#he was deaf for the last several years of his life and we joked that those satellite dishes could only receive celestial wavelengths

[echeveriia]

in repose/talking to god

[hisuian-history-makers]

Post-Series Finale HCs: The Owl House (Spoiler!)

(From days to weeks) Right after;

—Raine spends time between recovering and pitching ideas to rebuild the Isles, reconnecting with Eda. They find out what music range the Owl Beast spirit cannot handle to avoid making their girlfriend (later wife) go deaf. Happiest they have been in years since the breakup.

—To limited degree, witches can use magic outside their coven sigil now. The sigils cannot completely block other magic-types only just restrict it. Biles sacks are pretty fragile though.

—Several cults/religions tried to start up once people learned King was a living Titan. Eda shut them down before they could get established—the Collector has a few cults too.

—Hooty helps Lilith practice her own Harpy form. Has to catch her several times as the other half of Owl Beast is less sentient(?) than Eda’s own curse. It grows to be a Raven. He finds being in his “Porta-Hooty” mode to be more fun since he can hang out with Lily.

—Alador spends time catching up with his kids. He likes to study how various beasts and animal species are adapting to the raised left arm. (If the Abomination track wasn’t expected of his family, he would have joined the Beast track.)

—Luz does, in fact, keep a portion of her Titan form’s power. Being in direct contact with such immense power has left its mark. She has fangs and magic will spark off her fingers whenever she holds Stringbean. Her shouts are loud!

—The decision to tear down the ruins of Belos’ castle is pretty unanimous. They find several thousands of snails hidden away, remains of the Grimwalkers, and old wild magic texts.

—So much rebuilding to be done. Not just buildings but the entire infrastructure of the Boiling Isles. People outside the main cast wonder what in the realm happened for everything to crazy during the Day of Unity.

—Hunter does some soul-searching in between joint custody of the Nocedas, Clawthornes, Parks, and Darius (plus Eber). There is a lot to unpack in his life after everything that went down. He ponders what being a Grimwwalker means, processes Flapjack’s passing, and what he is going to do going forward. The poor boy is traumatized to high heaven being raised under Belos/child soldier/clone of Caleb Clawthorne.

(Yes. I headcanon that Caleb took Evelyn’s last name or they refer to him by that after finding out what his brother did.)

—Eda jokes about Hunter technically being her and Lillith’s however-many-greats-grandfather.

—Wrath has to go through a redemption arc. Seriously! He sees how much Braxas missed him and begrudgingly accepts that the coven system was wrong. It takes a few years though.

—The Collector does not go straight back to the siblings who left him alone. This idea is argued for by the main cast who want them to spend time being a kid. King begs him to stay.

(I do not know how to write pronouns for a person who has He/him and They/them).

—On a side note, everyone who was ever mean to King is now genuinely terrified of him. :)

—People wonder why the Titan’s left arm is stretched out toward the sky. Even Luz does...

Four Years Later;

—The concept of carving a palistrum egg has boomed in popularity. Stringbean inspired many people to respect Palismen as individuals.

—Cultural trade between the Boiling Isles and Earth is still tentative. Unfortunately, Andrias’ invasion made humans wary of other realms. (We know ToH and Amphibia share a universe due to easter eggs. Might as well capitalize~)

—Gus secretly eats movie DVDs. He knows that they are supposed to be watched but they taste good. He will eat some on his lunch breaks.

—A president/representative has been put in charge of the Boiling Isles. Democracy is still new so there are a few kinks to work out. Each town has a few spokespeople for them to really give everyone a voice in how things are run.

—Luz, Amity, Willow, Gus, Hunter, Eda, King, Lillith, Raine, and the others are still the main celebrities on the island. Their popularity has finally died down from fan-worship levels much to their relief (Raine, Hunter, & King mainly).

—King keeps discovering glyph types outside his parent/father’s elemental ones. The combo testing can get a little crazy since this is his new magic language! He is really excited to learn it.

—Funnily enough, future students of Eda’s have visited using the time pools. They never say anything too revealing about the future but the subtle picture they paint is chaotic.

—The Basilisks help the Unversity of Wild Magic keep from burning down/freezing/exploding/imploding/getting damaged by wild studies.

—Willow acts as a motivational speaker for young witches and demons in the Flyer Derby off-season. The still-new freedom of magic can be overwhelming in sheer choices to the kids.

—Camila can only handle a certain amount of the Boiling Isles’ otherness. She loves that her first kid found such an accepting second home, really she does! But it is still a lot to take in...

—The Collector took care of the Titantrappers years ago. Only the youngest members are more open to interacting with King.

—Eda still finds it ironic she became a teacher.

—Amity spends her days exploring the world, though she is always a call away from Luz and her friends. She did not expect to fall in love with exploring different Titan-civilizations.

—Viney has interned under Camila to learn about Earth animals. The difference in biology between the two realms plays a part in how she judges treating pets at her mythical pet clinic. Some species react adversely to magic being used on them which she learns cause of it.

—Hunter gives each past Golden Guard a name based on what little he could find about their personalities. He still sees their ghosts but in a “guardian angel” way. Is for sure dating Willow.

...It. It took a while for him to carve Waffles.

[reservoirreputation]

'Birds in the Spider's Nest' extras part 2

Below is draft one, containing two chapters, and some notes on changes to draft two. Current author's notes are in []

spoilers below

Draft One

Chapter One

1992

The doors to the warehouse burst open, two men wearing suits spilling through. Entrance shut, the hot LA sun banished to the other side, and they wait for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. It helps to take off their shades, of course, which is exactly what Blonde and White do. Sweaty, wired with adrenaline, the two of them break out into smiles. The heist went off without a hitch. The whole crew, soon to reach the meetup, along with their loot, are all but rich beyond their wildest dreams. 

White’s feeling particularly excited, and slaps Blonde’s arm, bringing the tall bastard in for a hug, “We fucking did it!” he laughs, pulling away, “We’re set for fucking life, man.”

