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask with what little breath you have in your lungs. “I’ve always been better at doing shit than talking. You thought that apology before was good just wait,” he grins up at you cockily and it already has your stomach doing somersaults even before his teeth find the waistband of your panties and start tugging them down your legs. The moan you release at the sight is completely unfettered as your already dripping wet pussy clenches desperately around nothing. Katsuki is nothing if not a tease so even once he’s done with your panties he doesn’t immediately head to the main course. He lavishes attention on your inner thighs, leaving countless hickeys in his wake but no matter how much you whine and squirm he shows no signs of moving his mouth to where you really want it. “Katsuki,” you finally whine desperately. “What is it princess?” he asks and you can feel him smirking against you, the bastard. “I don’t think apologies are supposed to be teasing like this,” you pant. “Oh really now? You got something to say about my apology princess?” Bakugo asks, the smirk sliding away. “I think you’re not much better at this kind of apology than spoken ones.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t realize my princess was such a whore. You want my mouth that bad? You want to cum that bad?” Katsuki asks and there’s an edge to his voice you’re pretty sure means trouble for you but you nod anyway. “Please Katsuki.” “Well if my princess wants to be a greedy fucking slut then so be it,” he agrees in that same lethal tone before diving in to devour you with an intense voracity you’re unprepared for. You moan loudly, hands grasping hard onto the blankets as he licks a hard swipe all the way from your twitching hole to your sensitive clit before pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking hard. He continues to lave attention on your sensitive clit even as he shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt and starts setting a brutal pace. Eventually he brings his free hand to take over for his mouth and stimulate your clit while he moves his tongue to join his fingers, stuffing you absolutely full. The attention is almost overwhelming and it isn’t long until you’re seeing stars, crying out Katsuki’s name. As you come down from your high you realize Katsuki is still pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you. “Katsu- ah!” you cut yourself off with a shout as he resumes massaging your swollen clit. “S-slow down,” you moan but if anything it only makes him move his fingers more aggressively. You grit your teeth, grasping the blankets even more tightly. “What’s wrong? Thought you wanted this,” he taunts as he pushes you into your second orgasm of the night.

Your entire body is tingling now, thoughts filled only with Katsuki, but he still hasn’t stopped and you’ve never been so overstimulated in your life. “Kas’ki ‘s too much,” you moan, eyes watering as he continues to relentlessly massage your almost painfully sensitive clit. “Don’t tell me my greedy little slut is done already. I still haven’t filled you up yet,” he teases you as he finally removes his finger only to line his dick up with your entrance instead. “Come on baby, I think you’ve got one more in you. Don’t you want to be good for me?” he asks and every inch of your body is saying that you should tap out but instead you find yourself nodding. “Use your words baby.” “Wanna be good for you,” you pant and the devilish grin you get in response has your heart practically in your throat. Slowly but surely Bakugo starts pushing into you. It’s so much, too much, stimulation but even as tears start to run down your cheeks you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. He curses under his breath as he finally bottoms out inside you, taking a moment to collect himself so it won’t be over too soon. As he starts moving he lavishes you with praise while all you can do is whine and whimper, alternating between barely intelligible expressions of how fucking good it all feels and broken cries of his name. “God you look so fucking beautiful like this. You know that? Fucking gorgeous,” he groans as his hips move faster and faster. You can tell when he’s close, his rhythm starting to get sloppier. “You ready to give me that third one baby? Can you do that for me?” he asks and you nod frantically, coasting along that razor thin edge between pleasure and pain. He leans down to kiss you then, swallowing each broken sound you make, as he rocks into you harder and harder until you’re both too strung out to do much more than pant and breathe into each other’s mouths. You topple over the ledge first but Katsuki isn’t far behind, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. You sob out his name one final time as praises pour from his lips about how perfect you were for him. “Knew you could do it for me princess. So good for me,” he sighs as he continues to paint your insides white.

When Bakugo is finally spent, he rolls over and practically collapses next to you. You both have to take a minute to recover, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Unsurprisingly, Bakugo recovers first so he carefully pulls back the covers before bringing them back up to drape over the two of you. “You good?” he asks, eyes scanning over your body as if trying to catalogue any damage he might’ve done. “More than good,” you sigh contentedly. “Good. C’mere,” he commands and you’re more than happy to oblige, allowing him to pull you against his chest. He carefully wipes the tears away from your cheeks before wrapping you more fully into his arms. “I take back what I said,” you mumble into his chest, exhaustion creeping in as the steady beat of his heart starts to lull you to sleep. “What are you on about now?” he asks, but the fondness in his tone belies the harshness of his words. “You’re fucking amazing at apologies,” you mumble. “Shut up and go to sleep dumbass,” he replies but you can practically hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Goodnight Katsuki.”

“Goodnight Princess.”

A/N: Apologies are difficult for Bakugo. He’s a very actions speak louder than words kinda guy. Also as funny a trope as the whole “forced to share one bed at a hotel/motel cause there are no other rooms” trope is, it’s more meaningful to me if there are two beds and they still choose to share.

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

[hafanforever]

It’s Good to Be Bad

I’ve described in previous analyses that I have a strong affinity for villains in fiction, including those by Disney. But like any fan of Disney, there are villains that I love and ones that I deeply detest with every bone in my body. So for my last analysis of the year, I will discuss my five most favorite and five least favorite Disney animated villains, though I also want to list a couple of other characters as honorable mentions to explain why I like or hate them.

The reasons I have for liking my favorite villains are simple, if not somewhat shallow, because I don’t exactly have deep reasons for liking them. Regardless of how evil, sadistic, cruel, and ruthless they are, I like them primarily because they are funny or charismatic. But it’s so much easier for me to list why I hate my least favorite villains, which is largely attributed the kinds of traits they display (most of which I cannot stand in people), their motives for being evil, and how they carry out their evil deeds while showing their evil natures.

This essay has turned into a longer one than I anticipated, so I am adding the “Keep reading” feature. Before I begin, I want to thank my dear buddy and soul sis @minervadeannabond for coming up with this title. Here is yet again another analysis of mine for you to enjoy, sis! 😁😄😉❤️

Most Favorites

Scar - Since The Lion King was the very first Disney film I ever saw in theaters as a child, and the first one I remember well from my childhood, many of my favorites Disney things come from it, including Scar being my #1 favorite Disney villain. Yes, he is a sadistic, tyrannical, narcissistic, cold-blooded murderer, but I think it is because of his cunning, smooth, elegant, charismatic nature and how pivotal he is to the story, particularly with how much he turns out to be a dark reflection of Simba, is why I love him so much. Furthermore, his song “Be Prepared” is my favorite villain song and among my favorite Disney songs of all, further showing how much The Lion King has given me Disney favorites since I was a child. 😁

Hades - Another one I remember well from my childhood, Hades is undoubtedly one of the funniest villains from the Disney animated canon. Although he is as cruel, evil, ruthless, and sadistic as any Disney villain, Hades is also so fast-talking, sleazy, sarcastic, cheeky, and hilarious that it makes it hard for me to take him seriously as a menacing villain. And while he constantly goes into fiery rages and blows his hot-headed top when furious, these help make Hades far more a comical, rather than scary, figure. Heck, when I was a kid, I always laughed, rather than got scared, whenever he unleashed one of his temper tantrums (except when he blows up at Meg with “I OWN YOU!!!”). And James Woods’s performance, especially since he ad-libbed many lines, helps make Hades such an unforgettable and memorable, if not lovable, character. So yeah, Hades’s wisecracking, talkative personality made him a memorable villain for me as a child, and I’ve loved him for it ever since. 😆😂

Ursula - Much like Hades, Ursula is sleazy, scheming, and cunning, yet wisecracking and comical at the same time. Besides her dry sense of humor, Ursula’s eccentricity, flamboyance, and elegance have always been the traits that drew me to her, and Pat Carrolll’s performance of the character is pure excellence. 😉

Maleficent - Despite being an incarnation of pure evil, including with her self-proclaimed title as The Mistress of All Evil, to me, Maleficent is by far the coolest, most badass Disney animated villain of all! 😆👍🏻 Yes, she curses Aurora with no true motive whatsoever, and she’s sadistic, ruthless, blasphemous, and murderous, but her display of her ill temper and dark magic just makes her totally awesome, most especially when she zaps her minions for their stupidity and incompetence upon learning they were only looking for a baby during their 16-year search for Aurora. 😁

Ratigan - Again, Disney has an evil, murderous, sadistic villain in Ratigan, but I love him because he is very collected, calculating, sophisticated, and charismatic, not to mention Vincent Price delivers such a great vocal performance as the character. 😉 What I also love about Ratigan is the moment when he undergoes what is known as a villainous breakdown, which is when a villain snaps and goes utterly crazy. During the film, Ratigan has some moments of losing his cool, but just as quickly manages to become calm and regain his composure. However, upon seeing Basil and Olivia escape from him inside Big Ben, along with Basil having having foiled his earlier scheme to kill the queen and take over England, Ratigan finally snaps, turning from a formal, sophisticated, composed rat to a highly feral, aggressive, savage one. It is the moment when Ratigan reveals the monster within and looks like a true rat, with an aggressive expression, hunched back, elongated claws, and running on all fours. The fact that Ratigan’s breakdown juxtaposes what kind of rat he was for the majority of the film is why his villainous breakdown is my favorite of any Disney villain.

Most Hated

Gaston - I have stated this before in “Bride and Prejudice”, but I pick Gaston as my #1 choice as my least favorite Disney animated villain. And it’s not just because of his extreme vanity, egotism, chauvinism, and arrogance, which are the very traits I hate in people, but because of his inferior, sexist, misogynistic views of women. Gaston is THE walking definition of toxic masculinity, the fictional example of the worst kind of man, the epitome of what men should NEVER be! 😡😡😡 He thinks men are the superior gender and that women are inferior to men, with their only purposes being to serve men and be their sex objects. And since I am a feminist who believes in gender equality, I dislike men who have low, sexist opinions of women, and Gaston fits the profile of what I think is the worst example of such a man. I could go on and on explaining just why I loathe this monster of a man with all my heart, but you can just read the aforementioned analysis to find out more.

