#by that I mean PROBABLY some choices were made for whats easier to sell

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[authormars]

Trauma

This is a Lucifer trauma post. Trigger warnings include: SA, Abuse of Authority, Abuse in general, Manipulation, Grooming, and if I'm missing any, please tell me

I'm a firm believer in don't like, don't read/ignore

I'm making one big post about this, because it's much easier. I'm focusing on the two I mention a lot in my fics or possibly posts here.

I do want to prefice this with that I do not condone or defend any of this behavior. These are real experiences some people may go through, and if you have, please seek help from a trusted friend, adult, or medical professional.

I will put trigger warning per section. None of this is canon, it all pertains to my headcanon/my au

Michael

Trigger warnings for this portion include: Grooming, Abuse of Authority, Abuse, SA(?)

Michael is an archangel. He was part of an experiment created by the father to see what DNA made the perfect angel. Three were created from this. Gabriel, with half human, half angel DNA, Uriel, with full angel DNA, and Michael, with half demon, half angel DNA. Michael proved to be an interesting case, with strength above any other angel. However, the demon in his blood came with some not so good tendencies to enjoy others pain.

When Lucifer was created as the "perfect angel," Michael began to train him in swordfighting. Michael took an interest in him and became his only mentor.

As Lucifer grew older, Michael began to be more harsh on him. Anytime he failed to defeat him in a match, Lucifer would receive a punishment such as being whipped. It slowly drove him to become better (though, the other archangels didn't approve of his methods)

Lucifer had a habit of sticking his whole self-esteem on Michael's opinion. This meant he was constantly asking Michael how he did or whether he looked good or anything to get praise. If Michael didn't respond with "Perfect" then Lucifer was sent down a spiral (something that stuck with him when he fell)

At a celebration for another angel, Lucifer and Michael we're about to leave and Lucifer happened to ask "Do I still look good?" Because he was desperate for his idol's approval. In response, Michael kissed him and said "Absolutely perfect"

Afterward, Michael insisted Lucifer didn't tell a soul what had happened. They were friends, weren't they? Friends can keep secrets, right? Manipulations such as that. Eventually, these exchanges got more common and Lucifer became more paranoid they would be found out. He thought the world of Michael and would never sell him out, but he was always worried someone else knew.

But then, the war began and Michael refused to side with Lucifer.

"But you said we were friends."

"Friends don't rebell against the Father, Lucifer"

"She's my sister!"

"She made her choice. You must make yours"

"Then I suppose we'll meet again on the battle field"

Michael's section is finished here!

Diavolo

Trigger warnings include: Abuse of Authority, implied/mentioned SA, Abuse

If anyone recognizes me off my AO3, then you'll probably know of my Kiss Me, Son of God series. This is a series in which Diavolo abuses his authority and Lucifer's pact with him to sleep with him.

That's the first incident in which Diavolo isn't the greatest person.

Diavolo has rampages, just like the brothers. However, unlike the brothers, his don't stick to a particular sin. Diavolo is a royal demon, meaning he is representative of all sins. This means that he can have rampages for all sins.

The most common would be Lust or Wrath. During these rampages, he has a tendency to hurt Lucifer. In Lust, because he subconsciously sees Lucifer as his future queen (tagged as Dialuci for a reason) and in Wrath because he sees Lucifer as an angel, therefore a threat in his realm.

However, unlike Michael, Diavolo almost never remembers doing these things to Lucifer. When he realizes his best friend is slowly becoming afraid of him, he makes the move to improve. As time moves forward, Diavolo becomes more caring and cautious around Lucifer, leading to the relationship we see in game.

Final thoughts

I give a lot of trauma to Lucifer, mainly as a coping mechanism. I am an angst writer, so the things I headcanon/have in my au are going to be heavy topics. I recognize that this behavior is not okay and I don't defend it at all.

These things happen to real people, and I feel like these topics aren't discussed enough in fandom culture. That's the reason I write it and incorporate it. If we remain ignorant, we won't recognize the signs of it happening in our own lives or in the lives of the people we love.

If you've read to the end, thank you! I know this is mainly just me dumping stuff, but thanks for reading it

[scrapyardboyfriends]

I am really bemused by where this is all going with John. His scenes with Aaron show sub zero chemistry, he is literally like a plank of talking wood and then last night they have Aaron show how affected he still is by the mere mention of Roberts name. It's like the complete opposite of how any soap normally goes about trying to sell a potential new couple. I was thinking they were going down the enemy to lovers route but the total lack of any sexual tension is making me even doubt that now!.

I feel like they were trying for sexual tension when they had John sucker punch him in the stomach and then linger there threatening him. But it felt very much more in the vein of Nate's "you know you want me" refrain to Moira during their horrific affair than the robron wall slam moment. So it really didn't work for me at all.

With regard to the Robert mentions and Aaron being so affected by them...well...at least we know Danny is still capable of doing some occasional acting because it really does feel like he's phoning in the scenes with John already.

But no, honestly, I'm kind of the opposite in opinion on the Robert mentions. I think they need to mention him, they need to acknowledge what Robert meant to Aaron, what he still means to Aaron. I don't know that Aaron has ever properly dealt with those feelings. He kind of did a little at the end of his post Robert spiral story but then when the Ben stuff came up and they stupidly brought up the false hope of an early Robert release, they really had him side step his Robert feelings completely and just bury his head in the sand and push things forward with Ben so that he didn't have to think about Robert and get his hopes up. That didn't feel like him dealing with things properly.

And then Ben nicely got himself murdered and Aaron literally ran away from the village saying "things haven't felt the same since Robert went to prison" so we got a little acknowledgement but not enough because then he was gone. And the Marco thing was entirely off screen and he was literally running away from his life for that year or so, so I don't imagine he was dealing with his Robert feelings. And even so, we didn't see it.

So to me, if Aaron is truly going to move on, if the show truly wants him to move on, then yeah, they can't ignore the Robert shaped elephant in the room. Because the viewers that care about Robert won't be ignoring it. I think they have to deal with the Robert of it all head on and have Aaron actually process those feelings finally. He needs to acknowledge that he loved Robert, that he still loves Robert, that he probably always will but that for now, Robert made his choice and it was technically for Aaron's benefit and it's okay for him to try and be happy with someone else, while not avoiding his Robert feelings.

It's a weird situation because it's almost like they have to treat it like Robert died, because that's the level of loss Aaron experienced when Robert went to prison. This wasn't just like a bad break up. Robert was literally ripped away from him. And his whole plan for his future with him. That's a major loss. I feel like it's easier to acknowledge a bad break up and move on from it and it's easier to acknowledge feelings you're always going to have for a husband that died but this exists in this weird in between and I feel like they have to deal with that finally or it will always feel like they're leaving this door open because they're just ignoring it.

And even if Aaron acknowledges the need to put those feelings aside and that he needs to truly try and move on (let's forget for a second that he'd be moving on with Robert's long lost gay half brother) they're still acknowledging that he still has these strong feelings for Robert that will probably never go away completely so if Ryan were to ever grace us with his presence again, Aaron moving on now doesn't preclude him from going back to Robert immediately because we know he's always going to love him.

That's how I'd handle it anyway.

Basically, the audience isn't forgetting Robert so the show shouldn't try and ignore him either.

[ubercharge]

im not sure if anyone asked you yet, but thoughts on the dunmeshi anime?

thanks for asking! sometimes i forget i exist here as a person cuz i just log on to queue random stuff without making posts 💀

it's pretty rare for me to watch an anime without ever reading the manga, and there've been stellar adaptations recently. ONK, kisekoi, BTR, frieren, CSM just to name a few. in a landscape where we're used to being disappointed as readers who have a frame of reference before watching a show, i had very, very high hopes for the dunmeshi adaptations that weren't quite fulfilled.

i'll dump everything under a cut since i actually have a lot to say, sorry if you were expecting it to be brief 😎

the lines in the artistic style are good, nicely translating the characters into animated format. really no notes there. definitely a nicer comparison for char designs between manga and anime vs. tonsuki and tensura who both have incredible manga styles that the anime stumble over (though in the latter's case, i don't think they were aiming for it sadly)

the shading has been fine, but weakened by the colour choices. some of the dungeon scenes (e.g., living armour stuff) are lit with a medium blue which helps to sell the idea of the scene being in a place not lit by fire (and contrasts it with the making camp & cooking scenes), but the lack of dark shading flattens some of these very well-drawn images.

the earlier chapters don't have the same level of detail as newer ones, but the art style is still fantastic - it's expressive with high contrast and shows action and impact perfectly well. manga will often times have a naturally easier way with contrast due to it being in black & white, but i don't think that means anime should just give up on contrast in favour of playing ineffectively with colour.

here's a night shot of fern from frieren. the choices made here allow for the shading to stand out from the flats and give her more definition overall while still being relatively simple (just flats + shading)

when dunmeshi has more "normal" lighting conditions, it does a lot better. similar to fern up there, there's about the same amount of difference between the flats and shadows, so i really wish they did a better job on the dungeon scenes since they're going to have to deal with non-torchlit scenes plenty. i won't argue that the living armor scene certainly has some kind of a sickly, alien mood to it, but tl;dr i think it should've had darker shading if not also being less green. this largely applies to every other blue-green lit scene they've done.

looking at kui's coloured drawings in the ed gives me an idea of what could've been and it makes me sad to lose out on colour choices more similar to that (even if they obviously can't have her level of detail on top of it)

some of the backgrounds haven't been too interesting but some have been good, overall it's probably fine. plus you can only draw and detail repeating bricks so many times before the viewer gets bored of looking at them anyway, i guess.

the animation is really fun and expressive. it's trigger, so they don't keep scenes stiffly on-model when they want characters moving around. this is good because it helps to sell both action and comedy moments!

the music overall i haven't really cared for? the BGM has not been particularly moving, interesting, or memorable - mostly generic. and i've seen too many fantasy shows for my own good, so i might be harder to impress (but i even remember tenken had a good BGM song or two to make a fight dramatic and that show was barely above average at best)

i'm biased not being particularly into bump, so i would've selected a different artist for the OP (i actually did like the bump OP from SxF though, come to think of it). before anyone makes a wisecrack based on what i've watched lately, no it doesn't have to be yoasobi.

i maybe feel the ED song would've been better for the OP, i don't like the largely peaceful bit of the OP with very still visuals. the OP is where you reel people in! it should be an eye-catching hook, representative of what to expect with some extra sauce on top.

the ED is great, total bop. it's a fine time for slower visuals as an enjoyable wind-down from the episode, so less or no animation is no big deal. plus kui's art is absolutely gorgeous! it all perfectly fits that "end of work" fun and lighthearted mood they were going for.

i largely enjoy the voice acting. i would've personally gone for a less "old man" voice on senshi because he's really not that old for a dwarf, but they obviously wanted to make it clear he was the older, wiser, knowledgeable character.

this might be my own personally most blasphemous opinion, but i would've picked a different VA for falin. i want to make it clear i absolutely adore saori hayami - she's incredible and one of my faves. with that said, her voice fits the character, so maybe it's just because i've heard her too often which is not her fault by any means! i love the voices for laios, marcille, and chil.

it seems netflix's subs go off of the official EN TL of the manga, which makes sense, but i've talked about how i don't like it more than ehscans' TL (which is one of the single best TLs i've read for a series, official or otherwise) and that holds true for the anime ("mad sorcerer" is cooler AND less clunky than "lunatic magician"). i prefer less localisation stuff and/or quirkiness in my subs and more direct translation for both manga and anime.

as for the changes/additions they've made to the show, some of them have been alright and some i didn't care for. they really want to sell marcille as the funny joke character which is why they had her being chased by the basilisk instead of having doni & fionil like it was in the manga which was better for the pacing and had good impact vs a funny clip of marcille running back and forth.

i don't dislike when adaptations add or change stuff, but placing them cleanly is important. dunmeshi is already really funny! i don't think it needs help being funnier by reaching for the cheap laugh. when laios sees two people running for their lives from a basilisk and he just goes "wow that's a bad way to run from that monster", it's already lowkey hilarious - all the more so followed by marcille telling mr. monster-know-it-all to go rescue them if he knows what's up and him rescuing them by making himself big and chicken squawking real loud (which embarrasses marcille and chil, but c'mon guys, at least his idea worked!). i feel like the comedy in laios' funny hero moment is undercut by forcing the marcille butt of the joke moment in the anime.

dunmeshi is already incredibly good at just about everything it does. i feel if an adaptation wants to add or change something, it's often better amplifying a strength or shoring up a weakness in the source material. BTR adds a lot to the source (not hard considering the source is a 4koma) and makes already funny things even funnier. the "we should all get social media" scene is elevated to iconic status with the visual of bocchi glitching out + the VA's inhuman screech. i can't say where i'd really want to change or add stuff to dunmeshi, since it really feels so good and whole, but i'm sure there's room in the process of translating manga panels to animated scenes, and i think the direction overall could've been better (comparing most shows to BTR isn't fair i know because BTR is directed & adapted so well it's hydrogen bomb vs. coughing baby territory)

i've mostly said negative stuff, but i don't want it to sound like i hate or even really dislike the adaptation. i think when it comes to a series you really love, you want to see the best adaptation possible within reason, and the disappointment of stuff not being quite what you were hoping for is amplified by so many other recent adaptations being so good.

dunmeshi does not have a bad anime by any means, but a lot of that is thanks to the source material's quality. if they do another season, i hope they have more time/budget/whatever because i think a lot of the parts it does have are good parts! but in this case, i wasn't hoping for good; i was hoping for great.

trigger makes great shows with wacky storylines (in some ways, the same one wacky storyline, but that's a different discussion) and dunmeshi, being directed by someone who's worked on a bunch of trigger stuff (largely sci-fi leaning), maybe needed some more direction from people who've worked on fantasy stuff? i can't say for sure what would've been enough to take the show over the top, but though i generally don't hope for much from adaptations, i really did have higher hopes for this one than it ended up achieving.

overall it seems i'll end up scoring the show a 7 or 7.5 when i finish the season, though there's certainly still room to wow us all. whatever you feel about the adaptation, whether you liked it or not, whether or not you've read the manga, feel free to comment your thoughts below or in my inbox. let's keep it free of manga spoils for anime-only watchers, though!

