#disappointing but also I can’t deny his death and how he.. handled it. was absolutely in character and just made me like him more

[designernishiki]

nishitani really did live, serve cunt, and die didn’t he

[sacredsorceress]

Cake || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend bucky barnes head down to the wilson residence for a barbecue. sam’s nephews adore the both of you and as you watch bucky play with the kids you’re ready to tell your boyfriend that you’re pregnant

a/n: gif credit- @davidsfincher ; i will never get over this scene. reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: pure fluff based on episode six, mentions of pregnancy

masterlist || request || taglist

“I say we get the vanilla one.”

Standing besides you in the supermarket aisle with his arms crossed, your boyfriend turned to look at you with disgust written all over his face.

“Vanilla?” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Are you kidding, Y/n? All kids like chocolate.”

As he was speaking, Bucky reached out to pull one of the chocolate cakes off of the shelf it was sitting on, but you swat his hand away.

“Oh yea?” You asked. “And what makes you the expert on what kids like?”

Uncrossing his arms, he waved his hand in your face.

“Metal arm.” He said. “Also don’t pretend like Sam’s nephews didn't love me last time we were there.”

You couldn't argue with that. The last time the two of you had been to the Wilson residence in between missions, Sam’s nephews absolutely adored the super soldier. They couldn't get enough of the one hundred and six year-old man with the vibranium arm and the fun they had messing with him.

You had just as much joy watching the interactions between the three of them. You couldn’t help but entertain the idea of starting a family of your own with Bucky.

The two of you had been dating for years- not including the five year blip the two of you had been snapped from existence in- and had often discussed the idea of getting married and having children in the future. You didn’t think you would be ready yet, but as you watched children be in absolute awe of your boyfriend, you felt as though the pieces began to fell into place.

And funnily enough- they did.

You had been feeling sick and exhausted for the past few weeks, but you figured it was on account of the missions you had been going on with Sam and Bucky. When the symptoms continued while you stayed at the Wilson’s home for the weekend while Bucky helped Sam fix the boat- you had taken pregnancy test.

It was positive.

Although you knew that you and Bucky could handle it, you were still in absolute shock realizing that you were going to be starting a family- you were going to be responsible for more than just making sure you and your friends didn’t get killed fighting bad guys- you were going to be a parent.

The only person who knew was Sam’s sister, Sarah. She was the only one inside the house when you had taken the test and when she had heard you pacing around the bathroom, hyperventilating, she opened the unlocked door and immediately saw the pregnancy test in your hands. You had sworn her to secrecy, making sure she didn’t tell your boyfriend or her brother, promising her that you would tell them when the time was right... but with the mission in New York City coming immediately after your stay, you hadn't found the right opportunity to tell Bucky yet.

However, you told yourself that you finally would tonight... after attending the barbecue.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “I can’t argue with that. They did love you, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about cake.”

Reaching his hand out for the chocolate cake again he scoffed. “I’m not taking advice from someone who wants to bring a vanilla cake to a party-���

You swat his hand again. “We’re not getting the chocolate.”

“Yes,” He insisted, inching his face closer to yours. “We are.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Can I help you guys with anything?” You heard a worker ask from behind you.

Backing away from your boyfriend you smiled, shaking your head.

“No, we’re fine. Thank you.”

As you watched the worker nod before walking down the aisle, you turned back to your boyfriend.

“Okay fine.” You said. “We’ll compromise. Ice cream cake?”

You watched as Bucky’s eyes widened. “Wait! There’s ice cream cake?”

Twenty minutes later you and Bucky had arrived at the barbecue, your boyfriend taking the cake out of your hands as he stepped out of the car.

As you made your way around the front of the vehicle you watched as Sam’s nephews bombarded Bucky, play fighting with him as he faked attacking them back, making sure to dodge their fists from knocking over the cake in his hands.

You couldn’t deny the way the sight made your heart fill so much you swore it could’ve exploded right in your chest.

As you watched the scene unfold, hearing the laughter erupting from the children around him while he faked getting hurt, you heard Sarah come up behind you.

“You know,” She said, crossing her arms and standing beside you. “You almost scared me to death watching you on the news.”

Glancing at her beside you, you shrugged. “I was fine.” You said. “That wasn’t the first fight I’ve been in.”

“I just can’t believe they let you go.” She said.

“What? What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” She laughed. “I can’t believe they would let you go do something so dangerous like that knowing you’re-”

Before she could finish her sentence you swat at her arm, rapidly shaking your head, checking around you to make sure no one was listening to your conversation or had heard what she had just said.

“I didn’t tell them yet.” You told her in a hushed voice.

“What?” She asked. “Why not?”

“I couldn’t tell them. If I did they would have never let me go- especially Bucky- but I couldn’t let them go in by themselves like that. You’ve seen the Flag Smashers, Sarah.”

“How long are you going to keep this a secret?” She asked.

“I was going to tell him today.” You told her. “We just needed to sort out the Flag Smashers before I could even think about telling him I’m pregnant-”

“You’re pregnant?”

At the sound of Sam’s voice, you and his sister immediately spun around to be met with Sam standing behind you, only a foot away.

You watched as his mouth dropped and his eyes grew wide and you felt your heart began to race in your chest, knowing that you had just exposed your secret to Sam- you and Bucky’s shared best friend.

“Sam...” You said.

“I-” He stumbled over his words, trying to piece the information together. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, but you can’t tell Bucky.” You pleaded, gripping his bicep. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“What?” He exclaimed looking between you and his sister. “How long have you known? Why haven’t you told him yet?”

Playing with one of the rings on your fingers, made anxious by the conversation, you focused your gaze on the water behind him, not able to meet his eyes.

“I found out last time I was here.” You said. “So I found out like a week ago. You can't blame me though, Sam, if I told him he would of never let me go help you guys in New York.”

“Yeah!” Sam nodded. “Neither would I. You could of died!”

“But I didn’t!” You said. “Just don’t tell him okay, Sam? I’m going to tell him tonight.”

Before anymore could be said, you heard the sound of your name being called by Sam’s nephews and spun around to find them running in your direction.

“Hey guys!” You laughed, a smile reaching your face once again.

Watching them run towards you, you knew what they wanted before they even had to ask. Stretching out your arms, you moved your hands in the direction of each of the boys, using your powers to lift them a maximum of three feet above the ground- not wanting to upset their mother. You smiled as you watched the boys laugh about how “awesome” it was in awe as they looked down at the ground three feet below them.

You felt Sam’s hand land on your shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, Y/n.” You heard Sam say, leaning in closer so no one outside of your current group could hear him. “You both are going to be great parents. Just tell him soon, okay?”

He pat your shoulder one last time before walking past you and his nephews you were still currently floating midair.

“How come when I ask you guys if you want to fly you say no?” Sam asked.

“She’s using magic!” Cass exclaimed.

“Yeah, Uncle Sam.” AJ agreed. “That’s way cooler.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air, walking in the opposite direction and as he did you lowered the boys to the ground, much to their disappoint. When they scurried off in the direction of their uncle, your eyes met Bucky’s staring at you, smiling from across the way of where you had just been levitating Sam’s nephews.

“Look at you!” He said, smiling, reaching out his arms for you.

“Me?” You laughed. “You just had a whole choreographed fight scene with the boys. You’re like their cool uncle.”

You watched as your boyfriend pulled off his sunglasses and smiled at you, resting his vibranium hand on your waist.

“Only if you’re their cool aunt.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Afterwards the two of you went to eat and spent the remainder of the meal sharing a table with Sam, his sister and his nephews. Despite the dangerous mission the three of you had been dealing with the past week, the table was full of laughter and joy that you were happy to welcome in.

Even when the cake that you had brought was sliced, you and Bucky smiled at each other from across the table when the boys scoffed down their slice of ice cream cake that contained both vanilla and chocolate- your compromise having worked in the end for the better. At times you even used your abilities to pull the fork out of your boyfriend’s hand just as he was about to bite down on a slice of cake, hearing the boy’s laugh as they watched the super soldier roll his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.” Bucky would say. “Very funny... what is that? Three times now? Really, Y/n?”

But he knew you would continue to do it as long as you continued to hear the sounds of awes coming out of the boys’ mouths and he couldn’t fault you for that. Instead sneaking you a smile when you brought the fork back into his grasp.

At the end of the evening when everyone had began to make their way home, the sun setting over the horizon, you helped tidy up with the Wilson siblings. When the tables were all wiped clean, you brushed your hands off on your bottoms, watching as Bucky sat on the edge of the dock, the golden hue of the sunset setting on his features.

Glancing over your shoulder as Sarah ushered her children back home, you saw Sam throw you a thumbs up. When your eyes met his you smiled, mouthing a “thank you” before he turned in the direction of his sister, following her path back home.

Sighing to yourself you turned back to your boyfriend.

You were going to tell him. You were going to finally tell him you were pregnant.

You took one last deep breath, taking in the last moment before Bucky and your’s life changed forever.

Making your way towards your boyfriend you kneeled behind him, your chest meeting his back as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

“Hi.” You whispered.

“Hi doll.” He hummed, moving his hands to hold yours that were resting against his chest.

“Had a nice day?” You asked, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

You felt as his chest rumbled when he chuckled, staring out over the water while the sun continued to set, its reflection turning the water gold.

“Yeah.” He said. “I wish it could be like that every day, you know?”

You knew what he meant. You understood that he was talking about the peace, the joy, the laughter- the normalcy. You understood that he was talking about how your lives were so hectic and always would be due to the hand you had been dealt with super human abilities. You could never have a normal life, but you also understood that it was more than just never having to fight or go on a mission again- it was the feeling of family, of caring and of love.

“I know it can’t be like that every day.” You said. “But would you... would you settle for most days?”

You felt his hands squeeze yours a bit more, tilting his head back to get a better look at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Would you settle for most days, Buck?” You asked again. “Would it all be worth it even if you still had to fight?”

He answered in a heartbeat.

“Of course it would.” Bucky said. “I’d fight for one day of this.”

You unwrapped your arms from around his chest, moving to kneel besides him on the dock so he could face you. Knowing what you were about to say, you took in the moment, breathing in the fresh air and memorizing the way his face looked in the golden hour.

“I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his face dropped and you were almost worried until a wide smile reached across his face.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked, so in disbelief he sounded as though the wind had been knocked right out of him.

You smiled, nodding your head and took his hand in yours. “I am. I found out a few days ago-”

“Wait.” He cut you off. “A few days ago? Did you know you were pregnant when we fought in New York City?”

Staring at his face now, confronting the issue, you were suddenly very interested in the frosting he had somehow gotten on the bottom of his shirt, tugging on the hem and scratching it off.

“Y/n?”

“Okay, yes. I knew.” You confessed.

Rather than the fed up, overprotective reaction you were expecting, you felt Bucky’s hands reach to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. Rather than anger in his eyes, all you saw was worry and you were wishing you had never gone and fought just so you could save yourself from seeing him like that.

“Promise me you won’t fight anymore.” He said. “At least until the baby’s here- God I can’t believe we’re having a baby- just promise me okay? If anything happened to either of you I wouldn’t know what to do with myself-”

“I promise, Buck.” You assured him, smiling and beginning to feel tears prickle in your eyes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

You watched as he began to smile once again and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh- so consumed in complete and utter joy. You and Bucky had gone through so much- especially within the last few months- but as you both sat there, so happy you couldn’t help but laugh, you realized it was worth it and you would go through it all again if it meant that at the end of the day you two would come back to each other every single time.

For the first time in your life, you watched as tears of joy began to fill his eyes, almost as if they had begun to wash away the years of pain that he had suffered previously. Although he was sure he hadn’t fought his last fight... he was sure he was going to be okay. He was happy. He was going to share his life with you. He was going to be a dad.

“We’re gonna have a kid.” He repeated the words, almost as if to convince himself that they were true.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, Buck.” You told him, laughing through the tears that had begun to fill your eyes. “If you’re half as good at being a dad as you are the ‘cool uncle’- our kid is in good hands.”

“You think so?” He asked.

“I know so, Buck.”

[mycatshuman]

Wrapped Up In A Rom Com

Chapter 3: Mom?!?!?!?

🏳️‍🌈 First off, happy pride month. Second, yeah I know it's been months. And I've had this in my draft for months. I'm sorry. Honestly, I've been watching a lot of the Dreamsmp and playing games on my phone and preparing for graduation. So yeah. I'll try to get back to writing but I cant promise anything.

Warnings: some swearing, mentions of leeches used as a medical practice, let me know if I missed any

Last | Next | More

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"There it is." Roman's eyes lit up as he saw the temporary house that had been set up for the group of archeologists to live in as they excavated the site. Virgil smiled slightly. Roman looked really pretty in that moment that he wasn't even going to try and deny that he was looking. He dragged his eyes away from the mummy and sighed. "Now we just have to get inside." 

The pair moved up the stairs and Virgil pulled out his key and unlocked the door. "Now, try to stay quiet. Everyone's asleep and I don't know if I'm ready to try to explain this." Virgil paused. "Hell, I don't think I'll ever be ready to explain this to anyone." Virgil and Roman quietly stepped into the house and closed the door behind them. "Sorry, it's a little dark so bear with me." 

Suddenly, with a click, a lamp flared on across from them. The two froze. Virgil looked over and pulled in a hiss through his teeth. His boss sat there in an old armchair, his arms crossed and his mouth pulled down in a frown. "Where have you been?" 

Virgil's eyes shoot down to the floor. "Uhhhhh." Roman looked back and forth between the two, confusion evident on his face. Virgil attempted to inch his way to his room only to crumble to the floor as he put pressure on his injured ankle. 

"Virgil!" Roman dropped to his knees to help catch the other as the other man surged to his feet and rushed to their aid. Roman held Virgil up as the other man kneeled before them. 

"What did you do?" The man asked. 

Virgil winced. "I fell." 

The man paused and raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

Virgil bit his lip. "Uh, no. I don't think I do care to elaborate, Logan." 

Logan rolled his eyes. "You are ridiculous." 

Virgil forced a grin that was really more of a grimace. "What happened is even more ridiculous and you wouldn't believe me so…"

Logan leaned forward and pulled off Virgil's shoe and began to unwrap his ankle to take a look at the injury. "Maybe you shouldn't assume whether or not I would believe you." 

"Alright, I went for a walk and fell through the hole of a tomb that is practically completely untouched and I found the burial chamber and then the mummy came to life and now he's here." 

Logan paused in his attendance to Virgil's ankle. "You're right, I don't believe you." 

Virgil groaned. "Come on, Logan! Look at him, he's real. He was a mummy not even five hours ago!" 

Logan huffed. "Honestly, Virgil. That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard." 

"But it's true!" 

"He's right, I am a mummy, er, I was a mummy."

"I'm offended. Seriously, if you were going to try and fool me you could at least get a convincing actor."

Roman gasped, outraged. "Excuse you! But I am an absolutely amazing actor!" 

"It's not a prank!" 

Roman quickly pulled out a statue of himself he had grabbed from his tomb. "Look!" He shoved the statue into Logan's face, nearly knocking the others glasses off. 

Logan rolled his eyes but took the statue to look at it better. As he adjusted his glasses, he studied the statue before looking up at Roman. "You do look a little similar but that doesn't prove anything. All it proves is you look similar to him." He inspected the statue some more. He frowned. "This is in incredibly good condition." He glanced at Roman suspiciously. "Did you fake this?" 

Virgil groaned and let his head fall back into Roman's chest and whatever Roman was about to respond with just vaporized as his brain short circuited. Guy on chest. Guy on chest. Guy on chest! 

"Logan, why can't you just believe me? Why would I make this up? Why would I sit here and make a fool of myself in front of you?" Virgil sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Whatever." He attempted to drag himself up only for Logan to stop him. 

"Hey, no. I still have to check your ankle." 

The room went silent as Logan checked Virgil's ankle. Roman watched on with curiosity.  

"It's still swollen. Maybe you need to get some leeches." 

Virgil went rigid and Logan froze. "I'm sorry, What?" 

"Wait, do you not use leeches anymore?"

Virgil's nose scrunched in disgust. "No! We've long since moved past that." He shook his head. "I don't even want to begin to think of what else you might possibly suggest for medical problems." 

Logan went quiet as he quickly finished inspecting Virgil's ankle and stood up to go grab an ice pack. The archeologist student frowned. His boss was being uncharacteristically silent. Something was up. When the other came back, he kneeled once again and gently pressed the ice to the ankle. Virgil bent forward and held the pack in place as Logan sat back. 

"I-" The other began before closing their mouth again. Virgil watched Logan hesitantly as Roman poked at the ice pack. 

"It's cold!" The mummy exclaimed. 

Logan shook his head."I-" he sighed. "Virgil, I hope you understand how hard it is for me to grasp this or even entertain the possibility of this. But maybe this is real. But, we're going to have to do tests." 

"Tests?" Roman asked as his attention shot up to look at the other. 

Logan nodded. "Yes, to see if I can find any bit of evidence to support your claims." 

"Great, now can I please go to bed, I'm fucking exhausted." 

"Of course, I'll see you in the morning." 

Logan left and Roman and Virgil were alone once again. The latter huffed before pulling himself up and began limping up the stairs. "Come on, I have a second bed in my room. You can sleep there." Together, they went up to the second floor and down the hall until they reached another flight of stairs. "I'm suddenly regretting choosing the attic as my room," Virgil complained. 

Roman followed, eyes wide as he took in the walls around him. It was so different from what he was used to. And that was exciting. But the hallways were nothing compared to Virgil's room. Inside, he found a desk against one wall and two beds. On the desk there was this strange rectangular silver thing that sat flat against the desk and a small container with small tube-like objects sticking out of it. Next to it, a pad of sorts sat. Roman was so absolutely excited to find out what all of these new objects were. It would be his greatest adventure yet. He just knew it!

----------

Virgil dropped his bag by the door as he limped over to his bed and fell face first into the blankets. Roman yelped. "Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" 

Virgil lifted his head up, confusion spread across his face. "What?" He asked before he remembered what the ancient Egyptians used to sleep on. He let out a laugh. "Oh no! These are soft. There's a bedframe, which would be similar to what you used to sleep on but we added a mattress that's soft and it's better for our bones." The archeologist pushed himself up and patted the bed. "Come on, see for yourself." 

Roman set his basket done on the floor and walked over to the other bed curiously. Virgil watched on with amusement. Quickly, the mummy quickly poked the mattress as if it would bite him if he let his finger linger on the object for any longer. 

Virgil laughed lightly. "Don't worry, it won't bite." 

Roman stuck his tongue out at the other before turning back to the bed once more. He reached forward slowly and pushed his hand into the mattress. Sparkles sprung up in his eyes as he felt the soft blankets. Carefully, he climbed up into the bed noting the lack of pain on his skin that used to come with the bed he once slept in before he died. Tentatively, he bounced. Laughter bubbled up out of his mouth and he looked over at Virgil. 

The emo's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the Pharaoh's eyes. His dark eyes were overflowing with joy and wonder. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He watched in awe as Roman began bouncing gleefully on his bed, giggles bubbling out into the room. Virgil smiled softly and laid down, perfectly content with watching the greatest treasure from Roman's tomb as he experienced pure joy for the first time in thousands of years. 

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

If last night was anxiety inducing, it was nothing compared to this morning. While being caught by Logan was unpredictable as his reactions could range from Disappointed Mom™️ to Unhinged Scientist™️, it was nothing compared to how the resident Dad would react. The resident Dad was none other than Patton Crofters, the polar opposite to his husband Logan. He had met both of them in college. Dr. Logan Crofters had been his Archeological professor. He had often stressed his disdain for puns so when Virgil first met Patton, he nearly choked to death when the other introduced himself with a pun. That was when Virgil learned that his professor hated puns except for when his husband made them. 

The three had grown close, Patton having proclaimed he was his godfather now. It was an interesting friendship. When the two asked if he wanted to join them on their archeological dig that summer, he had jumped at the chance. He quickly learned that Home Dad Patton was different from Archeological Dig Dad Patton. 

Archeological Dig Dad Patton was stricter than at home. He popped up next to Virgil nearly every hour with sunscreen to coat him in and a bottle of water and a snack. He also made sure that Virgil was being very careful when handling anything that could result in him getting hurt if he wasn't careful. Of course Patton was always like that but when at the dig site, Patton was scarily so. And Patton didn't hold back with swear words. Virgil remembered the first time Logan had denied Patton with sunscreen saying that he was busy. Patton had huffed and responded with "Logan Crofters. Stand up right now and put on the fucking sunscreen!" He wasn't sure he had ever seen Logan move so fast. 

Virgil had seen what Patton does when upset with someone and it was harsh. He remembered Logan coming into class one day extremely sad because he had upset Patton and his husband had denied any kisses. Needless to say, Virgil was terrified to see what Patton would say after learning about last night. 

After waking up that morning, he had just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling silently contemplating whether or not hiding under the bed was a good idea as Roman continued to sleep in the bed beside him. And when Roman woke up around an hour later, he was still laying there. 

-------

Roman yawned and stretched his arms as he woke up. Sunlight streamed in through a gap in the curtain. He sat there for a few moments after waking up. The bed was absolutely unbelievable! He had never slept so good! It was so soft and supported his body in a way his old bed never could. If he had had any doubts about living in the future, they were long gone now. Then again, how could anyone have any doubts about the future if there was such a gorgeous man as Virgil to help him adjust to the new century. Speaking of Virgil….

Roman turned to look at the bed beside him to find Virgil already awake. "Virgil!" Roman exclaimed, voice bright as he smiled at the other. "Good morning!" 

Virgil did not move. Instead he continued to stare at the ceiling. "How can it be a good morning? Patton is going to kill me when he finds out about last night." 

Roman's smile twisted into a confused frown. "Patton? Who's Patton?" 

Virgil sighed. "Patton is Logan's husband and resident Dad. Once he finds out I went off on my own AND got hurt, he's probably going to look at me disappointedly and I can not deal with that right now." He pushed himself up only to hiss as pain shot up his ankle. 