Lady Tremaine - If it weren’t for Gaston being my #1 pick because of his extreme sexism and misogyny, I would pick Lady Tremaine. She comes such a close second because her motivations for abusing, oppressing, and being so cruel to Cinderella are petty and stupid, ESPECIALLY because Cinderella never even did anything to deserve such treatment from her in the first place! 😠😡 Lady Tremaine hates Cinderella and is very jealous of her purely because Cinderella so much better-looking and kinder than her own daughters and herself. So they abuse her and make her their servant to make her miserable and unattractive so that they can look better than her instead. Additionally, Lady Tremaine has a deep-rooted obsession to be above Cinderella at all costs that she resorts to lying, manipulation, trickery, and cheating in order to stay above. I particularly loathe it when she manipulates her daughters into tearing up Cinderella’s dress just so that she can appear fair and keep her word regarding her side of the bargain (she says ”if you can find something suitable to wear”, and once it’s wrecked, it’s no longer suitable) while simultaneously making sure she doesn’t have to keep her promise since she never wants Cinderella to go in the first place. All that being said, do these sound like justifiable excuses for hating a completely innocent woman? I DON’T THINK SO!!! 😡😡😡

Claude Frollo - Now if weren’t for BOTH Gaston and Lady Tremaine coming first, Claude Frollo would come on top as well! 😡😡😡 Frollo is without a doubt in my mind the most evil villain in the Disney animated canon. Unlike most Disney villains, he is COMPLETELY devoid of any likable or redeemable traits, making me have nothing but feelings of pure hatred for him. Ruthless, cruel, blasphemous, racist, and evil to his core, Frollo holds a deep-seated hatred for the gypsies and seeks to eradicate them from Paris, making him not only murderous, but genocidal, especially since he seeks to kill them simply out of his own racism, supremacy, and superiority. Throughout the years in his quest to eliminate the gypsies, Frollo murders Quasimodo’s mother by violently kicking her, causing her to fall and hit her head on the stone steps of Notre Dame, then tries to burn Esmeralda at the stake, declaring that she must be killed because she has been practicing witchcraft. After killing the mother, Frollo even attempts to drown baby Quasimodo simply because of his deformity. What makes Frollo even more evil besides doing his deeds is that he is a judge with control over the city, yet he proves himself to be corrupt and hypocritical by violating the laws to accomplish his dark, sinister deeds. Perhaps what makes Frollo the most evil villain of all is that he is in complete denial about how evil he really is. He has a delusional belief that he is a good, religious man doing God’s work by trying to purge the world of evil, when all he really does is twist his “faith” and hypocritically use it for his own evil purposes. What’s worse is that Frollo never once takes an ounce of responsibility for his crimes; he makes excuses to justify his actions, painting himself as guiltless and his victims as the only ones at fault. So with Frollo being such a blasphemous, hypocritical, racist, genocidal, murderous, corrupt judge who never believes he is doing anything wrong and always lays blame on the victims of his misdeeds, I can’t say there is a single thing about him that I like, and I’m happy he met his death in a fiery blaze! 😡🔥

Mother Gothel - A character I see as being an amalgam of Gaston, Lady Tremaine, and Frollo, the reasons why I hate all three of these villains are also found in Gothel: vanity, narcissism, oppression, mental abuse, trickery, manipulation, dishonesty, hypocrisy, and flat-out cruelty. First of all, Gothel’s vanity, narcissism, and obsession with her own beauty makes her extremely insufferable and annoying, not to mention the fact that she hoarded the flower to herself for hundreds of years just to stay alive shows how incredibly selfish and possessive she is. And due to her selfishness, she kidnaps Rapunzel, hides her in a tower, lies to her about the outside world, and continually mentally abuses, manipulates, oppresses, mocks, and belittles her just to ensure that Rapunzel will never leave the tower and the flower’s magic in her hair will keep her (Gothel) alive and young forever. On par with her narcissism, Gothel is shown to be a very spoiled, childish, immature woman who seeks to always have things her way and throws tantrums or other emotional outbursts when she doesn’t get her way or what she wants, especially the very moment she wants it. Furthermore, Gothel possesses a martyr, or victim, complex, which is shown perfectly when victimizes herself and places all the blame on Rapunzel whenever any sort of conflict befalls their lives and relationship, especially when they argue. So with all these flaws in mind, like Gaston, Lady Tremaine, and Frollo, I can’t find any good reason to like Gothel at all. “Mother Knows Best”? More like “Gothel Knows Worst”! 😠😡 

Governor Ratcliffe - I said above that I hate Gaston because of his bigoted, low views of women, and prejudice is the main reason why I hate Governor Ratcliffe. However, his prejudice is in the form of racism, the kind of bigotry that I hate the most. Ratcliffe displays this attitude towards the Native Americans, considering them savages and seeing himself as better than them all because of his race, which makes him a white supremacist. Besides his supremacy and superiority regarding his race, Ratcliffe is intensely greedy and selfish since he wants to keep any riches found for himself and believes that the Virginia land and anything he finds on it is his for the taking. In relation to his bigotry, he is also quite delusional and self-righteous, which makes him believe that any theory he has is right and he refuses to believe otherwise or listen to reason. For example, Ratcliffe dismisses Wiggins’ correct assumptions on why the Indians attacked the settlers and John’s claim that there is no gold in the lands after Pocahontas tells him this. The hatred I hold for Ratcliffe is significantly less than the other four listed here, but the reasons I gave are virtually like those I gave for Frollo, so I’m confident with Ratcliffe and his place on my list.

Bonus Mentions

Hans - Hans is a villain that I place in the middle between my most loved and most hated villains, because I love him for WHAT he is as a villain while I simultaneously hate him for WHO he is as a character. I have said it to friends and some of my other analyses before, but one of the reasons why I love Frozen is because it took many of the traditional fairy tale elements and tropes used in their preceding films, and turned them upside down. So rather than having another prince as the heroic male lead in this film, Frozen twisted that trope around by making him the villain instead. And when Hans finally reveals his true nature, you realize that he has fooled not only Anna and the other characters who interacted with him, but first-time viewers as well! So while I love Hans for being a villain who keeps his true nature under wraps for the majority of the film and almost gets away with his crimes because of it, I also hate him because of how cold, cruel, callous, ruthless, and sadistic he really is. When he reveals his true nature and explains his plan to Anna, he mocks her intelligence, naïveté, and desperation for love while explaining just how easy it was for him to deceive and manipulate her into being a pawn in his plan to take over Arendelle. Throughout the whole scene, Hans smiles wickedly and sadistically, clearly showing the delight he is getting from tormenting Anna and watching her suffer while he explains his scheme and extinguishes all light sources to accelerate her death. It’s also easy to see his sadism when he announces his plan to murder Elsa, and that he will get even greater joy out of carrying out the act itself (which we see when Hans smiles widely while swinging his sword over Elsa’s head as he tries to kill her on the fjord).

Chi-Fu - While he is not a true villain, and not even evil at all, Chi-Fu is a very detestable character, one whose guts I hate completely because he has the same traits that make me hate Gaston: arrogance, conceit, egotism, bigotry, superiority, and misogyny. Prejudice against women is a main theme in Mulan, and Chi-Fu is the one man whose prejudiced opinions never change. While Shang and Mulan’s fellow soldiers initially hold views that women are beneath men, they learn to change them after Mulan proves herself a capable warrior in the army (even after her disguise is revealed), most especially when she helps save China from Shan Yu’s reign of terror. Despite the majority of his bigotry being aimed at women, Chi-Fu is also detestable because he shows it towards nearly everyone else, except the Emperor. As the second-in-command to the Emperor, Chi-Fu sees himself superior to almost everyone else around him, which enhances his pompous, elitist, arrogant attitude. Because of all these antagonistic traits, I loathe Chi-Fu while I don’t hate Shan Yu at all, even though the latter is truly pure evil and genocidal! 😠😡 It just goes to show that some people who are neither necessarily good nor bad can be even more contemptible that the most malevolent, murderous people.

[zv5x]

So uhh,,, I'm starting to get into writing again after restarting everything, so to really warm myself up I'm doing the Yandere ABC's prompt thingy with Spirit! Cause I need the Spirit simps to return to my blog and cause Spirit is my main source of serotonin!!! Plz enjoy teehee, and I promise I'll get to all of your requests soon! let me have my Spirit simping hour, I need it very much ( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? - Spirit is VERY intense affection wise, and is almost always holding onto you in one way or another. Whether that be laying his head on your chest and purring quietly, or by insisting that your hand stays connected with his while outside, he's always making sure he has a good handle on you. He's also very protective and caring, so expect to be feeling a lot safer in the future. And I mean a LOT safer. Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? - Spirit was never a big fan of wasting his time on the filth that keeps the two of you apart, so he likes to keep rival elimination quick and painless. However, if he feels that whoever he's killing isn't worthy of a quick death, he will most definitely accommodate to that fact. Or, if you ask him to kill someone and specifically request for it to be long and messy, he'd do it without a shread of hesitation. After all, he'd do anything to prove his loyalty to you. Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? - Mocking you isn't in Spirit's vocabulary. He could never treat you with a shread of inhumanity (unless that is, he sees it as needed), as he feels you deserve the best and nothing but the best. He owes his life to you! You saved him, you showed him that the world wasn't nearly as vile as he once thought. Treating you with anything less than the love and adoration that you deserve just doesn't seem like a concept to him even. If he get's to the point where he sees abduction as necessary, he might do the occasional "ara ara" type shit while stepping on your chest though lol, he can get like that sometimes. He'd step on you very gently, though..he doesn't want to hurt you too bad Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? - Before you even got him out of the game in which he was trapped, he was very creepily overbearing. Though, he couldn't directly show that considering he wouldn't ever get let out then. He'd just keep tabs on all your devices through the shadows. P.S., it was very kind of you to make a ROM of his game for your laptop for him to move into! It made things so much easier for him! Now he can have a much easier time watching you sleep and hearing you breathe when he's placed right by your side on your bed (you said you didn't want him to be lonely, which he thought was very kind and cute of you. It's exactly why he adores you so much). It also makes it so much easier to look through your phone since you have that data connected to your laptop as well. Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? - What was that, (Y/N)? Spirit's actions are making you doubt his undying love for you? No fear! He'll pour his entire heart to you right then and there! He'll list of just every little thing about you that makes his heart beat fast, he'll also lovingly alert you to the fact that he owes his life along with everything that he is, all to you! He wouldn't be alive or free if it wasn't for you! The coding of his game would have crumbled and basically ate him alive, so without you he'd probably be dead. Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? - A combination of betrayal and confusion. Confusion, due to the fact he just doesn't understand why you'd want to leave him. Isn't this exactly what you humans consider true love? The idea of being with someone who would gladly bare any level of agony just to be the only one you gaze upon, the idea of someone being willing to go to any

length just to see that smile of yours that they always adore seeing, how is this not what humans consider love? The feeling of betrayal from you doing something as selfish as trying to leave him, the pain could almost eat him alive. How could you? He's done everything for you, he's given you every inch of love and affection that he has to offer, and you repay him by trying to leave him all alone? Expect the biggest guilt trip you've ever experienced. "I thought you loved me, dearest! Why would you try and leave me?!" Along with millions of demands to know who you were running away to. There had to be some place for you to go when you left him after all, so whose throat does he have to slit just to prove to you how much he adores you? Go on, don't be shy, tell him! Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? - The hunting you down aspect of all of this? Yeah, I guess he could consider it a game. But the thing is, he never really considers what he's doing Hunting you down unless you're directly trying to run from him. So, at that point, hunting you down is exactly what he's doing. Spirit considers everything he's doing to be completely understandable and normal for human relationships. So he definitely doesn't consider what he's doing to be a "game" or anything else similar. His love for you isn't just some game, it's serious and it's all he has Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? - If you ever dare cheat on him, expect to see the last thread of sanity he has in him just snap right before your eyes. He could never kill you, no. But your little partner? Expect them to be torn to shreads right before your very eyes. Ever hear one of those crazy ass yandere laughs? Yeah. He'd pull that too. He'd quite literally go ballistic, getting up when who you cheated on him with isn't even recognizable, screaming at you and demanding to know the reason for your disloyalty. He did everything for you! And you just go on and pull shit like this? No. He won't accept it. You won't get away with it. He still loves you of course, and will remind you of that fact every millisecond, but you can tell he just isn't the same. More possessive, more angry and suffocating. Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? - Spirit definitely wants to marry you. Like, this is a fact. He's basically your fiance without even proposing to you yet. He'd definitely enjoy a few kids as well, but only if you want them as well and are able to have them. He understands any reason you might not want kids, and he won't pressure you. Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? - He's like, literally the CEO of jealous (As well as the CEO of protectiveness). His protective nature causes him to be extremely suspicious of others and their intentions. Sometimes if he feels that person was getting a little too friendly with you, he'll possessively wrap his arms around you while you're talking to them and growl at them until they power walk away out of fear. Sometimes while the two of you are cuddling he'll subtly and quietly bite your neck to leave marks. Or, sometimes he just goes for the more direct route, and offs anyone who he saw as in his way. He can't have anyone walking in on private property thinking it's their own, can he? Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? - He's usually extremely understanding and sweet. Spirit doesn't like having to use fear tactics to get his way, since he hates it when he has to resort to putting fear in you. Around you, Spirit is more loving than he ever was around anyone before. You're his precious darling after all! You saved him, you taught him what love was like. How could he not act painfully loving and sweet in your presence? You just make his heart flutter so violently. Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? - Literally exploding Senpai's face off one day while you were paying his game. He's just been watching you for so long, allowing