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Chapter 30

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

When my mom finds me, I'm curled up in a ball in my room, eyes swollen and nose running. At this point, she gives me a knowing look and I have no other choice but to spill everything to her. To be fair, I had promised to tell her anyway last night. Though I didn't know I would be getting this extra piece to the chaos-infused puzzle of my life.

I tell her everything—save for the intimate details and nights spent in the same bed-–and she listens. She doesn't have a strong reaction to any of it, just nods along and squeezes my knee when I get choked up. I didn't expect either of my parents to know who Javi was. They almost exclusively watch the local news, and the Hallmark Channel. Explaining the magnitude of it all is the most embarrassing part. Well, that is, until I get to the most recent update.

There is no way for me to hide the fact that Javi and I were at least kissing at the wrap party. I wouldn't be able to explain why I flew here to begin with. This also means that I have to explain the way I flirted with Blake in Italy, and how he showed up in our hotel room. Because apparently, he was so irked by the studio telling him that I was asked if I was going to press charges, that he had refused to attend the party at all. No one expected him to show. That is why, when he was spotted by the VIP door, skirting away out the back, it was seen as slightly suspicious. Emma, of all people, noticed him and thought to report this information to the studio when she saw the tabloids. After all, only the lead roles had keys to that room. I make a mental note to send her flowers.

The studio called Blake, threatening him with legal action, or he could simply admit to it now and make the whole thing easier. He did admit to it, under the promise that they wouldn't make that known to the press.

Which made for one last loose end for Norwick to tie up: me.

They could promise Blake all they wanted that they wouldn't go to the press, but I could. I could post about, spread it around town, sell the information to the tabloids, and there was nothing Norwick could do about it. The rest of the phone call, after my soul returned back into my body, was Devon explaining the documents he was going to send to me. I need to sign something that says I was not put in harm's way from the studio, that this wouldn't impact my promotion, and that I promised I wouldn't press charges that would out Blake for defamation, his past threats, or revenge porn. He and Tom made it clear they weren't interested in sparing Blake from the bad press, but they did need to spare the movie and its future sales. I agreed to it. At this point, I just want it to all go away.

"But...honey, this is a good thing, isn't it?" My mom asks after she's sure that I've finished unloading this shitstorm. "Your promotion isn't in jeopardy, and it was just some lousy has-been with a camera."

It's not worth explaining to my mom that Blake Henley is far from a has-been.

"No, that part is good. I'm grateful for that. I just feel...exposed. And for the past few months Javi and I have tried to keep our relationship a secret from just the studio...I didn't think it would get posted everywhere so fast." I sniffle.

My mom waits, sensing there is more. And of course, there is. "I feel like it might be...too much, for him. We haven't known each other for too long. What if it's not long enough for this to be worth it," My voice drops to a whisper, "What if...what if I'm not worth this?"

My mom hugs me now, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders.

"Maybe this won't mean much coming from your mother. But you are worth it. Ava, I haven't seen you talk about a man like this, probably, ever. Not even with John." She pulls back and her face softens in sympathy. "I probably shouldn't talk about him. But you know what I mean. Do you feel like it's worth it?"

I nod gently. "When I'm with him, I'm not thinking about anything else. It feels heavy but...it's worth it."

"Then follow that feeling. If he knows what's good for him," she smirks, "He'll know that feeling is worth everything."

I wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve and smile at her. "Thanks, Mom."

After a minute, my smile turns sly. "Would now be a good time to tell you Javi is older than me?" I knew they wouldn't care once they heard how much I liked him, but I also knew it would completely throw her off.

My mom laughs. "How much older?"

"Older. Let's call it at least...twenty years older."

My mom's face goes slightly pale, and I let out my first, real laugh since I got home.

She smiles despite herself. "Maybe wait to tell your father that detail. Let's lead with...well, anything else."

Both of us laugh now, and I feel the room get brighter despite the setting sun.

- - -

Telling my dad later on was a bit easier now that I had told my mom. Having her support made it go smoother. That and the fact that this time I was crying a lot less. After his anger toward the media and Blake subsides, he mostly just wants to know more about Javi. I tell them both about how we met, and our first date. I tell them about Italy and how he calmed me on the plane.

"How was the plane ride here? That was one of the most shocking things to me, that you boarded so last minute." My dad interjects.

"Honestly I think wanting to escape all of the craziness helped. I would rather it wasn't happening but it pushed me to get on the plane, and my panic was minimal."

My dad reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

"I'm proud of you."

The earnestness in his voice is enough to make my eyes well up again. I've cried so much today I'm surprised I have any tears left.

"So what does your guy think about all this?" He asks, and I know he's trying to change the subject to avoid seeing me cry.

"Well, uh, he's been supportive but we haven't been able to talk about it much. Everything happened so fast. He wanted me to come to his house when I left but I felt like it would create a bigger media storm. Now that I've been home for a bit...I feel like I ran off too soon."

"Why don't you give him a call then?"

"I asked him to call me after his meeting but then Dwayne called and after hearing about Blake I just sort of listened and then cried until mom came home." I laugh but my dad gives me a disapproving stare.

"And you said you weren't going to charge him?"

I nod. "I feel like he's just bitter over what happened in Italy, or maybe he's just bored, but it would create even more of a mess. I also don't think what he did was technically illegal, even though it's creating all this...noise."

My dad nods now. He hesitates, then adds, "I can't deny that this worries me, honey. It sounds like a very big spotlight on you."

"We'll have your back here, of course," my mom chimes in.

"Of course," he agrees, "And I am glad your studio has your back, too."

"It really seems like they do. Dwayne still plans on giving me his position."

My parents exchange a long look.

"I can't say that I thought you would ever date an actor," there is humor in my dad's voice now. "Is he very dramatic?"

I laugh. "I think you'd like him. He's very down to earth."

"Hmm. Well you deserve to be happy sweetie."

"Thanks, dad." I smile at him before letting out a big puff of air. "I think I've been wanting to talk to you guys about all of this for a while. It's been hectic. Great, but hectic."

"When do you think you'll go back?" my mom asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm on hiatus for at least another month. I do need to know what Javi wants to do, and what our PR guy told him to do. Dwayne said that Javi was given advice on next steps and I'm nervous about what that means. I told mom but, I think...I think it's possible this has run its course. It might be too much for him."

My dad clicks his tongue. "Don't jump to conclusions, Ava. You just need to talk to him."

I nod. "I know, I will." I glance over at the clock. It's not even eight yet, but the stress of the earlier phone call, the jet lag, and retelling these past few months twice is weighing on me.

"Honestly I think I might turn in early."

"Okay honey," My dad stands up to press a kiss to the top of my head.

"Love you," My mom calls after me as I make my way up the stairs.

I know they're right, and I need to talk to him. I reread his text messages while I brush my teeth. I don't know why I feel so nervous about all of this, and so calm when I read his last texts. When I'm alone, or I'm speaking to my parents about it, all I can think is, why would he want to deal with this? I can imagine what people are saying about him, just by the few questions the paparazzi barked at me the other morning. I don't know why he would put up with all of that. He could date someone who gets it, someone who is used to the limelight. But when I read his reassuring messages, and how understanding he was when I up and left...I don't feel the weight of my fear.

When I get under my covers, I take a deep breath, and call him.

I'm feeling good about my decision to do so until he doesn't pick up. It rings and rings, but it goes to voicemail. I hadn't planned for this, and my heart beats a little faster.

"Hey, um, it's me. I was just calling to see how the meeting went. I had a call earlier with Dwayne...but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't say any of this over the phone. I'm not sure what the protocol is," I let out a nervous laugh and feel my face flush. What am I saying? "It's been good to be home, but...I miss you. I guess that's all I wanted to say. Okay, bye."

I hang up, covering my face with my hands immediately. Not my best work.

I turn my call volume up, knowing that it must be almost six back in L.A. so he still might give me a call back. Grabbing my marine book from the bedside table, I flop on my back and read a chapter about penguins.

The next thing I know, I'm being jolted awake by the sound of my alarm screaming near my ear.

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

Series Masterlist

[kohakhearts]

hey that pokemon 2000 gifset + your jn dub analysis made me think about the pokemon 2000 dub - I've only seen it subbed once (compared to the hundred times I watched it dubbed as a child) so I could be misremembering, but didn't the dub completely change the themes of the movie with the chosen one ash thing?

i actually haven’t watched the sub nearly as many as times as the dub either :p but i have read extensively about this topic bc it’s personally my favourite pokemon movie and yes! the first and second pokemon movies are both victim to this (like mewtwo’s epic speech we all love so much at the end of the first movie…being a complete fabrication by the dub team :p you gotta give those writers credit - they were VERY good at what they did), largely i’m guessing due to cultural values and expectations. since they were trying to sell the anime to an american audience, not a japanese one.

tangentially, i will say i also think that’s the root of this like…subtle distinction some people have between the characters “ash” and “satoshi.” i don’t differentiate them in any big way myself because fundamentally they still are very much the same, but it is true that in japanese, ash has somewhat different mannerisms and responds differently to events at times, especially in the early anime when it was so much easier to get away with making big changes for…a big assortment of reasons haha.

in THIS movie in particular, some of those things are like…well. the prophecy is probably the most obvious change. the dub team rewrote it to include the chosen one reference, which works great because of the word play on ash’s name. in japanese, it just says “an exceptional trainer will appear to help calm the wrath of the gods.” ash’s response to this is more mild trepidation than outright fear. he doesn’t hesitate like he does in the dub. and tbh? both reactions make perfect sense for his character in my opinion.

in japanese, his concern is more "do you really think i can fit that role?" this...tracks pretty well with his character development by this point. like yeah he said he could win the indigo league, but he's also thinking about dropping out after gary loses; it's that little grain of insecurity he has, which he's normally good at covering up with arrogance (a lot of which is also very genuine, don't get me wrong). but he sees the opportunity to help and he takes it. that's just...what ash does.

in english, though, the prophecy is pretty clearly about him. there's no one else it could be. it has to be him. and he...doesn't like that? that scares him. which, fair. anyone would be terrified by being singled out like that. it's also so much...not ash's thing, even at this point in the series. his character development is about embracing having to work hard to do well. to keep trying until you get it right, no matter how many times you get it wrong. the idea of being a "chosen one" completely robs him of his ability to be so single-minded about what he wants his destiny to be that it manifests as pre-determined; it just...pre-determines it for him, if that makes sense. lol.

the thesis of the japanese version of the film is that no one person or pokemon can stand on their own. everyone needs help. it's about harmonizing with each other and with nature. about letting others help you, and helping them in turn. the english version rewrites that into a story about power and destiny. the title alone says it all, right? it's called "the power of one" - no reference to lugia, no reference to the birds. in japan, the title is about the revelation (or "birth") of lugia.

westerners love a good chosen one story, so this was a really good choice by the dub team in that respect. i mean, it's a narrative that's stuck really well. fandom loves chosen one ash! in general, western fanbases are really into this narrative. it's everywhere. and there's a lot that goes into that, culturally, and especially religiously, historically, etc. so at the end of the day, i don't think the change is so much about conflicting ideas about collectivism and individualism. it's more about goals and ideals, on a personal level.

let me say again for the 273456784th time, i love that they resolved ash's story by having him realize that the goal he's really been striving for all this time is to meet and befriend pokemon. to learn from them. to earn their trust. it's like...he did the thing that everyone else thought represented his goal, maybe even himself included, only to realize that his dream was never about the end of it anyway. it was about everything he learnt and everyone he met along the way. (i also suspect nobody writing in 1997 knew that that would be the ultimate resolution, either. but it makes sense in the entire context. it's kind of a nice irony, even. to only figure it out after writing the story :p)

and i think this little distinction is important to that goal! it's his whole character! which is why even though i too love chosen one characters, i don't necessarily think of ash as one. because even if he is, his whole Thing is that he wants to try. a lot of the chosen one narrative is about characters being reluctant to be used for a "greater good," or about them collapsing under that pressure. ash doesn't really have that. he does what he thinks is right because he...thinks it's right. sometimes, sure, others have to push him into it a bit, but usually they're actually pushing the other way - it's too dangerous, you're going to get hurt, etc. and to me, i don't know - thinking of times he's died, or nearly died, and some legendary or mythical pokemon has saved him at the last minute...i don't think that has to mean he's special in a cosmic sort of way. i think it just means he's special to them. that he did something for them, or for someone else they had come to care for (thinking manaphy responding to may's emotions, not just to the fact that ash was drowning, or in mpm ash convincing latios to trust him because of their mutual desire to save latias, etc.), and so they want to help him. which is completely opposite to the typical chosen one narrative, i think? because he doesn't do those things out of obligation...he does them because he thinks he can become a better trainer by doing them, and he wants to do that. and well. he did do that.

anyway my tl;dr here is YES they changed the theme a lot haha, but i find it fun that they also changed the characters’ responses to that theme. funnily that’s…kind of also what fanfiction writers do all the time, lmao, but that’s a whole other conversation.

[airasora]

Mulan as a devotion oathed paladin with folk hero background

Mulan was requested by both dagidaz5540 and @little-bloodied-angel and this one I think is gonna have some people disagreeing with me, but that's okay cause I went back and forth on quite a few decisions here.

First of all; fighter felt like the obvious class for Mulan. HOWEVER, my reasoning for choosing paladin instead is that the description of its class, and its oath of devotion, is that paladins are fueled by the desire to uphold justice and righteousness. Mulan didn't start fighting because she wanted to fight, but because she has a duty to her heart and what she believes is right. That, along with the oath of devotion, which is about protecting the weak and pursuing the greater good, made me feel like paladin was the better choice for her.

However, I think the more polarizing choice of mine will be her looks. Now, I did think at first it made the most sense to make her, for the lack of a better word, "look plain". Mulan cuts off her long black hair to pretend to be a man at first, yes, but in the sequel she has kept the shorter hair, either out of preference or because it makes fighting easier - let's be honest, long-ass hair is a liability realistically if you have to fight or do stunts or anything like that.