Roman's eyebrows shot up into his styled bangs and he quickly hopped out of his bed, rushing to Virgil's side. 

"Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?" 

You could carry me to the kitchen, Virgil's mind unhelpfully supplied. He shook his head. No, that is not happening. Pull yourself together, Virgil. "No, I got it." He grimaced as he pushed himself up onto his hands to slide his legs over the side of the bed. Roman watched on anxiously, his hands hovering in the air between them as if awaiting the chance to help the emo. Virgil looked down at his ankle and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That doesn't look good." 

Roman followed the others gaze down to his ankle and winced in sympathy. Virgil's ankle had swollen up again through the night turning it a nice shade of red as a purple bruise stretched across the skin covering the ankle bone. "Are you sure you don't need any help," Roman asked once again. "That looks pretty bad." 

"No, I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks." Virgil bit his lip and stood up to prove his point...only to yelp loudly as the pressure caused a strong jolt of pain to shoot up his leg. 

"Yeah, I think you should let me help you." Virgil opened his mouth to argue only to freeze. Roman frowned as he heard thumping. "What was that?" The sound quickly became increasingly louder. 

"Oh shi-" 

"Virgil!!!!! Are you okay?!?!?" The door burst open and a man stood there in dark brown pants with an abundance of pockets, a light blue, loose, cotton shirt and round glasses framing warm hazel eyes. The man's face was scrunched up in worry  as their eyes bounced around the room for any immediate signs of danger. Then they landed on Virgil and Roman. The two men remained frozen as the man panted from his run up two flights of stairs. He glanced between the two before his eyes narrowed in on Roman. "Virgil, who is this?" Asked Patton. 

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[cassava-49]

Death 3

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 7

"Lila, why are still not in school?" Mrs. Rossi asked her daughter. "Oh, it's just that after Ladybug was replaced by Lady Luck the school couldn't possibly trust her, given the rise of more akumatizations," Lila replied smoothly. Her mother smiled and and nodded as she placed a kiss on the girl's head. "Alright, be safe here and I'll bring it up in the meeting. Tell me when the school will reopen again," her mother said as she took her leave.

However, the truth behind her it all was that Lila didn't want to see them all. She hated Marinette more because of what she had done. "If that bitch didn't kill herself I would've been living in luxury by now," Lila exclaimed, still blaming her for what had happened. She still couldn't accept that her tower of lies would fall down in front of her. "I hope that she'd choke on her respiratory," she says. "You couldn't do one thing right even when you're about to die. It's because of that damn cat that you're still alive," Lila continued to banter on how Monsieur Noir saved Marinette at the final second.

...

"Sir, Lila's anger has reached a devastatingly high level. Ever since Marinette's parasuicide she had become more wrathful and petty," Natalie stated. This made Gabriel smile wickedly at the thought. Ever since the death of his son he couldn't handle it any more. He akumatized Natalie in order to retrieve his son's body, which now lies with his wife's. His drive was twice more powerful now that he had nothing to lose at all, making him double the number of akumatizations.

However, he was still highly disappointed at the predicament of Marinette. She was supposed to be his masterpiece. She was going to be the one to guide him to victory, if it weren't for Lila's pets for going too far, he would have had her. Or if it weren't for that cat for summoning his cataclysm to destroy the akuma he sent for her. Although it had paved the way for a more malicious Lila Rossi that will likely succeed this time.

"Hmm, this is an absolutely wonderful predicament. Nothing better than a vengeful heart in need of help," he began. "Nooro, dark wings rise," he called as Nooro entered the brooch and powered his master.

"Ah, such a vengeful soul who only wishes for the rightful punishment to those who had wronged her. A perfect prey for my akuma. Fly away evil one and reunite with this toy," Hawkmoth stated as he released an akuma to Lila.

Lila, on the other hand, continued her anger tantrum by checking the Ladyblog only to find hate comments on her after Alya posted the truth and took down all her interviews. As she was about to throw her phone away, the butterfly immediately entered it taking control over her.

"Castigare," Hawkmoth greeted as a smile appeared on her face. "I'm giving you the ability to cast the suitable punishments to those who have wronged you in terms of Dante's Inferno. In return, as always, I ask for the miraculouses," he conditioned as Lila replied, "Of course Hawkmoth."

With that Lila was engulfed by the purple and black plasma and transformed her. Her hair stayed the same with an addition of a golden crown. However, her skin turned to ivory while her clothes were the typical skin tight costume with the colour of balconies and purple. Her gloves, boots and top are in the colour black, while the rest of it was purple. Her phone turned into a sceptre that she would be able to use against those who wronged her.

Looking in the mirror, Lila—Castigate smiled wickedly as she stalked out for her rebelling subjects. "First, François Dupont, next you, Marinette!" she declared as she laughed manically.

...

"Allan, Allan. Where are you? Come back before you hurt someone," Marinette called. "Did you find him on your end?" Felix asked Marinette as they met at the corridor. "No," she replied with worry. "I-I don't want to see him like that again," she said anxiously. "It's alright, we'll find him. Don't worry, Claude will know what to do like always," Felix consoled. "I'm sure that he would not try to possess anyone again," he added. "It's just that, I can't. I can't see that much sorrow in him. Not to mention how that girl almost died," Marinette began to panic.

"Hey," Felix said as he touched both her arms as she began to panic. "We'll find him. I know how spiteful he could be, but we have to stay calm. We don't want your heart monitor to go haywire," he added as he tried to calm her down. "I just, I just don't want anyone to get hurt. You know how he is when he realized what he had done," Marinette said as she slowly calmed down. "I know, depressed souls aren't the best to see," Felix agreed as they reminisced on how Allan had almost cut off the electricity and generators around two days ago, and because of that there were surgeries that were almost undone. It was terrifying, not to mention that almost all of their life support was cut off.

"Let's just wait for the rest to finish their side and see if they found him. Come on," Felix suggested as he guided her to a chair. Marinette nodded as she followed and tried to calm down her worrying mind. "Everything will be alright, I assure you. He'll have his temper tantrum for a moment, without any causalities, and calm down on his own," Felix consoled.

After a moment of silence Marinette decided to break it. "I wonder what it would be like if I died when I tried to kill myself?" Marinette asked out of the blue. "I'll probably never met you and you would go to heaven," Felix replied. "How sure are you that I'd go to heaven, I'm not a good person? What if I would end up like Allan? To wander the earth aimlessly waiting for my turn to crossover," she pondered. "Why are suddenly having an existential crisis?" Felix asked curiously. Marinette sighed and kept quiet as she waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

"It's because you're a good person," Felix replied after a few moments. "What?" Marinette asked, wondering what he meant. "I know that you're going to heaven. You're a way too good person to even begin with," Felix added as he turned his head away from hers trying not to make eye contact with her. "You always put other's needs before yours. You're kind to everyone you meet and you always have a silver lining to those who are misunderstood," he continued.

"I'm more of a doormat than a 'good person.' I let everyone walk all over me even when I'm hurting. I mean look where it got me," she denied as she tucked her legs and hugged her knees. "I even feel responsible for Adrien's death. If I just took the high road maybe, maybe he wouldn't have been sent to America. It's too much of a heavy sin for me to think of going to heaven," she continued as she began to feel more of the guilt that's been eating her. "I-I just think that what if—."

"You are not responsible for his death!" Felix stated in a stern voice as he looked her in the eyes. He placed his left hand on her cheek as he wiped away the tears and made her face him. "It's not your fault," he said in a more comforting manner. "Remember that. Accidents happen, none of us meant for that to happen. No one expected it and no one is to blame. Mostly you, you did nothing wrong," he said in a soft voice that was now her rock during her distressed times. "You're too much of an angel to even be here. You care so much for everyone, but sometimes you neglect yourself. But you are a good person who deserves to live like everyone else. Please, don't stress yourself for thinking that you're not one," he added with a consoling voice as he took the girl into his arms and embraced her whole body.

Marinette buried her face into his chest as she sought comfort in his touch and words. She doesn't know if she regretted her failed suicide or not. She sometimes felt like if it weren't for it, she wouldn't have met them all, specially Felix. But she can't help but feel guilty, guilty that she's loving him more than she could've loved Adrien, not to mention that they're cousins.

The more that she's with Felix, the more she felt that Adrien was more of a fleeting crush and a brother like figure who would be there for her. Adrien is someone she could trust to catch her when she falls, someone who would trust her with his private life. But the life that she dreamt for them slowly faded when she found out that he was Chat. Chat is very much a brother to her. A brother who would be ready to defend her when someone wronged her or would not hesitate to tell her that she's wrong. It was probably the rush she felt when she found that they were the same person that she didn't realize that Adrien couldn't be more than a brother to her now.

Felix, on the other hand, after getting to know him these five days, she realized that he was more of an attentive companion than Adrien. He would always be there to comfort her and hear her out. He's ready to be there for her through thick and thin. He would understand her during her depressing moments, something that Adrien couldn't do due to his own situation. Felix helped her cope with her new state and guide her gently with care. He always challenges her, which made him more endearing, and he is equally attractive as his cousin. He also always knew the right things to say and would tell her to love herself more than what others did. He taught her how to be a stronger character and learn how to say no unlike others who just ignore that attitude, which got her there in the first place. However, they're both not exactly alive which could make their situation a bit difficult.

These thoughts continued to invade her mind as she buried her face deeper, wishing she could smell his scent to confirm more of her confused emotions. As Felix had one arm around her waist to keep her from falling as the other calmly brushed her hair and rubbed circles on her back. He, too, felt to same for her, wishing that they were both alive right now to make it feel more  warm, than the cold that they felt from each other.

"We couldn't find him," Lindalee interrupted as she and Kenya arrived. Both of their heads turned to the girl's direction like a deer caught in the headlights. "Oops, are we interrupting something?" she asked with a giggle as they both grinned at the couple. Instead of pulling away, Marinette placed her head on his chest again and mumbled, "In a way." This made Felix blush lightly at what she had said as she sighed. "No, but do you have any news from Claude or Allegra?" she asked. "No, and Allan wasn't in any of our areas. I'm afraid he would be heading for the door," Kenya solemnly replied.

"This is bad, this is bad," Lindalee said as she began pacing. "Sit down Linda, before you burn a hole on the floor," Felix said as he patted the chair beside them. "I just hope that Claude finds him," Kenya said as she sat beside the two. "Don't worry, I'm sure that he will," Felix reassured the child. Not long after, Claude appeared with a displeased look on his face. Marinette looked at him to which he slowly shook his head no. This made her slump more at the disappointment.

"He wasn't in the morgue. I checked every container and observed the dieners to make sure he didn't possess any of them," Claude rolled as he ran his hands through his hair. "I always worry about him ever since he began his temper tantrums. I don't want him to regret anything he does in the end," he added as he looked at his friends who were already standing up as they looked behind him.

There, Allegra was running with all her might to reach them and stopped. Despite being ghosts, they still get tired since they're not really dead. Once she caught her breath she said, "I saw him. He, he." She continued to pant, still not getting used to running as a ghost. "He what? Where is he?" Kenya interrupted, since she always see Allan as an older brother. "He, he got out. I couldn't stop him. He stormed right out the hospital," she replied sadly. "I guess this would be a big one," Claude commented as he turned to look out the windows. "Big enough to not let us see him so dejected," Felix added as he looked down. "I hope that he'll just be in the cemetery," Lindalee piped up. "Yeah, he's more docile at cemeteries than anywhere else," Claude seconded.

Allegra sighed as well as she went to stand next to Claude. Both of them looking over the city of Paris. She looked over and tried to take in every detail of the city that she didn't appreciate until she was stuck in a hospital. But in the distance she could see something odd. It wasn't a building and she was sure that there would be no parades any time soon. But as she looked closely, she knew what it was and it was heading straight to the hospital.

[c-c-cherry]

Terribly sorry for the wait, but I’m back and I’ve got some Fugo for y’all!! 

To be honest, its not that I don’t like Fugo, I just find his character really hard to nail down and write about which is why I haven’t written much about him in general. @jjadegreen​ helped SOOO much with this because I was so blocked when it came to writing this past week, so thank you!!

//content warning for whump-related shit (sickness, major injury, etc..)

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Pain Tolerance

-Out of everyone in the group, he surprisingly has one of the LOWEST pain tolerances Narancia comes in first though

-We all know he’s riled up pretty easily, so it's his nature to panic over minor injuries

-If there’s blood? You bet he will freak out

-It’s hard to take advantage of him because of how on-guard he is, but if he’s ever kidnapped or drugged, he’s absolutely the kind of person to kick into fight mode more than flight mode

-He tries his best to keep his composure, but if he’s backed into a painful corner and there’s nothing he can do about it, he will be loud

-Unlike Giorno or Mista, who tend to bite their tongue and shut themselves down during intense pain, you’ll know when Fugo is really hurt because of the way he carries himself

-He’s always really ashamed of the way he acts when he’s in pain because he’s supposed to be in Passione and shouldn’t be getting so worked up over minor wounds (or even major wounds at this point) :(

-Bruno always makes sure to remind his team that getting hurt does NOT equal being weak, but there’s always the lingering feeling in the back of his mind that he’s useless and nothing but a burden for the team for reacting the way he does

Injury

-He tries not to get injured, but when he does, it's not good :/

-He’s had his fair share dealing with inner pain or broken bones, but if its bleeding or an actual open wound, that’s when he starts to really freak out

-I headcanon that he has a fixation on being clean so to speak. He doesn’t have a problem if someone else is getting hurt, but he gets this shitshitshitshit reaction the moment he realizes that he has an open wound

-His mind can’t stop thinking that it’ll get dirty and infected

-It leads to him usually overcleaning them if he’s left to his own devices, which ultimately puts him in more pain and more strain on the injury

-If ANYONE tries to help him, he’s all “no no no, I can handle this myself, stop. Stop stop don’t get closer, I'll handle it on my own.”

-During times where he’s hurt pretty bad, he can’t “suck it up” as much as he wants to. He’s panicking because he’s terrified of someone being there and close to him when he’s at his weakest and most vulnerable

-He has no idea where his emotions will go and even more terrified of losing control of his stand

-He doesn’t like being touched without warning and it's even more amplified when he gets hurt

-If it’s “minor” enough to get past the gang without them knowing, he’s tense even after he tries to deal with it himself. No matter what, it just doesn’t feel clean or healed enough (and sometimes it really isn’t)

-Narancia’s usually the first one to notice and ask why he’s so pale, or gripping his side so much, etc,,

-People try to keep things on the downlow when Fugo gets hurt because they don’t want to wind him up, so it usually ends with one of them telling Bruno, who in turn gets Giorno if he needs to

-Bruno’s always been one to calm him down and he’s usually the one to patch him up (or hold him and keep him grounded so Giorno can heal if the injury is bad enough) :’)

-Even so, he’ll try to deny painkillers and insist on changing his own bandages regardless

Sickness

-On the contrary, he actually doesn’t mind being sick when the time comes

-No one likes having a fever, but he can take it. Throwing up or being so tired that you can’t move is an awful feeling, but he can take it

-Between vigorously studying how the human body battles illness thanks to purple haze, he knows the ins and outs of his own body and also knows that getting sick is just a normal human response to bad bacteria

-That, and years of Bruno’s constant reassurance and parental charm have rubbed off on him a bit :)

-Narancia freaks out a bit anytime anyone is ill because of the fate of his mother, which is why Fugo feels a bit of responsibility to act calm and collected when he’s sick so Nara doesn’t feel as intimidated or threatened by it :)

-When he isn’t feeling well, he tells someone. He knows that taking a break is important and when he’s sick, he already knows from the start that he can’t get the work done properly even if he tried

-He doesn’t mind people taking care of him in that sense, but if you try to coddle him, he will choke you

Emotional Stress

-Its not uncommon for anyone in the Bucci gang to suffer from nightmares once in while, but something crucial to know for Fugo is that only Bruno can wake him up

-Out of everyone in the gang, the two of them have the strongest bond (they were the first two in the bucci gang after all) and sometimes when things are too much, Bruno is the only one who’s able to ground him again

-If anyone else tries to shake him awake or try to get him out of his sleep, he’ll panic. He gets scared. When he’s scared, people get hurt

-Sometimes, he has no idea who’s in front of him and won’t hesitate to go for the kill if he thinks he’s in immediate danger

-Narancia tried to wake him up one night and he panicked, stabbing him in the stomach. Narancia could care less because he has another cool scar, but Fugo felt awful about it and wouldn’t sleep or see anyone for days

.

.

-Despite being a bit unstable himself, Fugo has a vast amount of knowledge and knows himself and his needs like the back of his hand

-If he doesn't like something or doesn’t feel comfortable, he’s learned to speak up about it as much as possible

-They all have an unspoken rule with him to ask before they touch him in any scenario. He doesn’t mind physical affection, but permission please :)))

-Also. He is the KING of stress toys. Don’t even tell me that he doesn’t have a giant box of things to do with his hands when he gets overwhelmed (yes Bruno bought them all for him)

-Also weighted blankets? Perfect for someone who wants warmth but sometimes not touch

-I headcanon that in my Storm-verse, he lends things out to Giorno all the time when he needs them

-He’s also the one who explains a lot of terms to Giorno (flashbacks, panic attacks vs anxiety attacks, dissociation, etc,,) and he and Giorno end up bonding a lot because of it

-Fugo isn’t exactly ready to fully confront his past and his traumas, but he knows that he’ll have people there for him when he’s ready :)

And some sad shit to leave y’all with, of course >:(

-Fugo is scared of people, despite his demeanor. People have science, but are overall unpredictable

-He feels the need to always prepare for the worst because people are the one thing he can’t analytically predict

-He trusts Bruno with his life, but sometimes, even he doubts that

-He’s terrified of death, which is partly why he hates getting injured so much. He knows where untreated wounds will get you and it isn’t pretty

-Sometimes the tiniest injuries can ruin you forever. He’s terrified of that happening to him and he takes advantage of that fear because it's something he can control the probability of

-His biggest fear doesn’t have to do with the unknown, though; he’s terrified of being a failure

-His entire life was planned out for him: the best academic scores, the best schooling...now look at him. A gangster. A criminal.

-He hates his past self as much as he hates his current self. The constant pressure in the back of his mind of being so hungry for praise still resides in him today and he hates it

-He knows he can’t disappoint Bruno, and would have to do a lot to disappoint the others but it still never left his head

-He knows he’s with people who love him now, and would treat him right regardless, but part of him doubts that

-How could they love him? What had he done to be worthy of something like that? Half the time, he’s so angry he can barely speak

-And beyond all that, beyond his fear of death, and people, and failure?

-He’s just scared of being alone

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Jade gave me the saddest shit to work with after that last line that involved canon character deaths BUT MY TINY LITTLE HEART CANNOT HANDLE THAT TODAY so I leave you on merely a bittersweet ending instead :3

Got an ask? Hit me up, askbox is open!! <3

[yukiobeyme]

For the MammoBarb bartender AU!

The bar is a joint project, owned by both Diavolo and Lucifer. And Barbatos is their best (and only) bartender. His skill’s are absolutely top notch, and none can compare. But he is also only one person, and business has been booming.

Diavolo starts to worry for his friend, that the stress of it all might be too much. But Barbatos insists that the tips alone are well worth all of the effort. Still, he can’t help but tell Lucifer about his concerns. And Lucifer agrees.

Mammon is a troublemaker, in every sense of the word. He often gets into fights, and gambles away most of his money. (His prized possession is his motorcycle Goldie!) And one day, after bailing him out of jail yet again, Lucifer has had enough.

He tells his brother that he’s going to be a bartender at his bar until he can pay off all of the money that he owes, to both Lucifer and the debt collectors. It seems like an impossible task, but if Mammon could get tipped as well as Barbatos...

It’s up to Barbatos to get Mammon, his new coworker, into tip top shape. And Barbatos isn’t easily pleased. When he first meets Mammon, he definitely isn’t impressed. Yet despite that, he’s determined to turn him into the perfect bartender.

And maybe they start hanging out after his lessons. Maybe sometimes Mammon drags him out on that motorcycle (which Barbatos insists is a death trap). It’s only natural for them to drink together, and to chat. It’s all in the name of teaching him... right?

And if Mammon becomes a waiter at times, and walks around the bar wearing bunny ears and a tail, he definitely isn’t starting. (Despite what Lucifer and Diavolo may think).

~ s8ncake 💚🎂

@s8ncake you spoil me so much! (and I love it) looking back now I guess my hand spilled I hope you enjoy and feel a little spoiled too?

Mammon is known for his bar fights, loud mouth, and Goldie. He has a record as long as he is tall, starting from age 18. Though if his record was wiped when he turned 18 it would probably be twice as long. Most of the stuff is minor, usually just consequences from bar fights or his motorcycle being too loud, but it’s enough that he has spent a night or two. The cops, Simeon and Solomon, are use to Mammon’s antics and they usually let stuff slide or just give a warning. Though Simeon will always goes to Lucifer to let him know when Mammon gets in trouble. I also imagine him having tattoos, especially hand tattoos.

Mammon is now an apprentice bartender for Barbatos to pay off debts. And honestly Barbatos is equal pissed and nervous. Barbatos knows of Mammon through stories from Lucifer and Diavolo but also from other bartenders. None of those bartender stories are good, they paint a picture of a man that is rowdy, loud, and disrespectful to anybody who has authority. Though Barbatos decides he will raise to the challenge and sets to work.

Mammon is clumsy and dropped bottles while doing drinks, which hurts Barbatos’ soul. But the sheepish look Barbatos gets makes him forgive him instantly. Mammon is in awe whenever Barbatos does a trick and Barbatos just rolls his eyes.

Mammon gets about two weeks of intense training from Barbatos before his first real shift. Barbatos might not have been impressed when he first saw Mammon but Barbatos can’t lie, he cleans up nicely. A black button up with his sleeves rolled up, his tattoos on full display and tight black jeans. Mammon might not be able to do all the tricks Barbatos can, but he definitely is a hit with the ladies and the men (and the non-binary folks). Barbatos is quite impressed by the end of the shift, Mammon didn’t break anything and he made all the drinks correctly, though he had to ask Barbatos twice what a drink was but Barbatos let it slide.