Blonde doesn’t make a move, just keeps smiling. It’s a bit unusual for him, personally. He’s just a stoic kind of guy. But, hey, who wouldn’t grin from nabbing hundreds of thousands in dollars in diamonds? He imagines himself and Eddie, taking the money and just going. Somewhere, anywhere. Didn’t matter, as long as it was the two of them.

More people join, first Mr. Pink, with the loot in hand, then Brown, who fled the scene with Mr. Blue, and then Joe and Eddie Cabot, their bosses. Joe, the patriarch, is beaming, “Great work boys.” he jabs a thumb behind him, “Let’s blow this joint.”

Any good job needs a good hideout. In this case, Northern California’s the place. The drive, in two separate cars, takes several hours. By the end of the day, they’re surrounded by woods and nature, truly as far away from any major city as they can get. It’s getting dark, so they crash at a cheap motel for the night. Blonde and White, though they don’t say it out loud, let alone to one another, think about how it’s been nearly twenty years since they were last up here. It sours their respective moods just a little, but neither show it around the other guys.

The whole group has since changed into more casual clothing, better fitting the colder climate. They head to a local diner for breakfast, not unlike their activities twenty-four hours before. It’s all joking and smiles, talking about anything other than the robbery, but they seem alone in their jovial mood. The rest of the patrons, some half dozen of them, hold an air of tension about them. After the first fifteen minutes or so, Eddie’s slapping arms and kicking feet under tables, telling in all but words for the rest of these chucklefucks to read the room.

“Wonder if someone died.” is Brown’s tone deaf response. 

“The guys I sent out here a month back didn’t mention anything.” Joe says, “Must’ve been more recent than that.”

“Well, let’s ask the waitress when she comes back over.” suggests Pink.

“Don’t be tasteless. She’s just here to do her job,” Blue begins, “not serve as tour guide.”

“If she wants a tip, she’ll tell me whatever I need.” he gives a humorless smirk, and does just that.

“Oh- this?” the older woman, maybe mid-fifties, gestures to the rest of the diner with her pen, “Yeah, it can be a bit of a dramatic bunch, here.”

“What happened?” Pink asks, more than a little impatient.

“Just some ghost stories going about. The more gruesome, the better.” she shakes her head, “You know how small towns are.”

Pink nods his head in agreement, tipping the lady one whole dollar at the end of their meal for her troubles.

Back on the road and thirty minutes later, they stop at a gas station for a top off and some supplies; namely that of beer and smokes. Brown gets the gas, and White heads inside. There’s not many options, but enough in supply to last them about a week. He’s got a couple of cases in hand and a basketful of snacks as he heads up to the counter. There’s one person ahead of him, waiting for assistance.

White can’t help but the stare; the guy in front of him is pretty cute, at least from behind. Almost like he can feel White staring, the man looks ever so slightly over his shoulder, blond hair falling just a bit into his face, and White would swear he’s smirking.

“You’ve got more than me.” The stranger steps back, pack of cigs in hand, “Why don’t you go first?”

White blushes, feeling like he’s been caught, “You don’t have to.”

“I insist.” There’s just the hint of teeth in his smile, and White gets a real good look at the guy in just a few seconds; Big green eyes, with that puppy dog quality, an even bigger nose, and the kind of rounded face that guarantees he’s gonna get carded for that pack. There’s something else, specifically about the eyes that gets White’s attention. He gives in before he can think about it more.

Now at the counter, White’s on the receiving end of stares, “Great ass for a grandpa.” Jesus, was all of California this forward? He thought that stuffed was relegated to LA. Serves him right for looking.

“I’m not that old.” he sets the beers on the small counter, basket in hand, not even dignifying the comment by turning to face the guy.

“So, just daddy?”

That shouldn’t be as funny as it is. White fights a grin, “You sound desperate.”

“You started it.”

“Did I?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me otherwise.”

The attitude on this guy. Well, he’s acting more like a cocky kid, and White can’t help but think of him that way. He turns around, and the kid’s wearing an admittedly great poker face. Actually has some air of authority to him. Where the fuck did he learn that? Worst of all, White can’t even get a word out without grinning.

“Thought so.”

“Shut up.” he laughs.

“Tracy’s still on her smoke break,” the kid observes, “you probably have enough time to give me your number.”

“I can’t do that.” and White actually regrets having to say it.

“Alright. Where you headed?”

“Why would I tell you?”

The kid nods to the van White and company came in, “You telling me you and your buddies are scared of one fag?”

“Of course not.”

“I’ll make it fair; I’m going up to my family’s cabin. Gotta check out reports of squatters. Wouldn’t care normally, if they weren’t making such a racket.”

The more they talk, the more White feels like he’s met this stranger before. Not physically, but in demeanor. He just can’t quite think of the name. Until he does.

“My friends and I are meeting up with Matthew.” like he’s a local, “Staying at his cabin for the week. He’s real generous like that.” Most of that was a lie; Matthew was dead.

The kid’s face becomes unreadable, “Matthew, huh? Got a last name?” before White can decline the information, he continues, “Matthew Reynolds?”

Shit, “Uh, no, don’t know-”

“Cabin number nine?”

Oh. Fuck. “I mean-”

“You know he’s dead.”

White does know that. Tries not to think about it. And that’s been especially difficult over the past forty-eight hours, “… I know.”

“What you don’t know is that number nine is my cabin.” he looks White in the face, studying him. A small smile, “Have I finally met the squatters?”

No way to un-ring this bell, “We only just got up here, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” for once, the truth.

“You know it’s probably a mess up there?”

What’s that have to do with anything? “Which would only be a problem if we were going to number nine. And we’re not.”

“Gonna go throw a rager of a party?” he gestures to the copious amount of beer on the counter.

“… No?”

“Because I’m looking to sell the place, but gotta tidy up first. How about I let you and your buddies hang out, I get to tag along, we get to screw each other’s brains out, and you all help me clean up at the end of the week?”