My reasoning for giving her long, bejeweled hair along with some makeup as well is very biased, I admit. You see, to me, what I've always loved about Mulan is that she can do both. And I MEAN that. Mulan starts off being not stereotypically feminine because she's clumsy and all that, but she's not stereotypically masculine either cause she doesn't just run off, joins the war and is magically amazing at fighting. (Looking at you Mulan remake, you're still my least favorite out of all the remakes, you were an atrocity on so many levels!) so she has to learn and figure out both how to grow as a warrior, but she also uses knowledge and stereotypically feminine objects when needed - don't pretend her using the fan to trick Shan Yu's sword out of his hands isn't metaphorical - and the opening song to the sequel is literally her explaining yin and yang and how you need both.

I know that the main reason we still saw MANY illustrations of Mulan merchandise with her looking feminine was probably to sell more merchandise by appealing to young girls, but growing up I always saw it as her being able to do both. She was my first introduction to a character who was strong with both feminine and masculine traits and skills. And, until Luisa from Encanto (and with the exception of Kim Possible) Disney didn't really give us a strong female character who appreciated and praised both feminine and masculine skills and traits. I wanted that to shine through in my BG3 version of her.

Ok, this post is gonna get too long if i continue, so hold onto my reigns now x'D

[woolieshubris]

my tamagotchi UNI review:

im so sorry its going to be long...

TL;DR it's good :3 if u want a color tamagotchi and don't mind spending 60 dollars (about what you'd pay for an after market tamagotchi ON/MEETS) i'd highly recommend it!

full review below cut

Aesthetics:

Let's be honest, the aesthetics make sense, but are still a tad disappointing none the less. they are going for a more gender neutral vibe this time around + trying to make it more similar to the way that the original tamagotchi shells look, rather than going for the hyperfem aesthetic, which I can appreciate. I just wish they made them more interesting. give me my glitter!!!!!!!!

Form Factor:

It is very much built to be played with the watch case on. Not a bad idea- but outside of the case, the buttons stick out quite a bit. I just hope they produce an official case that doesn't have the watch band attached- I'd love to be able to clip it onto my belt loop! I'm sooooo glad they continued with the rechargable battery, because it makes it so much smaller and better. It's even smaller than the smart- which to be honest, I wasn't expecting.

Engineering:

I'm so fucking glad they brought back the 3 buttons. They make it so much easier to navigate the menus. I got pretty used to the Pix's touch capacitive buttons though, and I wouldn't have minded them here- but I do understand that they were extremely hit or miss with people. (I do miss being able to do swipe gestures though. I guess that just means I need to play with the pix more.) I'm honestly incredibly glad they didn't do the touch screen here, because after playing with my smart for about a year on and off, the screen gets really dirty really fast. (not to mention the discoloration.) I'm also glad that on the official tamagotchi shell they didn't include any silicone- this pretty much solves the discoloration issue, and I hope that they sell more watch bands in even more colors. I dislike the placement of the lanyard/charm hole, I never really liked it being on the back, it should be on the side- otherwise it has a tendency to hit things, but I can understand putting it there. I do wish they upped the speaker quality though, the 16 dollar gigapet shouldn't have better speakers than the 60 UNI. I'll probably turn off the sound after a while. The speakers do their job regardless, since the tamagotchi has continued to stick to their guns and not have it play any noise other than beeps at various pitches. ALSO. USB C CHARGING IS A GAME CHANGER FOR REAL.

UI Design/Region:

The fact that this tamagotchi is not region locked is amazing. all tamagotchi UNI's share the same programming, and on startup you can pick whatever language and whatever server you want. The menus are pretty simple and not confusing, and I like a lot of the choices they made. It's not my favorite UI from a tamagotchi, but it's perfectly serviceable.

Gameplay:

It's cute! It's tamagotchi gameplay. Seems like they brought a bunch of fan favorite features back- having pets, marriages ect. I also like that each tamagotchi has a specific personality that you help them develop. I think that's really sweet. Also, being able to hold 4 accessories at once is a great way to be able to decorate the tamagotchi! I like that they added more places to go- the pix was really missing that. The games are fun and interesting, and I really like the way they use the gyroscope in some games. The growth chart seems like theres elements we haven't discovered yet which cause certain characters, so I'm curious as to see how it pans out. There's still a lot of mystery surrounding the gameplay!

Online Functionality:

The online functionality is scary to me, since I'm worried about the ability to push out updates. I haven't run into any bugs, so it seems like it'll mostly be used to push content updates? But I'm not entirely sure. I do like having the codes be exclusive, (I'm sure the modding scene will be able to find ways to automatically hack in certain items) because the PIX's QR code system made me a little bit sad with how easy it was to get any item in the game. It seems like there are also more items in this game as well. I do think the online functionality could be a really useful gateway for the modding scene, and the fact that the tamagotchi can download updates and items from the internet (not just backgrounds like the ON/Meets) is super exciting. I'm very excited to see what comes next. It is slightly worrying that bandai could in theory patch out any modding/hacking entrances, but also this is bandai we are talking about and they only really care about each tamagotchi model for about 2-3 years before phasing it out. (Though to be fair the Pix and Smart were smaller releases- they kept support for the Meets for 4 years)

OVERALL REVIEW: it's good :3 if u are a tamagotchi fan and have the money it's a must buy imo! I can def see it becoming a fan favorite down the line, esp if they release some extra lines with fun designs.

[trainsinanime]

Hornby TT:120

I don’t see anybody talking about this here over on Tumblr, so I figure I might as well. As you may or may not know, a number of british model railroad companies have recently started announcing things in TT scale (that is 1:120 scale, 12mm track), first Peco and recently most importantly Hornby, who have announced a full range of about a dozen different locomotives, coaches, freight cars, tracks, buildings and sets.

TT (short for table top) isn’t that well known internationally. While it was developed in the US and briefly existed in the UK in the 1960s, the main place where it thrived and survived was East Germany. Since reunification, the market has grown, but so far it’s been essentially just continental European. To see the british get into this, and with such force, is quite a surprise. For context, I used to model in TT scale back in the 1990s and early 2000s, before I switched over to N because there’s more stuff available there. My father still uses TT, so I still keep an eye on the developments there. So let’s discuss some stuff about these announcements.

Is TT a good scale? I think so, yes. The detailing is better than N scale, and working on trains for any purpose is easier, those are just facts. But at the same time, it’s not as gigantic as H0 gauge (or OO gauge, the british equivalent. Yes, they use the letter O, while continental europe uses the number 0. Don’t think too hard about it).

The decisions they made all seem very reasonable. The most important one is that they’re using 1:120 scale, which matches the 12 mm gauge. That’s actually something new to the british rail market. Both OO and british N gauge actually use trains that are a bit too large for the rail gauge, because back when those were developed, the motors didn’t fit in the smaller british trains otherwise. This is no longer necessary, and it’s good that it’ll disappear here.

This will screw over the existing 3mm modelers. 3mm scale is what the old 1960s british TT was called. It also used 12mm gauge, but a scale of 1 inch to 3 mm, which works out to roughly 1:100. As a result it got the same mismatch of train and track size as OO and british N. There is still a small 3mm community who build basically everything from scratch. The new TT:120, as Peco and Hornby call it, is not going to help them at all, and will probably hurt them as anyone who ever produced anything in 3mm commercially will certainly switch to 1:120.

That sucks for them, but 1:120 scale is still absolutely the right choice, both because it’s just more correct, and because it allows for proper international railway modelling. Hornby’s german branch Arnold already sells a TT gauge ferry car (a dedicated freight car for ferry service between the UK and continental Europe before the Channel Tunnel), and they can just reuse that. While there aren’t a lot of things that work on both sides of the channel, there are some, including modern freight cars, the Eurostar, and the class 66 diesel locomotive which Hornby has already announced.

They are using the modern Tillig TT coupler, which is the right choice. I don’t think there were many other choices anyway. Perhaps a Kadee-style knuckle coupler, which looks better, but doesn’t allow for close-distance coupling of passenger cars because you can’t use it with the special mechanics for that. The modern TT coupler works well, and of course Hornby is already producing them for Arnold anyway.

What does this mean for global TT modellers? Well, a lot of them seem delighted, and I’ve seen a lot of TT modellers in Germany who have preordered a lot of british trains already. In the longer term, having more options is always nice. I know there are always people who want to model the station of Klingenberg-Colmnitz on exactly December 4th, 1986 or something and aren’t interested in anything else, but I also know a lot of people who are happy to have a lot of different colourful trains from all over. Adding to the supply here is great.

What I find funny is that Hornby keeps talking about TT in the US as if that was a thing. There is certainly a small community of enthusiasts and small-scale producers (most of whom seem to sit in Europe anyway), but TT is largely unknown and irrelevant there. I would hope that some US manufacturer sees what Hornby is doing and starts considering the same, but I don’t even know who has the size and economic weight to pull that off. Anyway, for now, my theory is that Hornby keeps mentioning the US origins of TT scale to hide the fact that TT is, beyond any doubt, the most communist rail gauge in existence. I’m barely even joking, this is a clear fact (even though it means absolutely nothing in practice).

The main question for me in this thing is economic. Will that work out for Hornby? I have no clue. I don’t think a lot of british model railroaders are looking to change scales, and Hornby is explicitly trying to target people new to the hobby. That’s interesting, but are there enough of them? Especially considering that the UK’s overall economic position isn’t doing that great, and a lot of people don’t have a lot of disposable income.

I have to give them props for making all the trains relatively cheap, though, that’s really surprising. In the videos I’ve seen they’ve apologised for the prices of some things, but compared to Europe? They’re selling a Pacific steam locomotive like Mallard or similar for about €160, which is between €100-140 less than Tillig charges for a german Pacific. That’s a good price no matter which way you turn.

(An aside: There’s no Thomas the Tank Engine. Personally, I’m very happy about that. I never knew they existed until I was like 14 years old, and given the way they look, I’ve not developed any interest in that franchise since. But clearly this Sonic the Hedgehog of train fans is very popular, so I fear they’ll add this at some point anyway.)

Overall verdict: Very interesting, I don’t see any major missteps, but this is also a very risky business move. It’ll be fascinating to see how this looks five or ten years from now.

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[insertmesoftly]

RuleBreakers (Gary x Depressed Queer Girl Reader)

Ok, first, disclaimer. When I say Y/N is queer and still figuring herself out, I mean it. The journey she's going through for her sexuality and gender are major points in this story and I'm still not exactly sure how I would label either. And that's ok. There will be some period-typical homophobia though. Sorry buds, it's part of the growth. Also, yes I am most definitely messing with the canon timeline to shape it however I want because it's easier this way for me X,D I apologize if that's annoying, I just didn't know how else to make things fit the way I wanted em to.

~

Your schools were switched at the start of freshman year because you decided to ask out a girl you thought was into you and she told everyone. Your parents are incredibly strict and religious. With the town in an uproar over you, they decided to pool their money with other family members to send you away to Bullworth Academy, hoping it would 'take care of your problem.’

You've always been a good kid with good grades and anxiety to please. This traumatic event quickly changed your beliefs. As soon as you arrived at Bullworth, you were determined to become a problem. Your anger only solidified as the secretary lady carted you away, flagrantly distasteful of the fact that you were a 'lesbian.' She warned all your teachers to look out for and curb any unwanted gazes or touches of yours to other female students. The student body, of course, caught wind of her loud talking and you were already titled 'The Lesbo.' No one talked to you except for boys that would mock you. Every girl steered clear of you with pinched faces. This was your life now.

You hated everything. You hated the school. You hated the students. You hated the teachers. You were spiteful and ready to lash out any way possible. Your first week at school was spent alone, but you got insight through the conversations of others. You overheard the name Gary, a prick no one messed with unless they were desperate to get something. Apparently, he made a big commotion the first week of school when he was brought in with a screaming parent. The reformation they expected from him in this school was palpable, and kids feared what he did before coming here that made his mother that hysterical. When a brave soul tried asking him about it, Gary didn’t budge. Everyone could feel he was a ticking bomb. You’ve seen him, always alone unless he was doing something shady with someone else. You decided to start there.

~

Gary was in three of your classes, but you could never catch him in-class. You stalked him outside one day and called out to him. He was surprised to see you, amused.

'Woah, is the new Lesbo making a move on me? Sorry, but I don't think I qualify for your taste.'

'Shut up. I'm just looking for pants.' You look down at your bare legs, frustrated. 'They won't sell them to me.'

Gary laughed, his eyebrows raised. 'What, you wanna be a boy now too?'

You shook your head. Then you shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm sick of it. If everyone's gonna be avoiding me or staring, I might as well dress the way I want to. And I want pants. It's getting fucking cold.'

Gary shrugged as well, not really caring but enjoying being an aid to chaos. 'All right, don't need your life story now... I'll see what I can do. It'll cost you though. I'll probably end up taking a pair from some shrimp your size.'

'Deal. Whatever it takes.'

'Heh.'

~

Gary was able to swindle a kid out of an extra pair. They were still a bit big for you, but you tied them with a belt and rolled up the bottom of the legs. You thanked Gary and that was that; business concluded with you 10 bucks poorer. You couldn't have snacks for a month.

The school was in a bit of an uproar when you walked in the next morning. Your science teacher sent you to the principal's office, and the same lady from the first day gave you a stern talking to about modifying your behavior. You came to this school to learn how to be a proper lady after all. You gave her a few choice words. Demanded her to take off your pants herself if it bothered her so much. She sent you away, flustered and enraged, with a week of detention for your 'off-putting behavior.' You still wore the pants and insisted to anyone that wanted you to change that they'd need to yank them from your body. So far, no one's dared.

You stumbled into Gary one day as you tried fleeing from a teacher you knew had a lecture ready for you. You looked at each other as the teacher called for you to come back, their footsteps nearing. It only took him a second to register what was happening before he pushed you behind him and turned the corner, immediately flipping a switch and chatting up the teacher, asking about a topic not covered in class. You took your chance and ran… but curiosity made you linger outside. Gary eventually went out the front doors, you called him over.

In the corner of the school building, you  stood with your arms crossed and asked him why he helped.