Senpai to soak up all your love and attention. He just couldn't contain the jealousy, or the rage. He didn't get what Senpai did to be getting so much affection from you. So, he got rid of the problem. Senpai. He was able to convince you Senpai was completely unalive and unfeeling, just lines of code. Which, he was lines of code, but Spirit knew very well that he was aware of the world and environment around him, and could very much so be considered...alive. However, you didn't need to know that. Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? - Kinda? You know how protective and jealous he can be, but he completely hides the fact he's literally committed murder. He doesn't want you to think of him as some heartless monster, now does he? That wouldn't do at all. He needs you to adore him, just as much as he adores you. He wants you to be fully willing to marry him, and live out the rest of eternity with him. How could that happen if the very thought of him scares you? Naughty: How would they punish their darling? - The usual, causing you physical pain. His methods of doing this vary, along with the severity of the pain. But, lucky for you it takes a lot to get him to the point to where he sees punishment as the only way. Additionally, if you allow him too, he could get a little...lewder with the punishments... Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? - Not many, if everything goes by his plan. However, if you refuse to do what he says, he'll take away as many rights as he can. Physical freedom, friends, family, and everything else in between. If he feels something is keeping you from him, he'll snatch it away in a millisecond. You don't need it. However, if everything goes to plan, then great! He's so happy you realize that your future is with him, and only him! Patience: How patient are they with their darling? - Oh, he's extremely patient! That is, unless you do something to upset him. Don't show too much fear, don't yell or scream at him, don't deliberately make him jealous, or do anything similar, and everything will be okay! He understands why you might be a little reluctant, as you've probably never had someone as loving and adoring as him in your life! So much affection being given to you is something you need to get used to, he would know. It took him a little bit to fully adjust to all the love you had for him. Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? - No. He wouldn't. Not in the slightest. He'd never be able to move on if you were to leave him forever. If you die, he could just chase you down to wherever you ended up considering he was a demon himself. But, if you somehow find a way to get away from him even after he chases you down? He'll be devastated. He thought you loved him, he loved you so much. He still does love you. He can't let you go, he just can't. He needs you. He lives for you. He craves you. You're his light, his everything, he can't imagine an existence without you by his side. But, that won't even happen, he won't let you go no matter what. You won't be able to loosen yourself from his grip. Not that you want to though, right? (Extra fact: Spirit wouldn't hesitate to resort to killing you himself, just so he could drag you down to Hell and keep you there forever. If it's something he needs to do, then he'll do it no questions asked. He hates causing you pain, he really does. But Spirit will do whatever it takes to have your love) Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? - Spirit has a very warped view of love, so while he is capable of feeling guilt, he doesn't at all regret what he's done. He feels guilt for the way you cried when he tried snuggling you and holding you, he felt guilt for the way you trembled as he reached out to you, but he just couldn't feel bad for the people he damned and murdered. They were trying to take you away from him, and that's absolutely unforgivable. Stigma:

What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? - Definitely his time in the Hating Simulator. He was completely ripped away from all contact with the outside world and everyone that inhabited it, human or not. He stayed like that for years, until his captors daughter finally decided to dispose of him. Then, somehow, he met you. You decided to pick his game and it's console up, and take him home. He didn't trust you at first, but soon, watching you talk to Senpai and get closer with him, he fell in love with you. Hard. He needed you in his life, he needed to keep you. He had to have you. You needed to be his, and his alone. Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? - Confused, but still upset and guilty. He hates seeing you in pain, whether that pain be physical or mental. So to hear you scream and cry with such pain, it absolutely makes his heart shatter. But he just doesn't understand why you're acting in such agony...aren't you happy? Don't you love him? He'll probably look at you with a pained look in his eyes. He'll try and hold you in his arms and hold you close to his chest, no matter how hard you struggle. Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? - Literally chasing you down to wherever you go, with no effort at all. He makes it so you CAN'T escape him, no matter how hard you try, and no matter who you cry to for help. With any other Yandere, there's always the possibility of escape. Whether it be by leaving their basement, killing them in self defense, getting them arrested, etc, etc. But with Spirit, there's nothing you can do. You're going to love him, or he'll make your life a living hell. Quite literally, in fact. Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? - While there is literally no way to escape him, you can try and manipulate him to get whatever you wish. Spirit is extremely touch starved, to the point where he'll probably tremble and shake with pleasure if you do as much as reach out to him. Just hold him in your lap and let him purr into your neck as you run your finger through his hair, he'll be literal putty in your hands. While trying to use this against him to escape will result in harsh punishment, if you can think of anything you can get out of him using this then by all means go for it. Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? - Only if needed. Spirit doesn't wish to cause you pain, but he won't hesitate to if he thinks it will make you love him and stop that hopeless struggling of yours. Spirit will make sure to cuddle you and kiss you after each punishment however, praising you in a soft whisper about how good you've been for him while he taught you a lesson. Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? - If you want to know how much you mean to him, Spirit will without hesitation get on one knee and kiss the tips of your hand as he purrs words of pure love. He'll make sure you know just how loved and important you are to him by the end of the night, any way you wish for him to, no matter how direct or "explicit" Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? - After escaping the Hating Simulator, maybe about a year Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? - If you were to "break" under his care, rest assured it was completely unintentionally. But, he'll still take your submission as a win. You're willing to tell you love him, you're willing to marry him and live a life with him, and that's all Spirit needs. He loves you so much ♡

[definitearticle]

Dear Baby Boomers...

"When you're accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression."

Older friends, come in! Sit down! I'm so glad you came.

Can I get you a water?

So listen. As your friendly neighborhood geriatric millennial, I need you to understand something. It's important, and it's going to hurt. But pain can be a sign of growth, and I want you to hear this from a friend. So know that this comes from a place of love.

So nu. I'm gonna ease into this by making sure we're on the same page with some ideas.

You know Bob Dylan's song, "The Times They Are A-Changin'," yeah? It might not have been THE anthem of your youth, but it's certainly one that's held up over time. It speaks to the ever-continuing cycle of change and the need for members of the previous generation (and those in power generally) to "get out of the [way] if you can't lend a hand."

Thing is, younger generations have been asking older generations to listen, to understand, and to help the culture progress since time immemorial. And older generations have traditionally pushed back. So your generation's experience of pushing your parents' generation into begrudging acceptance of civil rights, feminism, et al, isn't new.

But y'all came up with some great turns of phrase to express it. One of my favorites, technically coined by Jack Weinberg (5 years too old to be a Baby Boomer) was "Don't trust anyone over 30." It was an offhand phrase said in anger when Weinberg felt that the reporter interviewing him wasn't actually listening, but was instead looking for ulterior motives so that he could dismiss the message of his protest.

But the phrase stuck, and it was used not only as a rallying cry, but also as a talking point by older folks who wanted to dismiss the New Left as a bunch of whiny brats, rather than people we now know were on the right side of history regarding the war, police brutality, and so on.

So with that in mind, in the words of The Who, let's talk about MY generation, and the even younger generation just starting to come into their own.

You know how a few years ago, there were a whole lot of women in the #MeToo movement who were talking about their experiences with men and how they constantly feared sexual assault? And then you had a whole bunch of idiots coming on saying "Not all men!" because they weren't used to their demographic being the target of negative criticism? Yeah, they were idiots, and you knew it. Of course "not all men." But the MeToo movement wasn't about hating men. It was about hearing women and understanding their fears.

And by and large, you understood that. You were pretty solid on it. Good for you! No, seriously, I'm really proud of you for continuing the fight for feminism that you were on the front lines of back in your more enthusiastic years.

And you know how #BlackLivesMatter has been a thing for several years now, and how it's really a continuation of the Civil Rights movement that you grew up in? But of course, idiots tried to reframe the narrative by saying "All lives matter!" And you knew that that was just a smokescreen. Of course all lives matter, but once again black lives were being treated as if they don't matter. And the reason you recognized this was because was all familiar to you. It was the same scene you remember playing out on your 12" black-and-white screens decades ago, where protests erupted against an injustice (frequently assault or murder of an unarmed black man) and the resulting police violence shook the conscience of the country.

So you stood with BLM, or at the very least listened and acknowledged when it was explained to you. We appreciate it, truly. We do.

But here's the thing. You're not the only ones we were talking to. And a whole lot of the "all lives matter!" and "not all men!" crowd? They were from your generation. Now, not all of them, certainly. We definitely have our regressive stooges in Gen X and Millenial age groups. But let's be honest, a strong majority of the people raising a ruckus against "these kids today, with their PC woke brigade cancel culture" are members of the Baby Boom generation. And those who aren't? Well...they have the same kind of regressive attitude that comes from being the third generation out.

You know...like your parents and grandparents were when Dylan wrote his song. When your social circle embraced "Don't trust anyone over 30."

There's a frustration that comes from trying to explain something important to people who appear to not wish to listen to you, but are instead spending their time looking for reasons to discredit you, or make you feel inferior, or find any excuse to belittle you and the incredibly important message you're trying to express. When you get to that breaking point, you need a way to ripcord out of the conversation in a way that expresses not only that you're through pretending to maintain civil discourse, but also that you recognize that there was no intent for honest dialogue in the first place. You need a shorthand phrase for "You're a dishonest, condescending jerk who couldn't care less about doing the right thing or about the lives of anyone other than yourself. I am through wasting my time casting pearls before swine. Good day, sir! I SAID GOOD DAY!"

Weinberg felt it in his interview.

You've undoubtedly felt it yourself, countless times.

My generation feels it constantly. And we've come up with a pretty good phrase that encapsulates our frustration with those in power who've apparently forgotten the lessons of the past and are happy to sit in apathy in the middle of the road and never lend a hand.

And that phrase is "Okay, Boomer."

Oof. Yeah.

I know.

It stings. A lot.

And I can hear you screaming at me right now. "How dare you judge us based on our age! This is ageism, pure and simple! It's hate! Not all old people! All ages matter!"

Shhh, shhh, it's okay. You're in a safe space. We're friends. No one is judging you.

See, just like MeToo wasn't denigrating all men, and BLM wasn't saying that non-black lives didn't matter, the use of "Boomer" here is not about age. It's about the same progressive vs regressive divide you experienced when you were young, that was largely drawn along generational lines.

Not all Baby Boomers are "Okay, Boomers," and not all "Okay, Boomers" are Baby Boomers.

If you're with us on the issues, if you're supportive of people's self-identity and fight for equality, then it doesn't matter what age you are. You're gold.

But if you get told "Okay, Boomer," it's not about your age either. You've just been told that your approach to the conversation indicates to the speaker that you don't want to engage on the issues in an open and honest manner.

It means that you've probably hit a blind spot in your experience which is incredibly common and nothing to be ashamed of, but is also something that needs to be addressed.

It means you've upset the person talking to you, and they've given up trying to be reasonable with you.

It's not hate speech. It's not ageism.

It's a wake-up call. For the times, they are a-changin'.