The cashier returns, and White doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, “I need to talk it over with my friends.”

The cheeky fucker practically takes it as a ‘yes’. “You do that.” as Tracy begins to ring White up.

Because he’s already deep in it, and because he’s infinitely curious, “You bought the place from the Reynolds?”

A flash of sadness in those green eyes, “Inherited it from my parents, same way they got it from my Uncle Matt.”

Oh. That changes everything.

They owe this kid.

As the older man leaves, Freddy turns his attention to Tracy, “Long break.” he says playfully.

“Had to get something from my car.” She pulls a crumpled paper bag out of her jacket, “My boyfriend’s aunt made me promise to give it to you.” Tracy holds it out.

Amused, Freddy takes it, looking inside, “Table salt and a bundle of sage?”

“For the ghosts.” she tries to smile it off.

“There’s no such thing.” he tries handling the bag back. Tracy doesn’t reach for it.

“Burn some sage when you get to your cabin. Pour some salt at every window, every doorway.” like she’s reading from her aunt’s recipe book, “Make a circle and stay in it for protection. Make a circle around an entity to contain.”

Creeped out, “When did the locals get so superstitious?”

“Spend more than a few summers here and find out.”

He smirks, “Now I get it. Always an outsider unless you’re born here. You don’t have to pull my leg.”

“It’s not cabin that’s haunted.” [WTF is this sentence??]

“It’s squatters.”

Tracy rings up his cigarettes, “Stay safe, Officer.”

“Retired. Have a good day.” Freddy tries being pleasant about it, but his stomach’s in knots. His mind’s been on his uncle a lot, and it’s the kind of thing he’d say.

Uncle Matt and his sister, Freddy’s Mom, were different in many ways, their opinions on the afterlife just one of many, and not even the most controversial. So very often Freddy wanted to side with the former, but the idea of wandering spirits, restless after death, just makes him uncomfortable. These troubled thoughts leave him as he watches the handsome stranger talk with his companions, Freddy’s mouth upturned in a smirk.

“What the fuck are you on about, junior?” Joe demands, “How the hell does he know where we’re going?”

“It’s Matty’s nephew!”

“Who the fuck is ‘Matty’?” Pink asks from the backseat.

“The guy whose cabin we’re hidin’ out at.” Eddie says, “Old employee of Daddy’s disappeared years ago.”

White shouldn’t be surprised, but still gives Joe and incredulous look, “We owe it to the guy to not kill his family.”

“Right, the nephew of a guy that used to work for me just happened to be in town.” Joe shakes his head, “Go with him in his car, make sure he meets us at the, and we’ll whack him there.”

“Joe-”

“He’s making it up!”

“Just, listen to me!” White composes himself, “Take one look at his eyes, and tell me it’s not Matty’s kin. If you don’t believe me, I’ll take care of him, myself.”

“What exactly would you mean by ‘take care of’?” because Joe’s not stupid and White’s not that slick, “Seems to me you’re eyes have been wandering again, buying us more trouble than we need.”

“Come on man, just take one look at him.” White waves the guy over, baggies in hand. For the first time, White sees the kid walk, and there’s a distinct limp to it. 

“Christ they even got the same shitty fashion sense.” Blonde mumbles, causing Eddie to turn to look at him.

“You’ve met this ‘Matty’?”

“Ages ago, before I even met you.”

The kid leans in just enough to be heard through the open window, “You the guys that are gonna wreck my place?”

Joe sighs, ‘fuck, that’s his fucking nephew, all right’, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Want me to go ahead so you fellas don’t get lost?”

Blue chokes back a laugh, covering it with a cough, ‘boy’s got a death wish’.

Back on the road, Joe comes to a few conclusions; one, it’d be tacky to kill Matty’s kid, after all is said and done. Two, the kid obviously had no fucking clue who any of them were, or what his Uncle did for a living, else he wouldn’t be so cavalier. Three, Larry made the right call in bringing him along. As far as Joe’s concerned, this nephew is going to be the most welcome hostage in history, to the point where he won’t even know he’s there against his will. By the end of the week, they’ll just leave the little bastard in the dead of night, and get several hours on him before he comes to.

White’s sweating as the kid calmly leads the caravan of two. The air between them, at least on his end, is awkward as fuck. Every idea to break the ice just screams ‘terrible’, and White doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“So, what’s your name?” a brief glance over, and it shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.

“We’re not supposed to say.” He tries being light about it, like it’s no big deal.

“A masquerade minus the masks?” he smiles, and shit, he’s so hot.

“You could say that.”

“Got a pseudonym? Something better than just ‘Daddy’?”

White laughs, “Oh god, you weren’t serious about that?”

“Depends on how you like it.”

He shakes his head, “My boss’ son calls him that, so I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, that’s cute. He like, five or somethin’?”

“He’s the redhead in the car behind us.”

The kid bursts out laughing, “The one in the tracksuit?!”

He can’t help it, joining in, “And the bald guy in the front seat’s his ‘Daddy’.” the combination of words feels weirdly cursed, and would earn him a hard smack from either Cabot if they heard him.

“The fucker that looks like the Thing?!”

He tries covering his mouth, holding back the laugh that threatens to come out. Failing miserably, White wipes tears from his eyes, “You mean the rock monster from the Fantastic Four?”

“You see it, right?”

White’s stomach hurts, afraid he’s about to pull a muscle, “Jesus christ, I can’t unsee it.” God, when’s the last time he laughed like this? ‘Too fucking long’.

“So we got tracksuit, we got the Thing, what are you called, stranger?”

Oh, fuck it, “Mr. White.”

He nods, “No first names?”

“Nope. And I wouldn’t call those two ‘tracksuit’ and ‘Thing’ if I wear you.”

“And the others?”

He shouldn’t feel this uneasy, the codenames are there for a reason, and what else was the kid gonna call them? “The really old guy’s Mr. Blue. Tall and silent is Mr. Blonde. The weaselly looking guy with the bug eyes is Mr. Pink. The nerd with the soul patch is Mr. Brown.”