Gary scoffed. ‘Well I wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of my heart, if that’s what you’re asking. You owe me.’

‘… I don’t have anymore money.’

‘A favor then.’

Your eyes narrowed, his smile never faltered. This felt like you were tiptoeing through a slippery slope.

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing… yet. But I’m sure I’ll need your help in the future.’

Something about this… made you feel like he was planning something. So you ask him.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Nothing extreme, I assure you. Maybe just a few pranks here and there. To liven things up.’ Gary wasn’t budging on giving any details. You bit your lip.

‘What about getting in trouble? You’ve been doing good in-‘

‘Hey.’ Gary’s eyes finally showed a different emotion. Caution. ‘I never said I’d get caught. And I assure you, no one will know you helped me. Besides…’

Gary looked meaner as he crouched a little closer to you and crossed his arms. You took a step back.

‘You’re one to talk. You’re on thin ice with the pink bitch, aren’t you? I bet she’s looking for any little complaint from one of the prefects to land you on clean up duty.’ He laughed at your expression, your frown evident, and turned away. ‘Focus on yourself, Lesbo. You have enough on your plate.’

You didn’t like how the conversation ended but. He was right.

~

A month in, the secretary hasn't let up, but is now more or less also counting on the bullying you're receiving. Guys and girls calling you slurs, boys push you around and girls can't stand being in the same room as you. Still, you continue, your anger growing with every word and action done against you. It culminates one day when a guy grabbed your shoulder, not wanting to let you walk away from his insults, and you DECKED him in his fucking face. You see RED. You're on him, punching over and over again, his buddies laughing, girls screeching, a prefect finally came and carted you off. More 'unladylike' violence. This is what happens with girls who refuse to be girls. You're given school chores that are overlooked by a teacher. Clean up, just like Gary said. You can't stand it anymore.

~

You stalk Gary again, the elusive bastard. You'd just finished moping the gym floor and a trip had soaked you completely. Still, you beelined to him as he was heading into town and yank his arm to make him follow you. He immediately pushed you off, but a few seconds of recognition later, he follows you anyways.

'God, what's your problem?? Is the lesbian thing a cover up?'

'Shut up shut up SHUT UP about that, I just want in. Tell me about the pranks!'

Gary blinked and lowered his gaze, now serious. 'What do you mean?'

You groan into your hands. 'I don't know, man! I hate the school and everyone in it! And you- it’s not like you give a fuck about anyone here anyways right? You’re bored? Let’s do it! Let’s fucking destroy shit! I don't care. I'm just so fucking done. I want to destroy everything. I want to get payback, I want people to shut up, I want anything, please-'

'Okay okay geez calm down! I'm getting the picture! You're desperate and angry and you want to lash out. Who hasn't felt like doing that?'

‘Yeah! So let’s start shit-‘

‘Woah, hey, we’re in the open, shh.’

Gary grabbed your shoulders and moved you more to the side, now you were both in shadows. You did as he asked and stayed quiet.

‘Alright. So you’re telling me you want to help me in whatever I’m doing?’

You nodded. Gary shook his head, grin growing.

‘You don’t even know what I’m planning.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t like anyone here. I hate everything. I literally have nothing else to do!’

‘What about getting in trouble?’

You made a sound from the back of your throat. ‘You said we wouldn’t get caught. Even then- I guess it’s ok. I’m already a ‘problem’ anyways. Just… don’t make it a habit.’

Gary snickered at your answer.

‘Damn, you really hate this place, huh?’

‘Of course. I want to watch it burn.’

‘You are little fucking psycho.’

You felt your head tilt at the new name-calling. You scoffed.

‘I get the feeling I’m not the only one.’

Gary paused his laughter and looked you over. Really took you in this time. He touched his hair and sighed.

‘Alright… welcome to the team. We need some rules-’

~

Working with Gary is… rough at first. It’s you freshman year and reputation is everything. Gary isn’t keen on being seen with you. That’s how rumors start.

So he just tells you to meet with him somewhere different every time.

To your surprise, he’s actually had quite a few problems in his schoolyear. He’d gone poking around in the messes of upperclassmen jocks, and some had figured out. Now he had older kids looking to put him in his place, and fellow freshman eager to get in their good graces.

That’s when Gary showed you his expertise with underhanded methods of dealing with things. Your year was spent stalking the freshman as he looked over the upperclassmen’s. Once you got their routine down, you both started implementing his plan. Making the freshman become the new targets of these upperclassmen through a series of ‘unfortunate accidents’ and loads of framing.

Now what Gary had done didn’t seem worth it; the dicks had new targets to vent out their frustrations, teammates at that, and the underclassmen that were so eager to fit in before now lashed back.

You watched from afar as the boys would knock each other off, unable to work as a team anymore even during practices. Your dress code violations, while not forgotten, had taken the backseat to this new school conflict. This was great.

You liked causing mayhem. Your enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed by Gary. While you had started with some skepticism, he saw your shift as you began seeing results. You respected him now. He liked that in a minion.

Your brainstorming sessions became less formal. Gary wasn’t keen on listening to your input much, but he allowed some suggestions. On the rare occasion, conversation would detract and you would both linger in whatever desolate spot Gary found for the day. They were largely unimportant conversation topics; Gary giving history lessons he found about the property, gossip, preferences, and the occasional talks about teachers and homework that burst the bubble of heists and danger and brought you back to the reality that you are both kids. Students, at the end of the day. Chit chats were nice, despite everything. You were both feeling more comfortable around the other. But you were still acquaintances at best…

For the end of your first year, Gary had to plan something big. Some of the upperclassmen would be graduating, and he wanted this to be memorable.

Luckily for him, their last match of the season would occur right at their humble abode.

The stage was set. The football team had all come to an agreement to put aside their differences for this game; the atmosphere was tense but victory was something both sides wanted. Unfortunately, things just kept going wrong.

From stolen jerseys and pictures of girlfriends slipping from the wrong locker, everything started terribly as there was already a scuffle in the lockers. Mr. Burton came in to kick the boys out, effectively silencing them and getting them to think about the game again.  But then came the cooler at halftime. A freshman had been in charge of it, but as the upperclassmen came to find, the drinks tasted foul. As they rounded up on the freshman, accusing him of messing with the team, his friends stepped up to defend him. They had seen him prepare the drinks, nothing shifty ever happened. However, it was an upperclassman that was in charge of bringing it onto the field, he was the last one with the cooler.

This was it.

Mayhem ensued as punches were thrown, shouting erupted, and Mr. Burton was clocked by an elbow as he tried separating two boys. The game was ruined with multiple injuries, the school’s reputation could not have been lower.

~

You and Gary rejoiced from your perch overlooking the field.

You could not stop gawking at the scene, bewildered by the chaos you could inflict on others. On the power… Gary had allowed you to participate in. Your eyes flickered to see the boy smirking beside you, unfiltered in its cruelty. This kid was a genius. You had partnered with the right person. You felt… lucky.

Once the game was officially cancelled and everyone started moving out, Gary got up and dusted himself off.

‘And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you’re supposed to play football. No more of that stupid bullshit calling camaraderie manly just for throwing a weirdly shaped ball! Where’s the fun in that? It should be played just like this; with no sides! Everyone battering the other, fists swinging, blood spraying! That’s how you fill seats...’

You had gotten used to his theatrics, but his mannerisms as he spoke got a laugh out of you. You felt so elated, you decided to join in.

‘Yeah! Huddling together? Tackling other guys to the floor? That’s gay-ass shit behavior. We did them a favor by returning them to their roots; pure macho aggression!’

Your input got an eyebrow raise from the boy, his smile widening. ‘Wow, Lesbo, are you against your fellow gays? What’s this I’m hearing about, was all this an elaborate play to stop others from coming out too? Now these poor blossoming youths will have to leave with broken hearts and shattered identities!’

The way Gary spun your words, it was clear he was trying to get a rise out of you. Despite being on the same side, despite having worked all schoolyear together, he was still such a dick. Whatever. You didn’t let that keep you from your good mood, you’d play along.

‘Better I crush their hopes now than to have them out and hated by everyone for the rest of their lives. Believe me, this was more mercy than they deserve.’

Gary snorted. ‘Speaking from experience, are we?’ He fully faced you, like a jackal cornering a chicken. There was no escape as he dug into you.

‘Do you regret letting your secret out?’

This had been such a good night. And now Gary, being Gary, was not letting go of another opportunity to break someone. This was personal shit. Stuff that Gary could use later on to pick on you as you know he does to others. But you couldn’t back down. You knew Gary. Weakness wasn’t an option. Your eyes never left his as you cross your arms and shrug.

‘Not really. Not anymore, at least. What happened, happened, and now I’m here. I’m different. I feel more free…’ You recalled the more bookish, shy and quiet version of you from before. Always nervous, overly reliant, daydreaming fantasies you thought you could get away with. Like you had said, bubbles burst sooner or later. You could only count your blessings that you were no longer shy, weak and unhappy. You were here, plotting revenges and actually causing shit to go down. You grinned, catching Gary by surprise as laughter erupted from your mouth.

‘Look, I’m not going to give you any sad speech about how much my life sucks or whatever memories you think you’re provoking in me. I’m not living like that anymore. I’m someone new. Your minion.’

You smirked as you put out your hand. Gary stared at it a bit before also smiling and accepting your handshake.

‘My minion? Not ‘accomplice?’ ‘Partner?’ Come on, you’re selling yourself short, aren’t you?’

You shook your head and let go of his hand. ‘We both know you’re the powerhouse here. I would have never accomplished something as big as this. You’re scary, Gary.’

You’re still smiling.

‘I’m never messing with you. In fact, thanks for letting me in on your side.’

Such bold words did something for Gary really liked to his ego. After all jagged interactions with kids his age that always left him feeling like a cog in the wrong place… this was a breath of fresh air.

Alright.

You had passed a test Gary didn’t even realize he had.

As if a spell had been lifted, Gary was back to being his deceptively chummy self. He moved to pat you on the back.

‘Look at you! Learning how to kiss my ass. Can’t say I don’t like it, though. Please, keep telling me how intelligent I am.’

‘Is that an order, boss?’

That got a laugh out of him.

~

Second year. Gary has already built up plenty of notoriety. Kids weren’t just cautious of him, some outright feared him, and the few that still had anything to say about him… he had plans.

So, he thought it was about time your meetings became a little more public. You were surprised to hear this as you both met up for the first day. You asked again, just in case. He didn’t mind…? What about the rumors?

Gary shook his head.

‘Whatever they imagine is going on is going to be proven wrong anyways when nothing happens. And if anyone gets any ideas that I’m turning queer, I’ll fucking kick their balls. That’s the only way to get them to shut up about it fast.’ You weren’t so sure they’d be that lenient, but Gary continued without asking for your input as always. ‘Besides, I’m sick of eating lunch alone. That’s prime time to be talking about whatever new plans I come up with. It was annoying having to wait till the end of the day to talk about them.’

You sigh and nod. Whatever he decided; he was the boss. At least this would affect you the least…

~

Kids left the school, others came in. Petey is one of them. No one really paid him much mind; he was immediately regarded as a geek, but when all his shirts turned pink one day, eyes started turning on him.

The laughter that erupted from Gary as he saw the boy miserably shuffle to class, his doom evident in his eyes made you snicker a bit too. You knew the little man would be toast; he was a brightly painted target for the bullies now. That’s just the way this school works… you tried convincing yourself of it but. Something in how vulnerable he looked and his squeals as he ran from the first throwdown that came his way made you want to help him.

You sneaked him out of the bully’s sight. Petey was grateful… and a bit too flustered after being saved by you. At a girl getting so close to him. You assumed he hadn’t heard about you yet. You would normally correct whatever he thought was going on… but his blushing was endearing. You left him with a warning about the bully’s schedule and went to meet with Gary again. You thought that would be the last time you did anything for him, but to your surprise, the next day, he was forced to be by Gary’s side with an arm strewn over his shoulders and a newly permanent scowl of discomfort on his face.

It looks like Gary also took a liking to him, and he told you he’d be joining the team.

~

Not only has Gary helped you accrue new pants as you’ve come to need them, but he’s expanded your wardrobe with bigger, less fitted shirts, and a pair of boots he found perfect for your escapades. Though you didn’t have much, you were liking your clothing more and more, but something was missing. You decided to up the secretary’s blood pressure once again by cutting your hair. It was too fucking hot, anyways.

The hairdresser you went to… refused to do what you asked. You paid for what was essentially just a girly bob. You wanted something more drastic. Gary was all too eager to help. With scissors and an electric shaver, he ‘borrowed’ from a shop, he was ready to make you his magnum opus. You were nervous.

But, like always… your skepticism was for nothing. He had a surprisingly keen eye. His focus and skill impressed you. He was taking this seriously. When he was done and handed you a hand mirror, you had to ask. Had he done this before?

Gary shrugged and started packing away the shaver.

‘I like paying attention to how the barber cuts my hair. I just picked up on it.’

What the hell was up with his mind? He was always finding new ways to surprise you.

The school had a fit as always, though it wasn’t as big as last year. The secretary had another talk with you, this time even the principal got involved. You got new chores. It was unfair but expected.

~                                                                                              

By this point, Petey already knew about what you are. You were surprised by how little things changed with him. He was still a nervous wreck talking to you at first; you guessed talking to a girl was just that big a deal to him. But he mellowed out as the year went on.

When you got your haircut, he stared. He asked you questions about why you’d want to change it. It was clear he was trying not to sound mean, but you still felt guarded by his reaction... Until he calmed down and gave you a genuine compliment.

‘… I think it fits you. You look really cool…’

That was the first time you’d ever been called that. Your heart skipped a beat and he tried talking about something else. Your lab project. Your mind wasn’t on science anymore.

~

Without a goal like last year, Gary had somewhat chilled and been doing smaller jobs messing with individuals rather than turning mobs against the other. You didn’t mind the change of pace; last year had been fun but exhausting balancing schoolwork with stalking and scheming. Now you both had more time to seemingly… just hang.

Gary called it regrouping, but there was nothing productive about spending an hour afterschool debating each other’s taste in films. You never pointed it out, despite the group getting friendlier, you knew Gary would not stand for any insinuation of the three becoming friends. Still, there were mishaps.