Weinberg aged out of the demographic he framed in his statement 5 years after he made it. But from what I can find online, he continues to this day to fight the good fight. He was an anti-war activist and a union organizer before becoming a champion of environmental issues. He turned 81 earlier this year. A statistical tally in the Silent Generation, he was nonetheless clearly a member of a young Baby Boomer movement in their prime.

You can stick with us. Join your voice to ours like Weinberg joined his voice to your generation's. Like Martin Luther King (born 1929) did. Like Abbie Hoffman (1936), John Lewis (1940), Gloria Steinem (1934), Bertrand Russel (1872)...

There's plenty of room on the right side of history to be an older person that the young'uns can trust, a mentor we can talk to, someone who will actually *listen* to us and help us move the culture forward.

Or you can be someone who embodies the cause of the admonishment "Never trust anyone over 30."

But if you decide to do that, if you choose to close your ears to the pleas of the younger generation because they don't show you deference and respect? Then you're not a Baby Boomer, a phrase once used to dismiss your generation as youthful, idealistic, and unreasonable.

Then you're just an "Okay, Boomer."

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

Cyberpunk 2077 Literary Analysis Pt 7: Leave me Alone, Hemingway, You’re Supposed to be Dead

Surprise bitch I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.

Cyberpunk spoilers ahead!

Cyberpunk meta literary analysis masterpost here 

Okay, so I thought I would be done with this, but it kinda feels like Hemingway has me by the left asscheek and won’t let me go as of late. So here we are: Cyberpunk literature meta-analysis part 7: For Whom the Bell Tolls

Hemingway comes up a few times in Cyberpunk, too many times to ignore. It’s not surprising, really. We know that Johnny is actually a pretty well-read guy from some of his passing comments, and if I had to guess, he’d probably really connect to Hemingway. In fact, if you play Johnny’s ending with Rogue, the final quest is called “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (which is also cool since it keeps the theme of all the missions being song titles, as this is also a Metallica song). But for once, this analysis isn’t entirely about Johnny or V. Hopefully this rings a bell (pun intended), as we’re very explicitly told who else really connected to Hemingway.  

Jackie Wells.

During the quest Heroes, Mama Wells will ask you to go through Jackie’s garage to find something for the ofrenda. One option is a book, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Earnest Hemingway. Misty will comment that he used to read it before a big job, and that it was important to him. If you choose to bring the book for the ofrenda, V will “read from the book” (I put this in quotes because the passage they read has actually been misattributed, it is a Hemingway quote, but not from FWTBT, rather from another of his works titled “Men at War”):

“When you go to war as a boy, you have a great illusion of immortality. Other people get killed, not you... Then, when you are badly wounded the first time, you lose that illusion, and you know it can happen to you.”

The majority of our main characters start out as The Fool, naive and feeling like they’re on top of the world, the kind of hubris that can only come with youth. Yet, like Hemingway says, it takes a bullet to give one a dose of reality.

For Whom the Bell Tolls is a story of war. Our protagonist, Robert Jordan (I’d be really interested to know if Johnny’s birth name, Robert John Linder, was inspired by this), leaves his cushy job as a college instructor in the United States to join the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War. Robert begins the novel fairly bland; he has no real friends, no real family, and he feels completely disconnected from the world. In all honesty, he’s boring. Like, if wet cardboard were a person. He doesn’t really care if he lives or dies, not because he’s a badass, but because he really doesn’t have anything to lose. No passion, no connections, nothing he loves that ties him to this earth despite the fact that he is a man of such strong convictions that he willingly joins this war. Robert is tasked with destroying a bridge, meeting comrades of varying philosophies along the way, who become a kind of found family to him. Despite going out of his way to avoid making connections, he falls in love, not just with the love interest Maria, but with his friends, finally giving him something worth fighting for, something connecting him to this life. The novel concludes as the group finally blow up the bridge (a task done in vain, since the Republican side has ultimately sustained more losses than the Fascists), and Robert is injured. He convinces the others to leave him behind so he can buy them time to escape. The novel ends just as it begins; our protagonist lying in wait in a forest, gun in hand, “heart to the ground,” on a bed of pine needles. (For more on cycles/mirrors/reflections, see here).

While there’s a much larger political message here that could parallel the themes of Cyberpunk, I want to focus more on the philosophical side, as it ties in with my previous analysis much more coherently. The biggest theme of this novel is about how interpersonal relationships are what matter most in this life, which is summarized very nicely by the poem by John Donne which not only lends the novel it’s name, but serves as it’s opening epitaph:

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

This poem and the overall meaning of the book work on two levels. The most obvious is that we all die one day, that mortality is fleeting. But on another level, No man is an island. Our identity is tied within our communities, those that love us, and those we live for. “Therefore, send not to know/For whom the bell tolls/It tolls for thee.” Each time a person dies, a piece of all those who loved them dies with them. Funerals are not just for the deceased, but for us, a chance to bury the pieces of ourselves that died with them. “Each is a piece of the continent/Apart of the main/If a clod be washed away by the sea/Europe is the less.”

Johnny is incredibly similar to Robert Jordan. Despite knowing a lot of people and having a lot of connections, Johnny is not particularly loved, and that feeling is mutual. He even tells V that they are the only person who knows him that that doesn’t hate his guts. Both Robert and Johnny are men who base their morals and identity solely on principal and ideals; standing up for what is right, fighting against oppression, rebellion, but that passion is not borne from interpersonal relationships and connections. It is made of hate of the world, not love of their fellow man. This leads to one of Johnny’s fatal flaws; he did not fear death, because he did not feel as if he had anything to lose. He was consumed and driven by hate, not love, leading to all of his failed relationships. Had Johnny something to lose, he may not have taken all of the stupid the risks he did, acting as if he did not care about his own life.

V, in many ways, parallels Maria, Robert’s love interest in the novel. While Robert salvation lies in the love he has for all of his newfound friends, the main focus is on the love interest, Maria. Here’s an interesting bit of dialogue between Maria and Robert:

"Now, feel. I am thee and thou art me and all of one is the other. And I love thee, oh, I love thee so. Are you not truly one? Canst thou not feel it?"

"Yes," he said, "it is true."

"And feel now. Thou hast no heart but mine."

"Nor any other legs, nor feet, nor of the body."

"But we are different," she said. "I would have us exactly the same."

"You do not mean that." (20.66-71)

In this moment, Robert and Maria are talking about how they feel as if they have fused into the same person, as if they share a body. Yet there is a key difference in how they view their relationship: Maria wishes that they were exactly the same, while Robert states that she doesn’t mean that. Similarly, while Johnny seems to enjoy the growth he and V provide one another, his greatest fear is V/himself being changed into something they are not. Hmmmm….

Johnny and V are very different people by the end of Cyberpunk, finding meaning in relationships just as Robert has. For V, this means Judy, River, Panem, Kerry, Misty, Vik, etc. And for Johnny, this means V, and by extension, all of the people who make up V’s identity through their love and friendship. Despite dying and rising again as lines of code, V is able to finally show Johnny what it means to be human. His journey, I believe, can be accurate summed up by this quote from the novel:

“This was the greatest gift that he had, the talent that fitted him for war; that ability not to ignore but to despise whatever bad ending there could be. This quality was destroyed by too much responsibility for others or the necessity of undertaking something ill planned or badly conceived. For in such things the bad ending, failure, could not be ignored. It was not simply a possibility of harm to one's self, which could be ignored. He knew he himself was nothing, and he knew death was nothing. He knew that truly, as truly as he knew anything. In the last few days he had learned that he himself, with another person, could be everything. But inside himself he knew that this was the exception. That we have had, he thought. In that I have been most fortunate. That was given to me, perhaps, because I never asked for it. That cannot be taken away nor lost. But that is over and done with now on this morning and what there is to do now is our work.”

In addition, Robert’s final conversation with Maria as he is convincing the others to leave him behind so he can buy them time to escape is nearly identical to Johnny and V’s final conversation:

"Listen to this well, rabbit," he said. He knew there was a great hurry and he was sweating very much, but this had to be said and understood. "Thou wilt go now, rabbit. But I go with thee. As long as there is one of us there is both of us. Do you understand?" (43.319)

Here, Robert is telling Maria that because they are the same, only one of them needs to survive in order for them both to live. Compare that to what Johnny tells V:

V: For fucks sake, defend yourself! You’re not even trying!

Johnny: Hmm…sounds kind of familiar. We know that attitude. See, V? Stayin’ with you whether you like it or not.”

This scene is further paralleled by the fact that V crosses a bridge to reach Mikoshi, which is set to be destroyed, just as Robert was tasked with destroying the bridge. Furthermore, in the Suicide ending, the overall theme is about how V “never realized just how many friends they had.” Friends who, in all other endings, were willing to die for V, as losing them meant a piece of themselves dying with them. Similarly, Robert considers killing himself as his friends escape, as the pain of his injury becomes too much to bear. However, he is comforted knowing that his sacrifice will mean that they live, telling himself, "I don't mind this at all now they are away.” Despite now having something to live for, like Johnny, they are still able to brave their deaths as now they have been given meaning. And not just any meaning; love. No longer hate, or rage, or blind idealism. Love. 

This is the overall message of Cyberpunk: maybe you won’t change the world. Maybe you won’t win the war. Maybe your sacrifice isn’t going to change history. Maybe, in the grand scheme of the universe, you don’t matter, and you won’t ever be a legend. But you do matter to the people in your life. No man is an island. We were made to be in each other’s lives, to love one another, to change one another for the better. And that’s what life is all about.

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 8

masterlist

She woke up the next morning to roses. Red roses sat on her bedside table. They were beautiful, but the sight of them made her want to vomit. Her entire body ached from the treatment Jin had given it the day before.

He’d made her stay in bed the rest of the day cooing and fussing over her. He’d brought her meals in bed, sat beside her keeping her curled into his side as he played sappy romantic movies on the tv. The entire time he’d trailed sweet kisses up and down her neck when he wasn’t running his fingers through her hair. She wanted to chop all of it off. The entirety of her being felt tainted. Since she couldn’t escape, she wanted to at least soak in a bath so scalding it would sear the memory of his touch off her skin, but Jin wouldn’t allow that. He hadn’t left her side since the beating. Instead she had to live with the phantom feeling of the whip against her skin. It didn’t help that the welts left behind were throbbing. Every time she moved she was hit with a new wave of pain.

But Jin didn’t seem to care about that. He sat beside her, cooing over her as though she were a small child. Maybe in his eyes she was. The way he had called her poor and stupid on multiple occasions had not escaped her notice. Jin was an arrogant man though. He always had been. Making her seem small and insignificant fed his ego. He was the great Kim Seokjin after all. No one was as great as him, not in his eyes at least. And at this moment, she felt small. She felt insignificant. It was made all the worse by the way she allowed herself to be moved around and cooed over like a doll by Jin. She hated herself. She hated him.

And he was still beside her now. It was a terrible continuation of the day before except with the addition of roses and breakfast in bed. Jin still hadn’t allowed her out of bed for more than a few minutes to use the bathroom, under his strict supervision, of course. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight, though he had been kind enough to reapply the ointment to the welts that covered the entire length of her body.

She wanted to rip his arms off of her. She wanted to gouge his eyes out, but she couldn’t do either of those things. Jin was bigger than her. He was faster than her, and he held all the cards. She was woefully ill prepared to deal with this version of him. There were no buffers here. There was no place to hide. There was only Jin and his deluded version of love.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of Jin’s phone ringing. It startled them both, but Jin shushed her tucking her head back against his chest as he reached for the device.

“What?” He barked into the device clearly displeased by the interruption. He was on leave. The office knew not to interrupt him unless the world was ending.