“Oh god, is this party ‘Clue’ themed?”

Another laugh, “Shit, hadn’t thought of that.”

“At least their names are a lot more interesting and varied, what with ‘Plum’ and ‘Mustard’. We doing some murder mystery game?” He seems really into the idea, “Can I join in?”

White actually regrets having to say, “No, there’s no game, and even if there were, you probably wouldn’t be invited.”

His mouth twists at that, “Okay, but I get a name, right?”

“Why the fuck not? Pick your favorite color.”

He frowns, “Blue’s already taken.”

“Second favorite.”

The kid glances at the charm hanging from his rearview mirror, it being a leather cord with orange glass beads. “Orange. How’s that sound?”

‘I’d rather know your real name’ White pushes the thought down, “Great. Where’d you get this?” he gently holds the beads, cool to the touch.

“From my Uncle.” is the subdued response, “Guess this whole weekend’s just gonna be a tribute to him, huh?”

Guilt twists in Larry’s gut. White smiles it away, “Can think of worse ways to spend the time.”

“You knew him, right? You didn’t just pull a name out of your ass and decide to crash at his place.”

“Yeah, I knew him. Not terribly well, but we worked together a bit.” Shit, was that too much?

“That could mean anything.” he smiles, “My Uncle never held a steady job in his life.”

“That’s freelancing for ya.”

The kid- Orange- is so happy to hear that. Like he barely got to know his family member. And really, that could be the case; Larry was last up here in, what, 1974? Thought he’d never forget, but the years have a funny way of sneaking up on you. Eighteen years, and Orange couldn’t be thirty, yet. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The cabin looks worse than what both Orange and White were anticipating. Aside from the dirt and grime coating the wooden roof and walls, the vegetation surrounding it overgrown, several species of vine climbing into crack in the interior and through broken windows, the fucking door was gone. Just, ripped off its hinges. A quick survey shows it lying some twenty feet away, partially hidden by some bushes. As both cars stop, and everyone begins to file out, White watches the other’s face, heart hurting is sympathy; the kid looks shocked, eyes more than a little moist. He shakes it off, and steps out, White following close behind.

Everyone helping with bags of supplies, the group starts to file in, careful not to step on shards of glass that litter the hardwood floor. It’s not rained up here in a minute, so there’s no sign of water damage, making it all the more clear ‘door incident’ happened fairly recently. There’s a somewhat large room in this small cabin, and after some examination, it’s clearly meant to be both the living room and the kitchen. Every surface is dirty; if it’s not dusty, it’s moldy, if it’s not moldy, it’s covered in literal dirt. The furniture is musty, the fire place long cold, and no one can find any kitchen utensils to speak of. “Guess someone took them.” is Orange’s toneless observation.

“Fuck’s sake, my boys didn’t tell me the place looked like this.” Joe turns in place, taking it all in, “I swear, it’s only been a month.”

Orange just slowly wanders down the short hall, to what one would assume to be the bedrooms.

“Hey!” Eddie tries calling, but is ignored, “He can’t- we can’t just let him go off-”

“It’s his place, junior, let him be.” White says, just a little bitter.

“What are we gonna call him?” Brown wonders, “Can’t exactly ask for his real name, and not expect him to ask the same thing back.”

“He’s not a fucking dog.” Pink rolls his eyes.

“We-” oh no, “-ah, already settled that.” White pretends to look around the decrepit room in order to hide his deepening blush, “Told him we were having a party with codenames. He’s Orange.”

Eddie stares at him like he’s crazy. Blue says what the others are surely all thinking, “He’s not one of us.”

“He’s our host that’s pretty fucking chill about us crashing here. Consider him a temp.” White looks back at Joe for his approval. 

The boss’ face is unreadable, and then, “It’s a good idea, Mr. Brown. Can’t ask something of a man you wouldn’t answer yourself.”

Brown looks over the moon at the praise, and Pink frowns.

“So good, we should follow suit.” he turns to his son, “You’ll be Red, I’ll be Black.”

It’s the final straw, “Seriously?!” Pink whines.

“I’m in charge, I get pick of the best names.”

Orange sits at the edge of the bed, dust being sent up  into the air. He waves it away from his face, then looks down at the shelf in front of him. It’s short, would come up to just his knee if he stood, and is filled sci-fi novels, both the short ones you devour in a weekend and the long ones that can feel like epics. Orange remembers some of his earliest memories of this place; his parents taking him up here the summer before starting pre-k, bringing a mish-mash of items meant to keep his attention. How, even at four years old, he gravitated towards the covers of robots and spaceships, just to look at them. The way his brain filled in what the adventures may be taking place before he could even properly read. To say these pictures of tech-heavy skylines, desolate alien worlds, otherworldly women and (later on really hot) muscular men started his love for the genre, and led to his love of comics, specifically of science experiments gone wrong, ordinary people becoming something more, it was all connected. It all started here.

A twinge of pain as Orange stands back up. He has a low-level amount of pain, these days, usually it can be ignored. The drive up here definitely aggravated things, though. Pills or pot, which would he choose this time? He hopes that a bit of the devil’s lettuce isn’t a hard line for these guys, all things considered. A smile as he thinks of it as yet another habit of his Uncle’s that he picked up.

Getting a cigarette instead, Orange lights up, turns to see Mr. White in the doorway. “You okay?” he is asked.

“Yeah, I just-” shit, why’s his throat so tight? “Usually when I check up on the place, I don’t get any further than the main room. Make sure the place is still standing and then fuck off.” pack and lighter now safely back in his pockets, “Don’t know why y’all wanna stay here, there sure as shit ain’t enough room for ya.” a forced smile, startling after all the others for this stranger came so easily. When White doesn’t answer, Orange feels the need to get into ‘host’ mode; “There’s two bedrooms. This one was my Uncle’s, and for two weeks out of the summer, it was my parents’. Room next door was mine. If Uncle Matt was visiting at the same time, he’d take the couch.” A few puffs, “He was a good host like that. Guess I should do the same.”