Like a day when Petey had received a care package from his parents. He excitedly talked about it at lunch, it was sickeningly clear how much he loved his parents. Gary couldn’t help sneer at it.

‘I’m glad you’re so easy to forgive, Petey. All it takes are a few pieces of cardboard and a new shiny toy for you to be okay with your parents sending you to hell.’

This made Petey pause finally, smile dropping. He had yet to learn how to tiptoe around Gary, Petey came out guns blazing as he retorted.

‘What about you? You’re in hell too. At least my parents care enough to send me stuff.’

That really ruffled Gary’s feathers. He acted as if Petey had shot him in the heart , placing his hands over his chest.

‘Oh, you wound me, Petey! You’re right! I’m soooo jealous! I wish my mom still wiped my ass for me and sent me my baby bottle for lunch like yours.’

‘Yeah, sure. I’m gonna go. Meet you at class, Y/N.’

Petey got up and left the two of you behind with half of lunch still on the timer. Even without his presence, Gary felt the need to go on mocking Petey, talking down the stupid care package and his relationship with his parents. To you, this was really beginning to feel like insight into Gary’s own life.

It’s true that neither of you have ever gotten packaged from your parents, just the occasional money and notes to do well in school. … yeah, maybe you were a little personally jealous whenever Petey went on to talk about his stabler home life with receptive parents. As Gary made a last point about how stupid it is to send your beloved child to a school as poor as this one just because it was close, you voiced your agreement. It WAS odd. Despite the cheery façade the faculty would feed parents, it was pretty clear how awful things were here.

That HAD to spell some level of neglect and naivety from Pete’s parents.

Gary enthusiastically jumped from your input.

‘Right? Maybe they secretly hate their kid.’

You propped your head on your hand, looking away as you gave your painfully honest opinion.’

‘Maybe they secretly saw something wrong with Petey and they bought into the promise that this school would fix it.’

Gary laughed. ‘Holy shit. And they’re lying to poor little naïve Petey.’ He leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, his mood back in the up since the conflict began.

‘I’m glad I have someone else that can see past the bullshit. Now we really have to be the bigger man and continue protecting his little bit of dignity. Let him believe he’s not like us.’

‘Fucked in the head?’

‘Your eloquence puts me to shame.’

Shit talking with Gary as opposed to when Petey was around … if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he liked talking to you more.

~

The next morning, Petey’s toy had been broken. Petey didn’t come to sit with them at lunch. You knew this would happen. You could have predicted it a mile away… maybe even have prevented it if you had stepped in. But, like you had told Gary the year before.

Why would you? You liked Petey… but Gary is scary.

~

You get to visit Gary’s room for the first time. Gary nonchalantly offered to bring you inside as he looked for something instead of having you wait for him at the dorm stairs. Not one to pass up the chance of seeing what it was like inside, you agreed.

Unlike the girl’s dorm, there was no one guarding the entrance. You were able to just walk in behind Gary with little attention from a group of nerds in the common room discussing the latest comic. You slipped inside his room without a problem.

To your surprise, it’s not as neat as you thought it’d be. Gary always gave the image of being notoriously orderly with himself, but the ground had bits of strewn laundry, and his bed was unmade. He told you to stand at the side as he dug around for something he had to give a ‘customer.’

You moved to the side, bumping into and noticing the medication on his table. You can’t stop yourself from picking it up as he tried ranting about some freshman that was giving him trouble. When he noticed you, he stopped. After some initial defensiveness on his part… he tries being casual as he explains about what its for. What he keeps hidden. He talks about it like he’s trying to beat you to the punch by insulting himself for not working ‘properly’. But none of that came to mind for you. You just shrugged at him and put the bottle down.

Whatever he needed from a doctor wasn’t your place to judge.

You throw him a bone by stroking his ego again and reminding him what you told him before; he’s possibly the smartest person you’ve ever met. A mastermind. Gary’s smile widens, praise accepted, heckles lowered. BPD or not, you’re right. You got out of his room unscathed, and have gone back a few times.

~

- You really begin noticing how little impact your presence now has in class and around others after a gym class with girls no longer shying away from you in the changing room. Everyone had settled into their own routines, no one was on the lookout for you to slip up. It felt… good. But you didn’t think this was something to celebrate. This is how things should’ve been from the start. You’re not a pervert.

Your negativity brought you back from the speck of relief you cultivated, and you slammed your locker, making a few girls jump. You got out fast and went to go to your dorm, with no big plans for the day, you thought you could just spend it doing homework and reading a book that caught your eye.

Gary wasn’t so keen to let you go. He had been chatting up a jock, one of the underclassmen that had previously picked on Gary for seniors. Gary would never fail to impress you with how resourceful he kept being. You planned on walking by them fast, but whatever business he had been making stopped when he saw you. Before you knew it, his arm was over your shoulders. That’s new.

‘Hey, where are you going off in a rush to? My friend here was just telling me about this horrible problem he has with his parents, and I think you can help.’ He steered you back to the jock he was talking to and begins explaining his dilemma.

He has very catholic parents and Gary has been essentially trying to butter him up by relating to his troubles.  This was the first time Gary tried using you to get someone to talk. You felt a bit of pressure as you tried giving your input and relating it to your own religious parents. You were cut off by the boy.

‘No, see, but this is different. I’m not a sinner like you.’

‘Because I like girls?’

‘Well yeah. And you want to be a guy. You’re just all sorts of messed up.’

You glared at the jock, deciding you were done. What more could you say? You turned to Gary, who looked between you and him and shrugged.

‘It’s his beliefs. We should respect them, Y/N. You choose what you choose.’

Your eye twitched. You knew he was still trying to stay on the jock’s good side, but you will stay cross with him for this…

If the jock hadn’t just dug himself into a pit.

‘And you? Aren’t you a fag?’

Your jaw almost dropped at how casually the boy had asked. Gary’s eyes widened too; he was slow as he turned to really face him.

‘What?’

The jock knew by his tone that he hit something. He grinned like an idiot as he kept going. ‘You have all these weird mannerisms, and your only friends are a lesbian and a girly dweeb. Just come out and say it. You’re queer too, right?’

There was no quick response from Gary. Only a long, hard, deadly look followed by the short declaration.

‘I’m not gay.’

‘Look man, I’m just saying. Whatever you got going on is weird, and everyone notices-‘

There was a swift kick from Gary, just as he had promised. The jock was on his knees. You stepped away, knowing better than to stand between Gary’s fury. He knelt down and grabbed the boy’s scalp harshly, his smile strained but maniacal as he gazed at his victim.

‘You really have to learn to stop believing in rumors and joining in all the gossip. Isn’t that one of the commandments? Shame on you!’ Gary chuckled at the boy’s glare.

‘I wanted to do this the nice way, but you just had to run your mouth. So, this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me the key to the storage closet where you all put your little balls and nets and whatever other kinky shit you keep secret. You’re going to tell your coach that you lost it. And you’re going to do it because I have photos, dear old Papi’s address, and a rumor I heard that you have a childhood sweetheart back home that your family adores. You don’t want me breaking her heart now, do you?’

The boy stilled suddenly, understanding the implications. This was blackmail.

He nodded along to Gary, agreeing to the demand. If he hadn’t been a dick, you could have sympathized. Once families like that get attached to a possibility of your future, they see it as a betrayal to go against their vision.

You sighed as Gary let go of him and waved you over to walk with him. No more arm over your shoulder.

~

Gary’s medication may help him with his moods but there are still days when things are too overwhelming for him. After multiple tiny annoyances through out his day, Gary exploded at a client and broke the jar of contraband he had gotten for them.  As the client was left speechless, he turned away from the deal, stalking out of the shadows and back to the dorm. You followed behind.

‘STOP it. Leave me alone.’

‘Alright. But-‘

He turned around, livid.

‘SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE, god, can you survive not breathing down my fucking neck for ONE DAY! Always this or that with you! Getting you stupid shitty clothes because you wanna be a rebel and not wear your nice new shit. You’re so goddamn-‘

‘…..’

At your expression, Gary paused for a second, but decided to continue.

‘You make things impossible for yourself. And why? I think you just like it! A glutton to the pain! Really wanting to be a special little snowflake just so you can hold it against anyone, wear it like a badge! Look how special and different I am! It makes me better than you! Isn’t that right?’

The urge to punch him was there. He’s always been an ass. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t take his bait. You refused to. He was useful for you, he gave you ways to vent your frustrations with the student body and faculty. You took a step back.

‘Look man, I was just going to ask you if you wanted me to look into the rumor with Donna. I know you were going to keep close tabs on it with your usual contacts, but… I can listen in on some conversations in the locker room. Maybe… try asking someone. I can give you the information on Thursday.’

At your deflection and lack of a reply to his verbal stabs, Gary calmed down a bit. He took in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he composed himself. He nodded.

‘Alright. You better give me a concrete answer, though. Don’t leave me hanging.’

You took another step back, nodding along as well. ‘I won’t. See you on Thursday.’

You watched Gary turn back to walk to the dorms. His shoulders were less tense now. You hoped you did the right thing.

~

Come Thursday, you had all the answers and more. It had been hard; the locker rooms hadn’t given you anything useful, so you had to zero in on one of Donna’s senior friends. Find an opening with her. Mimicking stuff Gary would do, you found it in the form of… finding her doing something compromising her image. Blackmail, this you were familiar with! Clunkily, you navigated threatening the senior into spilling the truth. You got a lot more than you expected, Donna’s friend was quite the motormouth.

You recounted the story at lunch, your description of her getting a laugh out of Gary. It’d been a while since he smiled; coming back to this after his break got him back to feeling great. Maybe even a little grateful.

He gave you a pat in the back just like the one at the end of your first year, praise spilling from his lips.

‘You really learned from the best, huh? I knew you had it in you. But don’t go using that to assault other girls now! There’s only room for one creep on campus… Mr. Burton will fight you for that position.’

Same dickish Gary was back.

~

You’re beginning to question your sexuality. You notice… a lot of things about Petey. His size, his lashes, how friendly he is with you. It’s been making your cheeks feel warm and you’re not sure if you’re going crazy or if this is a legitimate crush. You knew you liked girls. You always liked girls. Petey, for all his… feminine traits, was still a boy. His voice, his body, his hair, there were constant reminders of this in your interactions. But you weren’t sure you minded them. Not like you thought you would.

There was nothing stopping your heart from beating when he leaned close to you to look at your notes on the lab report. It made you want to know more. Crave it.

But you were scared.

You decided… you couldn’t just ask Petey if you could try something with him to confirm something for yourself. For one, that’d be way too much, you were sure you’d melt if you even tried hugging him. And… Petey was a sensitive kid. You didn’t want to lead him on if it turned out you couldn’t get past him being a boy.

… after much deliberation. You decided to ask for a favor.

~

You have possibly the worst or best timing for awkward situations to take place.

The trio had become a duo as Petey left the empty class you occupied for another ‘regrouping session.’ It was just you and Gary now. Now or never.

Gary stands up to leave but you ask him to stay. Your audibly high pitched voice catches his attention. You’re so clearly nervous and shaking. Gary can smell something is up.

He asks you what’s up.

Trembling, you decide to confess to him.

He’s the only boy you feel close enough to ask and

You beg him… as a favor of course that he will be able to use anytime he needs in the future…

To maybe help you figure out if you can like guys?

This really stirs something in Gary. Bafflement. Intruige. A scientific kind of interest… and maybe a bit of sadism as your beet red face makes his smile widen.

This was ridiculous.

It sounded fun.

He thinks it’s funny and tells you he’ll comply. But.. what is it you want? To fake date him? To make out? Gosh, so forward! Why not get it over with and suck his dick right here?

You sputter as you try forming the words rejecting those offers. There’s no need to go that far! You just need… to maybe touch him a little. Eyebrows are raised but before Gary can make another quip about what you’ll be touching, you clear up the misunderstanding and ask for.

A hug.

Maybe just a hug.

Gary thinks for a bit… crossing his arms.

That was… so boring. He sighed and scratched his head.

‘How is that going to help anything? Just one awkward back pat and you’ll know?’

‘…… that’s…. all I can think of….’

Gary hummed to himself as he thought things over. You were still sitting awkwardly, hands gripping your knees. An idea formed in his head… evil. But funny.

Without warning, he walks over to you, an takes your hands with his. He sits on your lap.

You have nowhere to run, no way to move. He’s heavy and he’s laughing in your face, placing your hands on him and teasing you with vigor.

‘Come on, weren’t you going to feel me up? Even if you don’t like it, use this as practice for when you FINALLY find another girl like you. But if this DOES open a new door for you…’

Your frustration hit a peak and you moved a hand to his mouth.

‘Alright, alright, just. Fuck, give me a second.’

‘…..’

He’s quiet for a bit as you’re trying to focus on his body. Maybe… focusing too much on his body. He’s sitting on your lap for christ’s sake! And he’s so close… but other than the initial shock… you’re not really feeling anything.

Hm.

At your expression, he starts back up with the teasing.

‘Wow. You know, it’s such an honor to be given this chance to possibly make you straight again-‘

‘Yeah?’

You weren’t really paying attention to him, instead, finally taking the chance to place a hand on his chest.

‘Oh? Missing boobs already?’

The other joined soon after.

‘Uh…’

You felt so awkward doing it, but you started tracing his pecs. You were surprised to realize they were soft, though you guessed it should’ve been obvious. Still…

The realization that a guy’s chest was similar to a girl’s WAS doing something to you.

You didn’t notice Gary had stopped talking, too lost in your thoughts. He had so much material but something about your intensity. The movement. The sensations.

It makes him start stirring.

He gets off you quickly, your wrists gripped tightly by his hands, and he desperately tries laughing it off.

‘Alright, time’s up! That was that!’

‘Oh…. Okay.’

As you both pack up to leave the classroom, it’s still quiet. You were now back to thinking about Petey.

Yeah. You liked him. You could be attracted to guys.

The revelation should’ve been a bigger punch to your gut than it was. At this point, your strangeness was just something you had to keep accepting.