“What?” His tone was sharper now, his eyes flashing dangerously as he stiffened under her. “You idiots.” He snapped, and she jumped against him still jittery and skittish from the day before. “No. Don’t touch anything.” He seethed breathing out a deep sigh. “You imbeciles will just fuck it up. I’ll deal with it.”

He ended the call running a hand through his hair before turning to her with a sweet smile. “I have to take care of a problem at the office.”

She perked up at that. “You’re leaving?” She tried her best to keep the hope out of her voice not wanting to upset him.

He pulled her close placing a soft kiss to her lips. “Just for a little while, darling. I’ll be back before you know it.” He promised feeling almost incandescently happy. She was concerned for him. She cared for him. He knew she did. She had just needed a little push to settle in.

“You’ll be a good girl while I’m gone, won’t you?” He asked tilting her chin up so that he was staring straight into her eyes.

“Yes, sir.” She whispered mind already running through all the ways she could try to get out while he was away. It would be the first time in days she hadn’t had his oppressive presence hanging over her like a dark cloud, her first breath of freedom.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled kissing her again before slipping out of bed to go put on work attire. As comfortable as he was in bed with his darling, he couldn’t show up to work in sweats and a hoodie.

When he was properly attired in his suit and tie he returned to the bedroom to find he sitting just as he left her propped against the pillows looking so small and fragile in his clothes.

“Stay in bed.” He ordered placing a kiss against her forehead. God, he loved kissing her. She was addictive, his own personal drug, his angel. “I’ll be back soon. Get some rest, darling.”

She nodded her understanding practically buzzing with anticipation of him leaving.

She waited after he left, just to be sure that she was alone before she moved. She didn’t want Jin to find her disregarding his request. She didn’t need any more trouble than she already had.

Once she was sure he was gone, she practically jumped out of bed, completely disregarding the way her body protested the movement. She tried the door first. She had failed the first time she had tried it, but she had been panicked then. It was worth another shot. Maybe there was a combination she had missed before.

As it turned out, there was not. Each time she tried, the keypad flashed red a glaring reminder of her failure. If she couldn’t figure out what number Jin had set he keypad to, who could? She had been at Jin’s beck and calls for years. She knew him best out of perhaps anyone, but she couldn’t figure out what he had programmed the damned lock to.

Her next move was to wander the penthouse looking for anything she had missed the hundreds of times she had been there before. Maybe there was something she had missed, another way out, somewhere to hide. Jin’s office was locked. She hadn’t expected it to be unlocked, but it was worth a try. She knew that Jin had a computer in there, as well as a work phone, of course he’d keep it locked. He couldn’t risk her having access to those.

An hour of searching the apartment had turned up nothing, a depressing amount of nothing. She was tired. She was battered, and she was beginning to feel hopeless. How had he had managed to make the penthouse such an effective prison? How long had he been planning this? It was all way to well thought out to have been a spur of the moment decision.

She dragged herself to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Nothing seemed so bad after a nice cup of tea, and Jin had stocked the kitchen with a lovely assortment of them.

It was the kitchen that turned out to be her saving grace. How had she missed it all the other times she had been in the kitchen? There, situated against the wall, was a phone, a beautiful little phone. She could have sobbed in relief as she made her way to it.

She picked it up dialing 119, bouncing on her heels as she waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello, darling.”  A voice cooed from the other end of the line sending her heart straight into her stomach. “Did you miss me that much, my darling? It’s only been an hour.” He chuckled completely unaware of her horror.

“I’ll be home soon.” He promised, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I…I…” She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected Jin to be on the other side of the line. How was he at the other end of the line?

“Unless of course you weren’t trying to call me, darling.” She froze hearing the warning in his tone. “But that’s impossible.” He cooed. “My darling would never.” She was trembling, and he wasn’t even there. “No matter.” He hummed. “The house phone only calls me.”

Damn it. She wanted to scream to the heavens in frustration. Of course the phone only called Jin. Of course he had thought of that already. What hadn’t he thought of?

“I had the phone specially programmed to only call me. I wanted you to have a way to reach me if you ever needed me when I was out or at work.”

She choked back tears as she tried to keep her composure. She couldn’t let him know she was upset. She couldn’t risk him knowing she had been trying to call for help. He probably already knew, but she needed to keep up the pretense.  

He thought they were in love. If she could make him believe that she was docile and sweet and utterly in love with him, there was a chance, however slim, that he would drop his guard. She could play along. She could bide her time. And with any luck, one day she would be able to escape.

“What can I do for you, my love?” He purred. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing.” She replied as breezily as she could. “I was wondering when you were going to be home. I was going to cook for us tonight, and I was wondering if you could stop by the store when you were done at the office.”

“Cook?” She could hear the smile in his voice, the smug bastard. “Sure, darling. What would you like me to pick up from the store?”

She breathed out a sigh of relief before rattling off a list of bullshit ingredients for the first recipe that came to mind. If it made Jin happy to think of her as the sweet little wife, she would be the sweet little wife, if only to survive. That was how she had dealt with Jin before. Play into his wishes, be what he expects, and he’s not quite as much of an asshole as he could be. She just needed to cater to him in a new way now. She could feed the delusion to keep herself safe until she could find a way out.

The key would be to keep up her mask. She could never let it slip if she wanted to pull this off. Jin was perceptive, arrogant, but perceptive. She would have to be flawless if she wanted this to work. He had to believe that she was really in love, really settling in. Lord help her if he figured out she was lying to him. She had a feeling that it would be worse for her than the night before. He wasn’t exactly a forgiving man. He never had been.

She had had a few hours to stew in her anxiety before Jin came home. It was early afternoon when she heard the door open. She jumped up to greet him almost scared of the reaction she would get. He had to have known she was lying when she said she had called about dinner, but she was praying that he would let it slide, just this once.

She was ready to face Jin’s wrath, but she was not expecting to be bowled over by eighty pounds of fluff in canine form.

“Jinnie?” She asked excitedly pushing the dog off her so she could sit up and take a proper look at him.

The dog was wagging his tail excitedly giving her a doggy grin as he did his best to reach her face to give her more doggy kisses.

“Hi, handsome boy.” She couldn’t help the happy tears that escaped her as she checked over the dog making sure he didn’t have any injuries. He had a tendency to escape when he was anxious, and he had a tendency to get into trouble with other strays. But he seemed alright. She couldn’t find any traces of blood on him. He was dirty, and he needed a good brushing, but he was alright.

She looked up at the human Jin, happy but confused. She had never expected him to bring her her dog. She’d been expecting an angry Jin, not her dog.

“How?”

“I thought he would make you happy.” He shrugged leaning against the wall giving the dog a wide berth. It had been hell trying to get the animal into the car. “Filthy creature.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had considered finding her a nice purebred, but she seemed to like this obnoxious creature. Her phone was full of pictures of the two of them.

“Thank you.” She choked out before turning her attention back to Jinnie getting him to sit down so she could check him over again.

“He needs a groom.” Jin pointed out the distaste clear on his face. “You could use a spa day as well.” Her head shot up as she looked at him in confusion. “I can’t have either of you looking shabby, darling. I’ll call someone to come by.”

“Alright.” She agreed slowly rising from the floor keeping her fingers knotted in the fur around Jinnie’s neck. “Where are the groceries?”

Jin smiled pushing off the wall to approach her ignoring the way the dog growled at him. He pulled her close managing to give her a quick kiss before the dog pushed his way between them.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, darling.” She froze trembling as he smiled at her. “Next time, I won’t be so generous.”  

part 9

[mystery-salad]

OC Interview: Matthias

Tagged by @just-eyris-things 💖 and I'm late to the party but here we are!

INTRODUCTION

1. Can you introduce yourself?

He offers a charming smile, "Matthias , Commander of the Pact."

2. What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

"I'm a bisexual man, and very much a free bachelor still." He gives a wink

3. Where and when were you born?

"Right here in Divinity's Reach twenty five years ago. Wonderful city to grow up in, made a lot of connections that got me to where I am today."

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

"While the standard sword and shield are the usual for soldiers like me, I prefer dual swords. I'm not one to take a defensive stance when I can charge right in against danger. It's good to take charge on and off the field of battle."

5. Lastly, are you happy?

He lets out a soft, charming chuckle before answering. "If I wasn't happy I surely would've moved on to other job propositions by now, my parents surely would prefer I took a safer role after my time in the Seraph. But there's something fulfilling about being able to travel and help people in a way I couldn't if I'd remained here."

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

"Oh they're wonderful, despite their status they love to keep a low profile though, so I'll avoid dragging this question out too long. We get along well and I try to write or visit when the opportunity arises."

2. Have you ever ran away from home?

"Never even had the thought to, there wasn't much to regret or bemoan of my childhood." He smiles fondly as he recalls, "There were night sneaking out with friends of course, boys will be boys, but I'd always come back by morning. Hopefully to parents none the wiser I'd even left, though I was not as stealthy as I'd thought."

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?

"While I'm in such a dangerous line of work I wouldn't dream of raising a family. I'd hate to be one of those absent fathers off to war. But perhaps, when retirement inevitably comes knocking and it's time to pass the torch on, I may settle down and find The One."

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

"Of course not! I've had nothing but the most trustworthy and kind friends here. And while I know rumors spread that I and my co-Commander, Aildyn (@ascalonianpicnic), had a rocky start to our partnership, I can assure that the two of us work wonderfully together. Just a small cultural conventions bump was all."

5. Which friend knows everything about you?

"Oh, telling any friend everything leaves little to still keep each other on your toes does it? We all have our stories and dalliances we save for more private moments." His smile softens a little, as if fondly thinking of someone. "Nevertheless there is someone who knows the most about me, I'll keep her name secret to avoid any unwanted attention it may garner for her."

ASKED BY FANS

1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?

He feigns insult before offering a smile softening any potential misunderstanding on the action, "Me, illiterate? Id never hear the end of it from my family if I was, with how expensive the schooling I received was. And I highly doubt Logan would have put forth someone lacking in the ability to hold up the more tedious side of running an organization."

2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

"I'm not one for predictions really, I prefer to live in the moment and enjoy what surprises may come."

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

"Hmm, I like to pride myself on being observant, so this isn't a particularly easy one to recall. But as a child, it took me quite a few years to realize that not all 'bite sized food was actually bite sized. Had some hilarious moments at dinner parties my parents hosted, not that they'd agree with the results."

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?

"I'm quite proud to say I'm in tip top shape, physically and mentally. The safety of the world is in very stable hands." He holds his hands out slightly for flourishing emphasis before settling back for the next question.

5. What is your current main goal?

"While we are between dragon threats at the moment, a wonderfully relaxing place to be, we do in fact have some behind the scenes research going on in a few various matters. I'm not at public liberty to talk about then yet, but rest assured when the Pact makes another move you'll be the first to know the scoop."

CHOICES

1. Drink or food?

"Drink of course, a nice drink with friends can happen anywhere at any time. And I'm quite the amicable socialite if I say so myself."

2. Cats or dogs?

"I enjoy both, though I prefer the independence of cats. They know what they want at all times, and I'm afraid I'm far too busy for the training a dog would require of me."

3. Early bird or night owl?

"I'm an early riser by nature, nothing like getting a solid mourning routine and breakfast in before starting the day!"

4. Optimist or pessimist?

"I fancy myself an optimist, this job would get oppressively depressing otherwise wouldn't it? You've got to be able to focus on the bright side as you look forward."

5. Sassy or sarcastic?

"I enjoy some sarcasm here and there, sass has little use in mature conversation aside from hindering the mood. Sarcasm meanwhile, can still let things roll forward with intent thrown in."