White shrugs, “The youngsters can crash in the car. Although, it is looking like the better option at this point.” and Orange shares in his smile.

“God, I’m sorry.” Orange stubs out the butt in a very dusty ashtray, “I feel like I’ve been nothing but a downer since we pulled up.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, I was approaching this-” points between the two of them, “-as a chance to fuck around, have fun. Instead, I just feel fucking depressed.” he sits back down on the edge of the mattress, “Feel like I’ve promised you something I can’t deliver.”

White takes the spot just to Orange’s right, “No problem, at all. Really, I’m just flattered you were interested to the first place.”

“I still am, I just-” he sighs, “I knew coming up here would be tough, especially alone, and I guess I thought a gaggle of guys would make it easier.” That makes White laugh, and Orange feels so damn accomplished, “Guess I was wrong.”

“You never know, it could get better.”

Orange is a bit surprised at how much he needed to hear that, “Yeah, it could.”

Rejoining the rest of the party, Orange sees the guys have already begun tidying up; he knows it’s for their own comfort, but can’t help seeing it as being supportive. ‘You’re not that important to them. They don’t know you.’ he frowns at the thought. He’d be a fool to think otherwise, but usually he was kinder to himself than this. Shaking it off, Orange grabs a pillow from the couch, takes it outside and starts beating the dust off of it. The one called Mr. Brown is also out front with his own cushion.

Looking over, “Orange, right?” seems friendly enough.

He nods, “Mr. Brown?”

More than a little bitter, “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Shit.” he grumbles.

Biting back a laugh, because the guy really seems to care about it, “What are y’all allowed to share? Can you tell me what you do?”

“Freelancing.”

“Ah.” as if this is the only answer Orange will ever need. “So, are y’all like nomads or somethin’? Part of a homeless caravan?”

“Do I look homeless to you?” 

A bit unexpected, “You look well off and that you have the protection of a group. And that you were wanting to break and enter private property.” 

Brown’s face softens at this, “Well, when you put it like that, I guess that does look like what we’re up to, huh?”

“Really, I don’t care if you just want a place to crash.” Orange starts on the other side of the pillow, “Just curious about where you’ve all been.”

“Well, we’re not homeless, and we’re not nomads.”

“That all you can say?”

“Look, I know that with you’re Uncle, you’re kinda one of us, but we really can’t talk about it.”

That’s not at all what Orange wanted to do, “I’m not-” and the other’s already off, back inside, “-one of you.”

1974

Vic Vega is led into a nice office, where two men already sit. Spotting him being escorted by the henchman, they both stand. The man behind the desk is the infamous Joe Cabot, and, if Vic plays his cards right, his future boss. The guy is tall, imposing, reminds him a bit of a bulldog. The guy in front of the desk, next to the empty chair meant for Vic, seems to be the complete opposite; he’s quite short, but stocky. Much younger than the big guy, and actually looks quite kind. Vic notes to watch his back around this one; kindness was always an ominous sign, as far as he’s concerned.

Joe gestures for him to sit, then gives his attempt at a smile, “Mr. Vega. You come highly recommended. Your brother has nothing but good things to say.”

“A miracle, really.” is his dry reply, because Vic and his brother rarely get along.

“Maybe he thinks you’re qualified, maybe he just wants you to get some work and fail miserably. Either way,” he looks up and down at Vic’s imposing height, “You’ve got potential. You interested in interning?”

It’s the most exciting thing to happen to Vic in years, “Sure.”

“This here’s Larry Dimmick.” The man to Vic’s left gives a polite nod, a slight smile, like he knows he’s gotta handle him with kid gloves, “He’ll be your mentor.”

The first week of on-the-job training is interesting, to say the least. The first day was nothing but talking and driving, meeting some people in very public places, making small talk while Vic waited in the car with the windows rolled down. The next two days involved even more driving, but with Dimmick going into various buildings; houses, apartments, small businesses. Again, Vic not allowed anywhere near the conversations. Day four of being on his best behavior, Dimmick looks over and says, “If you can keep your mouth shut you can tag along for the next meeting.”

Vic doesn’t respond with anything more than a nod.

‘Meeting’ turned out to be a shake down, with some associate being behind on payments. Three months worth. Vic could feel dread build in the pit of his stomach, but still wears his best poker face. He’s been pretending he doesn’t give a fuck about any awful thing since he was ten, this would be no different. So, when Dimmick and another heavy grab the bastard’s arm, smacking his hand on a flat surface, he’s expecting to see broken fingers. When Dimmick gets out a knife, instead, Vic can’t help but look away.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone will haunt him just as much as the man’s screams.

As the weeks wear on, Vic’s exposed to more of the inner workings of the business. He meets various employees, most of whom are very out of the loop about Joe’s activities. It’s a silent lesson; the people around you only know as much as you allow them to. The debt collectors don’t need to know the same things as the accountants, despite how connected the two are. The wholesalers don’t need to know everything about the dealers, and they’re meeting one such of the latter, right now.

Larry’s a protective sort, despite being much shorter than Vic. Every new face Vic comes across, Larry insists on leading, physically keeping Vic behind him. So, when they meet a pot dealer named Matty, also a short fuck, Vic just feels like ac overgrown freak.

Larry doesn’t quite like Matty. That much is obvious. Later on, Larry will say to him that not many people do, because Matty’s a bit of a screwup. The initial meeting, though, the guy seems quite nice.

The dope dealer is about Larry’s age, maybe younger. He has light brown hair, a thin face. Skin is freckled and pale, and eyes a striking green. He wears jeans ripped at the knees, a loose t-shirt and an even bigger plaid button-up over this, like the guy’s permanently wearing someone else’s clothes. He stinks a bit of pot, but of the good stuff. His expression is tired, like he doesn’t get enough sleep. Like he doesn’t get enough of anything. Where Larry comes across as being in control, Matty seems like he’s just along for the ride. Vic can’t help but see part of himself in the dealer, the kind of instant connection when you see someone who’s the same kind of fucked up as yourself.