They know only have intense lessons twice a week and just meet up two hours before the bar opens where Barbatos tests his knowledge and teaches his some simplier tricks. And on Sundays after the last person leaves at 3am and they are closed after three full swing days, they each make a drink and toast to surviving the weekend crowd. Mammon goes for a simple rum and coke and Barbatos a gin and tonic. The chat about everything, or that’s what Barbatos thought. He just didn’t think there was much to Mammon but he was wrong.

It was about month of Mammon being a bartender before he got into his first fight. Barbatos was shocked and surprised to watch Mammon get out from behind the bar before picking a fight with a patron. Barbatos is furious as he watches the patron getting kicked out and Mammon being dragged to the back by Lucifer, Diavolo following close behind. What surprised Barbatos the most though, when he hears that the person Mammon just beat the crap out of was a creep and making unwanted moves on someone and even talk about a tampered drink. It leaves Barbatos wondering and he makes a note to ask Mammon about it.

Barbatos leaves the bar unattended to check on Mammob, bringing ice from the cooler. Mammon is in a heat debate with Lucifer, telling Lucifer exactly what Barbatos heard from the patrons. Mammon was defending someone. Barbatos doesn’t know what caused him to say something but he speaks up and defends Mammon and thrusts the bag of ice for him. Gesturing to Mammon’s brusing face. Lucifer freezes, not knowing Barbatos was there and shocked to have someone stuck up for Mammon. Lucifer leaves with reminding Mammon, that he can’t throw the first punch. Barbatos waits half a second before realizing he has left the bar unattended, so he ducks out the room and makes his way back to the bar. Mammon is still a hot topic, most wondering if he will come back out or not. Barbatos tells them he has the rest of the night off but would be back the next night.

That night when they finally close, Barbatos finds Mammon standing awkwardly at the bar before making his way to clean up. They work in silence before Barbatos finally asks, if that’s how Mammon usually gets into fights. Mammon seems to light up in anger and before Barbatos knows it Mammon is talking about how people don’t pay attention. That it takes one second and something bad can happen. Or how it takes one second and a creep in trying to make a move on an unwilling person. He hates it and won’t stand for it, and if he doesn’t do something no one will, bystander effect. Barbatos feels something shift inside him, he realizes he growing a soft spot for Mammon. Mammon didn’t fight because he was drunk, he was fighting to protect. Barbatos makes sure he doesn’t condemn Mammon’s choice. Because Barbatos has been a bartender long enough he knows that. Lucifer’s words from earlier makes sense, Mammon throws the first punch which is what gets him in trouble. Then why Simeon and Solomon seem okay with just giving him warnings and not making it so charges aren’t pressed. Mammon is trying to do good, justice.

After the first fight, Barbatos makes a code system with Mammon. Let him know through drinks what’s going on. Giving Barbatos a heads up what’s happening in his bar and let’s him contact security. Which successfully keeps Mammon out of trouble. While Mammon seem to fume a bit and needs to walk away for a few moments, he always comes back without having to throw a punch and each time Barbatos has pride flowing through his veins.

The longer Mammon works at the bar, the more Barbatos learns about him. Mammon isn’t shallow and easy to read, he is an ocean and complex. Barbatos finds himself wanting to understand. Something Barbatos knows is Mammon has some angry issues and some days are harder than others. Those days Barbatos finds Mammon at the bar before their lesson, in old clothes and messing with his motorcycle out front. Barbatos has learned to not talk to Mammon but just sit near him and watch him work. It’s therapeutic in its own way, Mammon knows his way around this death machine and it’s attractive. Mammon moves so fluidly and eventually Mammon will start narrating what he doing, whether it’s just checking fluids, readjusting his seat or handles, or just purely messing with the engine. Then about thirty minutes before their lesson Mammon will head in and try and clean up the best he can. He mostly grease free and Barbatos says as long as his hands and arms are clean, he can mix.

It’s on a summer day when Mammon is working on his motorcycle and they are sitting in silence, when Mammon mentions he made enough money to pay off all his debts. So he is free to leave, but he is holding off until he decides what he wants to do. Barbatos felt his heart dropped, he wasn’t ready for Mammon to leave yet. He doesn’t want Mammon to leave, he forgot it was a temporary employment. Barbatos tries to shove away all his emotions. Barbatos is unusually quiet that night and Mammon notices and doesn’t know what to think of it.

After two weeks, Mammon breaks the news to Barbatos that he won’t be bartending with him... full time anymore. At first Barbatos is heart broken but then it hits him, full time? Mammon tells him, he going to be helping Beel with the kitchen being a waiter. He even grumbles about having to wear the stupid bunny outfit. Mammon tells Barbatos he hopes he doesn’t mind, but tells him he still willing to help during the busy hours.

The first time Barbatos sees Mammon wearing bunny ears and a tail, he looking respectfully. When Diavolo and Lucifer come to watch, grab a drink and catch up with patrons. They make a comment about how Barbatos seems distracted by something. Which is by far ridiculous. Barbatos isn’t staring, and he sure isn’t staring hard at the white tail that matches Mammon’s hair color perfectly. At some point though, Mammon notices and definitely starts throwing winks and exaggerating bending over for Barbatos, which leaves him hot and bother and flushed.

The patrons catch on to the show and while some are disappointed the great Bartender and the hot assistant are not only taken but taken by each other. Which Mammon never denies and only fuels that rumor through a red face, while Barbatos is barely holding composure. Though when Lucifer and Diavolo catch on, Mammon completely denies everything, which only makes him seem more quilty in their eyes. And on the nights they flirt the most, if there is an increase in tips, they don’t speak about it.

Mammon asks Barbatos if he wants to ride on his motorcycle with him and Barbatos instantly says no. It takes another month before he says maybe and by the second month he says yes. At this point, they are completely dancing around each other. Awkward pauses and staring at each other’s lips, brushing fingers, and blushing and avoiding other eyes. Barbatos hates he agreed to go on the death trap, but it’s their first day off in a while and he doesn’t want to be away from Mammon. Barbatos makes it known and Mammon flashes him a dangerous smile and tells him to hold on.

Barbatos squeezes the life out of Mammon, brushed flush against his back and tries to hide his face in Mammon’s neck. After what feels like forever, Mammon tells Barbatos they have arrived. It’s to a cliff side that over looks city and it’s dark now so there are city lights. Before Barbatos can say anything, Mammon pulls him close and clashes their lips together. It’s a messy first kiss, too much teeth and their noses kept getting in the way. They pulled away flushed, swollen lips, and panting. The second kiss Barbatos leads and isnt as urgent but expresses the same amount of emotion.

Now the bar is more lively and fun, and if Lucifer or Diavolo had to pinpoint why, it was because it seemed a strict and uptight bartender fell for a no good troublemaker. Though they can’t say they are too happy when those two start work with the outfits already askew or if during the night they both disappear for a few moments. Though Barbatos says Mammon is still a trouble maker, just in a very different way.

[linkspooky]

Nanami and Nobara

Nobara has had her first encounter with Nanami as of chapter 100. Nanami has already acted as a mentor to Yuji, and a supervisor for Megumi, but his interaction with Nobara is especially telling because while Nanami is humble, restrained and cooperative like Megumi and has an incredibly strong since of conviction that bends his logic like Yuji, he’s almost nothing like Nobara. The differences between them inform us a lot about Nobara as a character, and also the mental anguish Nanami is going through this chapter. 

1. Nanami and Gojou

As I stated in my previous meta on Nobara, of the three first years she’s the closest in attitude with Gojou. Yuji and Nobara are both highly independent individuals who always swing for the fences. However, it’s Nobara who shares Gojou’s extreme self interest, and focus on refining herself and her own strength above all else. 

This is important because Nanami is introduced to us as an alternative to Gojou. While Gojou is an obvious oddball and eccentric who flaunts the fact that he can’t get along with other people while Nanami is a conformist. He’s reasonable and straight laced. Gojou’s someone with the power to completely overwrite the rules if he wants to, and while Nanami is strong in his own right he’s never going to be a powerhouse like Gojou hence why he fights for strict conformity instead. 

If you were to summarize the difference in their world view, Gojou makes the rules, and Nanami follows the rules. Neither of these are absolute of course, Gojou as a person tends to be cooperative and use his powers mainly for the sake of others. What I’m expressing is an idea both of them have where they think the rules come from. Gojou’s set of rules he follows are internal. They come from inside of him. Nanami follows an external set of rules, he believes there exists an ideal of righteousness or an outside set of rules like right and wrong that everybody should conform to. 

Gojou does things because he thinks he’s right, Nanami does things because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. Neither of them is right or wrong in their viewpoint, they just have different ways of seeing things. 

Nanami holds himself to a very high standard of ideas like goodness and righteousness which is why he’s so strict on both himself and others. However key to this is Nanami isn’t a very self righteous person in himself. Gojou has a high opinion of himself, but low social skills, and low compliance with others. Nanami is his inversion, he has a low opinion of himself, but he’s geared much more to watching over and cooperating with others. Nanami even states that he personally dislikes Gojou and his methods of handling things, but goes out of his way to cooperate with him and not let his personal opinions interfere with his work. This difference between them can even show in their approach to teaching. Gojou is a hands on style teacher who tends to come up with creative ways to let his students learn and explain concepts, whereas Nanami just lectures Yuuji in the traditional way. 

The key difference is that while Gojou is able to teach Jujutsu Sorcery much easier to Yuji, Nanami notices several things about Yuji as a person. Gojou’s so stuck in his own head, he’s a very impersonal person in general even though he does care in his own way, but for Nanami everything is personal. 

Gojou is also the kind of teacher who will take the risk of deliberately throwing his students directly into danger because he’s so confident that things will always go his way, whereas Nanami tends to be more responsible and his reason for taking care of Yuji is because he treats him like the kid he is. Which is something Yuji actually needs because he’s reckless enough with his own life already. 

While he’s strict and rigorous, he’s never cold or uncaring. Nanami cares a lot, too much, to the point that it’s a flaw. His strength is the degree to which he cares about others and doing the right thing, but his weakness is how far he falls when he falls short of that right thing. 

We saw in the past he ran away from the world of shamens because the world wasn’t right the way he thought it ought to be. He couldn’t take the deaths of his friends so he ran away, but Nanami’s convictions are so strong he just can’t run away from his desire to help others. 

Nanami is an oddity among the sorcery world not for being an eccentric but for being too normal. He’s too much of a functioning adult. He’s not insane enough like most shamans. That’s because Nanami’s number one priority is not strength, but rather connecting and cooperating with others hence why he’s so strong on conformism. He’s the ideal salaryman, everyone does their job and acts as small parts of the greater whole. 

Nanami wants to help people, it’s something he can’t deny about himself down to the core of his being. 

2. Nobara and Nanami

Nanami’s greatest desire is to connect to other people. Nobara’s greatest desire is to express herself. There’s nothing wrong with either of those ideas, they’re just different once again. There’s nothing inherently selfish about the idea of self-love, in fact it can lead to becoming the best version of yourself. 

Nobara’s vision of what’s right also comes from herself. She uses internal motivations and her own perspective entirely to decide what is right or what is wrong. When Momo tries to argue Mai’s perspective of the world Nobara’s response is basically that she doesn’t care. 

Nobara has a very strong and independent way of thinking. There are advantages to this, unlike Nanami who tends to get grinded down slowly, she’d probably never run away from the shaman world the way that Nanami did. 

When the world around her doesn’t meet her standards, Nobara’s uch like Gojou fights back against it to change it. Nanami’s strategy is to keep his head down and follow the rules. When he knows the rules are inevitably rigged against him and he can only make wrong choices, he doesn’t choose, he tries to escape instead. 

There’s a lot of strength in Nobara’s self expression, her decision to fight back for what she believes in no matter how she’s told otherwise. This doesn’t always lead to her acting selfishly, for instance she gets angry at the Kyoto kids because they all decide to listen to the higher ups orders to kill Yuji. She also notices the reason they can all agree to kill him so easily, is because they haven’t stopped to think of, or even met Yuji as a person. They’re being cooperative yes while Nobara is a highly uncooperative person, but they are also refusing to think for themselves. 

So Nobara being motivated by an internal set of rules rather than an external set of rules doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a sense of write or wrong. Gojou is also highly motivated by what he thinks is right, but he still is more disgusted than anybody else at how easily Getou was able to decide that it was alright to wipe out the entire human race to get what he wanted. 

The both of them are just self-directed. However, the problem is because they mainly see the world through their own perspective they tend to have blind spots. Which can lead to hypocrisy. When she kills someone who is a mixture of both a human and a curse, Nobara gets really irritated by the idea of someone else judging her (even though she judged others for the same exact thing). 

That’s what happens when your viewpoint is only informed by yourself, you become near sighted. Nobara’s perspective is flawed. She tends to see things in a very Gojou-like way, which is that if she’s strong she should be able to accomplish what she wants. Her agency and ability to move come from this idea of strength. The bad side of this is sometimes Nobara leans hard into might makes right, like in the fight with Momo where she sort of refuses to listen to the other side of the conversation at all and instead replied with I’m strong so don’t tell me what to do. 

Nobara’s absolute faith in her own strength cost her the advantage in the fight last chapter, but she still perceives the situation wrong. Remember, Nanami’s greatest strength isn’t his power as an individual, it’s his thoughtfulness and consideration for others. 

However, between last chapter and this one Nanami is experiencing a clear mental breakdown. Nanami isn’t a character like Gojou who just completely destroys his opponents. He’s cold and clinical yes, but he never seems to relish violence or his own strength. Just compare the colored page and Nanami’s reflection of his friends in the past, with his cold ruthlessness this chapter. Chapter 100 has a melancholy tone after all, and there’s clearly something internal breaking in Nanami. 

Nanami isn’t the punisher. He’s not the beat someone bloody for revenge until they’re begging for mercy type. Nanami is however, someone who is continually disappointed that the world around him isn’t as right as it should be. He even says so in his monologue, he’s not angry because he feels weak, he’s angry because the people around him think they can get away with anything they want just because they’re strong. 

His beatdown of the enemy is excessive, and Nanami’s not entirely doing this for good, altruistic reasons. He’s angry at evil, and wants to make someone directly in front of him pay for it. However, this is extreme behavior for Nanami who is defined by his humanity, not his inhuman levels of strength like Gojou is. It’s a clear sign that he’s snapped and something is quickly going wrong. 

As the reader we can be alarmed by this behavior. The enemy definitely needed to be taken out, but it’s unhealthy mentally for Nanami, especially as someone who prides himself on doing the right thing to start brutalizing people for rvenge. However, Nobara doesn’t see any of that. She only glimpses the surface of his behavior. She sees Nanami through her own perspective. 

And because of that what she feels is not uneasiness for Nanami’s mental state, or even shock at his brutality, but rather awe at his strength. Her first thought is this is how a first grade sorcerer should be, someone completely relentless. While strength is important to being a sorcerer, she’s wrong because for characters like Nanami that’s not where their true strength lies. 

Ironically the appearance of someone else to bulldoze throught the battlefield singlemindedly, forcing Nobara to play a supportive role already had the positive effect of foring Nobara to fight smarter and learn from the mistake she made just one chapter ago. 

Which goes to show Nobara still has a healthy idea of what strength is that she needs to work through. Nanami is exactly the kind of character in the future who could help her bring balance, by showing her there’s a different way of seeing things outside of her own perspective. 

[buckysgoldenheart]

Escort: Bucky Barnes AU

Summary: You’re a highly paid escort, trained to adapt to any situation the client may need. But this next client is a first: A mother, hiring you for her son.

Words: 3370

I know i’ve done a bad thing and started another series, hopefully small. I am still working on the other ones, but after my dad died, I lost inspiration until this story popped into my head and i kinda ran with it. Anyway, I hope you guys like it and aren’t mad.   -Lauren

This may be triggering in a way. The title pretty much explains what this is about, but it’s not negative.

Part 1:

You had been doing this for long enough to get the gist of want your clients want. Some were lonely and wanted someone to talk to for the night. Some wanted to take you out and brag about the beautiful, young girl on their arm. Some, the usual’s, wanted a fake girlfriend to take to family engagements to avoid scrutiny. But you were not a prostitute in the sense of what people assume. Your boss, Maria, was very clear to all potential clients that her girls do not engage in sexual relations in exchange for money. That’s not what her business was about. You and your coworkers were too expensive for the ‘street creeps and weirdos,’ as Maria liked to put it.

You were a girl strapped for cash and would’ve rather put a bullet in your head than take another retail job to pay for your college classes. And when Maria advertised it to you, that bit about the exclusivity made it seem safe somehow, but being rich or famous, or both, did not make someone any less of a creep or a weirdo. So, Maria was more than willing to put down money for mandatory self-defense classes that you would complete before taking your first job. Now, you and the other girls could kick anyone’s ass, even someone twice your size. At the end of the day, there were worse jobs.

 —————————————————————————————-

You were barely through the front door of your modest apartment, high heels already discarded, when you heard your cell ring. The caller ID was not one you were allowed to ignore unless ill or on the brink of death, which you were neither, so you sighed and slid the answer button.

“Hello, Maria.”

Your boss wasted no time with pleasantries and got right to the point. “I know it’s late and you had a long day, but I need you to get down to the office immediately. I have a client here and after looking at her options, she has decided on you.”

You were slightly taken aback. Her? While it wasn’t unheard of to have women request Maria’s services, it was rare. Most were annoyingly wealthy men with underlying and deeply suppressed self-confidence issues.

You sighed, internally groaning. You were exhausted after some guy’s family reunion today. It was too long and too humid, and his family was too obnoxious; prodding you with questions as if they knew who you really were. But you couldn’t turn down Maria’s requests. It was in the contract.

“I’ll be right down.”

——————————————————————————

You were still in your dress and heels from the reunion earlier: A simple light blue, but expensive looking, sundress and strappy, silver sandals, when you exited the elevator. Walking down the corridor to Maria’s office at this hour, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was around as your heels clicked loudly with your steps. None of the other girls were there. There was always at least one or two.

You shook your head and scrunched your eyebrows for a moment before knocking lightly on Maria’s door. “Come in.” She said from the other side. You turned the handle and stepped in with a pleasant smile. “Y/N,” Maria also smiled. “I would like you to meet your next client.”

Then, she gestured a delicate hand to the woman sitting in one of the luxurious office chairs. You nearly gasped at who was before you. Mid-fifties, hair styled in a neat chignon, tailored suit, with diamonds along her neck and at her earlobes that showed off her wealth.

The Mayor.

“Y/N, sit.” Maria said, slapping you back to your senses. But you did as she said, taking the other chair two feet away from the most powerful woman in the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. She oozed power and class. “I would like you to meet Mayor Barnes.”

The Mayor smiled and turned in her seat to shake your hand. “You are lovelier than your picture.”

“T-Thank you.” You replied, shy in the presence of this woman.

After the introductions, Maria began her typical spiel that, when summed up, basically just meant you weren’t a hooker. “Oh, of course not.” The Mayor replied.  

“Wonderful,” Maria smiled and scooted the paperwork across the cherry wood desk towards you and Mayor Barnes. “You will both sign and be under contract. However, Y/N, this is a…unique…situation.” All you could do was gulp. “Mayor Barnes may be your client, but to clear up any confusion, you will not be her escort.”

“O-Ok.” You nodded slightly, waiting for the kicker.

“You will be her son’s.”

Your jaw dropped despite your best efforts to remain composed. Her son. Infamous, sexy-as-hell, playboy James Barnes, who couldn’t manage to stay out of the tabloids for a quick second. Why he would suddenly want a girl like you when women fell at his feet was the most confusing part of this. Well no, the most confusing part was that his mother was the one hiring you.

“You will take on the role of Mr. Barnes’s woman.” Ok, you thought, typical job. “But there is another condition that I have assured the Mayor will be no problem for you.”

You glanced at the Mayor who was looking at you with a sweet, genuine smile; like she was already prepared to accept you into the family. Clearly, this was a well-drawn out plan.

“Mr. Barnes has not been informed about any of this. And the toughest part of this job is that he can never know.”

“I don’t understand.”

The Mayor turned to you a little more, catching your full attention. “Let me explain, dear. My son, as most people can’t help but know, is quite accustomed to putting himself in the spotlight, though it only seems to be negative. He’s been called a number of things. Womanizer, man-whore, troublemaker, a disappointment, but I know my son. He’s just as his father once was; Young and handsome, running around dragging his name through the mud.” You blinked not nearly enough as you listened, and your throat was starting to dry out. Everyone knew of James Barnes and his questionable decisions, but you felt a pang in your heart at the way his mother spit out the names he’d been called by the media. “James is not really like what everyone says. I believe he’s just…lonely. He was so young when I was elected and neither his father nor I could spend much time with him. My own fault, perhaps, but I don’t want my son to keep making these choices. He’s better than this. He’s so handsome and smart and charismatic; he could do great things, but not if he keeps himself on this path. So, what I need from you, my dear, is to become someone James can trust. A fixture in his life, at least for a time. He needs a beautiful woman like you, not these floozies that keep hanging off him. I will have you meet him, accidentally on purpose, and it won’t take much for him to strike up a conversation with you. You are absolutely gorgeous, and James can’t seem to help himself.”

“You want me to be his friend?” You asked. “I thought I was supposed to be his woman, or girlfriend, or something along those lines.”

“I would love if it turned into that, but I recognize that this a job, one that you cannot do forever. I would prefer he not fall in love with you if only to break his heart. I won’t need your services once he turns his act around. I am hoping you can encourage a permanent change.”

“One other thing, Y/N,” Maria began as you digested all the information being thrown at you. “You won’t be taking on any other clients for the duration of this job. It would create some serious problems if the woman in James Barnes’s company was seen with other men. The media would blow up and come to some dangerous conclusions. And before you start worrying about how to pay your bills with only one client at a time, the Mayor is prepared to offer you triple your normal rate.”