As you both stepped out, you ask Gary if he’s dated someone before. Feeling the need to maybe… get some sort of solidarity with the awkwardness of it all.

Gary scoffs, accepting this subject change to stop thinking about trying to forget what he felt at the moment. He even uses it to try saying some ridiculous shit at first about how many girls he’s had confess attraction to him, how he could get anyone if he wanted… but you bring him back to the point of the question. You ask if he’s ever dated someone. He frowns at your rudeness and admits he hasn’t.

But it’s because he has no interest in it.

You raise an eyebrow and ask for clarification. Has he never had a crush? He waved it off like it was something shameful. He’d never be caught dead going after someone like that, he insisted. He has too high standards, and everyone disappoints him. It’s just as simple as that.

You only had to think about it for a few seconds before believing it. It made sense for Gary.

Unexpectedly, the idea of him actually becoming lovey dovey with someone made you laugh.

~

The following weeks had you insist on staying with Petey more, trying to bridge the gap you felt had grown since the beginning of the schoolyear.

But despite you having resolved your identity crisis… in the time it took you to understand yourself, Petey had gone and gotten a crush on someone else. Christy, the upcoming cheerleader destined to become the head after its current graduates.

He tells you such the day before your book report. You had been studying in the library… and you hoped to be able to get closer to him by asking about his feelings. You hadn’t expected this.

Petey was innocent as he tried asking for advice. You may act… boyish… but you were still a girl. What did you think his chances were with Christy if… he just tried to confess?

You didn’t know what to say. You felt clammed up, disappointed. Sad. You took in a shaky breath and tried playing the lesbian loser card. You told him you the last time you tried confessing to a girl… it landed you here.

That really shut him up. The awkward atmosphere made you get up and tell him you could finish the report in your dorm. Petey was sympathetic as he saw you leave, but whatever mistake he thought he’d made was not the correct one to focus on. You had your second heartbreak.

~

Your time away from Gary was not unnoticed or easily forgiven. When you tried asking him if he needed help with something, he was as bitchy as the day he snapped at a client. He walked past you.

‘I thought you’d be busy mooning after your new boyfriend some more. Hah, what happened to wanting to watch the school burn? Was that all traded as soon as you fell in love with the only girl that’d take you?’

‘If only.’

Your response made Gary stop his walking. What did you mean? Are you really going out with Petey?

When you denied it, something was evident in your voice. Feelings. Dejection. A flame stirred inside him, indignation. All this time he had spent alone, thinking you were avoiding him because of the awkwardness of that day… it was actually because you were thinking about PETEY?

What about the classroom? You touching him? That was all with PETEY in mind?

What the hell? Why did that gross him out more than before when he thought-

No. Back on track.

'Don’t tell me… you actually LIKE Petey?!'

'Yeah? I mean, I used to.’

‘Used to???’

‘Okay… maybe I still have a little bit left over but..... look, nothing is going to happen. Don’t worry about it...'

Well what kind of answer was that? Now Gary was even more interested!

'... What the hell does that mean?'

'..... I know who he likes. I know his type.' You smile and rub the back of your head sheepishly. 'I can't imagine he'd agree to a date with a mess like me... Besides. A guy like him dating a girl like me? He'd get more made fun of...'

Gary dug his fingernails in his arms and looked away. Why did your inherent rejection make him feel better? He had to distract himself from the relief that fell over him like a blanket.

'... You bet people would.' He tried laughing meanly, though it felt hollow. 'They'd ask who the man in the relationship was...'

You grimaced. You know Gary's sense of humor... but it still stung to face it like this. Your voice cracked.

'Yeah... hah. Just... one more thing to make me stay single forever.'

Gary finally looked at you... and he felt conflicted by what he saw.

You were defeated. You were now truly resigned.

Gary... was never good at consoling. Especially not when he wasn't really sorry... this was a win for him. You were back on his side. You were back to work. No more of this Petey distraction… no more thoughts on boys.

'Yeah, well-'

He swung his arm over your shoulder and started moving you away from the wall.

'It's not like dating is everything anyways. Now get your head back in the game! We have more assholes to make fun of.'

'... yeah.'

~

Teenage drinking.

Gary got some beer as payment from the preps for getting a secret out of the greasers. Since the schoolyear is ending, you both decided to celebrate another year of successful disruptive behavior without getting caught. Without Petey.

You were definitely more enthusiastic about your first time getting buzzed; Gary smelled the opportunity to see you become stupider than usual and let you just keep chugging the cans as he lightly sipped his own. Three beers later, your tongue has loosened and you’re talking the most he’s ever seen. Uninterrupted, as he’s fascinated by your rambling thought processes. He’s wondered about possible future scenarios, not realizing you stopped talking and were just looking at him as he languidly drank his beer.

You tell Gary that he's pretty. Out of nowhere.

He laughs, but you keep insisting that he's actually a really pretty dude.

He starts getting defensive thinking that you're comparing him to Petey, like you’re basically calling him a sissy. He gets in your face, he feels so insulted after all that went down with the wimp, he’s ready to lay your flaws out with that little excursion, but you don't back away from him even as he spits his words. You’re stuck staring at his eyes. He stops as he realizes he’s talking to the air, the silence makes you feel like you can talk again.

You slur your words as you tell him that he's not like Petey at all. Unlike the more effeminate boy… Gary’s a dude all the way. From his appearance and attitude.

But… you still think… he’s got a beauty to him that’s so unique. It’s Gary. ‘There’s something magnetic about you Gary.’

Your sincerity makes his initial rage temper down and he’s puzzled looking you over, not knowing how to take this. You smile and laugh as you reach over. He flinches a bit as your hand brushes his eyebrow, tracing his scar.

You try lightening the mood again, and tell him, of course, you can also go on about how he’s a dumb badass if he’d prefer. Newly recomposed, he swats away your hand and moves away to drink some more from his bottle, and he tells you to shut up. A while later though, you’re both back to laughing when the subject is changed. This memory stays somewhere in the back of your mind, a hazy memory you forget to remember when you leave the school for the summer.

He never forgets, though.

Part 2: TBC

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

[dollslayer]

Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

[n0bamak1s]

mutual - mai zenin x reader

request: “Could you write mai x non-binary s/o, where mai is realizing that she has a crush on s/o, it'd be funny to see her reaction when the s/o get asked by todo before they spar, abt the kind of woman s/o like, and s/o just shrug and answer 'mai, i guess'.” - @814519

summary: reader seems to take a liking to mai, who refuses to acknowledge her schoolgirl crush on them, and todo somehow manages to be the one to get them to stop dancing around their feelings for each other. (genre: fluff, mutual pining, slice of life-y)

warnings: swearing, mentions of fighting, mostly just fluff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i’m sorry to take a long ass hiatus again but i have some fics i’m working on rn!! thank you all sm for being so patient with how slow i can be T_T btw this one includes some very mild miwa x reader as well just as a heads up lol!

when you first transferred schools in order to master your cursed technique, your first instinct was to raise an eyebrow at your classmates. the lineup of students in your school consisted of a boy who might as well be a bodybuilder, a blonde girl whose hair seemed to defy gravity, an awkward looking stoic boy clad in traditional clothing, a girl with a gun holster on the side of her baggy pants who wore a bored expression as her gaze met yours, and a normal looking blue haired girl standing next to some rusty looking robot. with all their strange hairstyles and odd clothing choices, combined with how nonchalant they were about their mechanical companion, they might as well be the cast of some forgotten sitcom from the 80s.

after introducing yourself to your stiff new classmates, you were whisked away to be led to your dorm by the blue haired girl (would you call her a “bluenette”?) who you learned was called miwa. as you walked, you asked her questions about her cursed technique, to which she sheepishly smiled and explained how she was the most “useless” of the students.

in response to her shameless self deprecation, you simply scoffed and sent an easy smile her way. “you really shouldn’t beat yourself up like that miwa, if you do it’ll be much easier for your opponents to.” despite the teasing nature of your words, you really did hope you’d managed to encourage her a bit.

miwa turned to you with bright eyes and a sincere smile. “that means a lot, really! it’ll be so nice to have an upperclassman here who isn’t so intimidating. i’m always so nervous to ask mai for help with stuff, so it’s nice to know you believe in me!”

her smile was infectious as you mirrored your junior’s facial expression. “there’s no need to be scared of them you know, believe me, just because they’re older doesn’t mean they have any idea what they’re doing.”

she shrugged in response. “i guess you might be right, this morning mai was practically shaking in her boots about getting to meet you, so maybe it’s all just a tough facade!”

you thought back to the girl who had introduced herself as mai.

what first caught your eye was the way she carried herself. while next to her other classmates as she introduced herself to you, arms crossed over her chest and back straight, as if it was an attempt to look high and mighty. rather than a proper introduction, she simply told you her name, before looking away boredly. the both of you chose to ignore the way todo teased her, before turning to introduce himself with a smug smile. he opened his mouth to seemingly ask you something, but was quickly cut off by mai stomping on his foot, sending him a harsh look. she glanced back at you with a slightly softer expression and a monotone apology for “his idiocy.”

you chuckled quietly at the idea of the girl who presented herself as so blunt and cold getting all nervous at the idea of your arrival.

breaking you out of your reminiscence, miwa waved her hands in front of her nervously as she turned to you. “just please don’t tell her i said that!” her guilty expression rivaled that of a kid who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

before she could continue in her nervous exclamation about how intimidated she was by her senior, you grabbed her hands that had been motioning wildly to match her words. “don’t worry miwa, i’d never sell you out like that.” you let out a small chuckle as you examined the genuine worry on her face, to which she just sheepishly smiled. it was funny to you how scared she seemed of her seniors, but it couldn’t help you from getting an odd urge to want to protect the small girl.

“besides,” your smile turned sly “, if what you say is true, i bet mai would be too shy to even talk to me!” a loud laugh escaped your lips as you continued your way down the dorm halls with long strides. behind you, miwa sped up when remembering she was supposed to be the one escorting you to your dorm.

“come on, that’s not fair to hang it over my head like that!” she whined as she managed to match your pace.

as miwa trailed ever so slightly behind you, you caught sight of a newly familiar head of dark hair (under the fluorescent lighting you couldn’t entirely tell whether it was green or black.)

“mai!” you called out to the girl you’d been newly acquainted with, raising one hand in greeting and slinging the other around your very embarrassed looking juniors shoulders.

the girl you’d shouted to turned to you with heavy lidded eyes that gave her face a bored, almost annoyed, expression. her turning your way was quickly followed by todo, who you guessed had been standing next to her, glancing over the hallway corner to meet your gaze. those two made an odd pair, from what you could tell. in contrast to mai’s impassive greeting, todo had introduced himself with booming confidence, before going on to complain to utahime that he’d have to leave in order to make it back to his dorm to score tickets for a concert featuring takeda. in the moment, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of such an intimidating looking dude having a huge crush on an idol with absolutely no shame about it.

mai opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off by todos roaring voice. “hey new kid!” his demeanor had been as confident as you remember, despite the fact that you were pretty sure he’d forgotten your name in the short time from when you had left to see your dorm. you gave him a smile and a lopsided wave in response.

“did you snag those tickets you were worried about earlier todo?”

“easily.” he bragged as if you cared about getting a pair of tickets for yourself. “however, earlier i meant to ask you a question, but SHE,” he pointed a thumb annoyedly at his companion, “very rudely interrupted me by stepping on my foot.”

“todo…” mai’s tone seemed warning as her eyes flickered between you and him.

“as much as i would LOVE to hear what your question is todo, i really do have to go unpack” you smiled abashedly, pulling miwa to your side, who nodded with wide eyes at how unphased you were.

“it might be better to ask when we spar later.” he shrugged. “that way i can really hear your impulse answer.” he crossed his arms, clearly to look intimidating.

“works for me! i’ll see you then too, mai.” you winked at her as you tugged miwa along behind you. mai huffed at your embarrassing show of flirtatiousness, but you didn’t miss the slight flush of her cheeks as she turned from you while rounding the corner.

even as you were close to the door of your dorm at the end of the hall, you could still hear mai berating todo for how embarrassing he was.

“i think she likes me.” a cat like grin overtook your face as you stopped in front of your dorm.

“utahime said your uniform would be folded on your bed, once you’re changed you can join us for sparring.” miwa smiled bashful smile. she’d probably chosen to ignore your previous statement in hopes of not being dragged into any drama.

“thanks miwa!” you grinned and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, to which she simply looked away timidly.

“it’s no problem, really.” she waved off your appreciation. “but between the two of us, i think you may be right about mai liking you.”

she bowed before running off, probably to get ready for sparring, leaving you grinning like an idiot in response to her revelation.

maybe the feeling was kinda mutual.

you were quick to change into your all black uniform pants and jacket, then breaking into a stride to the yard where sparring took place. that was, until you realized you were wandering rather aimlessly considering, you know, you didn’t really know where the yard was yet. peering around the hallway, your eye caught on an oh so familiar girl adorned in baggy black pants.

“hey mai!” you almost had it in you to feel bad for approaching her yet again.

almost.

“i’m kinda lost, d’you think i could walk with you?”

she nodded a yes in response, motioning with a hand for you to follow her.

after a one too many moments of awkward silence, you decided you’d have to be the one to bite the bullet and break it. “you know that thing todo was saying earlier about having a question he needed to ask me?” she looked up in a way that made her seem as if she’d just been brought out of being lost in her thoughts.

“what of it?”

“do you happen to know what it was? he seemed pretty serious about it.” well, as serious as todo could get.

to your surprise, mai attempted to stifle a chuckle, before a laugh managed to slip past her.

“it’s this totally dumb thing he likes to do.” she tilted her head slightly back so she looked at the ceiling as she talked. “to size people up, he likes to ask them what their type in women is.”

you let out a snort as you laughed, though you couldn’t say you were surprised.

“he seems like such a hopeless romantic, it’s hilarious.”

“yeah.” a soft smile painted her face. “but you’d better get an answer ready, if he thinks you’re too boring he’ll beat your ass.”

“really now?” you raised an eyebrow, to which she nodded in confirmation. “what does he classify as ‘boring’?”

she shrugged. “depends. whenever someone prefers personality he either beats the shit out of them or starts crying.” it was clear in her tone how exasperated her friend made her.