Chapter Two

1992

The first night is ended with a supper of gas station snacks and a lot of booze. The talk is pretty minimum, tight-lipped. Orange feels less and less welcome, despite the loving glances from White. He just… doesn’t want to be here. There’s something about the place that feels oppressive, forbidding. How can the place where his happiest childhood memories were made now feel so awful? Orange thought he’d be a lot more conflicted about selling the place, and now he can’t get ahold of the papers fast enough.

The group as a whole is also disappointing; Orange was hoping they would throw a rager of a party, fuck shit up, making chucking everything that much easier. It’s hard to feel bad about throwing out broken things, after all. Now? The group might as well be sitting on their thumbs. Plus, there’s no TV to watch, as the set was busted years ago, none of them brought books (Orange selfishly wants to keep his Uncle’s all to himself, afraid one of these guys will pinch one), no one even brought a deck of cards. It reminds him, “Anyone wanna play a board game? Scrabble, Monopoly, something like that?”

Brown seems interested, Pink just rolls his eyes, “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” says the former.

“Great!” Orange replies, a little too eager, himself, “Just need to see what we’ve got.” He gets up from the couch, heading towards the kitchen.

“You keep your games in the kitchen?” Blue says, just to give the kid shit. He doesn’t see Black or Blonde glance over to one anther, watching Orange carefully.

“No, in the basement.” Orange answers, opening a door and stepping through.

“This place has a basement?” White asks out loud, not really expecting a reply.

“As if the shit hole couldn’t get creepier.” mutters Pink, “Watch it, he’ll come back up with a fucking ouija board or somethin’.”

“Oh, I can’t handle that.” Brown shakes his head, “Think I’d have to ditch y’all and take the car the fuck out of here, at that.”

“You’d ditch your cut?”

“Nothing’s worth sticking around after fucking with a demon.”

“There’s no such thing.” says White, like Brown’s just a child bullshitting at the playground.

“Easy for you to say if you don’t believe in hell.”

White just shrugs at that, “It certainly helps.”

“But, what about that talk of ghosts?” Brown says, “The waitress said the town’s spooked.”

“She’s probably just fucking with us.” Blue yawns, ready to sleep then and there, “Was hoping for a better tip.”

“Shut up.” Pink retorts, getting up to stoke the fire.

“Okay, so the alternative is that it’s animals.” Brown adds, “Worse yet, people.”

“Anyone skulking around out there should be afraid of us,” Eddie says, “Not the other way around.”

“What if it’s a serial killer? Or a murder cult?”

“Geeze, will you give it a rest?” Pink whines, “’Bout to throw myself in this fire.”

“You’re the one that brought up ouija boards.”

“So I should go fuck myself?”

“Shut the fuck up, the both of you.” Joe glares, “Quit working yourselves up, or go fuck in the car, I don’t care. Just shut up about it.”

The kitchen door gently closes behind him, as Orange fumbles for the light switch. Finding it, his path is illuminated; the stairs have about twenty steps, leading down into the basement. at the foot of it, he turns, facing the room proper. It feels wrong, like he’s seeing the space with fresh eyes. This must be what they mean, in that everything’s bigger when you’re a kid. Back then, the room felt huge, with tall shelves he couldn’t begin to see the tops of. Now, he saw the tops easily, barely an inch from the ceiling. God, even the floor looked different. It’s like Orange doesn’t recognize the place, anymore.

Going over to a dusty, plastic bin marked ‘games’, he opens it, the smell of old cardboard wafting out. He grabs a box, and nearly jumps when he hears a whisper.

“Hello?” Orange whips around, thinking he’ll see one of the guys at the top of the stairs, “Did one of you say something?”

Silence.

Cold sweat dripping down his back, Orange grabs the game, and does everything in his power to not sprint up the stairs. At the top, throwing the door open, he hears the tail-end of a conversation.

“We’re not-” Brown starts.

“It’s not like-” Pink says at the same time.

“Found something!” Orange catches his breath. Realizes he never properly looked at his pick, “Er- Trivial Pursuit? Yeah.” A totally not nervous laugh, “Sorry, couldn’t find Clue down there.” he looks at White, who gets the joke, and just tries to focus on him, like the older man is a lifeline.

“Great, didn’t think it could be worse.” Pink quips, and Orange is completely lost.

To the surprise of most, Black elects to sleep out in the car, and maybe White was right about that being the better option. Blue seconds it, being able to sleep anywhere, really, and Pink attempts to be polite, asking Orange if he can sleep in his car. Unlocking the doors, but keeping the keys, Orange does, and just hopes the guy doesn’t know how to hotwire stuff, or at least chooses not to.

Red and Blonde claim the main bedroom, and Orange shouldn’t be that surprised; the two are obviously together, even if the big guy’s weirdly quiet. Orange is about to say he’ll take the couch, when Brown’s already there, blanket and all, fast asleep. It doesn’t feel right, like Orange really got a certain notion in his head that the only way he can be a good host is by doing what his Uncle would do. And, again, when things get confusing, there’s White as a lovely distraction.

The two of them end up crashing in the guest bedroom, what was usually reserved for Orange. Thankfully, the mattress a full,

 

(White and Orange talk, Orange shares memories about Uncle Matt, and White feels guilty. Tell Orange his version of the truth. The realization that Orange knows about the robbery down in LA, and how he detests the LAPD specifically, come up. That there’s a few good ones, but they’re kept in the dark about the important stuff. White asks if Orange is ‘one of them’, the latter saying no. When trying to press further, they hear a scream. Rush out of the living room and see Brown sitting up, looking terrified. He stares back at them, including Red and Blonde, and says, “That wasn’t you?” pointing to Orange)

Draft Two, because draft one is both too similar to NMO and is lacking a certain pizzazz:

Keep the first few paragraphs the same. Have Larry and Freddy have their meet-cute. Larry gives the name ‘White’ and that’s it, both assuming they won’t see each other again, both regretting not jumping at the chance.