Triple, you thought. Somehow that made you feel guilty. You already felt bad about this type of job. You were going to be deep in a lie that would last longer than an afternoon. A lie that could potentially hurt someone when your time was up, and the thought of Mr. Barnes learning who you really were made your stomach turn. No one in their right mind would swallow that discovery with an accepting smile.

But you agreed; Not that you had a choice. You signed the contract and Maria gave the Mayor your work number so she could contact you to let you know when and where to show up so you could conveniently run right into James Barnes.

———————————————————–

For the first time, you were nervous. James Barnes’s face has been splashed all over every magazine and stupid celebrity TV program for months, and you couldn’t deny how insanely attractive he was. He was rugged and beautiful at the same time, with a smirk you wanted to kiss and eyes to melt your soul. Not only that, but there was the fact that you would be in the most intense spotlight. While the other men you’ve spent time with were wealthy, they weren’t typically the kind of famous that drew too much attention. Certainly not enough for anyone to remember your face once the job was done. But this was different. A woman by James Barnes’s side for longer than an evening would bring about a nauseating level of attention, but you guessed that’s part of the reason you were getting triple the pay.

You sighed as you plopped down on your couch for the night, stretching your legs out in your comfy sweats and turning on the TV. Flipping through the channels, you immediately stopped when you caught James’s name coming out of some done-up woman’s bright red lips. As she spoke to the camera, she would gesture behind her to the large screen with James’s picture on it, his hand clearly on some random model’s ass. His new toy.

Finally looking away from his face, you focused on what the host was saying about him. “James Barnes, notorious, sexy bad boy and ladies’ man, caught seen with his newest fling, model and actress, Svetlana Antonov. Will this last? If you ask us, she’ll be gone by the end of the week. But who will be next?”

With a groan you clicked off the TV and tossed the remote to the side. “Vultures,” You mumbled. And then, suddenly, you wondered what would be said about you.

——————————————————————

Mayor Barnes, or Winnifred, as she preferred you now call her considering your new ‘personal relationship,’ phoned you no more than two days later. What you hoped would be something simple, like a coffee shop interaction or running into James on the street was, in reality, much more extravagant. The Mayor’s annual summer fundraiser ball. Only the best of the best A-list celebrities, financiers, and hotel heiress’ where invited; People who could donate a significant chunk of change in return for a reputation boost. This is where you would meet James Barnes.

Winnifred had sent over a deep blue Oscar de la Renta gown that had small diamonds speckled around the fabric making it look like the sky on a clear night, with a flowy-ness that when you walked gave the illusion of a refreshing breeze following your steps. There were also matching drop earrings and subtle, silver heels.

You felt amazing in the dress. Not like a princess, but a queen. Thankfully though, you were permitted to do your own hair and makeup. You let your hair tumble over your shoulders and kept your makeup delicate but glamorous enough to match the high quality of the gown.

You looked at your phone, quickly checking the time before slipping it into your clutch. Ready or not, it was time for you to go.

———————————————————————–

To your surprise, Winnifred also sent a limo to escort you. A note sat on the seat cushion that read ‘you couldn’t possibly arrive at the most exclusive event of the year in a cab,’ signed with a cursive ‘Winnie’ in the bottom right corner. You supposed she was right; it would look odd. This way you wouldn’t stand out negatively.

Inside, you gasped at the grandness of the ballroom. Not only was it nothing you had ever seen before, but it was something you couldn’t even imagine if you tried. It wasn’t what you pictured when told it would be a ball. It was more like a black-tie party in an up-and coming-club. The room was dark, but not too dark, with bluish-purple up-lighting, and private, velvety, plush lounges lining the walls that could be hidden by thin curtains. Some danced to the top 40 hits the DJ was playing, but many, mostly the older men, sat chatting and drinking expensive alcohol as young women, much like yourself, draped themselves over their laps.

You realized you had been to something like this before, but not nearly as nice. You had been the girl a man held at his side like a trophy; told not to speak, but to stand there and look pretty. It was like looking through glass at a piece of your life from a different angle. And it looked pathetic. But you had to push that thought from your mind because you had a job to do; one you had signed a contract for.

Looking around, you had no idea how the hell you were going to find James Barnes. His mother only told you he was wearing a blue suit. Not much help you realized, when you actually began to search.

After thirty frustrating minutes of sifting through bodies, you decided you needed a drink, and once you reached the bar, you figured maybe James would be the one to accidentally find you. What is that thing people say? Once you stop looking for a man, a man will come to you, or something like that. You hoped that was the case because you were sick of looking. So instead, you sipped your wine and people-watched.

After some time, you realized you probably looked like an uncomfortable wallflower. You started to explore around a little more, but with your gaze distracted, not watching where you were going, you slammed your shoulder against another’s and your wine glass fell from your hand. The dark liquid splashed all over the floor, and though no one heard the glass shatter over the music, the woman whose white dress was now stained with little red droplets certainly did.

“You LITTLE tramp!” She screamed over the music. “Look what you did!”

Before you could even apologize, the woman shoved you back with a growl and murder in her dark, brown eyes. She looked familiar and a second later you recognized her as Svetlana Antonov: model, actress, and James Barnes’s latest fling. And then…

“Babe, c’mon. It was an accident.” James Barnes. He looked down at the dress with a little chuckle. “It’s no big deal,” He said. “You have twenty of these designer things.”

When he looked up he met your eyes, and while you thought you saw his breath hitch, yours certainly did. Magazines and TV didn’t do him justice. “I-I’m sorry.”

James licked his lip as he stared at your own, then you blushed as the blue-grey irises trailed down to the curve of your throat and back up to your eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“James!” Svetlana shrieked, and for the first time you noticed how heavy her Russian accent was. When he didn’t glance her way at her outburst, the model/actress/fling stomped away, muttering curses in her native tongue.

You wanted to stay and talk, but his presence had somehow stunned you into silence. Then you remembered something his mother told you over the phone: ‘Play a little hard to get. James could use a challenge.’

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” You smiled your sweetest smile that held a dash of sexiness. “I should probably go—”

“We haven’t yet.” He said, effectively cutting you off.

“I’m sorry?”

“We haven’t met yet.”

Your lips formed an ‘O.’ For whatever reason, you didn’t expect a comeback. “I’m James.” He reached out and took your hand in his rough yet warm one, then placed a kiss on your skin. “You can call me Bucky.”

You pulled your hand back and said a simple ‘Ok’ in response to his forwardness. He chuckled.

“And you are?”

You took a step back, smiled again, and cutely cocked your head to the side. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt we will be seeing each other again.” Then, you sauntered off, leaving James ‘Bucky’ Barnes speechless where he stood.

 ————————————————————————

At two in the morning, you were done. Your exhaustion had hit a new level and all you wanted was a hot bath and your warm bed, but you still had one trick up your sleeve that you hoped would peak James’s curiosity about you just a little more.

Some guests had left making it easier to hunt down your target. The second you actually began to look, you saw him causally leaning against the bar as he sipped a whiskey, staring at you like it was all he had done since you ran into him earlier. You kept eye contact long enough for him to smirk seductively. But, instead of going over to him like you knew he expected, you kept walking to the exit.

You didn’t see James’s smirk drop. You didn’t see him slam his whiskey glass down and quickly tip the bartender. And you didn’t see him trailing after you, but you knew he was. Because despite how he made your pulse increase to dangerous levels, you were good at your job, and his handsome face and charming smile wasn’t going to change that.

“Hey, wait!” You heard behind you. ‘Right on time,’ You thought, but you kept walking until a familiar warm hand wrapped itself around your upper arm and spun you around. “Wait.”

He was breathing a bit heavy and you made sure to bat your lashes in the moment where silence was between you. “Hello, old friend.”

He kept hold of you, darting his eyes over every feature of your face. “Friend’s know each other’s names.”

“What?” you gasped jokingly, your eyes widening along with the act. “Who told you that?”

His eyes narrowed and he inched his face closer to yours. “My other friends.”

“Oh, well, you and I have very different customs.”

James released your arms and crossed his own over a broad chest. “You’re really not going to tell me your name?”

“Is there some kind of law that requires I do, James?”

“Bucky.”

“James.”

“Bucky.” He stressed.

You sighed. “Fine…Bucky. I don’t see why you could possibly need my name.”

“How else am I going to see you again if I don’t at least have your name so I can track you down?”

You hummed in thought. “Don’t you already have a woman whose name you know? The model?”

“She’s not my girlfriend if that’s what your implying.”

“I wouldn’t care if she was.”

“You sure about that?” He asked, his lips quirking.

“Yes, I am…Bucky.” You chuckled. “Anyway, I should go. Early morning.” But, as you turned, he grabbed you again, this time your hand.

“Please.” He said to your back.

You smirked to yourself, knowing you had won for the night, then faced him again. The pleading look in his eyes almost broke your resolve.

“Y/N.” You said.

James smiled in victory. “Last name, too, sweetheart. I need both to find you.”

You rolled your eyes with a small grin. “Y/L/N. Happy now?”

“Very.”

Then, he let your hand go and watched as you left out the front doors.

tags: @dugan365​ @moonlightimagination​ @pietrotheavenger​ @marvel-fanfiction​ @hawkeyeharrington​ @dani-si​ @alyssiamking @wintersoldier98​ @then-there-was-me-emily​ @prxttybirdz​ @tessvillegas @xceafh​ @jazzwoman897​ @fandoms-who​ @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @lowkeysebby​ @stringgeek13​ @quotemeow @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @stangirl4eva​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ 

[lassluna]

Off the Deep End (2/?)

Emma Swan has had to fight for everything in her life. She’s had to fight to keep a roof over their heads, she’s had to fight to keep her marriage from crumbling--that was a fight doomed from the start--and to fight to make something of herself.

Then of course that rich snob on a boat cost her her job. He’s an absolute prick who has probably never fought for anything in his entitled life. So when an opportunity for a little revenge pops up, who was she to deny it?

Now she has to fight to keep from having actual feelings for the amnesiac who might just care about her and her kids.

CS Overboard AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Long over due second chapter of my @captainswanmoviemarathon​, submission thank you so much for you support of this. I really appreciate it. Also thank you @carpedzem​ for the wonderful art It’s wonderful as always.  

Chapter 2

Killian Jones had never wanted for anything. Not with his mother’s multimillion dollar shipping company that she had built herself. Their fortune provided him the opportunity to live in the lapse of luxury, anything he so desired was his with a simple phone call or a credit card. Everything except his mother herself.

He remembered Alice Jones fondly, remembers the trips to the beach they went on, being 5 years old and watching her teach his elder brother to sail. They both adored their time with her, their time cooking in the kitchen, going to a movie anything to keep the boys from realizing just how privileged they were.

He remembers what she used to tell them before they went to sleep. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” She would say. He tried to live by that, even after her death when he was still a child. Even after his father, drowning in grief,  spent most of his childhood in board meetings or bars rather than with him.

Boarding schools raise the children of the rich. This was a fact Killian knew quite well from all his time spent in them. But Killian was nothing if not resourceful. A man who doesn’t fight for what they want deserves what they get, and so whatever Killian wanted, he would get. He had enough power and influence to do so. 

Sometimes it took money, other times it took throwing around his father’s reputation. Anyone who said no to him never held firm for long, all it took was a message to his father (His secretary really if Killian was being honest)  and whatever stood in his way crumbled under their weight. 

(Killian never really asked how exactly they did it, just that it was easier than parenting)

Liam never really liked Killian’s mentality when it came to these things, he always tried to teach Killian how to deal with things like this with honor or good form. Those concepts made him roll his eyes.

It’s not like Liam ever stuck around either to actually clean up the mess his bouts of ‘honor’ led him into. The moment Liam joined the military Killian was alone again, back to handling things his way. It was easier that way.    

Killian would never want for anything. Except maybe for this splitting headache to subside. And it wasn’t from a bloody hangover.

“Here you go babe.” A voice says besides him as one of the crewen handed her an icepack to put on his aching head. “I can’t believe that crazy person threw you off your own ship!” She exclaims, the coldness seems to help his aching head.

He smiled at her, his brunette beautiful girlfriend of half a decade. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her, or at the very least he’d have a lot less fun doing it.

“Perhaps Mr. Jones needs to go see a doctor.” The crewman notes. Milah rolls her eyes.

“Killian is fine, aren’t you babe?” She asks. “We have a party tonight that I-we simply can not miss.” He smirks. Typical Milah, much like himself she knows that the celebration shouldn’t stop, he was Killian Jones after all.  

What he wanted, he got, what he couldn’t have he’d buy. Simple as that.

“Mr. Jones, you have a call sir.” Another crewman said, the young lady who typically served the food. He waved her away.

“Tell whoever that is I’m busy.” He says. He does not have time for his father or brother getting involved in his personal life. Always wanting to change him to fit their needs. He had no interest in whatever they had to say.

“Your brother says it can’t wait.” She adds nervously. “He said something about flying over if you don’t take his call.

Killian groans in annoyance. The only thing worse than talking to Liam is him showing up here unannounced and killing his buzz. He recalls a time last year when he and his mates stormed into his party and effectively confiscated all the rum, a killing blow to even the most lively of events.

“Fine.” He says offering his hand for the phone. “What is it brother?”

“Nice way to greet me, little brother.” Liam says mildly amused. 

“Younger brother.” He responds impatiently. Killian’s always hated his nickname which of course just made Liam use it at every turn. “Now tell me what’s so important that you had to threaten to show up if I don’t answer?” He snaps. He glances at Milah’s face, she seems mildly annoyed but listening all the same. 

“Why are you in Maine?” He asks. “You’re supposed to be in New York for father’s birthday.” Killian rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s exactly why I am here, brother. Today it’s Maine and then tomorrow we head out to cross the Atlantic, we’re thinking of hitting London next.I have no intention of visiting my father and his gang of supporters and gathering around and talking about what a wonderful father he is.” Killian snaps. “You and I both know he wasn’t.”

“Be that as it may, he still only wants the best for us.” Liam adds. “Just come down, smile and then you can be off again.”

“You know the second I step foot there he’s going to be down my throat about taking up the reigns of the company alongside you.” Killian reminds him. He does so every time he sees him. 

“And is that so bad?” Liam asks. “Is it so terrible to try to protect what mother built? So terrible to make something of our lives?” Killian can tell he was getting impatient with him “It’s about time you stop obsessing over the past and grow up brother.”

“Easy for you to say, you joined the bloody military to get away from him.” Killian reminds him. While Liam was off being the honorable brother, he was expected to take part of their mother’s company. He never wanted any of that. But what he wanted never seemed to matter. 

“And you used alcohol and your bloody boat.” Liam snaps. “What would our mother think if she saw you now? Prancing around without a care in the world with that gold digger at your side”

Now Killian was getting angry. “Mother always said we need to fight for what we want, brother. And right now I want to be done with this conversation.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

He gives a long sigh, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Talking to his family always left him frustrated. Couldn’t they see he was not interested in any of that? That he was perfectly content with life as it was?

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Milah says, as she always does when he has a difficult phone call with his family. “But maybe it’s best for us to go.” She offers. “Rub a few elbows, and maybe get absolutely wasted at your dear ol’ dad’s expense.” She says with a smirk.

He can’t help smile at Milah’s attempt to make him feel better.  

“But for now, let’s get ready for the best party this little rundown port has ever seen!” She says happily. She stands up and points to the crew who had given her the cold press. “What are you standing around for? We have work to do.” She announces. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of everything.” She promises.

True to her word, she does. Killian can’t help but laugh at the way Milah barked her orders and demanded at his employees, making sure that this party Milah insisted on throwing was to her liking.

Hell hath no fury like a disappointed Milah.

 //

The party was excellent, just as Milah intended. Lord knows he would have heard about it had things gone any other way. It was something Killian liked about her, always striving for perfection. 

They headed off to sea onwards the end of the party, just in time for the locals to get the bloody hell off his ship. Killian quite enjoyed it like that. He much preferred to head off to England with just his normal crew and Milah.

“Did you have a good time?” Milah asks, smiling down at him from her position on the railing. He was nursing one last beer, watching the lights from the town fade away.

“Of course love.” He says, standing up to give her a swift peck on the cheek. She didn’t hesitate to draw him in deeper, a hand on his cheek. “I always do.”

It made her smile brighter.

“Always.” She repeats. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’ve been together for years Killian.” 

He nods. It had been a whirlwind romance, full of sex and alcohol and quite a bit of fun along the way. She understood him in ways that most did not. Far more than his brother or father ever did.

“Always.” Milah repeats. “Do you think...” She trails off. He smiles, cupping her cheek.

“What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“Killian.” She says slowly. “Have you ever thought... do you think...”She looks away then glances up. “Marry me Killian Jones.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard her correctly. Marriage? Him?

He can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Him marry her? It was more ridiculous the more he thought about it. He felt Milah push him away, her hopeful smile gone in an instant. 

“Why are you laughing?” She demands. “You ungrateful bastard.” She pushes him again rougher.

“Milah...” He says trailing off. “Why the hell would I want to marry you?” Because that’s the truth. They’d never spoken about this, never talked long term. Sure they've been together for the last few years but he never...he never thought about them being long term, never thought she wanted that life.

He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to run the company like Liam wants him to. He doesn’t want to stop seeing the world and he sure as hell doesn’t want marriage and children.

Perhaps Milah doesn’t quite understand him like he thought.

“Because-Because” She stutters out. “Because you love me!” She declares. 

He shakes his head. “Milah I think you have the wrong idea about what we have. It’s just...fun, nothing so serious. Just mindless fun.”

“You absolute jackass!” She shrieks and gives him another push in the chest. It doesn’t hurt persay, but it does make his grip on the railing loosen, then there’s a sickening crack as the security on the railing breaks under their weight. He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself. He’s holding onto his ship now.

“Bloody hell.” He curses. “That was a close-”

He’s interrupted by something being smashed over his head. The next thing he knows he hits the freezing cold water below.

//

He wakes up cold. The sun is high in the sky and everything bloody hurts. From his head, to his arm to ever bloody inch of his skin.

He groans at sound above him, buzzing and buzzing.

“...who is he...”

“...ambulance...”

He opens his eyes just a crack. There’s a man, no two of them, standing over him, one has a phone in his hand.

“Sir?” he says. “Are you alright?”

He’s not but that should be bloody obvious.

“Can you tell us your name?” He blinks.

He can’t. He can’t remember...anything.

//

“Killian Swan.” He repeats, now knowing his name. 

Something about the name doesn’t sit right with him. But then again, he doesn’t know what does sit right with him. 

He narrows his eyes at the blonde. “And you’re my wife?” He repeats, looking over the blonde once more. She’s attractive enough, he thinks. But she seems guarded, not at all the warm welcome he expected from a loving wife. Not to mention the obvious waitress outfit she had on. No, no wife of his would have to resort to serving food to make a living. He can’t explain it, but he knows that his life was more than that, it was...he wasn’t sure...

“What the bloody hell happened? Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything?” He snaps impatiently. He has a hundred questions, starting with why he woke up on the beach and why it took him so long to be found. He’s been in this insufferable hospital for hours and-

“Cool it buddy.” The blonde snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Doctors say you got hit in the head, gave you some long term amnesia, probably from falling off the harbor drinking.”

“Drinking.” He repeats. Now that sounds like a fantastic idea...

“How are you feeling?” She asks, her expression softening slightly. But he can still feel walls from his lovely wife.

“Irritated.” He replies. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The blonde crosses her arms. “You have a compass tattoo on your rib cage.” She replies. “A little detail I would only know if I was your wife.” She replies smugly. 

“I do not have a-” He stops short as he lifts his shirt to reveal the exact compass tattoo the woman described. He traces it lightly with his fingers. Ink on his own body that he didn’t recognize. “Bloody hell.” He says in realization. 

“You really are my wife”

[recurring-polynya]

9, 13, 19, 23 for RenRuki OTP meme!

9. Have they made each other cry?

Neither Rukia nor Renji are criers by nature, but absolutely yes.

I looked it up, and weirdly enough, Rukia does *not* cry in the manga version, but she does cry in the anime when Renji tells her to go to the Kuchiki. Regardless, I think they both had some wet face syndrome in the days following that.

Rukia was having a pretty tough time in the Academy, and Renji was in a constant state of unconsciously rubbing it in. I bet he made her cry at least once, although she is way too stubborn to actually do it in front of him, I think she did it in private, later.

I’m not sure crying over someone is the same as them making you cry, but I believe with 100% of my being that the “fear she was trying to avoid” in the As Nodt fight was Renji-related, and even though she held it together pretty well at the time, I hope homegirl went home and had a good cathartic sob after the fact.

In the same vein, it’s very believable that Renji had at least one tearful breakdown at some point in the Soul Society Arc. I imagine he came home and puked his guts out after he had to arrest her and throw her in a holding cell and there could have been some tears that went along with that, and possibly also after he found out that Byakuya had no intention of lifting a finger to stay her execution. (I just realized this is not the first time I have headcanoned Renji puking out of grief and it’s true, I think he does, it’s great, I love my brain, thanks)

I would bet money that Renji (possibly both of them) teared up a little when Ichika was born, and/or when they found out about the pregnancy.

Also, not to ruin the vibe, but it seems highly likely that at some point in their acquaintance, probably in their Inuzuri days, Rukia kicked Renji in the nards hard enough to make tears come out of his face.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

Like the dealbreaker question, this one is really hard because they are both really intense people who are absolutely ride-or-die for each other (as well as everyone else they know). I am still sticking to my guns that Rukia became a shinigami in the first place for Renji’s sake, and Renji’s entire first character arc involved him binning 40 years of hard work and career ladder climbing to be with her.

That being said, though, they do maintain a fair amount of personal autonomy that I think they would stick to. Renji would never get his brow tatts removed, for example, no matter how much Rukia hates them (or conversely, I think he didn’t tell her before he got them because he knew she’d tell him not to, and he was determined to get them and wouldn’t have listened to her anyway). Likewise, if she asks, he will refrain from wearing a particular pair of extra-terrible sunglasses to a Kuchiki family picnic, but he’s not going to get rid of the sunglasses collection for her. I honestly can’t imagine her seriously asking him to do either of these things-- she’d rather just drag him for them.