HAVE YOU EVER

1. Been caught sneaking out?

He laughs, "While I'd underestimate the count of how many times my parents caught me either sneaking out or back in after a fun night with friends, I'm sure they'd overestimate it. But yes, they've caught me at least once."

2. Broke a bone?

"I've broken an arm or leg here and there, sometimes you just slip up or fall the wrong way of course. Especially when your enemies would like to cause far worse harm. But thankfully we have access to wonderful healers, and I've never been down for long."

3. Received flowers?

The admirers of the Pact and the hard work we do are very kind, they certainly make their adoration and appreciation known. I've received more flowers than I'd have room for even if I filled my office with vases."

4. Ghosted someone?

"Of course not, I'd hate to leave someone hanging and wondering what happened. Anything I enter into, I intend to see through to however it ends."

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

"We all have moments of polite convention, and not every joke appeals to every sense of humor. I try to be discerning when necessary, but I've laughed at a fare number of jokes I simply didnt get."

He stands up, giving a polite bow to the interviewer. "Thank you for extending this invitation to me, it's always wonderful knowing how admirers feel and being able to share with the general public that we heroes are just like everyone else."

It's important to know that 99% of this interview is a bold faced lie

I think pretty much everyone's been tagged by now! At least those who want to do it! So I simply extend the invitation to say I tagged you, and mention me if you do this too! I'd love to see others who haven't gotten to this yet either 💜

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 3)

After this chapter I have officially finished 50% of this book...yeah that’s right after 2 years I have finished half of this book...

Next chapter is pretty long, we might be staying there for a while folks

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. A “one-two finish” refers to members of the same team winning first and second place 

Previous | Next

When Kakeru reached the finish line, he was handed a water bottle by a staff member and ordered to move; if he stayed near the finish line, he would become an obstacle to the later runners.

He wondered how the others were doing. He was worried, so he lingered under the trees next to the finish line to check on the situation. There was another cheer, and he caught a glimpse of a Kansei uniform on the other side of the crowd—it was Kiyose.

“Haiji-san!” Kakeru shouted and leapt out onto the pathway that the runners who finished passed through to get to the lawn. Kiyose was crouching. Startled, Kakeru ran over to him.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t seem to be breathing too much. The runners who finished in the top rankings had that ability; they were able to run the race at their own pace and with ease. There was no way they would be gasping for breath and unable to move after reaching the finish line. “It’s your leg, right?” Kakeru judged after checking Kiyose’s breathing.

In order to lessen the burden on his muscles even just a little bit, Kakeru poured water from the bottle onto Kiyose’s shin. After Kakeru lent him a hand, Kiyose stood up and started walking with a slight limp in his right leg.

“Kakeru, good work.”

Kiyose’s first words were words of appreciation towards Kakeru. Is this really the right time for that? Kakeru felt like crying.

“Yes.”

 When he hung his head, Kiyose laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Let’s go cheer on the others.”

“But, we should cool your leg imme—”

“It’s not a problem. Let’s go.”

Kiyose slipped into a gap between the spectators. Kakeru followed him, saying, “Excuse me.”

At the finish line, there was a close race for eightieth place. Since the results were decided by the combined times of ten people, everyone was desperate.

“It’s the twins, it’s the twins!”

Kakeru spotted Kansei uniforms in the tight group. On the other side of the course, Hanako was jumping up and down.

Jouta and Jouji both gritted their teeth and crossed the finish line. After them, Yuki, Musa, Nico-chan and Shindou finished in the eightieth to ninetieth places. King fought bravely and finished in one hundred and twenty-third place.

“Good. That’s a good pace,” Kiyose murmured. Prince, however, was nowhere to be seen. Among the regular schools, there were more and more that had all ten people finish the race.

“It’s not looking good for us at this rate.”

Kakeru stamped his foot. He almost wanted to run one more time himself. Is he here yet? Is he here yet? Then, from behind the trees, where Kakeru had been staring as if in prayer, Prince appeared.

“He’s staggering…” Kiyose furrowed his brow. Prince had already passed his limits, and his eyes were unfocused.

“Prince-san, run! The finish line is right in front of you!” Kakeru shouted, trying to at least guide him by ear.

“I know that.” Prince struggled forward, fighting the nausea that was rising up. Sweat was flowing from him and his fingers were unpleasantly cold. Where did the blood go? Prince vaguely wondered. My face is probably pale as a sheet of paper right now.

He was clearly anemic, but he couldn’t collapse here. There were twenty meters until the finish line. If Prince stopped running, Kansei, which only had ten people, would be eliminated from the qualifiers. If Hakone was a no-go for them because of him, his collection of books would surely be burned. He had to avoid that.

Prince summoned up all of his willpower. As soon as he did that, his stomach squeezed, and he finally felt an unendurable nausea.

He no longer cared about the several hundred people watching him. As Prince ran, he threw up with all his might. He could hear the female spectators along the route letting out cries of “Kyaa!”

“This is no time for throwing up! Run!” Kiyose’s angry voice rang out.

Are you a demon or something? This is why I hate sports clubs. Prince cursed at him in his head, wiping his dirty mouth with his hand. Of course, he had no intention of stopping his feet. He wondered why he was doing sports, something he wasn’t good at. He wondered why he had been doing all this running practice like an idiot.

It was to participate in the Hakone Ekiden.

Because I thought it would be nice to share in you guys’ muscle-headed dream for once…!

Prince crossed the finish line in one hundred and seventy-sixth place and lost consciousness on the spot.

Everyone in Chikusei-sou had fallen flat in their encampment on the lawn. Less than half of them had the energy to even check their wristwatches for their times after finishing. Yuki had given up on the attempt to clearly grasp the ten’s combined times.

The tallying and calculation of intercollegiate points took up more time than expected, so the results were to be announced at around eleven o’clock. They had to wait at least another hour after all the competitors had finished running.

“We’re in a delicate position.” Kiyose calmly calculated while icing his shin. “When averaging our positions, we’re probably in the mid-eighties. That’s borderline.”

“Depending on the intercollegiate points of the schools that are also borderline…”

Nico-chan glared at the sky with a difficult look on his face.

“It’s possible we won’t qualify,” Yuki said.

Oh no, the twins moaned. Shindou and Musa were quiet, looking like they were praying to their respective ancestors and patron gods. King was plucking at the grass. Prince didn’t so much as twitch, still lying facedown on the grass. Hanako and the shopping district people, who were surrounding them, were unable to give any careless encouragement, and could only wait for the results.

Kakeru suddenly looked at Kiyose’s hands; the ice they had brought in the cooler box was melting in the plastic bag.

“I’ll go get some ice. Maybe they’ll give us some at that store over there.” Wanting to escape from this oppressive atmosphere, Kakeru stood up. Musa seemed to feel the same way.

“I shall go as well,” he said and followed him.

They cut across the lawn and headed for the store with the red roof. It was easy to tell which schools were confident that they would qualify by the expressions on the runners’ faces; it was the borderline schools, like Kansei, that were exuding a sense of high tension, but the schools that had clearly ranked lower were generally calmly waiting for the results to be announced. Among them, there were teams that were happily picking at the multi-tiered bento boxes made by their female managers.

There are all sorts of people, Kakeru thought. For those people, their goal was to make it to the qualifiers. They knew the outcome from the beginning, so when they were finished running, they made it into a picnic-like event and enjoyed themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, but we’re different, he felt.

I don’t want it to end the qualifiers. I want to see even greater heights. I want to be an even faster and stronger team and compete in the Hakone Ekiden. That’s what I’ve been training for, and that’s what I’m going to keep training for.

“I wonder what will happen, Kakeru,” Musa spoke to him worriedly.

“We can get to Hakone,” Kakeru assured him. Burning magma was gushing up from the pit of his stomach. Everyone had run the qualifiers with all their might today; there was no way they could lose.

Musa’s eyes widened at his forceful words.

“Kakeru, you seem to have gotten stronger somehow.”

“That’s not true.” Kakeru shook his head. “We ran pretty hard, didn’t we? So I just think we’ll be okay.”

Musa nodded. “You are correct. We are going to Hakone. All together.”

When Musa said it, it sounded like the happy ending of a fairy tale, or a reliable prophecy.

When Kakeru and Musa asked for some ice, the shopkeeper readily gave them some. Since they came empty-handed, the shopkeeper put the ice into a paper cup. “We were careless,” Musa said. A group of spectators walked by behind him.

“Another black runner. It’s pretty unfair to bring in foreign students.”

“With a bunch of guys like that, then Japanese runners won’t be able to compete.”

Musa’s face stiffened at the whispered comments that they intentionally let him hear, and Kakeru was about to turn around and object.

“It’s fine, Kakeru,” Musa stopped him. “I have heard a lot of comments like that today alone.”

“We can’t let them say something so one-sided!” Kakeru still tried to chase after the spectators that were getting further away, but Musa seized his arm.

“We must not get into quarrels. They are talking about foreign students who came here because of their talent in athletics. I am embarrassed. I am embarrassed of myself. They don’t seem to be able to tell the difference, but my legs are not fast. I am just a foreign student with no talent to be envious of.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” Kakeru was indignant. “You, me, the people who took first and second place today, we all ran the same course. And yet…”

He didn’t know how to say it, but Kakeru was frustrated. He felt like Musa, who he lived with, Kakeru himself, and the international students from other schools he had never exchanged a word with were all being insulted. That’s right, I can’t express it well, but it’s an insult to everyone who’s taking running seriously. Kakeru squared his shoulders.

“It’s just as Kurahara said,” someone said. When he turned around, he saw a lanky man with a shiny and round head. “But let it go. They’re amateurs who don’t know what running is.”

Kakeru and Musa watched as the man bought oolong tea at the store. Kakeru had seen him before. Without letting his guard down, he searched his memory in a panic. I recognize this shiny head.

“Rokudou’s Fujioka! …san,” Kakeru deduced the answer.

Rokudou University had won the Hakone Ekiden several years in a row. This was their captain, Fujioka Kazuma. Kakeru had only met him at the TSU meet in the spring, but he wondered why someone like him would come to the qualifiers.

“I’m here to observe our opponents,” Fujioka said, perhaps reading Kakeru’s question. “Kansei has become quite strong. It looks like you’re going to make it to Hakone.”

Fujioka had the complacency and presence of a champion.

“Thanks to everyone’s hard work.” Kakeru’s natural competitive spirit reared its head, and he answered back proudly. Fujioka let his gaze collide with Kakeru’s, not taking a step back, and then looked at Musa.

“You shouldn’t care about people like that. It’s a ridiculous opinion.”

“Which part of it is ridiculous?”

Kakeru stopped Fujioka, who was about to leave while drinking his tea. The way the spectators talked about Musa made him angry. However, he couldn’t figure out exactly why he was angry, but Fujioka seemed to know what was causing this annoyance.

“Please tell me,” Kakeru pleaded.

Fujioka stopped and stared at Kakeru with interest. “Alright then,” he said and turned to Kakeru and Musa again.

“There are at least two ridiculous parts. One is the reasoning that it is unfair to include foreign students in the team because Japanese runners can’t compete with them. So what about the Olympics then? What we’re doing is a competition, not a kindergarten field day where we all hold hands and one-two finish. (1) It is natural that there would be individual differences in physical ability. But on top of that, sports are about equality and fairness. They have no idea what it means to compete on the same field in the same sport.”  

Musa was silent, attentively listening to Fujioka’s words. Kakeru was just simply overwhelmed by Fujioka’s quiet analysis.