The robbers get to the cabin, and Freddy hangs out in town an extra day, because he’s further putting off the checking up of the cabin. Thus, we get the guys in a much looser, more natural environment, where they get to freely share their names/talk about their plans with their cuts. Cutesy shit ensues. Eddie and Vic, established couple, claim the master bedroom. Brown and Pink (Dennis and Mark?) cautiously claim the spare, being real hot for each other, but not wanting the others to necessarily see. Blue and Joe crash in the car, because Joe doesn’t wanna hear his son fucking, and Blue is over it, too. There’s not really room left for Larry, and Joe snores, and he can at least get a room between himself and the horndogs. This is where he starts to think of the missed opportunity of the cute twink at the gas station.  

Mid morning the following day, and the group gets quite the surprise; a car pulling up out front. See, the robbers hid their car out back, and even went so far as to cover it with dead branches (maybe not), so Freddy doesn’t see that anyone’s ‘home’. He’s spotted, and there’s a couple of the guys waiting behind the door, gun in Freddy’s face before he can even blink.

They can’t get a word out before Freddy confusedly says, “Mr. White?” and a short version of the gas station is recalled, “What are you doing in my place?” “Your place? This thing’s abandoned.” “I might not have been here for a while, but it’s my cabin.” “Say I believe you (could be Eddie or Joe talking) why show up here, now?” “Because I’d been getting calls about disturbances at my place. Finally got the time to come up here and deal with it.” Brown voices, “You mean what the locals say are ghosts?” “Yeah, but I guess it was just you guys, right? Look, I don’t care if you’re squatters, we all gotta make it however we can, but maybe don’t wreck the place?” “You assume I believe any of that shit.”

[how my fics tend to go is that I have an outline, but will wing the details, some of the more interesting stuff I've come across being the result of improv. And, sometimes it just doesn't fit, or things progress too quickly/slowly. In this case, it was too quickly, and we didn't get a chance to get to know the characters before they clammed up, again.]

[Freddy noting how different the basement feels is a hint about how the room got renovated and rearranged for 'reasons']

[thewomanwhowatchedchristmas]

I Hate Christmas (2022)

My first impression is that it’s just the Italian version of the Norwegian series “Home for Christmas” that I’ve previously reviewed. The first episode even has the same title. Either way, I’ll still watch it. I’m gonna be lazy and not color code any names though because it’s hard to include everyone all the time without spoiling things.

1:1 The Big Christmas Lie

Gianna (Pilar Fogliati) is a nurse who has been single for 3 years and, at 30, her family is starting to get worried about her not having a family. Ridiculous, but also so relatable. She lies and tells her family she has a boyfriend and she’ll bring him to Christmas. So now she’s working overtime to find a boyfriend.

1:2 Bicycles

We follow Gianna on several bad dates that don’t work out because mostly these guys suck, but also Gianna does not pull any punches. Which good for her. The music keeps tripping me up a little because it’s American, but it’s also not Christmas music, it’s more like dance club songs but over a landscape of Venice. I know American music is popular around the world, but I don’t really expect EDM as a transition song, ya know? Anyway, so Gianna gives up on meeting guys on the street and tries Tinder (shout out- that’s how my husband and I met!) and goes out with a high school aged dude named Davide (Nicolas Maupas) who, based on the montage that occurred, fucks really well. Might go look up the age of consent in Italy real quick.

1:3 I’m Special

Gianna goes on a date with a local politician (who acts like he hates being famous when he’s not even famous) and runs into her parents and finds out that the politician used to date her mom back in college. Gross. Clearly he has a type. So she ditches him with her parents and goes to the high schooler again. There are some jokes at the top of the episode about making sure he’s legal, so that’s either less or more gross, I can’t decide.

1:4 Perspectives

Gianna fucks things up with the high school boy by making a joke that makes him think she’s trying to get serious. I hate this plot line. It grosses me out so much. Anyway. After pedophilia didn’t work out, Titti (Beatrice Arnera) (her roommate) convinces her to dress nice (slutty) and go to the nurse Christmas party and drink. At the party, she runs into some familiar faces who promptly overstay their welcome in her life. But Umberto (Glen Blackhall) (a doctor from the hospital she works at) is still into her and she still hasn’t realized that. If by the end of this episode, you don’t kinda hate her mother, congratulations for your healthy relationship with your family because that’s the only way her mother could seem like a joke.

1:5 The Party’s Over

So I watched the last two episodes back to back, there might be some bleeding between the two. I’ll do my best. So Gianna had an eventful evening. She baked a cake for Davide only to discover him (with the cake in her hands) swapping spit with a girl his own age. Woof. So then she meets up with her besties (minus Titti who is with a man🍆) Margherita (Fiorenza Pieri), her older sister, and Caterina (Cecilia Bertozzi), the chick who owns the cafe they are drinking in. They get drunk with the guy who works for Caterina (who she has a thing for) named Thomas (Marcos Piacentini). Gianna is super drunk, so Margherita and Thomas walk her home. Gianna also makes an interesting discovery.

1:6 Like a Nativity Scene

This episode does end on a cliff hanger, but season 2 is out in a couple weeks. This episode ends up being a really great family love and acceptance of each other style. Umberto finally shoots his shot, but gets called into the ER before Gianna can respond. Gianna gets really upset she got kicked out (her patient coming off of a lot of drugs had complications) and gets cheered up by Diego (Alan Cappelli Goetz), the deaf custodian, who has secretly been pining after Caterina this whole time. But who comes to dinner at the parents’ house?