I think the part in WDKALY where Rukia decides to keep “Kuchiki” as her professional name was written in a kinda stilted and dumb way, but I do not disagree with it. I am reasonably sure that this was decided at an editorial level, because if they have a Bleach continuation, they would want the character to keep her more familiar name, but then they added the fact that she took his name more generally because people are weird about women who don’t take their husbands name (and then people argue that her keeping her name is “evidence” that she doesn’t love him... so, honestly, there’s no winning either way). Personally, I didn’t like that they waited until they were actually in line at the Soul Society DMV to have this discussion (with Byakuya standing around, no less), but but otherwise, I think it’s a nice compromise, and that Rukia would want to use the names of both the men she considers her family. Renji seemed vaguely disappointed that she wasn’t taking his name entirely, and I can see that, but also, it’s her choice and he doesn’t make a stink about it, which rings true to me.

In all of these examples, the principle is that, all else being equal, each of them will take input from the other, but they would stick to their guns when it comes to decisions about themselves. That doesn’t mean they are going to die on these hills out of sheer stubbornness. I wrote a fanfic once where Byakuya died and Renji married Rukia in order to help her consolidate power in the family, and he took her name and very vehemently made everyone call him by it. 

Also, I am sure there are some household chores that Renji would like done to some particular specifications, and Rukia just will not. Like, she refuses to rinse the dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher and she won’t squeegee the glass after she showers, or whatever the Soul Society equivalents of these things are.

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

I cannot emphasize enough that Byakuya paid for their entire fancy Kuchiki-ass wedding and even though they are constantly on their best behavior around him, he knows how they are and he would never, ever let them write their own vows.

So, here is a dispatch from some secondary drunken, backyard wedding that they had for close-friends only (Byakuya was also there, but Isshin slipped him a pot brownie and he was feeling very at one with the universe at the time)

Who the heck writes a single line of their wedding vows?? I gave them each a paragraph.

Rukia:

People have been joking a lot, every since we started dating, how lucky you are, but the fact is, I am the lucky one. I’ve been so fortunate, in my life, to have such good friends and family, but I feel luckiest of all to have you-- you’ve always been there to cheer me on, to pick me up, to make me pickles. You’re brave and you’re handsome and you have really, really great hair, and I feel like the luckiest person in Soul Society that I get to marry you. I love you so, so much, you big dummy.

Renji:

I used to think that I would be content if I could just love you from afar. That just being able to see you and hear your voice and know that you were happy was enough for me. But I was wrong, as it turns out, because being able to touch you and kiss you and tell you I love you a hundred times a day has made me happier than I ever thought I could be. I expect that being married to you is going to make me more powerful and obnoxious than anyone here could possibly imagine and I am absolutely not sorry. I love you so, so much, you little dummy.

See, Byakuya, that wasn’t so bad! (maybe it was)

Bonus! In the dead Byakuya fanfic I mentioned above, I had them get married under Gotei authority and I wrote some (partial) shinigami wedding vows that are basically perfect for them and also I was really proud of them:

How will you meet your enemies? As one, we shall meet them, as one, we shall fight.

And how do you swear this? We swear on sword and soul.

Let it be so. With this, you are forged together, a single blade. May your battle be long, and when you fall, may you fall together.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

Wow. Dang. This felt like a personal attack. Anyway, it was really hard, and I did it, but I didn’t like it.

Here’s the scene right where Renji hauls Ichigo off to go fight Ywhach, because I am always thinking about this scene and willing it to make sense (Rukia should have gone with Ichigo, I will die on this hill!!!!), and I think it only works if there’s a bunch of unsaid subtext. It’s depressing, but it’s only 511 words, which is very much like 300 words, almost exactly the same, honestly.

~

The others don’t see it, because they are busy watching Orihime restore Ichigo’s sword, his swords, for maybe the last time, but Rukia does, because she needs an explanation.

Renji’s shoulders slump, his chin tips down, his hands are open at his sides.

He is sorry.

He better be sorry! Rukia clenches her jaw, her eyes burn at him. She is the one who should have yanked Ichigo to his feet, she is the one who should go with him to his death.

Renji’s eyes slide upward and meet hers. His jaw is set.

He is right, and she knows it.

Orihime is hurt. Her lungs are making ominous bubbling noises as Zangetsu pieces itself back together under her care. Rukia is exhausted, but she can manage the kaidou that will save her friend’s life. Renji cannot.

It is more than that, though. Rukia’s bankai is perilous. Ichibei warned her that she should use it sparingly-- that it will take many hours of practice before her body can handle the wrenching temperature shocks. She has used it too many times already in the last 48 hours. She still can’t feel all her fingers and toes since she came back from killing As Nodt. Another go at it so soon may kill her before she even has a chance to be useful. It could kill her and everyone in her blast radius, which might be helpful, but probably...not. Her hand rubs nervously at the hilt of her sword. She tries to flex the dead pinkies, but they deny her.

Renji sees the motion, and he grips Zabimaru confidently. His bankai is new to him, too, but Hihiou Zabimaru was like a weighted practice blade-- So-oh Zabimaru is familiar enough and easy in comparison. Sode no Shirayuki and Zabimaru are both temperamental blades, but Zabimaru has always been at their most dependable when the odds are stacked against them.  

Rukia reaches out and gives Orihime’s hair a gentle pat. She will stay, but she will not like it. 

The side of Renji’s mouth ticks up in a rueful half-smile, and his eyes glitter with the last bit of humor he can muster. She can beat him up all she likes when he gets back.

Rukia flings an arm around Orihime, and stuffs her face into her friend’s shoulder. None of this is fair. 

Renji’s eyes soften briefly, and his eyes are filled with so much love for her. He knows he has the easy job. There aren’t any words to thank her enough for letting him go on a suicide mission with Ichigo while she stays back to give them something worth fighting for.

Then he stiffens, and squares his shoulders once again. He jabs Ichigo impatiently with one foot and screws up his face into the same scowl he always uses to armor his heart. 

It won’t work, Rukia thinks, as Orihime finishes her task and slumps backward. She will keep Renji’s heart here with her, and Orihime will keep Ichigo’s, and no matter what, none of them will die alone.

[chibimyumi]

Furutod vs Sebastyun

Dear @gisellehexen89,

First of all, I am very happy you seem to be enjoying my blog! And thank you for the interesting ask.

I think the best way to find out what ‘Elisabeth’ is is to read up on it, or watch it yourself; it is impossible to explain everything in a post. After having learned what the musical is about, and you’re interested in how TOHO staged it in 2019, I recommend reading my full art reports:【ACT 1】 and 【ACT 2】. These two reports also show my general thoughts on Sissi (^ω^)

Now instead, I shall dedicate this post to making a comparison between Furutod and Sebastyun.

Furutod vs Sebastyun

When Furukawa’s role as Der Tod was initially announced, most people believed he would be very similar to Sebastian. It is an easy trap: both characters are non-human, have very little scruples, are fiercely attractive, and the theme of obsession is omnipresent.

But honestly, that’s it. That’s all the similarities these two share.

1. Status

The biggest difference between Furutod and Sebastyun is their status. Furutod is the Lord of the Underworld (黄泉の帝王), and absolute authority over life and death of all that is alive. Sebastian meanwhile, is bound to servitude who cannot even wield full autonomy of his own. Needless to say, their difference in power status decides everything in their respective behaviours.

1.1. Sebastian

Let us look at Sebastyun first. All three Kuromyus from the Furukawa era show very clearly that Sebastian is very limited in many fields, but the difference between the ‘mask of the butler’ vs ‘the raving demon’ is clearest in ‘Tango on the Campania’.

In the scene with Edward, we see the boy pulling rank on ‘a mere butler’. Edward was basically threatening O!Ciel using Sebastian, while hiding behind the face of ‘a loving brother’. There was nothing Sebastian could do as a mere servant, so he very explicitly checks first whether Edward had left, before he could show his true reaction: “whatever.”

In the cinematic record too, Sebastyun clearly disagreed with what his master demanded of him, and he only showed his BIG ATTITUDE after the boy had left.

Likewise, as explained in this post, because Sebastian is always bound to servitude, his autonomy (or whatever little he has) is something he treasures a lot. His only outlet of freedom is being pedantic and obtuse. Sebastyun takes it a step further by being passive-aggressive on top, a trait Furukawa has made his Sebastian famous for.

Obviously Sebastyun sees fun in doing so, but this is undeniably the result of a long history of getting his autonomy denied. He is the servant in the shadows who needs to wield power within other people’s boundaries.

1.2. Der Tod

As I mentioned above, Der Tod is the Lord of the Underworld, and as Furukawa himself interprets, represents the authority over both life and death. He never has to ask for a ‘yes’, other people’s consent or opinions are non-consequential to him. He takes lives because he can, and nobody can punish him for it.

Being an existence who never needs to learn accepting a ‘no’, he does not need to put up a face, because he never needs to make compromises. Der Tod is SO used to getting his way, that teasing the possibility of ‘not getting his way’ is even a game to him.

1.3. Comparison

Sure, Sebastian also teases and pushes his limits sometimes, but unlike Der Tod, Sebastian does have to consider having to reap what he sows. If Sebastian fails and breaks his contract, surely something terrible awaits him. But Der Tod? Nah... his Death Angels will clean up his mess.

Der Tod can afford to make mistakes in playing with his prey, unlike Sebastian. In The Last Dance↑, we see Furutod make the biggest miscalculation; scaring Elisabeth. Had he not scared her, then Elisabeth might have been quicker in agreeing to die for him.

Unlike Der Tod who has minions to clean up his mess, Sebastyun does need to make careful calculations.

2. Understanding and Interest

Another major difference between Der Tod and Sebastian is their understanding of and interest in human beings.

2.1. Sebastian

The thing Sebastian keeps saying is how interesting humans are; Sebastyun is the scientist always hungry for more knowledge, and humans fascinate him to no end. In ‘Tango on the Campania’ even with debilitating pain, he was smiling with the excitement at human behaviour.

He also makes use of whatever knowledge he has acquired throughout his centuries on earth to get what he wants or needs. Like I said above, at some point in history Sebastyun learned that fear would cause a human to shut down, so he was careful in not scaring Beast, lest she might not open up to him.

Had Sebas been a bit of a dumb-dumb and scared Beast the way he did in the manga, or the way Der Tod scared Elisabeth, then he would have failed his mission logically speaking.

2.2 Der Tod

Der Tod in contrast, always gets his way, so he does not need to understand humans to achieve anything. But more importantly, he is superbly uninterested in understanding humans. The only reason he shows interest in humans is for himself; he wants to bend humans to flatter his own ego. “If Elisabeth finally begs to die, then I AM the victor. If Rudolf commits suicide, then I manipulated him.” Der Tod’s satisfaction is the goal of his actions.

As such, when Rudolf ‘HAD THE AUDACITY to bore LORD DEATH’, he bitchslapped him before taking his life. When in the end Furutod did get Elisabeth, but not in a satisfactory way that assured his baby ego that he’s the winner, he was disappointed and lost all vitality.

To Sebastyun however, the satisfaction is a bonus: it’s nice to have, but it’s more important to get a job done.

3. Mannerism

Another point of difference is their mannerisms. Sebastian is a mere servant, and therefore needs to keep to the shadows. He usually tries (though fails) to adhere to the Victorian code of ‘servants should be like furniture, speak only when spoken to’. (In truth, Sebastian talks way too much for a proper Victorian servant, but he tries! He tries. Give the butler some cookies for trying.)

Der Tod meanwhile, is the supreme overlord of all and everything, so he does not need to care about anything. Plus, he can turn invisible as he likes. Unlike Sebastyun who needs to suppress his laughter or any other commentaries, Furutod can get away with laughing like a f*cking hyena on crack during an Imperial wedding.

4. Ego

Lastly, another stark difference between Sebastian and Der Tod is their ego and their presentation of themselves.

4.1. Sebastian

In this post I explained how Sebastian is very willing to humble himself, to come in second place, or take whatever disadvantage voluntarily for the sake of achieving something he wants or needs to.

This is because Sebastian is very secure about himself, and the recognition of humans (cattle) means nothing to him. He does not need anybody to know how powerful he is, instead he takes greater pleasure in silently manipulating others, using humans’ own actions against themselves.

Yes, Sebastian does love to flex, but he does not do any of those things to increase his reputation. We can tell from Sebastian never lingering to check people’s oohs and aahs. It’s like how when we impress a toddler with something easy, we usually won’t indulge in the kid’s praise because we don’t feel an increase of social regard. Instead, the fact that the toddler is impressed with something so easy is more interesting to us.

Sebastian’s flexing seems more like an outlet because O!Ciel forbade him from showing his true potential, and it is frustrating to him. It is just like how we as (young) adults we are capable of understanding deep analyses, but get constantly told to read picture books, on top of also having be content with hearing: “how amazing, you can read a picture book! You are astonishing!!😱”

4.2. Der Tod

If Der Tod was not explicitly ‘death’ personified, I would say that Furutod is ‘huge ego and diva complex’ personified.

Despite being a more elevated being than Sebastian (the scavenger demon) is as Lord of the Underworld, Furutod does like being praised. Der Tod is and will always be above human beings, and that is as boring a fact as water being wet. As I explained in Art report act 1, Furutod suffers from ‘lethal apathy’, and in this sense he needs more than to know ‘that mortals are beneath him, that water is wet’. Furutod wants to know that the mortals fear him, and gets a kink out of mortals being on their knees for him. Der Tod is not just ‘death’, he is the personification of ‘human regard of death’; and the fear of death, is what unifies human kind, after all.

Another point in stark contrast with Sebastian is that Furutod does have kin near him: the Death Angels. The regard of mortals is nice, but he also likes keeping his minions impressed, because his kin’s reverence also means something to him. It is almost like Furutod wants to justify why he should be superiour to the Death Angels (even though his position is never challenged). He just gets a REALLY big kink out of praise, okay? ( ´艸｀)

Furutod’s enormous ego also shows itself in his diva-ness. When he is courting Elisabeth for example, he is basically behaving like a peacock. He takes Elisabeth’s hand and runs it through his silver hair, his ivory silken skin. “Look at me, feel me, human, I am SO drop dead gorgeous.”

Furutod also can’t handle being lower than anyone; whenever he has the chance he will literally place himself on higher footing.

Contrast this to Sebastyun who is always very willing to put himself lower than others. This ⇊ would be UNTHINKABLE for Furutod.

5. Conclusion

In conclusion, besides the ‘non-human character in a dark theme’ aspect, Sebastyun and Furutod really don‘t have anything in common.

5.1. Sebastian

The fact that Sebastyun is always bound to servitude whenever he is on Earth, and his lack of autonomy, shape his behaviour. His reputation on Earth has no meaning to him; Sebastyun is confident about what kind of Demon he is, and the opinions of ‘cattle’ are therefore insignificant to him. The only thing one must not challenge is whatever little autonomy he has left, and he will test and find the upper limit to wield it.

5.2. Der Tod

Furutod in contrast, only knows what it is like to be the most superiour being and never getting his authority challenged. He never had to learn to make compromises, nor does he ever have to deal with consequences. As such he is really a foot-stamping-toddler (Foot-stamping Der Toddler? Sorry.) with a toxic superiority complex and too much power.

Furutod’s supremacy is mind-numbingly boring to him, but there is no way to achieve something grander than what is already grandest. He is trapped in his own mind of toxic superiority and boredom, and will live the rest of eternity searching for entertainment. (It is kind of sad if you think about it......wait, I’m feeling bad for Der Tod? Hmm Furukawa, you really did add a whole new page to the history of ‘Elisabeth - das Musical’)

In short: where Furutod is eternally bored and has no prospect of getting sustainable entertainment, Sebastyun will always have something interesting he might run into.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Little Estoma idea

Some angst, some fluff, lots of gifs!  This is where I imagine for when they were dating during Shuriki era and Esteban has his betrayal a secret and Doña has a secret of her past. So Esteban is attempting to explain his scar and how Shuriki did it because she thought he was capable of overthrowing the ruler.

But he’s struggling to speak especially as he internally pictures the death of his aunt and uncle Doña: “Hey, hey it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready, I will be here for you and I will hold you and I will listen and love you all the same.

Esteban: “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve..” 

Doña: “Don’t say that. I mean.. let me put it this way. I, the greedy, selfish, vain, stupid, judgmental, shallow, prideful, stubborn bitch deserve someone better than you? Esteban, remember when you admitted that you used to be jealous of King Juan because he was like the perfect Prince Charming.” 

Esteban: “It’s unbelievable! He’s so perfect and good and happy and doesn’t make mistakes... he never. he never hurts the people he loves. He’s a true fairy tail prince.”  Doña: “I don’t care much for fairytales much less Prince Charming.” 

E: Really? D: Yes! Even when I was younger I preferred the sulky beast who only wanted to be loved but was cursed. He was real, he knows about suffering and he had able to grow and learn lessons and mature. Fairytale princes don’t do that. They’re too perfect. They don’t know about hard work or the weight of responsibility or the consequences of making mistakes. Like you. You work harder now, you try to be a better, more reliable, honorable person because you know your mistakes from when you weren’t.” 

“You’re not a prince but I am so so happy that you love me, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt you and if I do something I want that.... I mean I hope at least you will do the same. You would love me the same maybe...”

Esteban: “Of course I will.” 

Angst under the cut 

Esteban: I will love no matter where or how. Doña: Ha, so even if you were hypothetical a chancellor still and I’m just some poor village girl Esteban: I would still find you..... Ha! I wouldn’t.

Esteban (still talking) I mean why would ever be in a village, unless it’s for important diplomatic reasons if course. But I highly doubt I would have anything in common with you if you were from some village. Don’t those girls drop out of school? I would have nothing to talk about with them. Hehee imagine the struggle it would be to talk to them. I would have to dumb down the words.. Doña: 

Doña: Yeah heh, of course. Village girls are such idiots. We’ll be rich together. 😕

And so they continue their secrets. Eventually breaking up because secret relationships are hard and they both secretly think they’re not enough for the other. But also because 

Esteban: Tensia, can we talk about yesterday? When we were joking about staying here in Cordóba with new names.  Doña: Heh yes, we run away and live happily ever after. It could work. I mean we open a shop to sell your moisturizer. Only 4 days a week during the morning so people will know it’s very exclusive. Then we can charge nobles exorbitant prices, and the rest of time we just enjoy ourselves. You can do guitar playing and tally olaball games, and I can shop. It’d be a nice life.  Esteban: Yes, it would. I want it. (sighs) I really want to. It would be so easy to do, and that’s why we have to break up.  Doña: What?  Esteban: (choking up) We said we wouldn’t let our love interfere but I’m beginning to.. I fear that.. I no longer want to continue my burden. I want to stay in Cordóba and sell moisturizers. Hortensia, I want to marry you.  Doña: Oh Esteban. I would say yes. I’d be willing Esteban: (crying) I’m glad, but it...  I can’t do that to Avalor. I owe it to my family to stay. Kingdom before thy self. 

Doña: (tearing up too) I know. I understand. We’ll discuss (gulps) that tomorrow. For now, let’s just... 

(They cuddle up close together and share a kiss) 

They manage a civil break up. Albeit with lots of bittersweet looks so Esteban goes to Satu to help with the distance. As years go their rivalry becomes more tense as they change. Both have pretty much given up on making new laws, seeing as they’ve done everything legally possible. Esteban still cares but that caring just makes him feel more guilty and hopeless and depressed; all he can do is keep Shuriki from enacting harsher laws and maintains peaceful ties with his allies. Doña, on the other hand, chose to stop caring and focus on herself and her money. Sort of like this, 

Esteban: Okay, what the hell is going on? Is this some sort midlife crisis? Are you mourning someone? Extravagant spending, galas with nobles that you said were “shallow and never worked a day in their lives.” 

Doña: Nothing is happening. I just came to the conclusion that I should enjoy myself. Oh, Esteban, I’ve realized I’ve been stuck in the past, chasing stupid childhood dreams like having a family. That hasn’t worked at so well. But know what has? This store. This emporium has been the only thing succeeding and I decided that I’m going to put my energy and focus into it and make it even better! Esteban: You call spending money on yourself true happiness? Doña:  Yes, I can’t get happiness the other way so might as well embrace what I have. And I have a lot of money.  Esteban: No it’s- What about caring for oth-” 

Doña: I did care, and I’m done. I’m tired of caring for all these people that don’t even know how hard I work. There’s always something else, making sure they’re happy, making sure the economy’s stable, and I don’t get anything from it but stress and no time. I’m done being a failure as a provider. I’m done with “Kingdom before thy self.” If I don’t care, I don’t have to make everything absolutely perfect and now I have time to enjoy myself and my new friends. I mean we’ve done everything we legally can without Shuriki’s notice. So I’m going to relax. No more pressure. Don’t I deserve that after all I’ve done for them for the last 7 years? With money at least I can buy things. Money’s great, money keeps growing in the bank, it can’t leave you the way people do.  Esteban: No! I mean- eh it’s not right. You’re forgetting who you are. Denying that you feel guilty or sad doesn’t mean it disappears. 

Doña: Oh, I’ve had lots of practice with denial, it works. Besides this is who I am, I love money and jewels and new clothes and gossiping about other people and petty society intrigues. It’s kind of fun to manipulate the fighting. I was just too busy before to indulge in them. I didn’t get what Lady Yolanda meant that buying a new dress can cure depression? But now I stopped caring about the past and what my family would be disappointed. It actually works. 

Esteban: It’s wrong! You shouldn’t just forget about your failures or the people you loved. 