“Their other misunderstanding is thinking that winning is good,” Fujioka continued. “If a Japanese athlete takes first place, if they get a gold medal, is that all that matters? I firmly believe that isn’t true. That shouldn’t be the essence of competition. Even if I win first place, it isn’t a victory if I felt that I lost to myself. Things like times and rankings change rapidly from competition to competition. Who decides who’s the best in the world? It isn’t because of that, but because we have unchanging goals and ideals within us that we continue to run.”

That’s right. Kakeru felt his hazy, pent-up feelings clear up. I got stuck on these things and they made me angry. Fujioka’s amazing. What Kakeru felt and wanted to say were extremely easily untangled and put into words.

“You haven’t changed at all, Fujioka.”

Before they knew it, Kiyose was standing behind Kakeru and Musa.

“An outsider said something unnecessary.” Fujioka bowed to Kiyose in a stoic manner and left this time.

“No, you were helpful.” When Kiyose said that, Fujioka turned his head over his shoulder and a corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.

“Looks like you’ve got quite the lineup.”

“Well, I suppose.”

“I’ll be waiting at Hakone.”

With a resolute attitude befitting a champion until the end, Fujioka disappeared between the trees. It’s like he said “I’ll be waiting in nirvana,” or something. I wonder if he’s not going to wait to see the results announced even though he came all the way here, Kakeru thought, but he hurriedly bowed towards Fujioka’s back.

Musa also said, “Thank you very much,” and bowed deeply. Fujioka’s words had energized Kakeru and Musa, like dispelling thunderclouds.

“I came after you guys because you left without taking the bag.” Kiyose lifted the plastic bag.

“Sorry,” Kakeru said and accepted the bag, then transferred the ice he got from the shopkeeper to it. Kiyose was already walking without dragging his leg.

“Is he called Fujioka-san? He is an amazing person.” Musa seemed deeply impressed.

“I guess that means you need emotional strength and wisdom in the true sense to continue winning Hakone,” Kiyose laughed a little. “Well, he’s always been strangely calm; as a high school student his nickname was ‘Trainee Monk’. It's a bit unpleasant, isn’t it?”

Kakeru and Musa looked at each other and nodded, saying, “That’s true.”

Spectators and runners were beginning to gather at the large display board near the finish line.

“It’s almost time for the announcement.”

“Let’s go.”

Musa jogged back to Kansei’s encampment. Kakeru matched Kiyose’s pace as they made their way across the lawn. He was curious to see what the results would be, but they had come this far and there was nothing they could do about it now. What occupied Kakeru’s mind at the moment was Fujioka’s figure.

The power to change thoughts into words. An eye that calmly analyzed the hesitation, anger, and fear within you.

Fujioka was strong. His running speed was extraordinary, but the mental strength that supported it was incredible. When I was just running recklessly, Fujioka must have been analyzing himself in his fast-moving head and pursuing running on a deeper and higher level.

Kakeru felt both battered and inspired with a strange kind of excitement.

What I’m lacking are words. All I do is let my hazy feelings stay hazy. But I can’t do that from now on. I’ll be as fast as, no, even faster than Fujioka. In order to do that, I need to know my running self.

That was definitely the “strength” Kiyose had spoken of.

“I feel like I’m starting to get it,” Kakeru murmured.

“Is that so.” Kiyose seemed satisfied.

A student in a gakuran carrying a megaphone climbed onto the stage. He reverently opened the memo with the results of the qualifiers. He was a student member of the administration committee from the Inter-University Athletic Union of Kanto, which organized the Hakone Ekiden. His assistant, a female student, stood by the display board while the gathered people listened attentively with anticipation and anxiety.

“We will now announce the qualifying schools for the Tokyo-Hakone Round Trip University Ekiden Race. First place, Tokyo Sport University.”

The TSU crowd gave a loud cheer. Kakeru saw Sakaki being given a spank of joy by his senior. The TSU runners hadn’t come apart, reaching the finish line in a good position together; it was a victory of total strength that displayed the depth and closeness of the runners.

The female student pulled out the first place card on the display board. The name “Tokyo Sport University” and the total time of ten people were written in the first place column: ten hours nine minutes and twelve seconds. The average place for the ten runners was forty-ninth place.

“As I thought, it was a pretty fast-paced race,” Kiyose groaned in a low voice. The expression on his face showed that they were in a difficult situation to qualify. Kakeru curled his hands into fists.

“Second place,” the announcer dispassionately read the memo aloud. “Koufu Academy University.”

Cheers erupted from another corner. “Hmph,” King sniffed.

“That announcer is putting the perfect pause between ranking and the school name.”

“Don’t act all important, get on with it,” Prince, who had finally come back to life, immediately complained.

“Aah crap, my heart feels like it’s gonna explode.” The twins and Hanako were huddled together, quivering like young birds that had fallen from their nest.

The announcement had proceeded to fifth place, but Kansei’s name was not called. Up to this point, all the schools had been Hakone regulars; if they couldn’t get into sixth place, the seventh to ninth places were likely to be different from the total time order of the qualifiers because of the intercollegiate points involved.

“Sixth place.”

“Please please please!”

“Kansei, Kansei!”

Their desperate prayers were in vain, and the announcer said, “Saikyo University.”

“Aah!”

“Are we done? Are we done?”

Nico-chan and Yuki looked up at the sky. Kiyose was staring at the display board in silence. The glint in his eyes suggested that he was looking through the white cards that still hid the seventh to ninth place columns.

“In accordance with the rules, seventh place and below are determined by subtracting each school’s intercollegiate points from their total times. Seventh place, Jonan Cultural University.”

Kakeru felt like he was losing the strength in his legs, but he managed to hold on. They still had a chance. There were two more participation slots to be filled. He felt a pain in his right shoulder, and he looked to see Shindou’s fingers digging into it. Musa’s face was half-buried in Shindou’s arms, and he was mumbling something in his mother tongue.

It’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. Kakeru stretched out his arm and gently patted Shindou and Musa’s backs.

“Eighth place, Kansei University.”

He thought he misheard. King leapt upon them. Kiyose raised his arms to the sky with a rare full-faced smile. Shindou and Musa weakly sat down on the grass. Nico-chan and Yuki high-fived each other, and Hanako and the twins screamed as they slapped Kakeru all over his body.

While being mobbed, Kakeru looked. At the display board, where the words “Kansei University” shined brilliantly. At Prince, who shed a single tear outside the circle.

We did it. The truth finally reached his brain. We are going to be in the Hakone Ekiden.

The next thing Kakeru knew, he was bellowing from the pit of his stomach.

Kansei University’s total time was ten hours sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds. The ten’s average place was eighty-sixth place.

Jonan Cultural University, in seventh place, had the actual time of ten hours seventeen minutes and three seconds. The intercollegiate points put them ahead of Kansei. The school that just barely passed in ninth place was Shinsei University.

Their time was ten hours seventeen minutes and eighteen seconds. Kakeru looked up at the time written on the display board and exhaled with relief and joy. Kansei University had successfully obtained their ticket to Hakone on their first attempt. And they even finished in ten hours and sixteen minutes, which was good enough for seventh place.

There were cries of surprise everywhere.

“Kansei actually did it.”

“And I heard they only have ten people on their team.”

“That’s the school where the third place and sixth place guys came from, right? I already learned their uniforms.”

“Me too. It’s black with silver lines. It’s kind of cool.”

As they were cleaning up their encampment on the lawn, they were asked to give a few words to the close coverage cameras, but Kakeru’s mind was dizzy and lacking oxygen. He was more tired than when he was running and his feet were unsteady.

We've only passed the qualifiers; the actual race is next January. The Hakone Ekiden is in approximately seventy-five days. Even though he told himself that, happiness filled his chest.

Kiyose once said this: “Hakone isn’t a mountain in a mirage.” That really was true. The residents of Chikusei-sou had finally reached the point where they could see the mountain as a real entity.

While feeling excited, Kakeru swiftly folded the plastic sheet. Jouta and Jouji were sitting on the grass. They were frowning for some reason as they peered at the notes of the results they had copied from the display board.

“What’s wrong?” Kakeru called to them. The twins looked up at him.

“Haiji-san said we’re going to the top,” Jouta muttered.

“Mm? Did he?” Kakeru responded lightly, but Jouta wasn’t convinced.

“He did say that. But, this time…”

“What about it?” Kakeru put down the plastic sheet and crouched down next to the twins. “Let’s clean this up quickly and go home. I’m sure we’ll have a party tonight.”

“Kakeru, doesn’t ‘top’ mean winning?” Jouji asked with a grim face. “Our total time is ten hours sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds. TSU, who qualified in first place, has a time of ten hours nine minutes and twelve seconds; that’s a difference of seven and a half minutes. And yet, this is still the qualifiers, right? So, how fast do the runners of the schools that win Hakone run twenty kilometers?”

“If we practice, can we get to that level by New Year’s?” Jouta asked him seriously. “Hey, what do you think, Kakeru?”

Kakeru couldn’t answer anything.

Previous | Next

[panharmonium]

I would like to add Gwaine to the list of friends Merlin had. Especially in the 3/4 seasons he really was ride or die for Merlin, they shared intimate details with each other, they truly trusted each other. There were instances where the show alluded that Gwaine knows about Merlin's magic and is fine with it.

hi there!  i’m assuming this is in response to the post i reblogged about will and lancelot being merlin’s only “real” friends?  

i’m actually happy to write about this, now that the question has been posed - it’s been a while since i wrote anything long about gwaine!

fair warning in advance: i don’t personally classify gwaine the same way i do will and lancelot, and that’s what this piece will cover in more detail, but these are just my own thoughts, and it is totally cool for everybody else to have different opinions.  my take is my take, but it does not have to be everyone’s take - if people wanna scroll past because this isn’t their vibe, i don’t mind in the slightest. :)

so, without further ado - i LOVE gwaine, and i have written extensively about how amazing his relationship with merlin is (some examples here, here, here, and here, if anybody’s looking).  he is the most likely of all merlin’s living friends to ditch arthur in the name of addressing merlin’s needs, which is super important, and he also has a much healthier friendship with merlin than arthur does (in my own personal opinion, of course, which nobody is obligated to share).  he definitely does go ride or die for merlin in S3/S4, i agree.

but my own thoughts on this particular point are still the same as they were in that original post.  i tend to hide my clarifications/explanations in the tags, so they might have flown by, but i’ll just copy/paste the relevant bit here for ease of access, as some background for the rest of this post.

re: will and lancelot were merlin’s only ‘real’ friends:

#what this does not mean: merlin has no other friends!  merlin doesn't have meaningful and important relationships with other people!   #what it does mean:  #every single one of merlin's other relationships is undergirded by the sickening knowledge that those friendships are conditional   #every single one of his other relationships is accompanied by the constant undercurrent of 'they would hate me if they knew'   #merlin knows his friends 'care' about him   #except they don't really; because it's not truly him they're caring about   #they care deeply - about someone merlin made up   #about a facade.   #in the most basic sense   #those relationships aren't Real   #the love merlin feels for the people in them is real   #but you cannot truly be 'friends' with somebody who doesn't even know who you are   #you cannot be loved without being known   #you certainly cannot be loved without being safe

obviously i suppose a person’s thoughts on this would be different if they headcanoned that gwaine knew about merlin’s magic, and that’s fine.  i personally do not believe canon indicates or supports that, but i’m not out to convince people to abandon their own fanon interpretations of things; i’m happy just hanging out in my own space talking about my thoughts.  me writing meta is the virtual equivalent of me talking to myself in my room - if other people have different conversations with themselves, that’s fine :)  i don’t mind if other folks organize their thoughts about things differently.  

in accordance with that - everybody please feel free to continue on with your own interpretations, and ignore mine if mine do not appeal to you!  if people are interested about how i organize my ideas on this, though, they are essentially as follows:

1) a cage fighter, a class traitor, and a fake sorcerer walk into a tavern

ok, to start with - here’s a graph.