“what did you say? when he asked you?” you turned to face her fully, which made her realize how close together your faces were. for just a beat, she paused to examine your expression. despite your earlier teasing, you seemed sincere in your question. either you were oblivious to the blush spreading across her face, or you chose not to tease her for it.

before an answer could leave her parted open lips, she was interrupted by a voice calling both of your names.

“hey toshinori!” you smiled at the stone faced boy in front of you as you used mai’s shoulder as an armrest.

“it’s noritoshi.” the monotony in his voice made you stifle a laugh. “and you guys are running late for sparring, what were you even doing?”

her eyes glowered in his direction, clearly not in the mood to play hall monitor with him. “i was just being welcoming to our new classmate.”

he ignored her passive aggressive response and turned to you. “todo keeps asking where you are, so you might wanna hurry up.” with a swift turn, he began walking down the hallway with long strides.

once he seemed out of earshot, you burst into laughter, and from your arm you could feel mai’s shoulders shake from repressing a giggle.

“he walks like a goddamn penguin!” you referred to how his arms were wide at his sides and his stiff steps.

“him and mechamaru walk the exact same way, i’m starting to think he might just be a more advanced robot.” her dry tone was combatted by the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“though, we should probably get going, even if i get a pass for being new here, i’m not sure how utahime would react to you being late.”

you didn’t notice how her eyes softened at your concern for her as you beckoned for her to lead the way.

“i don’t think she’d mind, after all utahime loves me for my pep and bubbly spirit.” her voice oozed with sarcasm while you smiled to yourself about how you’d managed to get her to loosen up.

the walk to the sparring field was quick, and it made you wonder how much time you two had taken just talking at the end of the hallway. you were greeted by the sight of your strangely styled classmates (plus the literal robot) beginning to split into pairs. before you could turn to mai with the question of partnering up, you were greeted by a todo with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“we’re partnering up, new kid!” it was more of a declaration than an offer. you smiled awkwardly as his shadow enveloped your figure, seeing mai be whisked away by momo out of the corner of your eye. if you’d looked close enough, you’d have been able to see the annoyed look mai sent at todo and the smug smile momo flashed at mai and her obvious display of jealousy.

you planted your feet on the ground that was caked in dust and prepared yourself into a fighting stance, with fists raised and legs steady. though it seemed you’d gotten prepared to defend from an attack that wasn’t coming. instead, todo marched over to you confidently. mai glanced over from her sparring, knowing exactly what was coming.

he called your name in his usual booming voice, which you were surprised he actually knew.

“what is your type in women?” he towered over you, his expression dead serious despite his absolutely ridiculous question.

feeling mai’s eyes trailing you, you glanced over to her. she mouthed something to you about not saying personality. you failed to hold back a chuckle, which seemed to snap todo out of his intimidating glower.

his gaze followed yours, which was still focused on mai for the briefest of moments.

“ohhhh i get it…you’ve got a thing for mai, huh?” he sounded like a child about to blackmail their sibling.

a furious blush overtook mai’s face practically instantly, while momo covered her mouth with a hand to suppress a laugh. you glanced between a boastful looking todo and a tomato looking mai.

“yeah i guess you could say she’s my type.” you shrugged nonchalantly, to which you could hear mai sputtering something about how you were just trying to embarrass her. miwa had a sheepish look on her face as she walked over to check on mai, though it only seemed to make her more flustered when miwa asked if she wanted to go to the nurse.

while witnessing the admittedly charming trainwreck happening in front of you, there was a moment for you to look back at todo.

“are you CRYING?”

“i have no shame in it. it’s like mai is my daughter and i’m walking her down the aisle at her wedding.”

“it’s absolutely nothing like that, todo.”

he ignored your blatant confusion at his reaction. “young love is so beautiful. you have my full blessing to date mai.” he sniffles and wiped his nose, then held it out for you to shake, to which you scrunched your nose in disgust.

“thanks for the ‘blessing’ and all, but now that we’re done with that, i think i should go spar with lover girl over there.” you threw your thumb over your shoulder to point to mai.

“you guys should join me and takeda for a double date! we can arrange a date once she finally answers my calls.” todo had a large grin, shameless about his tear stained cheeks.

“how about it?” you raised an eyebrow at mai, who had become significantly more composed in the time you hadn’t been looking in her direction.

“absolutely not.” she deadpanned, though her impassive look didn’t last very long as she leaned over to whisper in your ear, cracking a small smile reserved for you. “i’d rather we just hang out without that oaf, you know it’s embarrassing for them to see how you get me acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush.”

the moment paused for a split second for her to glance at todo, who was staring you down like a disapproving father.

“plus lord knows takeda isn’t answering him anytime soon.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

[clareguilty]

Coal Fires and Snowstorms

This was a request fic that was originally for the Overwatch cowboy but I changed to Arthur Morgan for... apparent reasons Arthur Morgan/F!Reader (reader also has big enby vibes) Rating: Mature | No Warnings Word Count: ~2,200

Arthur wakes with a wheeze, bolting upright and smacking his chest with his fist as he tries to pull in enough air.

He’s shirtless, but a woven blanket had been draped over him while he was unconscious. A ray of light cuts through a grimy window. The angle is harsh enough that it’s probably late in the evening.

The last thing Arthur can remember is the dark of the night and the clamoring of the law on his heels. So he’s been out for at least a day.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his muscles groan in protest with every movement. God, his head is pounding like he was hit by a damn train.

A door creaks open, and there’s a squeak of surprise. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Arthur blinks in the harsh sunlight that’s streaming into the small cabin. Whoever is there is bundled up in furs and a jacket with a bow over their shoulder. They’ve got two armfuls of game practically swallowing them.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He means for it to sound rough and demanding, but it’s more croaky and pathetic when the words pass his lips.

“I’m not really anybody, and this is my cabin up in Cumberland. The law chased you a long ways from Annesburg didn’t they? You must have done something real bad.” The hunter dumps all the game onto the table and rushes to the bedroll where Arthur lays. “You aren’t hurt too bad or nothing, but you’ve got a real nasty cough. I’ve got tea and herbs that should help. I bandaged up all the bleeding bits as best I could”

Arthur is bewildered. He knows there had been a fire in Annesburg -- the coal had gone up in a pyre in seconds. Somehow, he had gotten separated from Dutch and the others. The smoke had taken him like crows to a carcass, and he was lucky to make it across the ridge with the way his eyes and lungs were burning.

The last thing he remembered was the pinkertons still on his heels and the darkness of the trees as he tried to hide in the brush. He must have made it to cover before the smoke and the soot finally got him.

He flinches as the hunter sticks an open flask under his nose. “Tea. It’s bitter but you’ll need it.”

Arthur sniffs the mouth of the flask, but it sure does just smell like weeds and water. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. But the flavor is a small price to pay for the way the liquid soothes the burning in his mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” he says. “You could have left me in those woods to rot. I appreciate you dragging my sorry ass back here.”

You grin and pat the bandage on his arm. “It weren’t much trouble, but you sure are one large fella.” Arthur thinks you must be a young boy -- it’s hard to tell. Your hair is short under your cap but your voice isn’t all that low.

You turn to the game on the table and grab a knife from your belt. “I hunted enough for the both of us the next few days. It’s gonna be a while before you’ve got your strength back, and a snowstorm is rolling in off the Grizzlies anyways.”

Arthur frowns. “Bit early for snow, isn’t it?”

You shrug. “Winter never listens to me. At least the game was out. Everyone is trying to feed as much as they can before it gets too cold to hunt. That includes us.”

Arthur grunts and struggles to his feet. “I can help with those,” he offers.

You watch him with narrowed eyes, obviously skeptical of Arthur’s strength. “Take the small ones,” you offer up the rabbits and squirrels.

Arthur usually doesn’t have a problem skinning game, but the smoke must have gotten to him more than he thought because he finds himself having to take a rest after just a few minutes. He finishes off the flask of tea and sorts through his pack and weapons.

“My horse…” he asks after a while.

“She’s fine,” you say. “I found her not far from where you were unconscious and she helped me get you back here. She’s out back with my Old Girl.”

“Thank you,” Arthur sounds genuinely touched. “She really means a lot to me.”

You shoot him another smile. “You’re nothing but a big softie, ain’t ya? What could you have done to have the law chasing you all the way across the damn country?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, flushing in embarrassment. “My folks might have blown up Annesburg? I don’t actually know how much of it is left…”

“Ha!” you bark. “You’re with them van der Linde folks?”

Arthur’s silence is answer enough.

“I won’t judge,” you shrug. “You’re safe as long as you want to rest here.”

And rest Arthur does. He’s confined to the bedroll, rolled out on a warm pile of furs near the stove. You’re good company, witty and friendly and far too nosy for your own good. Arthur learns that you’ve has been living in these parts for a few years now, trapping and hunting and crafting to sell in town every few weeks. It’s more of a living than Arthur could ever ask for. Arthur thinks he might be sweet on you.

It’s another day before he’s got the strength to walk. He makes it outside to his horse, glad to see that she’s well taken care of. You had said you were going off to bathe in a nearby stream, and Arthur follows the sound of the water.

He’s not expecting what he finds. The water is shallow but fast moving, and he sees a familiar jacket hung on a branch by the bank.

You’re turned away, rinsing in the ice cold water, and Arthur can see the gooseflesh on your skin.

But when you turn slightly, it’s the swell of breasts and the curve of hips that catches Arthur’s attention. He averts his eyes quickly, darting back towards the cabin with his cheeks stained pink.

Now that he thinks about it, you had never said that you were a man. Arthur had simply figured it was most likely. The soft voice and gentle features make more sense now.

“You had better wash up if you want to,” you say when you return to the cabin. “The snow is coming in tonight. I can smell it. I stocked up on herbs for your cough and we’ve got plenty of provisions. I’m gonna split some more wood to bring inside.”

Arthur can’t help but find it attractive that you’re so knowledgeable and well prepared. He makes his way to the stream on his own and washes up in the frigid water, pushing through another coughing fit when the cold makes his muscles seize.

It’s already getting colder when he gets back inside. His weak breath fogs even inside the cabin and the little stove can’t do nearly enough to warm the small space.

“You’re going to freeze,” he tells you. He’s big enough to handle the cold -- spent a damn month up in the grizzlies without much of a problem -- but you surely won’t last the snowstorm.

“I’ve made it before,” you say with a huff and a glare. “I’ve got plenty of furs to keep me warm.”

“Put your bedroll beside mine,” Arthur insists. “We can share the blankets.”

The snow begins to fall, sticking to the ground in wet clumps, and you brace yourselves for the days to come. You’re practically strangers -- save for the fact that you had dragged Arthur out of the woods and saved his life. Now you have no choice but to rely on each other until the snow melts.

Arthur wakes in the night to your violent shivering under the blankets. He pulls you so that you’re pressed against his chest, tucking both of you under the quilts closer together. “I thought you said you’d made it through this before?”

You huff, teeth chattering. “I survived. I never said I kept warm.”

“Stay close to me. It’s my turn to keep you alive.” He drifts back to sleep to the howl of the winter winds.

The next morning he’s greeted by a bowl of piping stew that makes his sinuses burn. “I had some jarred peppers I keep for weather just like this. You’re in no condition for liquor so this is the best you’re gonna get.”

Arthur accepts the stew graciously. He’s not ready for the way you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek when he offers to wash both of the bowls.

You pass the time snowed in with several rounds of cards. Arthur tells stories about him and the gang until his throat aches and he starts coughing again, and so the you regale Arthur with your life’s tale and a few stories you picked up over the years. You’re curled up next to each other in front of the stove, and you have no shame about burrowing against Arthur in a quest for body heat. He lets you steal as much as you want.

“I thought you were a boy when I first woke up,” Arthur says.

You shrug. “Most people do. I find it makes things easier a lot of the time. How’d you figure me out?” You don’t seem to feel too strongly one way or another about how Arthur and others see you.

Arthur hides his embarrassment behind a cough. “I, uh, caught you washing up in the stream.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s pretty solid proof, ain’t it.” You’re smiling, not shy at all. “You’re not mad at me for lying, are you?”

“You never lied,” Arthur says. “I just came to my own conclusions. Doesn’t matter much to me anyways, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

You frown at that. “Doesn’t matter?”

“Nah,” Arthur ruffles your short hair. “You’re cute either way.”

It’s the right thing to say. The frown disappears and you settle back against him, humming contentedly.

He wakes in the night to the feeling of your breath on his neck. You shift and your lips brush against his skin. He can’t help the way his whole body tenses at the sensation. His arm is draped around your waist, holding you close because he knows you’ll freeze if he doesn’t.

He pulls you in closer. Every inch where your skin touches his feels oversensitive and hot. You’re still asleep -- he can tell from how slow you breath against his skin, but you reach an arm around his neck and burrow against him.

His heart begins to race. He’s flushed and half asleep and you fit against him so well in this tiny cabin that you’ve made your home. One of his hands slides down your back. You moan as his palm passes over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, but you shift again and rock your hips against him.

He gasps, then has to fight back a cough. He doesn’t want to wake you, but your quest for warmth has you plastered against him in a very compromising position. It’s starting to make his long johns downright painful, and he thinks he’ll combust in shame.

You rock against him once more, mumbling sleepily into his skin.

“Darlin’” he croaks. But the sound doesn’t wake you. He tries to wriggle an arm between you so he can push you off, but instead he winds up with a handful of your breast, and the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard escapes your lips.

He freezes. He’s painfully hard now, and you’re still gently rocking against him in your sleep, perhaps even more so now that he’s got a hand on your chest.

“Arthur, please,” you whine.

He’s pretty sure you’re awake by now, so he readjusts his hand and rubs his thumb over the peak of your nipple. You let out another breathy moan against his skin. This time when he runs a hand over your ass he lets himself take a moment to appreciate how it feels under his palm, they way his fingers sink into the soft skin beneath your winter sleep clothes. He once again places his hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you so that your hips are lined up with his, straddling him under the blankets.

You whine against him once more and grind your hips downward. The friction does way more for him than he imagines it must for you, and his vision whites out momentarily at the heat and weight of you against him.