Doña: Why are you pushing this? I’m moving on with my life. What do you want me to do? Be like you? Moping around, depressed and miserable all the time. I wouldn’t stop you if you tried to push past your sadness to be happy for once.  Esteban: I’d rather do that than dishonor my family by acting so self absorbed and selfish. You’ve changed so much and- 

Doña: That’s your problem! I’ve changed too much, you’re stuck in the past! I know you’re life is hard, and there’s very little joy but but... Sometimes I want you  to have a happy life not just because you deserve it, but because I don’t want to hear more complaining. You can fix things, you know that right? 

But you don’t. You keep holding yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You push yourself and never try to move on. I mean, you never attend functions unless it’s a royal obligation, you have never gone to the opera just for fun or do anything in your free time that might guarantee a little respite from work. You prefer to be miserable and stew in your guilt. You hold yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You won’t allow yourself to find happiness with yourself. Or with someone else or anything! Be miserable fine, but I can’t act like that. My guilt is over with. (a little more gently) It’s been 37 years. You’ve been guilty enough. Try pretending it doesn’t exist, it really helps.  

Esteban: I can’t..

Doña: Of course you can. Esteban: You don’t understand. It’s none of your...it’s a royal matter. Doña: Here we go again! It’s a royal matter. I’m too low and stupid too understand your struggles with doing whatever you want and your royal burden. Give up that argument, Esteban. It means nothing. Besides I’m not acting selfish! I’m basically doing the same things you royals do. Going shopping, siestas. 

Esteban: That’s part of my reputation. I have to look my best. I thought you were more noble than the rest of the nobility that you rose from. I may have privileges, but I still better the peoples’ lives. You’re just acting self righteous.  Doña: You can force yourself not to enjoy these things, but you still have them. You’re pretty well off as Shuriki’s lapdog compared to the commoners. Face it, you have the power like her, you have the titles like her, you’re ambitious like her, you’re- 

Esteban: I am nothing like Shuriki!  Doña: You’re close enough. You’re almost ruthless by association.  Esteban: If you’d like to talk about titles, doña, may I remind you that you’re only so special because you’re magister. Without it, you may be intelligent and pretty, but just as common and worthless as the rest of the masses.  As for your formal request to aid the upcoming trade deals with the northern part of the Everrealm, I’ll have to decline.  Doña: Why? You said- we always do these things together.  Esteban: Yes, but that was before. I didn’t really need you since you don’t have the proper expertise to handle diplomatic matters.  Doña: What? No expertise?! Af-after 7 years. You-I.. 

Esteban: I didn’t need you. I never needed you. I only allowed you to come because I wanted a friend by my side. But now.... 

Doña: But I’m still on.you..

Esteban: No. no. You mean nothing to me. 

Doña: Hmmph. You think your friendship is some big loss for me? Get over yourself chancellor I-I hope you drown in your guilt. 

Esteban: “I hope you drown in your selfishness.” (Slams door) 

So done. Friendship over. Rivalry begins! And also though it wasn’t the major source of their friction, Esteban’s disgust for her avarice and Doña thinking it was hypocritical for him to criticize her clothes shopping and gossip when it was what he usually did. He said it was a matter of being royal and that he had an image to maintain jumps off their royal vs working class rivalry which was easier to argue you about than all the personal subtext underneath. They’re just very passive aggressive with each other now. 

Until after Masks of Magic when Elena tells pretty much her whole family all about what went down at the Feast of Friendship. So a few days later, Esteban stops by Doña’s apartment. Esteban: I want to talk about what happened at the Feast of Friendship. Doña: Yes, yes, things were a little wild and your cousin did her own thing as you said she is wont to do but everything worked out. I can’t wait to do it again next next year. Ugh too bad Paraíso is hosting next year’s. 🙄 Can we discuss the particulars tomorrow before our meeting, I have a date tonight and I need at least two hours to do my hair, and then there’s my makeu- Esteban: She told me that you grew up in a small ranch. Doña: 🤭 Um heh Elena said you were sick, I think you need to rest some more. We’ll talk when you feel better. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Esteban: Hortensia, don’t start denying i.. Doña: I’m not in denial. I’m doing my makeup (closes the door to her bathroom) Esteban: (continues talking through the door) It makes sense. You’re not from a rich merchant family. Your family didn’t send you in to the city alone so you can learn the value of money. You did it because you had no choice, didn’t you? Doña: If you want to start your “the lady is a tramp” jokes, do it now. You have an hour before I kick you out. Esteban: Why didn’t you tell me? Doña: ....... Because Elena isn’t judgmental like you. She doesn’t have your high standards.

Esteban: You really think my opinion of you would lower because of your background? You’re an exception. You’re educated and talented and... Doña: No I’m not. How could I.. I mean... Remember, my ex Ferdinand? How you said he was wrong about how worthless I am. It was just lies and emotional abuse. All what he calls me, is true. I mean even you said it yourself. Remember?  Esteban: I.. I didn’t really mean it.... that way.  Doña: Yeah right.  (Comes out of the bathroom) I am stupid, and greedy and a selfish hypocrite. No let me finish. He’s right. I dropped out of school after my quinceñera, Esteban. I didn’t even finish 9th grade, I didn’t go to college. I don’t know how to photosynthesis or speak a different language. When I first met you, I would spend the night before our meetings, studying the dictionary so I would understand some of your lectures on foreign relations. I’m no where near your level of education as I’ve been pretending to be. And Ferdinand is right that I’m a hypocrite, I don’t associate with other poor people and I don’t. I don’t.

How could other people respect me if they figured that I didn’t grow up knowing the difference between pink and fuchsia. That I didn’t have a private tutor like you. Do you know how many times I have been told that I would end up a whore because of my station in life. I couldn’t pay my dowry. And we tried, we tried so hard but they asked too much! And its not like I have any other choices. I’m not smart nor do I have a special talent. Basically, if I must quote *him*, “If I don’t pay my dowry and be supported, I’ll just be another whore with a body. Not good enough to be married, not worth enough to be even paid for a bed like a prostitute. “

As for my family? No, they were not merchants from Nueva Vista. I did not grow up rich. So rich I was sent to Avalor City to learn the value of money. I worked to provide for them and I failed. I didn’t work hard enough. I was too slow and selfish. I was so sad being alone, and homesick that I wasted time.

I was working to become the Magister, I was in all the right circles. I didn’t do enough. They died one by one from disease and starvation and exhaustion.

I was wanting to feel loved as they were sick and starving. I wanted them to tell me to stop working and come back because they missed me so much. Me, me, me! All I thought about me. It is my fault.  Esteban: No. 

Doña: Yes, I accept that. I just didn’t think it would matter to anyone. At least they hardly mattered enough for people to help. As you can imagine, they were born for a reason. They didn’t work enough. They deserve it. 

Esteban: I wish you’d told me before. 

Doña: Yeah, well... you wouldn’t have...I mean. Esteban when we broke up for the sake our duties I... it’s so stupid but I-I got unrealistic and stupid and I thought maybe you’d change your mind, and stand by me through it all. More than your fear of Shuriki, more than your guilt to your family. But love doesn’t conquer all. And if you didn’t stay when I was perfect than why would you stay if you knew how I really was? 

Esteban: Do you think I’m that shallow? I wasn’t that bad. I wouldn’t have said it was all your fault that you were poor.  Doña: Yes, you would have. You thought most poor people deserve what they got for not working hard enough like how Shuriki always raged on you.  Esteban: I’m not like Shuriki.

Doña: I’m not saying you were like her, it’s just-

Esteban: But I wasn’t. I’m tired of you seeing me as the villain because you think all royals are snobs. I’m not like that. I didn’t do anything wrong. 

Doña: Yes you were! You still are. Esteban: I-I respect Miss Turner despite her low rank. I’d listen to her opinions. 

Doña: Sorry I haven’t been up to date on your change in mindset.

Esteban: I’m just saying, I’m not the villein you paint me to be.  Doña: I’m not saying you are a villain but you are not the most tolerant. And I don’t hold that against you, you’re “better” now. But don’t pretend you weren’t like that. 

Esteban: I didn’t do..

Doña: Don’t feel bad, everyone is like that. After all  it’s not their problem. It’s mine. My feelings don’t matter in the long run. They’ll listen and leave. They don’t care. It would be like I hadn’t told anyone at all.

Esteban: I wasn't-I’m not like those people.

Doña: That’s not my point. Get out!  Esteban: But- Fine! 

Post All Kingdoms Fair 

 Esteban (covered in mud after trying to ride bareback on a horse) Maybe racing you after you lost Magister of Trade wasn't the best idea. Doña: Hmmm maybe you should have thought of that before helping Julio win, Chancellor. 

Esteban: You must know it's not personal. Kingdom before thy self. 

Doña: And the betterment of the kingdom lies in someone full of idealism and no experience! No. No way. You are far too smug about this for it not to be personal. 

Esteban: With Elena's return, I've come to realize that though we have done a good job in making Avalor stable and prosperous..there needs to be changes to make the city more vibrant. More happy than it was under Shuriki. You're too stuck in your ways, it’s more about you than the kingdom, and think you know best and... Dona: I do know best. Esteban: You're going to eventually burn out. You must admit you've been getting more stressed.

Doña: How do you know I- You get stressed and cry about your job. You don't see me trying to give your chancellorship to Naomi! Esteban: I'm just saying.. you'll have more time with your emporium and to do other things. Doña: Oh then thank you, Esteban for giving me so much extra time for me to think and be alone with my thoughts. Just what I always wanted. Esteban: Complain now, in the future---I told you so. 

Doña: Hmph. Not before I say I told you so when Julio fails miserably. And he will. He's so happy and wants to help everybody, it's like putting Armando in charge. He's going to give everything away. No more advantageous trade deals..ugh it's going to be horrible. Esteban: Have I mentioned that I'm going to miss that crazed look in your eye when you negotiate to get more goods for Avalor than whatever other kingdom? Doña: Why should I care more about other people than myself! I mean, I'm sorry are you serving the people of Avalor or the people of our allies? Avalorans come first, why should we serve their interests when we have to put our peoples needs before anything else? Like money for streets, and food transportation and- 

Esteban: Yes, I am going to miss that. Doña: Insufferable Esteban: Ruthless. Want to eat? Doña: Know it al— huh what? Esteban: Would you like to eat?

Post Incredible Shrinking Royals 

(After the dressing down by Elena and the Grand Council) 

Doña: Well that went well.  Esteban: Speak for yourself. You don’t live with her.  Doña: I don’t see what they’re so upset about. Even if we hadn’t invited King Hector, I’m sure something would have gone wrong. Things always end up crazy ever since you’re cousin became queen. Sure, Julio somewhat saved the day but that was just dumb luck. Next time I’ll get to say I told you so. Next time he won’t be.. 

Esteban gives her the look.  Doña: Okay maybe not.. 

Esteban: It doesn’t matter. There won’t be a next time for us. I’m on probation and Julio rightly fired you.  They lapse into silence 

Esteban: (smirks) But since we’re on the subject. I told you so.  Doña: What! What are you talking about?  Esteban: Remember? At our picnic after All Kingdoms Fair. I reserved the right to say “I told you so” when Julio succeeded. And I would say continued trade deals between Satu, Paraíso, Norburg and Avalor to be a success. I was right, you’re wrong.  (Doña sputters and Esteban continues his little victory dance and they reach the castle door. Oddly, Doña doesn’t leave immediately but pauses as Esteban starts to walk away.) 

Esteban: Hmm you missed just our schemes. It sounds more like someone misses talking to me.   Doña: I no I mean..You were the one who initiated those private chats after the Feast of Friendship and All Kingdoms Fair. It seems you’re the one who misses talking to me.  

Esteban: And and? You miss someone else?  Doña: Ugh Esteban, you know you’re insufferable.  Esteban: “I miss y-”  Doña: Ay dios mio.  Esteban: Say it. 

Doña: You’re not going to stop, Are you?  Esteban: Here I’ll help you start. You missed.... 

Doña: You. Yes. I missed you. Working together- okay scheming together was- I don’t know. It felt like old times. Esteban: That wasn’t so hard, was it? (Doña rolls her eyes) And just to clear the air...if we meet at the bar will I get to hear your real voice after you drink too much wine? 

Doña: (pauses and tries to regain herself) Whata what are you-” 

Esteban: No, no no. Don’t try to deny it! I was right! I thought I was imagining things because I drank too much wine! 

Doña: Ugh Esteban!

Esteban: So will you?  Doña: No, no no no no. That was a little mistake. This is my normal voice now. I’ve used it much longer.  Esteban: But...but come on. It’s your voice. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not bad to be poor. Doña: Ashamed and bad are two different things. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But it is very bad to be poor. It’s matters. Esteban: It shouldn’t be that important. What matters is if you’re qualified for the job, not how you sound or where you came from.  Doña: They wanted to hire someone who was rich and educated from the city. I sound like that. I worked too hard to let something stupid than what I sound like to keep me from getting the job I needed, the jobs I wanted. Besides, you’re right that I am qualified in where it matters most, experience.  Esteban: But it couldn’t be that... it doesn’t matter. 

Doña: Yes it does matter, Esteban. Life’s not fair. Money, who has it and who doesn’t. It’s caused so much pain. You don’t know how people have treated me because they knew I was from a village. It only mattered to me that I was raped. Only I cared about my miscarriage. But the doctors didn’t care all because I couldn’t pay. It only mattered to me that I was starving or cold but the grocers wouldn't give me for free. And when I tried to explain, I was trying to provide for others, it was always the same thing. I had no right to ask for exceptions, I’m not special. It happens to other people. I should get over it. I should. It happened in the past. I should stop thinking about it. It’s in the past. It doesn’t affect me. I don’t deserve anything. I should be working harder for my fill. I shouldn’t have pride or act smart because I’m poor, I’m obviously none of those things. 

Money matters. It gives you value. Now I’m rich, I have too much prestige for them to deny me. They’d never think that I’m stupid or talentless.

Esteban: But you act like... You can at least have some more empathy for others. You don’t have to tell them your backstory but at least.. 

Doña: But it wouldn’t have been as believable.  Esteban: But Julio and other merchants..

Doña: It’s not the same. Sure, their lives are tough blah blah, they still inherited their businesses... still I suppose I could have... but..but I get so scared that people will figure it out and then they’ll think I’m just as vulgar and lazy as before. Because that is what poor people are meant to be. Menial labor. Ignored and derided and why would I ever risk going back to that position in life? It may be hypocritical but it is worth it if it lets me keep what I have. 

 Because that’s what I am. Without money, I’m so worthless- I-I don’t matter. I’m a worthless. So so worthless.  Esteban: No, you’re not.  I’ll admit I am surprised that you are not educated as I was but that just speaks to how intelligent you are anyway. You’ve learned on the job and you’ve been tremendously successful. As for your family, I am sorry. I don’t know what to say but.. but I think..  Doña: Don’t try with some Día de Los Muertos talk of honoring them. You have not starved before, you do not know that kind of pain and the kind of hatred you’d feel for suffering from it. I was selfish. I was so selfish. My family put their faith in me. I’m the capable one. I’m the provider. And I failed. They’re dead because of me. 

Esteban: Okay. But I didn’t... you never act like you feel.. 

Doña: We’ve argued about this, remember? I want to remember them, but I- I’m not like you. I don’t want to be consumed with grief and worthlessness, to push others away because of my guilt. Twenty three years was enough. If I have to force myself to forget in order to feel less guilty, so be it. 

Esteban: I still think no, never mind. Fine.... But you must know how I feel about you, and I would never think you’re worthless. Poor village girl or not. It doesn’t matter. 

Esteban: You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready. I will be here for you and.. Doña: No, don’t. You don’t mean it. Don’t tell me a lie to me. You’ve said it before. I’ve changed too much. You hate me. You think I’m a selfish, gre- no no. I’d rather not be comforted than comforted this one time and not again. Don’t comfort me once and leave. It hurts too much. It hurts. I’m used to no comfort, I’m used to it. I’m fine please don’t.” Esteban: (shakes his head) “....And I will hold you and I will listen. And I will still love you all the same.” 

Esteban: I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t have accepted you if I knew the truth. I’m sorry. Sorry mi llorena. Doña: Shut up. Esteban: Sorry it just really fits. And you know, I don’t hate you. You’re still sort of how you were.  Doña: And maybe you’ve grown away from the past a bit.  (So they hug for a little bit and Esteban decides to break the ice.) Esteban: Look how nice we’re being to each other. Do you think we could act like this all the time?

Doña: What? No! We’d have to fight less and be nice to each other and freaks people out for some reason. They are going to think I’m blackmailing you. Heh, like near the end of Naomi’s quinceñera I was going to congratulate you. But Lady Yolanda took me away because she thought I was drunk. Esteban: Really? It’s that unbelievable?

Doña: It’s fine. I didn’t want to congratulate you anyway. Esteban: (shakes head) Of course not. You’re right. The more we get along the more people will be disturbed. It would never work. But.. if you ever want to talk about your family, you can. It’s only fair since I’ve told you so much about my parents. Doña: (nods) Yeah, it’d be nice to talk to someone. I tried that..that psychiatrist idea you said I should. You know, for three minutes.  Esteban: Three minutes? You know you have to talk to him for longer than that right?  Doña: Yes but he was stupid. He wanted to know if I had a bad childhood or abandonment issues. I had a very happy childhood and I have no abandonment issues whatsoever. He didn’t give me a refund either.  Esteban: Well you do have a point, he must have not been a very good psychiatrist if he was trying to get into your clear emotional abandonment and repression issues without first addressing your borderline amnesiac denial. Doña: I don’t (Esteban gives her a look) Denial is nice. It keeps me from reflecting on feelings and other things. Once I think of one thing, it leads to another and then all the grief and guilt come in to consume you, you know. (Slight silence) 

Esteban: I know..... (shakes himself out of his thoughts) As I was saying, denial as a coping mechanism and how you focus on your ego and your money in order to avoid emotional attachment. Doña: I-I don’t! You found those fancy terms when you went to a psychiatrist for your superiority inferiority complex and survivors guilt with emotional repression.  Oh right you don’t “need” a therapist. Hmmm... 

Esteban: Okay, I just don’t have time for it. At least I know I have problems. I don’t deny it.  Doña: Which is more of a reason that you need the psychiatrist more than I do. You know you should but you don’t go.  Esteban: You still need to go more than I.  Doña: No you do.  Esteban: You do. 

(Both try to one-up each other with “You do”s) Esteban: You do! But if it makes you feel better, I missed talking to you. A little. And maybe since....with Elena around, and Julio as Magister we have time. The economy doesn’t depend on us. We don’t have to be so professional anymore and put together. We can have our talks on Sundays, like we used to.  Doña: Yeah but...l you have your family for that. You don’t need to.  Esteban: Yes, I do. It’s... You know the dark times. You know things that I haven’t told them. You’d get it. 

Doña: You know, I hate to say you’re right but you’re the only person I consider a friend. And Esteban? I’m sor..argh I’m not used to apologizing. One second, okay, I’m truly sorry that I said you were similar to Shuriki. I didn’t mean it. I was angr-...I was angry but that doesn’t justify it. It was uncalled for and untrue. I never believed that. You have done so much and you’re nothing like her. I have always believed you were a better person and that Avalor is lucky to have you fixing her reign of terror. You’re a hero.

Esteban: (wavery smile) Please. Don’t mention it. 

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t.h — 01

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: Thanks for all the love, everyone! It means so much to me because this is my first story on here and this support makes me want to write more. Do check out my revised masterlist for more upcoming stories. You guys are the best~

Also, Birds of a Feather and Canary Mountain are all fictional titles, I just decided to make this sort of fictional (as if it isn’t already) with Tom’s filmography. Jean is no real writer, he’s an OC haha. Also, if you want to be in the taglist for the next chapter, just leave me a message or a note and I’ll add you ^^

Also, I have no actual idea how offices (fictional London Post) works, so do cut me some slack if some of the mechanisms of worklife don’t match. Apologies are due~

Word count: 2485

Series Masterlist

00 | 01 | 02 |

Ch. 01 

(y/n) wouldn’t ever consider herself a workaholic, although, she sometimes tended to bounce in and out of being one when time seemed fit. It wasn’t as if she hated her work, it was in fact the opposite; however, on some days, she’d prefer relaxing to working.

    Like today for instance, she enjoyed her cup of warm tea, gazing at the showery skies of London, from inside her comfortable room—decorated with fairy lights and pictures of herself and her friends, people she doesn’t even speak to anymore, from college. She was a fairy lights kind of girl, she’d tell people who’d enter her room; however this number declined over the years, as being an adult took preference over being inviting. On the days she rested, she told herself that her mind was rather kind to her. It gave her solace and kept her from thinking dark thoughts. Days like these allowed her focus on bittersweet memories from the past, filling the aura around her with a dash of forgiving nostalgia that was comfortable to think about within the confines of her own home. This comfort, she was grateful for, but not anymore.

Currently, her mind was flooded with the thoughts of the hate mail that came toward her from thousands of Tom Holland fans; for ruining or trying to ruin his reputation, for being too cowardly (she couldn’t understand how this could be called cowardly) to understand the ending that was chosen for him, for being too critical (this was her job!) regarding movies or books or TV shows, for being unforgiving over narrative differences and finally, this one she found most absurd, for being an absolute A-grade bitch.

    Because (y/n) was many things, but bitch was not one of them.

Tom fucking Holland, if she were given the strength of Diana Prince she’d have broken the cup she was holding but she had the strength of a hamster so the cup was safe. It’s just a goddamn critique, why the fuck did he have to make a commentary out of it? To save his friend’s ass? Jean A. Marcel’s known to crumble under the pressure of making final seasons. I even wrote the critique for his previous failure of a show, Canary Mountain. What’s Holland’s fucking problem now?

(y/n) didn’t understand the sudden need for Tom to defend Jean. This was Tom’s first time with this writer (who took over another writer to write just the final season, a move that the whole world dreaded, and even wrote petitions to stop; but now it didn’t matter, because Jean’s reputation was saved by the beloved Tom Holland, who chose to ignore every fact on earth before defending his friend). I didn’t even say anything bad about his acting! In fact, I complimented him! She found it easier to defend herself in her head rather than the internet, because it honestly scared her. Death threats came pouring in, five or more (no less) each day, something she’d learned to ignore over the years. However, Tom’s fangirls seemed to be serious. They loved him, and they let it show.