(...who tf starts a meta post with ‘here’s a graph’ lol i just drew a venn diagram for the first time since like...middle school...i LOVE fandom, man, this is RIDICULOUS)

anyway

this is a very rough interpretation of how i think about gwaine, lancelot, and will:

to address some of these elements individually:

lancelot and will give merlin something that gwaine can’t - safety, authenticity, the comfort of being known and seen for real, a respite from constantly qualifying every friendship with ‘they would hate me if they knew’

lancelot and gwaine, likewise, give merlin something merlin wouldn’t be as likely to get from will (if will were still alive, i mean) - an understanding of merlin’s devotion to the Crown, a supportive ally in the fight to promote arthur’s reign and keep arthur/camelot safe

will and gwaine, for their part, are more likely to tell arthur to go fuck himself, if it’s important for helping merlin, and that’s a different kind of support that merlin also really needs.

and will, on his own, gives merlin something that neither lancelot NOR gwaine can provide, which is a friend who isn’t connected to or even particularly interested in arthur pendragon (merlin has nobody in his life like this, not after will dies) - somebody who knew and cared about merlin before merlin had any proximity to arthur, before this whole ’destiny’ issue reared its merciless head.

everybody in merlin’s life matters to him and gives him something important.  gwaine is STUPIDLY important to merlin.  the love there is real.  but in canon, because gwaine is not in the know, gwaine is still one of the people from whom merlin feels compelled to hide himself.  gwaine is right up there alongside gwen, arthur, elyan, percival, etc - every other person who merlin loves, who merlin nonetheless constantly, back-of-his-mind fears, ‘they would reject me if they knew.’

the above is part of why i personally have never been too interested in ‘so-and-so knows about merlin’s magic’ canon-imaginings.  there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, and i’m sure people must have tons of fun with them - and in an AU context maybe i would have fun with them too - but as hopeful interpretations of actual canon, they don’t appeal to me.  merlin’s near-total isolation and desperate, constantly-frustrated desire for real, honest love is an inalienable aspect of his character for me, one i can’t separate from who he is and why he does the things he does and why he eventually ends up in the place where we find him towards the end of the show.  

2) i just want someone to see me for who i am

i have seen a bit of sentiment out there along the lines of ‘merlin should have told (x person) about their magic’ or ‘(x person) obviously doesn’t have a problem with sorcerers,’ but i guess i personally don’t think it’s as clear as all that, and i think me saying it is would be doing merlin a disservice.

merlin’s desire to be seen/known/accepted is literally the most base urge he has.  if he truly thought he could tell somebody safely, he would.

i think merlin knows the people in his orbit well enough to know how they feel about sorcery, at least in a general sense.  and even if they aren’t bloodthirsty bigots like uther, they aren’t exactly welcoming magic with open arms, either.  at the most basic, elementary level, merlin understands something that we don’t like to think about: none of his friends ever challenge arthur on the sorcery ban or express any dissatisfaction with the political status quo, and, even absent outright bigotry, this fact speaks loudly enough in and of itself.  merlin’s friends might not be out clamoring for sorcerers’ blood, but they aren’t criticizing a society that criminalizes sorcery, either, and they are never shown to have a problem with the way things are, even though the way things are is wrong.

The Way Things Are is, in fact, unjust.  it’s oppressive.  and allowing that state of affairs to continue, unquestioned and unchallenged, when you have access to the king’s ear and aren’t personally in danger of being persecuted, indicates that you’re okay with the injustice.  that you’re comfortable with the oppression.  that you don’t see a problem with the status quo, and that you're unbothered enough by it to let it be.

it doesn’t matter that merlin’s friends have never straight-up said ‘boy, magic sure is evil’ onscreen.  they never say that camelot’s policies are wrong, and that delivers a clear enough message on its own.

3) it is not a crime to fight for your freedom

to bring this back to gwaine specifically, since that was originally the focus of this ask -

for me, for all that i adore gwaine, and for all that i think he was, for the most part, an INCREDIBLY sound, healthy relationship for merlin, the truth is that gwaine is as much a part of this problem as everyone else.  does that mean i personally think gwaine would have summarily dumped merlin if he’d found out merlin had magic?  no.  but i don’t think it’s as uncomplicated as maybe we wish it might be, and i think merlin has every right to be as uncertain of gwaine on this issue as he does of everyone else.

for one thing, like i said before, even gwaine, who used to have fewer qualms than any of the knights about pushing back on arthur’s BS, has never said a word about camelot’s injustices, or ever acknowledged that the laws of the land are unjust to begin with.  

for another, there are specific moments that kind of make you wonder.

5.05 (’the disir’) is a good example of this - when gwaine finds osgar in the woods, the two of them have this exchange:

you are a sorcerer, a heretic, and a murderer.  

the rhetoric of this sentence frames all three of these things as equivalent entities - criminal ones.  

to pick this apart more carefully:

a) sorcerer

it’s worth noting here that we’re never told osgar has done anything worse than evading arrest for the crime of being a known sorcerer.  when leon mentions him in the council meeting, the conversation consists solely of the following:

“as you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of breckfire intercepted the man who goes by the name of osgar.”

“the sorcerer.”

“the same.  they were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape.”

and…that’s it.  osgar’s crime, as far as we know, was simply being a sorcerer (and then, after that, attempting to escape an unjust arrest, thereby killing a knight in the process).  there’s no mention of any other activities that would have warranted his arrest in the first place, other than the possession of magic.

but magic, even on its own, IS a crime in camelot - and gwaine levels the accusation at osgar as such.

b) heretic

that’s a hell of a word to throw around, if you think sorcery is chill.

“heretic” isn’t a mild accusation.  "heretic” has vitriolic severity behind it.  people are accused of heresy when they’re perceived to be in brazen defiance of what is (in the eyes of the accuser) unquestionably right and correct.  “heretic” is like…it’s like blasphemer.  the connotation is not just that something is bad, but that it’s sinful.

for gwaine, either osgar’s association with sorcery and/or his defiance of camelot’s army makes him a heretic.  and that’s not something a person who is down with sorcery or supportive of a magic-user’s struggle for freedom would say.

c) murderer

if gwaine were cool with sorcery, we would expect him to understand that a sorcerer who resisted arrest for the crime of being a sorcerer isn’t a murderer.  

it’s like kara said in 5.11 - it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.

camelot has been killing sorcerers for decades.  osgar mortally wounded a soldier (not an innocent civilian, i might note) who was trying to imprison him.  he was resisting the armed forces of an oppressive state.  that’s not murder.

somebody who understands that camelot is an oppressive regime wouldn’t think of this as murder.  they would understand that it is not a crime to protect your own life when the state has literally been trying to exterminate your people for years.  and even if osgar had been engaged in rebellious activities against the state (which as far as we know is not the case - nothing like this is ever referenced!), they would understand that people with magic have long been overdue for a righteous uprising.  

but gwaine is a little more like arthur, in this moment - he sees the “wrong” that osgar has done (in the form of sir ranulf’s death) without seeing the thousands upon thousands of wrongs that camelot visited upon the magical community first.

4) you can’t go armed into a sacred place

the rest of this episode is similar.  gwaine pays just as little heed to merlin’s warnings as the rest of the knights, when merlin admonishes them that the disir’s cave is sacred.  gwaine doesn’t relinquish his sword or take special care upon entering the cave.  in fact, he is the one who outright interrupts the disir while they’re speaking - as they’re telling arthur a series of hard truths, that he’s persecuted magic-users, “even unto slaughter;” that he’s desecrated their space: “you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn - trampling hallowed relics - treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom - with arrogance - with conceit - with insolence - ”

and gwaine cuts them off, pushing to the front of the group and shouting at them “enough!  you speak of the king!”  and that’s when the fight starts, when mordred gets stabbed.

someone who was fully accepting of magic, or who knew anything about it at all, would not have behaved this way.  they would not have bristled at hearing how arthur’s regime unfairly persecutes the magical community.  they would have known that it was true.

5) i just want to be myself

the above is just one example, but it’s a clear enough one to illustrate what i mean.  gwaine IS an amazing friend to merlin.  he does treat merlin well.  and merlin loves him to death.  but gwaine is NOT totally chill with magic.  i’m not saying he actively hates it, but he is not, from what merlin has witnessed, entirely safe.  merlin loves him, but he can’t be himself around him.

and i do think that pains merlin terribly.  all these people who he loves so much, and every time he’s with them there’s always that whisper: ‘this is a charade.  all the love in my life is a lie.  they only like me because they don’t know me.  if they knew who i really was, this would be over.’  

and we wonder why he never tells anyone.  we tell him he ‘should’ have told gwaine, gwen, morgana, arthur, like it would have been easy, or even possible, for him to ever consider putting himself in a position where he could lose what precarious, partially make-believe connections he has.

merlin, in the later seasons, when he worries about his magic being exposed, isn’t afraid of being executed.  he’s afraid of becoming even more alone than he is now.  and he has good reason to feel that way - even people who appear to put him first aren’t fully on board with the thing that makes him who he is.  and merlin knows this.  he’s seen it.  none of his friends are out fighting for people like him at court.  some of his friends shake their heads and assure arthur “you are a good and just king” when arthur expresses concern that maybe the disir are right, maybe he has indeed transgressed.  some of merlin’s friends used to buck the system in defense of the powerless, but now they defend the regime even when the accusations levelled against it by an oppressed population are true.

merlin knows that revealing himself is a kind of risk that could very plausibly end with him utterly disowned.  every single friendship he has is subject to this justified fear, this bitter knowledge.  merlin has every reason to doubt the soundness of his relationships.

and, circling back to the thing that started all these musings - the only friends who never made him feel that way were will and lancelot.

that’s all i mean when i say that will and lancelot were merlin’s only “real” friends.  i wish there were a better word to use than that, because i really don’t mean it like…as if merlin’s relationships with other people weren’t…valid, or important, or based on true love and care.  they were.  but there’s just not a better way to express that will and lancelot were the only people who ever even knew who they were friends with, who saw merlin for exactly who he was and said “i love you still.”  they were the only ones whose friendship was something merlin didn’t have to be afraid of losing solely for existing.

i always think of morgana’s line in 2.11 - ‘i don’t want to be brave.  i just want to be myself. i don’t want to be alone anymore.’

around everyone else, merlin has to be brave.  he has to keep up the pretense, which means even when he’s surrounded by friends, he’s completely isolated.

with will and lancelot, though, he could be himself.  with will and lancelot, he wasn’t alone.

6) post-script

i really appreciate being given the opportunity to muse to myself about this in more detail - i actually needed to think through some things regarding gwaine anyway, for writing purposes, and this was actually really helpful in organizing my brain.  so thanks, anon, for the prompt!  

i know my answer probably runs counter to your own interpretation of things, but as i said, this is just my own personal outlook.  i typed it up because the message got me thinking, and because i know i have a couple of friends who might find it interesting, but my thoughts apply only to me, and i do not mind at all if folks think about these things differently!  nobody is obligated to agree with anything i write, or give it any further thought, or even read it at all - we’re all going to engage with this story in different ways, so if anybody finds that this isn’t their cup of tea, please feel free to scroll on by, and keep having fun with this show in whatever way makes you happiest! :)