He loses himself in the motion of your hips for several long moments, but then your whines grow frustrated and unsatisfied and he knows exactly what your after.

Gripping both of your hips tightly, he flips you both so that you’re laying back on the bedroll and he’s kneeling over you.

Your eyes fly open.

“Arthur?”

“You were asleep?” he looks absolutely bewildered.

“I thought so? I was having the best dream.” Your eyes look past him as you remember.

“I don’t think you were dreaming, sweetheart,” he chuckles. He leans in to place an open mouthed kiss against your neck. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Then I think you had better keep going, cowboy.”

[ibijau]

Counterfeit AU pt6 / On AO3

Meng Yao makes himself useful after losing his job, and discovers something unexpected

Names are funny things, Meng Yao thinks as he stares at the sheet of paper in his hand. 

Funny things indeed.

-

After everything that went down in the Hanshi, it's Beastie that saves Meng Yao from himself.

Left to his own devices, he would have either wallowed in misery, or waste time proving to himself that everything that happened wasn't his fault, the way he knows he's done in other lives. But when he comes home after having his past lives thrown into his face and losing a job he loves, Beastie’s mother corners him just as he puts his key into his lock. Her daughter is on school holiday, she explains, and was supposed to be looked after by a friend with children of a similar age. But one of the children came down with something contagious, so the whole plan fell through, and the poor woman now desperately needs help finding someone to look after her daughter.

She’s not asking for Meng Yao to play the babysitter, but he knows so many people, he has so many connections, maybe he could pull a favour somewhere, help her out again.

“I can take care of her for a few days,” Meng Yao offers without thinking. “I’m jobless as of today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“My employer died,” Meng Yao replies, which is close enough to the truth. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang will continue using his Shanzi alias after this, and they’ll never meet again. He might as well be dead. “I don’t plan on looking for a new job right away, so I can babysit for a while, it’s no big deal.”

She tries to insist that he doesn’t need to be doing that, but quickly agrees after some reassurance that Meng Yao doesn’t mind. She looks so relieved she could cry as she says she’ll drop Beastie in the morning. Meng Yao smiles, certain that his mother would be proud of him for doing what’s right.

Having Beastie around is definitely the best choice he could have made. She’s a good kid, but she’s also high energy and needs to be entertained, which means he doesn’t get to think too much about how much he misses Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen. 

They watch movies together, as they’ve always done when he picked her up after school. They go for walks to a nearby park, and once to a museum to look at old armours and swords. He buys Beastie a fake sword, though they agree to keep it at his place, since her mother already despairs that she so strongly favours boy’s toys. In fact, Meng Yao ends up just spoiling that little girl, the way he would have loved someone to do for him when he was her age. He even has Nie Huaisang’s console repaired so she can play on it, instead of selling it as he’d intended.

The video games are a big hit with her. She’s particularly in love with the same game Nie Huaisang spent too many hours on, that weird little terraforming thing which Meng Yao can’t see the appeal of. He liked that it made Nie Huaisang happy. He likes that it also makes Beastie happy, and that she’s very careful not to ruin the work previously put into it, focused instead on maintaining it and planting flowers

“It looks like home,” she explains when Meng Yao asks about that, and lifts the console for him to see.

It doesn’t look like a homely place, he thinks, and more like a military fortress right out of a wuxia drama. But Meng Yao doesn’t get to make that remark, because his phone vibrates, demanding his attention. Beastie, sitting crossed legs on some cushion on the floor, goes back to watering virtual flowers, while Meng Yao checks some news from his bank account. A lump sum has been sent to him, a good deal more than his usual salary, coming from an account registered under a name he doesn’t recognise.

It has been a week since he was fired.

Nie Huaisang kept his promise.

It really is over.

Not that Meng Yao really doubted it. Nie Huaisang has many faults but indecision has never been one, though he’s always been good at pretending otherwise. Once his choice is made he toys with expectations but rarely ever changes his mind.

Rarely, of course, isn’t never. Meng Yao, foolishly, hoped to be one of those few exceptions. 

Those new zeroes on his bank account feel like a divorce, and he never even got a honeymoon. 

That night, Meng Yao allows himself a few hours to wallow in misery, after Beastie went back to her mother. He is only human, and it does feel good to eat take-away in front of a cheesy romance. The film's hero doesn't get the girl, who was dead all along. Meng Yao cries, even though he's seen that movie before. 

By morning, he's in control again, and takes Beastie to the park so she can run around in the sun, and scare pigeons with her sword.

Those holidays are all great fun, until Beastie’s mother reminds them that she has homework to do.

Beastie is a clever kid, there’s no doubt about it, but she doesn’t much like doing her homework, least of all when she feels she could be playing. It takes all of Meng Yao’s negotiation skills to get her to even look at her school books, and he almost resorts to bribery to make her pick up a pencil. But she works hard once she starts, and Meng Yao, wanting to encourage her, sits with her at the kitchen table to update his resume. Beastie will go back to class soon, and inactivity just isn’t in his temper.

When Beastie is done with her work, she gets permission to put on whatever movie she likes while Meng Yao checks what she’s done in case it needs correcting.

But when he picks up the sheet of simple maths she’s expected to give her teacher on monday, all Meng Yao sees is her name.

It’s really funny. He knows her name of course, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even her mother took up to calling her Beastie after he nicknamed her that. It just fits her so well, that active little girl who prefers trousers over dresses because they're easier to move in and always wants to play at fighting. She’s a real little monster, and Meng Yao loves her like that. She’s just Beastie.

But according to the homework she’s spent the afternoon on, she’s also Nie Mingjue.

It could just be a coincidence. Names are funny like that, they pop up in unexpected places, they get forgotten and reused. Perhaps in another life, Meng Yao would have just dismissed it as a random incident.

In another life, he wouldn’t have been called Meng Yao.

It’s the first time this happens since that first life they all shared. He’s Meng Yao again, Lan Xichen bears his old name too, and now he’s found a Nie Mingjue, hiding right under his nose. A Nie Mingjue who likes fighting, and claims that her toy sword is actually a sabre, and who always insists a lot on things being fair, even when Meng Yao tries to give her the biggest share of a food she likes.

It can’t be a coincidence.

Meng Yao needs to tell someone.

He needs to tell Nie Huaisang.

He tries, of course, and without surprise his former employer’s number has been terminated. He has the same luck trying to send an email. Nie Huaisang might as well never have existed. Meng Yao feels helpless, torn between tears and laughter. After spending centuries looking for his brother, Nie Huaisang just might have lost his chance due to being so damn dramatic. Serves him right, Meng Yao thinks, still bitter about being discarded so easily, and never getting a chance to see if things might work better in this life.

Bitterness doesn’t last. Meng Yao cares about Nie Huaisang, more than he should if he were a little smarter, and he knows how important finding his brother again would be for him. And if Nie Huaisang can’t be directly contacted, there’s always indirect ways.

It’s not that Meng Yao misses Lan Xichen, he tells himself that night, when Beastie is back with his mother and he starts writing a long text message on his phone. Well, it’s not just that, anyway. He does miss Lan Xichen, sweet and funny and so eager when talking about art. But more importantly, Lan Xichen probably has access to Lan Wangji, who clearly must know how to contact Nie Huaisang. 

Texting Lan Xichen is a strategic choice. 

The way Meng Yao's heart jumps inside his chest when Lan Xichen immediately replies is… it's strategic too. He's just glad that his plan is working. 

How have you been? :)

I could have been worse. I've just realised something and I think it concerns you. I've told you about that kid I babysit, haven't I? 

Little Beastie? Is she okay? D:

She's Nie Mingjue. 

This time, the answer isn't immediate. Meng Yao stares nervously at his phone, wondering if Lan Xichen thinks he's lying, or planning something. Considering their first life, who could blame him? 

But after a few minutes, his phone vibrates again. 

Sorry, I dropped my phone and couldn't get it back from under the couch. Are you sure?? (⊙ˍ⊙)

It all fits. You could come meet her if you want. But it's him, I'm sure. 

Did you tell Nie Huaisang???

I can't contact him. Are you in touch with Lan Wangji? Maybe he can warn him. 

I have his number, I just texted him! I'll keep you updated! It's so wonderful if it's da-ge!! Can I really meet him? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Her*?

I'll send you my address. If you can come tomorrow, she'll be there.

Are you sure? I don't think da-ge would still want me around. (≧﹏ ≦)

Meng Yao gives that question the consideration it deserves. It's not an unfair worry to have, and he'd be wondering the same if he hadn't known Beastie for so long. 

I literally killed him, and he killed me. If she had to hate anyone it'd be me, but we get along great. We're no longer the same people we used to be. It's the same for her. 

If you're sure, then I'll come! (❁´w`❁)

-

Meng Yao is very sure indeed. 

So Lan Xichen comes. 

It's odd to invite someone to his flat. It's a small place, a bit messy, full of trinkets and DVDs that Meng Yao would never admit to owning, not with the image he wants to create. He's always avoided guests. But having Lan Xichen over is as rewarding as it is terrifying. Lan Xichen brought some charming little cakes, as if he's visiting someone important, and he smiles at the sight of a movie poster on the wall, confessing he watched it so often as a teenager that the tape broke one day. 

"It's my favourite too!" Beastie exclaims. "Meng-ge has it, you know! Can we watch it now?" 

Normally, Meng Yao would point out that it's a little rude to ask that when they have a guest. But he can see that Lan Xichen is nervous and unsure how to act around Nie Mingjue, and maybe a movie will let them all relax. 

In the end, they spend a pleasant afternoon, the three of them. Once Lan Xichen stops worrying that the Nie Mingjue of old will appear and shout at him for getting him killed, he starts chatting with Beastie about her favourite movies, what she's learning in school, what she wants to be when she grows up. She's very happy to answer, and very impressed when he explains he's a teacher, even though she's finding it hard to accept that most of his students are fully adult.

And when Beastie is back with her mother, Lan Xichen lingers for a while, tempted by the offer of Meng Yao's favourite takeaway.

“It’s amazing how much like him she is,” Lan Xichen says as they sit on the sofa to wait for the food to arrive. “It’s the first time he reincarnates, you know. At least, Wangji told me they’d never found any trace of him before.”

Guilt shoots through Meng Yao. It’s his fault if Nie Mingjue’s soul was so fractured it took him this long to be reborn. Or at least, it’s the fault of someone he was, once, which is nearly the same, and yet completely different. Meng Yao has learned from living and dying several times, and he’s lucky enough to live in a kinder world than Jin Guangyao did. It helps.

“She’s also different from him, though,” Lan Xichen continues, moving just a little closer, until they’re almost touching.

“We’ll, for starters she’s a kid,” Meng Yao points out, wondering if he should take the other man’s hand. If this had happened before the Hanshi, he would have, but he’s not sure where they stand now.

“It’s not just that. In that first life, I knew da-ge as a child too and he was…” Lan Xichen sighs and makes a vague hand gesture. “He was a lot. Way too serious sometimes. We all were, I suppose, but him most of all. The Nie tended to grow fast, to compensate for dying young. I’m… I’m glad that he gets to properly be a child this time. That she gets to be a child.”

“The world has changed,” Meng Yao says, finding the courage at last to brush his fingers against Lan Xichen’s. “Things aren’t always easy but they’re… easier, I suppose.”

Lan Xichen’s returns that touch, gentle and careful as always. This, too, is easier now than it was back then. It’s not easy, but there’s less pressure to conform, less demands to be good dutiful sons, and just a little more space to be their own people, to make their own choices.

Maybe in their next life they’ll meet again and it’ll be even easier to be like this. But even now, Meng Yao is ready to take the chances that his past self wouldn’t have dared to dream of. He leans toward Lan Xichen, hoping to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupts them and he jumps to his feet to go get their food. The delivery man looks at him a little funny, but makes no comment. If Meng Yao is half as red as Lan Xichen, he deserves those odd looks.

Nothing happens again that night. The moment has passed, and after eating, Lan Xichen has to go home because he has engagements the day after that he can’t cancel.

It's not a date that night, no more than any of their previous encounters were. 

It's not a date then, but next time, when Lan Xichen invites him to a restaurant, Meng Yao is informed in no unclear terms that this is, in fact, a date. They go see a movie after, and Meng Yao gets to kiss one of the two most handsome men in the world.

Life is good. 

Life is really good, and yet Meng Yao wants more. 

In spite of their efforts, Lan Xichen and him can't get in touch with Nie Huaisang to inform him that his brother has finally reincarnated. Even Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are getting worried. From what they told Lan Xichen they haven't had any contact with him since the day they picked him up at the Hanshi. 

"They say he's done that before," Lan Xichen tells him. "They think he'll return in a decade or two, maybe a little longer. Time is hard for immortals, they lose track easily." 

That's all very well for them, but Meng Yao doesn't have a few decades to waste, and neither does Nie Mingjue. They're not immortals. One bad illness, a reckless driver, just tripping in the stairs, and it's all over until they reincarnate again, and Meng Yao is done with missed chances. 

If he can't directly get in touch with Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao can make a few discreet calls to former buyers, and advise them to get their purchase asserted again, just in case. He makes sure to only contact people who bought legitimate artworks of course. He wants to make a wave, not get in trouble. If Meng Yao knows Nie Huaisang even half as well as he thinks he does, then even in hiding Nie Huaisang will be checking what’s happening in the world of art collectors, and he’ll hear about some of his buyers suddenly becoming fearful of fakes.

It’s a little mean perhaps, when Nie Huaisang is so proud of his counterfeits, but kindness has never been Meng Yao’s greatest quality.

Besides, it works.

One afternoon, when Meng Yao is alone at home, checking a job offer that he’s probably going to reject because he deserves better, there’s a knock on the door. Meng Yao considers ignoring it, but some of his elderly neighbours have been coming to ask for help with their phones or whatever new fancy blender their kids got them to make life easier. Usually, five minutes of easy work means free homemade food for his next meal, which is always a great deal.

When he opens the door, there’s a very old man waiting in the corridor alright, but free food is probably out of the question.

“Well, I’m here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Whatever is going on, it’d better be important.”