    Groaning, (y/n) finished her cup of tea before heading over to the kitchen to place it in the sink. All the while, she missed the solace her mind usually gave her—which were now muddled with anxious thoughts, and thoughts circling around self-pity, unusual for her, but they were there. Prominent, angry, yet very, very present.

She almost failed to notice her phone buzzing in the room when she walked in, frowning as she thought of the time she had turned her phone on silent, not remembering why. Ah yes, she answered herself as she held the phone in her hands. It was to silence the fucking notifications from all those hate mail. She picked the call and put the phone against her ears.

    “(y/n) darling, how are you doing?” Her manager Susannah Davies was a goddess.

Susannah Davies, a lovely 39-year old woman was the kindest soul on the planet according to (y/n). She was understanding, caring, and would always encourage (y/n) to do her best.

    “Oh you know… The usual. Any new movies that I need to review?”

    “Hahahaha, right erm… Honey, we think you should take some time off?”

Why was it phrased as a question? (y/n) was normally not a very angry person. However, everything that she had thought of Susannah now crumbled in her mind. She was now a very angry person.

    “Some time off for what, Susannah?” Gritting her teeth, (y/n) felt her fingers go pale.

    “See, writing is such a tasking job! No one takes writing critiques as something that’s easy. Why don’t you instead work on the desk for a while? You know, it’d take your mind off things—”

    “Off what things, might I ask?”

There was a sigh on the other end. (y/n) knew she had lost this round. Susannah sighing meant Susannah giving up. And Susannah giving up meant Susannah had made her decision.

    “The comments are quite nasty, (y/n). You can see it, and we can see it. The whole world can see it. It’ll do you and our company good if you were off the radar for a bit. Jenny even talked about you on the 9 o’ clock show! They even put your picture! Not to mention how the HR and PR have been ignoring thousands of hate mail from Hollanders, it’s become too much to handle now. We need to issue a statement saying we’ve fired you—”

    “What?!”

    “Don’t worry, not actual firing. Just a statement.”

    “That sounds very unfair, Susannah.” (y/n) moaned in displeasure.

    “It’s only temporary! Until all this dies down. Anyway, I can’t take this lightly. I don’t want them hating on you more than this and as harsh as this sounds, there’s no other go, love.”

(y/n) felt her eyes well with tears. There was a soft burning sensation behind her eyelids, considering how the hate began to pour in two days ago, and hadn’t stopped in intensity yet, (y/n) had not given herself the time to sit down and cry out her disappointment and rage. But, now, she felt it was long due. She pressed a hand to her mouth and held back her sobs.

    “Susannah…” Her manager was listening to her intently from the other end. “I really love this job…”

Susannah’s heart broke. She knew the moment (y/n) decided to publish the review that this was going to happen, but not to this extent. Hate mail and death threats (which weren’t too serious), along with false media representation, which could amount to slander or defamation, and the mere fact that (y/n) needed to take a break from doing what she really, really loved—all of these factors shattered her heart as well. No other review had gotten her this much hate. Not even the one she had written on A Game of Thrones. And if she were to compare, GoT had a larger fanbase than Birds of a Feather.

    “Can I take a week off?” (y/n)’s tone was impossible to decline.

Ending the call, the journalist fell back on her bed and cried her heart out. I hate Tom Holland, she thought before forcefully wiping her tears, swallowing her sobs. I hate him and I hate his face and I hate his guts.

Sadly for her, hating Tom Holland did not aid her with her pursuit for an ease of mind.

Harrison normally never reacted with such surprise. However, the second he saw the news about a particular (y/n) having lost her job, it felt as if his mind went on overdrive. What the hell? He thought before characteristically dialling Tom’s number. Can they even do that? She just did her job! Sighing, he waited for Tom to pick the call so he could do something to rectify this damage.

    “Tom, did you see the news, mate?”

It seemed that Tom was out with Tessa at the moment, having rented an entire park for the girl to run around happy. Tom had a smile on his face when he picked the call.

    “News about what?”

    “(y/n)!”

    “What?”

    “(y/n), you twat. The girl who wrote that review about the show.”

Tom then remembered. He was supposed to apologize, but he believed the whole ordeal would die down in a couple of days. He hoped it did.

    “What about her?”

Harrison groaned. “Mate, she lost her job.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up like someone had exploded a cake in front of him. He stopped moving and became rigid all of a sudden, and he was quite thankful no one could see him pale up at that second. He should have apologized.

    “How can they—”

    “That’s what I don’t understand. Apparently, your fans,” Haz stressed on the word, “sent not only (y/n) but the London Post some nasty mails in a couple of thousands. It got too much so they issued a statement to the media saying she was laid off a couple of days ago. Did you apologize to her?”

Considering the silence that came his way from Tom’s end, Harrison knew the answer.   

   “Tom… That’s her job, mate. A review wouldn’t have hurt anyone’s reputation here. Did you even read her review? It said nothing bad about you. Just that the writer wrote your role into the dirt,” Tom winced at his friend’s words. “Which is absolutely true because don’t deny it, you hated having Lionel killed too.”

Tom couldn’t deny it. Guilt washed over him like a wave under the full moon. He felt terrible, no doubt. He had no idea that this would happen. Now when he thought about it, Jean himself had more work writing for other shows now that Birds of a Feather was done. Tom sighed. He groaned. He ruffled his own hair. He looked at Tessa running around in the field.

    “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

    “Yup. You did. Big time.” Haz was brutal.

It was at that second that Tom decided he’d talk to her. Ask her out for coffee and apologize like a decent person would do. He’d make sure she got her job back as well, but first, he needed to tell her those important three words.

    “Haz, can you give me her—”

    “Already on it, mate. I’ll send it to you in a jif.”

Once the call was over, Tom knew what steps he had to take. After he reached home, he quickly browsed through (y/n) (l/n) in Google, looking at the results. News articles over news articles about her spread in his face, before finally finding one from the London Post. Her review on Birds of a Feather. He was surprised this was still up, and clicked on the link. There was so much written in this review that he knew would take over 8 minutes for him to read. He was a bit of a slow reader, but that didn’t mean he didn’t pay attention when he read. Tom’s eyes scanned over the descriptive words, and his heart almost stopped when (y/n) wrote about him.

“...while Tom’s performance in this season has been remarkable, it’s sad to see his role being written into the dirt. Lionel, one of the main protagonists of the whole show, deserved perhaps a more bittersweet end—something Tom could have delivered with a bat of an eye. With such talent streamlining the entire show, it’s a mere disappointment to see it fail in the eyes of a fan. Poor Tom deserved better himself…”

Tom sighed. Brushing a hand through his head, he came down to the comment section.

TomLoverxox wrote: What a bitch she made Tom sad I mean come on go home criticize your own face

LaserTeaser15 wrote: Listen slut let me see you write a show as great as this one

Tom grimaced. I did this, he thought before looking at the contact details that Harrison sent. Gulping the bit of hesitation that was previously stopping him, Tom made the final move. Three rings was what it took for (y/n) to pick the call.

    “Hello?” Her voice was pleasant. It gave Tom the impression that she may forgive him and all might go well.

Smiling, Tom replied, “Hi. Is this (y/n)?”

She recognized him. Honestly, she wasn’t expecting his call to come at that second, but she knew it’d come. Considering how so many of her reporter colleagues would flaunt over how nice he is as a person and how decent he is and how he’d definitely apologize if he hurt anyone and how he would definitely give her a call too. One of her colleagues even went as far as to say he’d ask her for coffee where he’d be nice to her and apologize in person too. She didn’t think that was necessary, because she knew the answer.

    “Is this (y/n)?” Tom’s voice was as sweet as sugar.

But (y/n) liked her coffee black.

    “Tom Holland.” She spat, like it was poison on her tongue. If she could see him, she’d see him flinch.

    “Hi.” He said, and nervously let out a laugh.

    “What’s made you call me, Mr. Holland?” (y/n) specialized in sarcastic conversation. It was her forte, she often put it.

    “I’m terribly sorry about—”

    “Making me lose my job over a review I wrote for a TV show you acted in and had nothing to do with writing the script? Terribly sorry about me being slandered all over the internet and being called a whore to someone who’s better called a dunce? Terribly sorry about me doing my job and being reprimanded for it? Mr. Holland, tell me. How would that review have affected your job?”

Tom had no idea how to respond. He figured she’d be feisty and aggressive, but this was a whole other level. He knew if she pressed him any more than this, he’d perhaps stammer out of guilt.

    “I’m very sorry about—”

    “Making a public story on Instagram trashing me and my work where I didn’t even criticize you but the writing of the show? In fact, did you happen to read—”

    “I actually did. I want to say sorry for—”

    “Acting out before having read the entire piece, right?”

Tom didn’t blame her. That’s what he was telling himself.

    “(y/n), I just… Listen, I feel terrible for what’s happened. Can we meet over coffee and talk this out—”

    “Tom, I didn’t deserve what I got. Thank you for calling me. You’re a very good man. But what you did ruined my reputation online and in my career. Slander must mean something to you, you’re an actor. You understand better than most what I feel at this moment. So, leave me be. And no. I don’t want to meet you for coffee.”

And that was how the call ended. Tom turned to Tessa, who was now looking right into his soul.

    “I know, girl. This isn’t done.”

taglist: 

@strangemaximoff​, @aestheticgaybish, @noobmaster63​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​, @boushalaivre​, @jackiehollanderr​, @nerdypisces160​

[disresemble-the-place]

The first one was great! Can you do Wheezy next?

Aye I can! 

Smarty’s is on AO3 for easy reading 

__

He hadn’t been in this country for long.. in fact, it was only 2 weeks. 

Honestly he thought he would feel liberated. That he finally could spread his wings, away from it all. But instead he felt more grounded than ever. Turns out this wasn’t the land of opportunity after all. Maybe if you were a funny one.. or a cute one. But for people like him? No dice.

It didn’t take long for him to end up downtown. Never much of a drinker but he good appreciate the bar crowd. Drunk people were something.. but at least they were honest. Plus they didn’t mind him smoking. 

Most people smoked more than one cigarette at the time, so to blend in with the locals he did the same. He noticed that he looked different though. Not only was his fur a far different color, he was also taller than most. 

Which eventually pissed someone off. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight, hell he was trying to avoid it.. but when the other took a swing at him, he hit him right in the jaw and broke it. 

People saw.. and people talk. He feared for his life. While he didn’t know the details he knew that most weasels belonged to the Monroe family. And what a happy family it was from the stories. If you lay your hands on one of them, you could expect to be down in the dirty not long later.

The first thing he did was find some paper, he needed to write a letter to his family back home. “Didn’t make it. Don’t mourn me.” Swift, short, easy. He didn’t sleep, his eyes were already bloodshot from the new extreme smoking habit but there were even more red now. He was panicking but tried to not let it show. 

Finding a post office was next. Which proved almost impossible. Before he could find one he was grabbed by two others. They were shorter and if he fought he could probably get free but it would only delay his death. Instead he went limp and let them drag him away. 

He got two surprises that day;

One; Downtown had some nice places after all. The place he was brought too was a nice mansion type with a well kept garden and various rooms.

Two; He was still alive.

There were a few others in the room, but his eyes were mostly focussed on the one in front of him. 

An older weasel, maybe his own dad’s age. It was hard to tell. While his fur was kept it was a little wilder than the other’s. He also seemed to have various scars all over his body which he tried to hide by combing his fur over it. It seems he was missing a tooth and didn’t bother to get a fake one. The outfit he was wearing made him look even more intimidating. While most others wore some splash of color he wore black from head to toe. Except from a golden wedding band on one of his fingers.

“I heard you beat up one of my men?” The voice was more pleasant than he expected, almost fatherly. 

“I didn’t mean too..” Why did his voice sound so wheezy? It suddenly occurred that he hasn’t been speaking much since he arrived. “He tried to attack me and I got lucky and got a punch in.”

The other raised an eyebrow. “No.” He simply said. “You didn’t get lucky. You got skill.”

Somehow this filled him with pride. Back home he was taught to solve all conflict with words. Side effect of being a preacher’s son. He was scolded whenever he fought and yelled at whenever he offered solving something with violence. 

“T.. thank you.” 

“I’m Mateo. Current leader of the Monroe family. We mostly run this place. And by we, I mean I do. As long as I want you to be safe, you’re safe.” 

Why was he telling him all this? Some build up to torture? 

“I have children. The oldest will hopefully take my place when I have outlived my usefulness. But I fear he’s not ready yet. Too hot headed.. to smart ass-y..” 

Oh god was he going to ask him to beat up his son!? He felt a bead of sweat rolling down his neck and into his shirt, which he also only now realised he hasn’t washed in a 2 weeks. He showered, sure but he hadn’t found a place to do laundry yet.

“But- where are my manners? What is your name?”

“Luka..” 

“You’re not from here, are you?”

“No sir.” 

“And that’s why you’re perfect..” Mateo smiled, now it was even more obvious he was missing a tooth. “No one here will truly stand up to my kid. They’re all afraid I’m going to hurt them. Which to their credit, I might.” He explained. “He knows this and abuses this power by being as annoying as possible. Which leads to me ‘firing’ them.” Luka didn’t really like the air quotes on that. “Which leads to him being himself, ruthless.. but entitled. I know i am to blame for this.. But I need this place to be in capable hands. Do you see where I am going with this?” 

Luka shook no, better to be honest than to get in over your head.

“He needs a bodyguard. One that can teach him a thing or two about life. I want you to do that.” 

He didn’t even give him the option to say no.

__

Mateo proved to be a man of his word. The next day he was introduced to the heir of the family and what a brat it was. He wore a pink suit with an obnoxious diamond on it. His fur was neatly kept and his nails clipped. His teeth were shiny and clean and he smelled like soap. Luka wondered if the kid has ever been outside. He looked to be in mint condition. 

That alone didn’t make him a brat. No it was the temper tantrum he threw. He had seen one once before. Years ago when his brother was little.. Pretty sure his brother was 3 then. 

After he stormed off, Mateo ordered him to follow him and not leave his side. 

He didn’t want to open the door. Of course.

Now the door wasn’t locked. But he respected the other’s privacy after being denied entrance. 

Luka sighed. Somehow being dead seemed like the better option. He eyed a vase in the hallway, maybe if he knocked it over he would still meet his end. He threw his head back and let himself slide to the floor. Maybe he would fall asleep like this. Even if he did the door opening behind him would wake him up. 

After a few hours the door did indeed open and he fell backwards, he indeed had fallen asleep but like he hoped, the door shook him awake. 

“Hòigh..” Luka said after fully recovering from his nap. 

“Why are you still here.”

God even his voice sounded bratty. Though it wasn’t without it’s charm..

“Contract says I have to..”

“You could quit.” He couldn’t. He knew quitting would mean death. Maybe the other was playing with him. So he played back. “Can’t.. stand out too much.”  He gestured towards is own body. 

“Yeah that’s your personal problem.” The smaller one tried to move past him and Luka felt his blood boil. Was this kid always this annoying? He reacted by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him against the wall. He was pretty sure he caught the other blushing. 

“Don’t make this hard.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Don’t act like one.”

That struck a nerve. Luka was fighting a smile. He couldn’t help but find the other adorable. This was probably one of the first time someone said no to him and he didn’t know how to cope. 

“Come again?”

“I said.. don’t act like a child.”

“I just want to do my job. I need to be around you. That’s it.” Though that was turning into something of a lie. This little one before him was quite the entertaining one. He wouldn’t object to being around him. Especially if he could put him in his place.

“I.. I’m not acting like a child.” A pouting face looked good on him. 

“You are.” 

“Explain.” He was pretty sure the other was trying to channel is father. Like a toddler wanting to help around the house and pretending to vacuum. 

“You are a spoiled child who knows nothing of the world. You think you’re the absolute best at anything and everything but deep down you’re insecure. You barely have any real friends as most of them are afraid of your daddy and you know it but you deny it. You think you can handle big boy stuff but you go a tantrum when things don’t go your way. You’re not ready for anything yet.”

Oh.. that was way too far.. A wave of pity fell over him as he looked into the other’s eyes.  “That was.. too far. I’m sorry.” 

“No. You’re right.”

There was hope for the spoiled one after all.

After he got the drink he wanted, they returned to the room. It was a nice room. Bigger than his house back home. He walked around and pretended to look outside. But inside he thought about the other on the bed. Sure he was a brat but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. While he was raised by strict parents.. he never had the pressure of having to be the heir to the family empire. 

And disappointment.. he knew what that was. Neither his mom or dad was found of the decisions he made. And then there was the one on the bed. The pink one.. Pinky.. He wanted to impress his father so much but his father won’t give him a smidge of a chance. 

Sure, his job title was bodyguard, but Luka felt it was more of a baby sitter’s job. 

Luka noticed the other shift his weight around and realised he had been quiet for a while. 

“Where i am from.. we got an even prettier sky. I guess that’s a thing i miss.” 

“You aren’t homesick..?”

“Not really. I mean sure. I miss them a little. But they were okay with life. I wasn’t. Being discriminated against all day every day gets tired fast, ya know?”

“And now you’re here..” 

“Gotta be somewhere.”

“Yeah but a being a body guard..?”

“I was told it was a babysitting job. So imagine my surprise when I found out the baby’s age.”

He watched the other puff up and get all red from blushing. He couldn’t help it. He had fought it for so long, he had to let it out; a hearty laugh. 

“Easy, wee one.. I’m joking.” He said with a wink. 

“Gonna be a boring job though. Not much happens..” 

“I disagree. I find you.. wildly interesting.” Not a lie. Not even a little. There was something about the other that drew Luka to him. Though he couldn’t quite place it. 

The realisation came a few days later. With Mateo’s permission Luka took the Pink one out to the market. Nothing too big, just a fun outing. Luka figured if he was going to learn about this world, he should experience it. 

He had looked scared and even shook a little when they went to the market at the other side of town. Weasels weren’t shunned there but the family had less power in these parts. Meaning that no one would treat his boss differently. Which is precisely what Luka wanted.

He watched him dart around the place like a child on a sugar high. As he paid for the fruit they were out to get he knew what he was feeling. The strong desire to protect him. To care for him. To love him. 

[journeysintowebcomics]

Homestuck Liveblog #186

UPDATE 186: Political Assassination

Last time John finally got that tooth off his chest, and Jake agreed to give his endorsement to Karkaroni. Now what will happen? Let’s see.

Has it been days since Jade has been sitting on that couch, levitating and with her eyes completely black? Given everything that has happened in the meantime it sure feels like it has. Roxy’s getting worried, she tried to call Rose but she didn’t respond, so instead he goes for the next option she has: Dave. Who immediately brags about working to stop Jane from screwing up everything. The words ‘neoliberal austerity measures’ are unsaid but they’re like an echo when Dave talks about the presidential campaign, I bet. He’s busy handling Jake’s endorsement speech.

ROXY: i guess in the grand scheme of things

ROXY: shes just takin a sort of nap

ROXY: but its one HELL of a nap bro

‘one hell of a nap, davey, shes been blacked out for, like, a week’

It seems the troll candidate is more popular with the trolls and the carapacians than with the humans and consorts. How don’t they have more consort supporters? Hopefully Jake’s endorsement will change that.

ROXY: lmao dirk just texted me about this

ROXY: somehow he found out about jade did u tell him

DAVE: uh no

ROXY: he just said make sure she gets lotsa daylight

ROXY: that itll help with the “exorcism she needs”.....

ROXY: and also to say hi to calliope for some fuckin reason??

DAVE: thats weird

Well that makes clear what the best course of action is: don’t open the windows nor place her anywhere in the daylight. If Dirk’s advice will help with the exorcism she needs – to get Dead Calliope out – then it’s a bad idea. I’m enjoying this epilogue much more with Dead Calliope controlling the narrative, thanks.

It’s alarming Kanaya isn’t picking up either. Could Dirk have gotten rid of her? I sure hope not! Kanaya has done nothing wrong and deserves to stay alive, what with being the professional when it’s about troll reproduction. She better still be fine and kicking!

DAVE: i gotta give karkat some emotional support

DAVE: since gettin jake on our side was a pretty huge fucking bonanza for us

DAVE: which has almost equal probability of winning us the election as it does blowing up in our faces depending on this speech he gives

DAVE: so we gotta like

DAVE: concentrate here?????

DAVE: instead of jerking each other off all god damned day for the rest of our lives

DAVE: (im just joking we dont actually do that)

ROXY: oh

They don’t do that, much to Jade’s disappointment, I bet. Either way, it’s speech time!

The struggle to take control of the narrative is a petty squabble, says Dirk, taking the high ground by offering Dead Calliope a way out. Buddy, pal, friend, you can’t take the high ground and then insinuate Calliope is ugly as sin. That is petty.

Apparently everybody thinks Dave loves Karkaroni, and although I believe that too, it’s fine if Dave never comes to terms to that. The guy marches at the beat of his own drum, he’ll be fine. This kind of thing can’t be forced on him. Speaking of things that can’t be forced, Roxy wants to know how Dave came out to everyone else as not straight. Oh dear, Roxy, I don’t think Dave ever did that. You’re asking the wrong person – unless you want the answer to be ‘deny it for like eight years now’.

He’s not really denying it right now, though. Maybe he did come out to the others and I didn’t find out until now. He’s not comfortable enough with rapping about ‘boning dudes’ in middle of a stadium where so many people can see him, but he’s not running away from the question. Way to go, Dave! I approve character growth!

Somehow Dave has this entire spiel about all the steps of admitting not being straight. On what phase are you, Dave? Inquiring minds want to know. I’d paste the entire thing here, because it’s pretty good stuff, but it’d feel like I’m applying filler for the sake of applying filler, so I won’t.

Dirk really doesn’t want a conversation about gender. Personally I have to agree because, even though this is great for development and I appreciate all of Dave’s steps, this is kind of a random place to shove this in. Pretty bad place, really. It’d have been great at a different moment.

Horrendously invasive of Roxy’s deepest personal thoughts.

...uh, Dirk, you know what else is horrendously invasive? Taking over the narration and manipulating people around. Also the assimilation plan, that’s more than horrendously invasive.

Okay, this is going for long enough.

DIRK: Do you even know where I am right now?

DIRK: Do you have the slightest idea what I’m up to?

the prince is laboring under the delusion that he has been the least bit subtle in his intentions. he currently stands beneath the carapacian bell tower, poised to climb to the top. he holds the long, red sniper rifle that once belonged to roxy, brandishing it openly and boldly. he seems mysteriously oblivious to the fact that holding a long rifle in broad daylight somewhat tips one to the fact that he soon intends to shoot someone from a great distance. he also seems unaware of the fact that i know perfectly well that the top of this tower has a clear, long-range view of the stadium, allowing any competent sniper a clear shot of whoever happens to be standing at the podium as they give a speech. as jake english is about to do.

he also doesn’t seem to realize i have anticipated his attempt to assassinate his own friend in order to advance his political goals, and that i am prepared to take measures which make this impossible.

It really sounds like Dirk’s getting ready to shoot, he’s up at the right place and has a view of the stadium where Jake will be, but...I don’t know, ever since Roxy said Dirk messaged her about keeping Jade in the sunlight for ‘an exorcism’ I have been feeling uneasy, and now that this all was said just now, well, I kind of suspect Dirk may try to shoot and kill Jade. It sure would free her of Dead Calliope’s control and possibly give him back the control of the narrative. It’s a possibility, no?

Somehow the next few paragraphs resembles a schoolyard roleplaying fight. ‘You can’t reach the top of the stairs because...your feet feel really heavy’ ‘really? Then I can fly’ ‘and then the bell came crashing down on you!’ ‘I cut that stupid bell with my sword!’ ‘not fair!’ ‘yes fair!’.  It’s endearing in its own way.

DIRK: He wonders out loud, “what is this, amateur hour”?

DIRK: The Dead Cherub then humorlessly narrates, “why, yes. yes mr. strider, it IS amateur hour. and i’m the amateur here, for throwing a huge bell at you. i would like to humbly apologize for my amateurism.”

no i don’t.

DIRK: Sure you do.

I’m having fun with this part, guys, I really am! This is great.

This is over when Dead Calliope, trying to stop the focus on Dirk and his increasingly petty narration, turns the attention back to Dave who must still be explaining to Roxy the intricacies of coming out to their friends. I see keeping a show in a standstill is a Strider family trait.

DAVE: well lets just say internalized whatevers are kind of like an onion

DAVE: theres lots of layers

DAVE: they suck on pizza

DAVE: and trolls have to get their stomach pumped if they eat them

That has got to be the most contrived simile Dave has said in recent history.

Dirk continues saying very clearly he’s about to shoot Jake, and the more he states that so bluntly the more I suspect there’s something else going on.

‘Xenophobe’ and related words are starting to stop looking like a real word. It just has been said so many times.

Everything is making Dave feel like something’s wrong – undoubtedly Dead Calliope’s influence – so he gets in the path of any potential bullets, protecting Jake with his own body.

and despite dave’s quick and well-justified action, what is also unbeknownst to him is that the sniper no longer poses a threat of pulling that trigger. because everyone knows that for all of the prince’s shortcomings, he would never expose his beloved brother and son to the risk of a heroic death.

DIRK: You’re absolutely right.

DIRK: I would never do that.

DIRK: I’d never kill Dave, no matter what I felt the stakes were. I’d never hurt him either.

I’m pretty willing to bet taking over Dave’s self doesn’t count as killing or hurting him, therefore it’s fair game. Dave would be pretty unhappy to know what Dirk’s doing, anyway. The narrative reveals what’s in the sniper rifle are not bullets, they’re tranquilizers. It’d be a non-fatal way of keeping someone out of the way for a while. The second thing Dead Calliope got wrong, though...

DIRK: Yes. You’re right about the tranquilizer.

DIRK: But there’s one more fact you’re not aware of.

DIRK: Which is that I never intended to aim for Jake at all.

Well then! Turns out I may have been right about that he intends to shoot Jade. He must feel really confident about it if he can announce it aloud after aaaall the charades he did to fool Dead Calliope. Is it Jade, Dirk? Will you tranquilize Jade and pretty much put her to sleep – non-fatally?

Dirk spins in what must be the tiniest bell tower ever, given he only has to spin to change direction and be able to aim somewhere else, and gets ready to shoot. All Dead Calliope can do is freeze Dirk’s finger on the trigger, but he thought ahead and made the rifle to be voice-operated. All he has to do is say ‘fire’. Which he does! Game over for Dead Calliope?

Pretty good aim, hitting a vein from all this distance. Jade indeed has gotten tranquilized, and I’m pretty sure given this isn’t the first time Dirk uses tranquilizers – he uses them in TV – it shouldn’t be too hard for anyone to realize this is Dirk’s orangey shady hand making the moves.

The insult against Jade is uncalled for, Dirk. But yeah, the result of all this is that Dirk is once again back in control of the narrative, which makes me sigh with exasperation. I really liked Dead Calliope’s narration more than Dirk’s, so I’m not looking forward to this change.

Roxy drops to her knees by the couch, pulls the dart out of Jade’s neck, and tries to shake her awake. But it’s no use. That’s a heavy dose I gave her. Could be out for weeks. Maybe months? Can’t have any cherubs messing with my business on this planet. At least not until I’ve taken my leave. But Jade’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry about that.

So...she’s pretty much in a coma. Could be worse, could be worse. She could be dead. This is barely better.

Cherubs are fuckin’ weird, I’ll totally concede. Still not sure what makes them tick. What they idealize, what they really want. It all comes across to me as a little cloying. Perfection to them is a sweetness beyond comprehension. Sugar so potent it’s poison to us. To our bodies, to our souls. Like the place she was operating from was a realm of self-construction. A bubble of pure, phantasmal confection.

Well, I for one have had enough of that goddamn toothache. I’m back in the protein saddle, motherfuckers. I’m clacking my tongs, and the charcoal is hot.

Now who’s hungry for meat?

Does that mean the candy epilogue is all Dead Calliope’s influence seeping through instead of Dirk’s? It could be interesting to see what kind of thing she does to the world. Although...given the effects of the trickster lollipop and how ‘sweetness beyond comprehension’ is perfection to them, it’s bound to be nightmarish. I’m actually looking forward to that!

Speaking of meat, holy shit. You just look more fucked up every time we come back to you, don’t you, John?

You’re a disgraceful mess right now. Covered in blood, mysteriously sticky, bruised all over your arms, legs, and neck. Terezi practically raked rows into your back. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror. You’re kind of embarrassed by what a postcoital train wreck you look like when all she’s got is mussed hair. And you should be embarrassed. Seriously, it’s like you were mauled by a wild animal. Jesus, don’t either of you have any shame?

Ah. Okay then, good for them, although I’m pretty concerned. Such a physically intensive activity can’t be good for the guy with a gaping hole in the chest and the troll who still must be half-starved. I won’t be surprised if these two just pass out and die anytime soon. I’m not entirely sure, but it seems things are awkward now between these two. Maybe it was all a spur-of-the-moment move.

You sit together on the hatch, like when you first met up days ago. Terezi crawls into your arms, and nuzzles right up against your chest so you have no choice but to hold on to her. You would have done it anyway if she asked, because you’re a total sap. The kind of guy who no doubt thinks banging a girl in a car is some deep, soul-shattering experience that bonds you for life. Yeah, John, you do think that. You think that you and Terezi are basically married now.

I can’t tell if he really thinks that or if Dirk’s funneling those thoughts into him. The line between what the character feels and what Dirk wants them to feel is pretty blurry by now.

After all this, Terezi gives up on looking for Vriska, so this is a prime moment for her to fly by and find them. She doesn’t, though, and John proposes Terezi to go home with him. Can they even go home? John is so tired it’s possible they can’t – which he really should have thought about before doing said physically intensive activity. Nobody to blame but yourself, John. Seriously, you have an open wound and bled like four liters of blood. You’re as good as dead.

He feels the urge to lie down and sleep, which is a pretty bad idea given the situation. Terezi rouses him up, so instead he decides to give this a try and zap back home. Hmmmm...if he’s so tired right now, it’s possible the act of zapping home will drain whatever energy he has left, so I’m not...very optimistic about John’s chances of survival. Would this count as a heroic death? Can you die from a heroic death if you die like two weeks after the offending injury is made? If he dies from exertion after having sex with Terezi that doesn’t count as a death because having sex with Terezi is neither heroic nor just, no? Oh well.

Back in the stadium, the inexistent assassination attempt may have given Karkaroni a push in the polls, and Dirk spends quite a while brandishing Jake like a piece of meat. Really, can he be treated as more than a flat character whose only non-flat trait is his posterior? Jake’s nervous and fidgets around, so much Dave and Karkaroni show concern and offer to cancel the speech and/or the campaign. It seems our favorite presidential troll still doesn’t like the idea of having leadership, he’s ready to throw the towel anytime. Jake insists he can do it, so he starts!

I don’t remember Dirk being so outright antagonistic in Homestuck. It’s making me pretty uncomfortable, I have to admit. It feels kind of out of nowhere, just like Jane’s sudden xenophobic inclinations are. What was Hussie thinking when he wrote all this? What was his intention?

Jake’s getting pretty nervous and I can’t tell if he’s getting stage fright or if Dirk’s influencing him to be nervous. The latter is a possibility, no? Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s going on.

Why don’t you have a good, long think about that, Jake.

Is this really the time for a good, long think? Jake muses to himself, actually putting a finger to his chin like some public domain clip art picture of a befuddled guy. If the crowd is confused by his rapid-cycle mood changes, they don’t show it. Jake’s got a bit of a day-drinking problem, which has been slavishly documented in the global tabloids. That’s how you avoid responsibility, isn’t it, Jake? You can fool your fans, but not yourself. The truth is that there’s a canniness to the act. It’s partially cultivated. You’re stupid, but you’re not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be.

JAKE: What in the devil was i thinking coming here?

JAKE: Why did I...?

JAKE: I came here to...

... slide the biggest knife any motherfucker ever wielded directly into your friend Jane Crocker’s back?

She loves you, Jake, more than anything, and you toyed with her heart. And you would have guiltlessly toyed with her “kettle drums” too had it not been for a bit of divine intervention, let’s decide to call it.

Sigh. That’s...that’s all I can do with all this. Sigh and keep reading. Third time I’m scrolling through the epilogue a tad faster than I should. It’s pretty much an entire page of gaslighting. Nothing really worth delving into, mainly because it’s pretty uncomfortable to read such a thing. Dirk’s being the abusive ex, pretty much. Nothing really worthwhile.

JAKE: I love dirk!

JAKE: IM IN *LOVE* WITH DIRK!!!

 And to love Dirk is to obey him.

You know, there are a few reasons why I’m thinking of liveblogging these epilogues. I’ll explain them later, but right now I may as well say a word of two: the epilogue is competently written. The events in it are interesting, and the interactions are raw and full of emotion. It’s all pretty unpleasant to read, which makes it a bit novel, like swallowing bitter medicine. It’s pretty good, in a technical way.

But it simply doesn’t work with Homestuck characters. It just doesn’t.

Anyway, let’s continue scrolling down to the end of the page and go to the next.

I was right in that zapping back to Earth C would take what was left of John’s energy. He barely can give three steps before he falls down, so it’s all up to Terezi now. She wants to bring John to Jane, so she can revive him. I don’t think she has revived him before, so it should be a good idea. It’d be better to bring Jane to John, though.

It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a wound you can recover from. It’s Game Over this time: no healing, no afterlife, no cosmic clock proclaiming your sacrifice as Heroic. The poison needling through you is antithetical to narrative relevance. You’re not dying, John. You’re being erased. Cherubs don’t fuck around. We’ve both been learning that the hard way.

Oh, nevermind, it’s something not even Jane with her life powers can fix. I wonder if, once John is erased, nobody will remember him. That’s what happens when there’s no place for you in a narrative, no? Hmmm...

John already know he’s irreversibly going to die, and tells Terezi not to waste her time, that he was dead the moment Lord English bit him. Which is true, given this poison. Then he says he was dead the moment he woke up that morning, which...I suppose is the depression talking.

You died the moment you made the decision to go meet your destiny. You would have lived if you made the other decision, under a certain definition of the word “living.” You might have even lived until the end of your immortal life span, as shitty as that sounds.

So he’d have lived for the rest of his life if he had decided to do nothing. Makes sense. This may have been for the better, given Lord English needed to be defeated, so it’s time well-spent. It’s rather unfortunate it involves John’s death, but...in a way I saw this coming. Pretty tragic outcome, and given this epilogue has been chock-filled with a lot of tragedy and pessimistic scenarios, it only made sense this would happen.

It’s dying words time! Terezi is really affected because she really cares for John, and also they had a ‘emotionally significant sexual encounter’, so she’s even willing to listen to all the sappy stuff John will say in his deathbed. This is bound to be rather emotional! And the fact he can’t even think of something appropriate to say in his final moments is what makes it emotional because this isn’t how he imagined this would go. He can’t even think of quotes from his movies. Terezi offers to tell everyone John Egbert said some cool stuff in his final moments and make everybody believe it somehow, so instead John goes straight towards the sappy and tragic. There he goes!

JOHN: i think... i really lo—

TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3

JOHN: i... r-really lov—

TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3 FUCK1NG D13 ON M3 1N TH3 M1DDL3 OF 4 LOV3 CONF3SS1ON!

TEREZI: 1 FORB1D 1T!!!

JOHN: but... i...

JOHN: i...

Then John dies in the middle of a love confession.

Love confession on the deathbed! It’s like this truly came from a movie, haha. Terezi is devastated, so much she can’t even bring herself to cry properly. Once she confirms he’s dead, she ponders what she should do now, alone in the world John wanted to bring her to. She doesn’t have anything else to do, so after a moment – and at Dirk’s behest – she takes John’s corpse in Dad Egbert’s wallet and starts walking.

It has been a month already. Jane won the election after what I figure was Jake’s endorsement speech for her, so that’s that. Terezi has been rather lost this whole month, and nobody has seen John Egbert – instead of saying he’s dead -- so I suppose she hasn’t told anyone he’s dead. Rose has been missing the entire time and Kanaya has been pushed around by Dirk’s machinations to keep him distracted while he keeps Rose locked away somewhere, both mentally and physically, I figure. All in all, it’s a pretty grim outlook for everybody in Homestuck. Also, Jade is still in coma. Terezi goes to visit her, perhaps to tell her what happened to John?

Dirk continues being so salty Roxy’s experimenting with her gender, apparently. Aren’t there a million other things to deal with, pal?

Roxy is very glad to see Terezi, and she takes Terezi thinking she’s Dave as a compliment. She also compliments Terezi, giving her some heartache because it makes her remember the time she spent with John. It may have been a few hours, apparently. Time works in mysterious ways up there in paradox space!

The reason Terezi is here is because she feels John would come here, and she’s right, I bet. John would want to check on Jade as much as he can, so now that she’s carrying John’s cadaver around, she feels she should handle this all herself. It’s also confirmed she hasn’t told anyone John is dead.

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out

ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home

ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all

ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls

TEREZI: WH4T?

ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise

ROXY: some of it is like

ROXY: weird and violent??

ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um

ROXY: nudity????

TEREZI: >:?

ROXY: yeah yikes

ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit

ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

ROXY: so it was hard as hell to convince them to let me come see jade at all

ROXY: its like theyre traumatized

ROXY: and they think ill drag whatever possessed jade back into our home with me

So the end result for Calliope is that she’s traumatized. Seeing a dead version of herself possessing Jade must have really rattled her. As I said, this is all pretty grim for everyone in Homestuck, goodness. Although...part of me wonders if her current state is partly because of Dirk’s influence. He’s petty enough to mess with the living Calliope’s head as a ‘take that’ for Dead Calliope.

Someone tries to contact Terezi through her phone, she’s not sure who it’d be. Perhaps Dirk? He did show a preference to sending messages to his former friends and acquaintances. As if things weren’t awkward enough for Terezi, she’s asked if she knows what happened to John. Terezi, you can’t keep this under wraps forever. Sooner or later you have to tell everyone John died because of injuries in Lord English’s fight.

It seems Terezi can hear Dirk perfectly even when he’s talking in the narration, I suppose it’s because of her aspect. Oh, be careful with the stuff you say, Dirk! She’s also willing to whisper stuff to address Dirk, even if it gets odd looks from other people. On the other hand, this kind of leaves her more vulnerable to Dirk’s machinations, no? Part of manipulating people is responding to what they say, so with some luck this won’t go belly-up.

Once the conversation is over Roxy leaves and Dirk exposits Terezi still feels guilty about hiding John’s death from everyone, and she can’t even confide in Dave because of mistakes she did as a teenager in another timeline. It’s the curse of having the Mind aspect, isn’t it? Knowing what the choices cause. All of Dirk’s exposition bothers Terezi enough for her to tell him to scram, and he refuses to do so.

Come on, Terezi. You don’t belong here. You know you don’t belong here.

Do you feel threatened by Terezi, Dirk? Is that why you’re trying to push her away? I don’t think Terezi has anything that could be particularly useful against Dirk’s plans, so I’m not sure why he’s bothering to mess with her like this. She even points out they barely have crossed words.

Okay, I believe he feels threatened by her in some manner because he tries to convince her to join him in...some place. More like he wants her out of Earth C. He even offers to let her take John with her, which is why I’m sure he made her pick up the corpse, so he could manipulate her by using John. He finally leaves her alone with her thoughts, sure he managed to convince her enough. We’ll see.

Stopping for now!

Next time: next update

[irrevocably-delicious]

More opinions from my friend as he delves further into Voltron and rapidly approaches the impending doom of season 7

He’s liking Keith a lot more and feels that after coming back from BOM, he’s enjoying seeing him confidently take up the reigns of leadership

“I met Keith’s mum” “Oh yeah! Did you uh.... like the emotional depth of that?” “..... It was nothing. There was nothing” I feel you dude. I feel you.

“Is there enough TIME to really waste on this DnD episode??..... oh wait.... ok Shiro is funny. Never mind.”

He really loves Keith’s wolf. I can’t wait for him to find out everything that good boy can do. And watch as he delivers snacks. 

The clone Shiro reveal was definitely a “FINALLY!” moment for him, feeling that it was painfully obvious from the beginning. (Again, nice to know that fan theory was obvious to everyone.)

“How did you like the time skip?” “I was find with it.” “Really? Even though we missed a bunch of stuff with Keith and his mum.” “Yeah, I’ve just kind of accepted that the Voltron writers will continue to deny showing me amazing moments. It’s like they have commitment issues.”

It’s really amazing because even though he says he really likes the show, and definitely recommends it, he absolutely sees that the writing is kind of shit and fails to finish off certain plot lines, or just quietly sweeps them under the rug. So he’s definitely catching on to the fandom apathy. He hates the writing... whilst simultaneously enjoying the show. It’s an oxymoronic situation.

We’ve definitely talked a lot about how he is probably at an advantage binge watching everything, so it just washes over him and by the time he remembers a loose plot thread, it’s well and truly gone, whereas I (and most of the fandom) stew on things between seasons. Try to make predictions, have our theories, desperately want to see the consequences of a character’s actions. So when that doesn’t happen? It sucks. It’s disappointing.

“Do you have any IDEA how many comics were made about the Galra Keith reveal before it happened?” “OH MAN! Did fans draw purple furry Keith?” “OF FUCKING COURSE THEY DID! That’s how the internet works!”

He loved Matt! So of course after season 6 I had to ask how he enjoyed not seeing or hearing anything about him for a whole season. He was very salty.

“I’m convinced the Voltron writers have a 'we are done with this character’ storage closet and that’s where they’ve shoved Matt. I half expect Krolia to be put in their soon.” I. Fucking. Pissed. Myself.

“Do they not take Matt to Earth?!” “Uh... spoilers? but I can tell you.” “No don’t tell me! I can’t wait for the writers to NOT DEAL WITH IT.”

He’s so angry, yet he continues. It’s amazing. I see myself reflected in his stare and I know I have ruined him. 

He thinks Lotor is a great villain, but also a 100% evil bitch who should not be redeemed as it would ruin him.

He thinks they definitely did Allura dirty in having her accept Lotor so quickly, when she had previously been so cautious around Keith.

“Oh wow, Shiro’s a lot older”

He continues to hold onto his opinion that Shiro definitely was the turning point in Keith’s brain to be like “Oh shit.... Men.”

He’s excited to see more of Haggar (me too dude)

“So there was a fan theory, due to clone Shiro having the most negative interaction with Lance, and the real Shiro reaching out to him, that finding the real Shiro would be a joint Keith and Lance effort. Did you ever feel that?” “Oh yeah I did. I just forgot because the show never mentioned it again, so I forgot I even had that thought. But it totally makes sense.”

It’s been very interesting, because even though he says he really enjoyed season 6 (I did too!) there’s definitely this sense of “I’m having a good time, even though the writing has big problems”, which I find pretty relatable. He definitely praises the show for it’s visuals and fun characters, but it’s fun to see traces of frustration come through/ He’s started season 7 now, but only two episodes. I’ve outright told him that “Garfle Warfle Snick” is the episode that I hate the absolute most, so he’s paused and on the lookout as to why. 

We’ll see how he feels through season 7. I’m dying to ask him again what he thinks Lance’s role is in team Voltron at the end of it. As well as what the fuck the Keith and Axca nonsense is about. There’s also James Griffin, who seems to be very polarising, and Hunk’s focus. But I must admit, I am most interested in seeing how he feels about Adam’s death and the way it is handled (or not) in the show. He has an acceptance already when it comes to the writers not dealing with heavy consequences... but I don’t know if he’ll be able to accept this. 

Till next time! Sorry this was so big he’s just really been hauling ass.