I’m gonna take a minute here to compare this to the Norwegian version because I have to get it out somewhere, but then I’ll talk about the season on it’s own. I think the main character in this version is more likable because of her zany fourth wall breaks, but I also think there was tonal change. In Home for Christmas, Johanne felt truly alone when she was lonely. In I Hate Christmas, it felt more like Gianna felt like she was missing out, but her family and friends were all still very close. And that might be to make it more similar to Italian culture, I’m not sure. But I know when shifting something from British to American, the asshole character is often shifted to the idiot character because we Americans don’t think assholes are funny. We do think idiots are funny. I also think this version, I Hate Christmas, did a better job of representing certain audiences that may not get as much screen time, like the suitor who used a wheelchair, Carlo (Marco Rossetti), and Diego being deaf was much better subplot than the clown dude from Home for Christmas that just didn’t speak Norwegian. I think I still related to Home for Christmas more because I’m quiet like Johanne and also I’m way more used to snow than boating and biking everywhere. Although that was really cool to watch.

Okay, now just talking about this season of I Hate Christmas. Christmas felt very commercial in this show. Like, idk why the nativity scene sounded like a show of wealth, but it did. This also felt like Gianna was maturing a lot. Imagine being 30 when you realize other people have problems you might not know about. I also think it’s interesting to have Gianna not stick things out with the rich suitor. Yes, he was intense and pushy, but he was also sweet and thoughtful. I also liked him better than the doctor, but I don’t relate to Gianna much anyway. I also enjoyed the bit about private vs public healthcare in Italy, which isn’t exactly the same as the US because our health system is weird, but a lot of people in the US do have to travel to bigger cities to get better quality care. Like where I live is very medium-small sized city that doesn’t have any major attractions for tourism or shopping or family activities, so it’s hard to attract good medical professionals because there’s not much for them to do besides work, so a lot of people travel 2-3 hours for better medical care. Sometimes they have to for specialized care, but also sometimes they choose to because they’ve had medical procedures botched by local doctors.

I’ve gotten off topic. Anyway, this show isn’t bad even though I feel like I’ve been kinda hard on it. It was weird that the song “edamame” by bbno$ was in every single episode though. I’ll still watch season 2 when it comes out because I want to compare it to Home for Christmas season 2. But maybe I Hate Christmas will last more than 2 seasons! Overall, 3 stars.

[decennia]

I don't know who needs to fucking hear this, but I'm about to say it with my full chest:

SEVERUS SNAPE DESERVES NO RIGHTS, I SAID WHAT I SAID.

Why? I'll tell you why:

Let's start with Neville Longbottom. Often the butt of the joke, Neville was often played up for comedic effect, so I can understand why we never took the implications of his boggart seriously.

But the fact of the matter is: Neville Longbottom was more terrified of his potion's teacher than he was of Bellatrix Lestrange, a woman who was a proud Death Eater who tortured his parents into insanity, a fate several people throughout the series state as "worse than death."

I've heard the argument from Snape Apologists that Boggarts are "superficial" creatures, so they don't go much deeper for a fear of yours, and, having gleaned a recent and prevalent one, will shift into that. Hence why it would be Snape, who recently tormented Neville, rather than Bellatrix, who Neville has never met.

It still stands, however, that Bellatrix is a known Death Eater, and Snape was just his potion's teacher.

We also see from Harry's own experience with the boggart, that the boggart hesitated before turning into the dementor. It "chose" which of Harry's fears to become, Voldemort, or fear itself?

Now, because I always listen to both sides of a story, try and see it from both perspectives before I draw a conclusion, I asked myself "why?"

There never is a good reason for abuse, but I still tried to look at it from Snape's eyes. And the conclusion drawn was literally the same as almost every single motivation for every one of Snape's decisions: because of Lily.

Neville was born several hours before Harry, and was a contender for being "the Chosen One" (the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies) but Voldemort chose Harry.

By Snape's logic, it meant that if Voldemort had chosen Neville, Lily would've still been alive for him to woefully pine for from a distance.

And so he takes it out on a fucking c h i l d.

He abuses him, torments him, and even forces Neville to poison his pet toad, Trevor, who has been shown to be of incredible significance to Neville.

And when the potion doesn't poison Trevor? And actually proved to be a competent potion? Snape made his displeasure known by deducting five points from Gryffindor.

I know that's not a Big Deal™ in the grand scheme of things, but we have to remember that Neville was a CHILD.

Moving on from Neville, let's get to: Lily.

Remember what I said before, about Lily being his end-all and be-all for everything? I meant it.

I'm not saying she was the sole reason Snape became a Death Eater, but she was the "last straw."

Snape's dislike for muggles stemmed not from Lily (of course not, he loved her), but from his father. Yes, I remembered his father, Tobias Snape. The muggle, the abuser. Apples and trees, I guess. From what I recall, Tobias was never physically abusive towards Eileen, Snape's mother, but he was emotionally and mentally abusive towards her. This would be cause for resentment for any young child growing up in that environment.

But, for a moment, may I direct your attention to Harry James Potter?

Who grew up that exact same way with the Dursleys?

Who was also neglected (Severus was said to have ill-fitting, mismatched clothes, sound familiar?) but who also did not have Eileen there to protect him?

And did Harry ever become a member of a muggle hate group? (No. The answer is no, in case you all didn't remember that Very Important Detail of the series).

So, yes, Snape was abused, and no, I am not condoning it, I do sympathize with him on that front: no child should ever go through that. Ever. No matter the fucking child, there is no good reason for it. But do I condone his actions later on in life? Absolutely not.

Because he called Lily a "filthy mudblood."

Not just "mudblood", but a filthy one, too. And why did he do that? Because she defended him against his bullies. Yes, Sirius and James were bullies, I guess everyone's faves are a little problematic in this bitch.

And not only did he call her that, but he also was besties with people who fancied themselves the next generation of Death Eaters.

And when Lily asked him if he STILL intended on becoming one, he never gave her an answer, prompting her to sectumsempra all ties with him. Meaning, she probably gave him multiple chances to not be a raging bigot, none of which he took. Love of his life my fucking toe, gtfo—

Also, Snape obviously knew what his "friends" were doing at the time. Particularly, and especially, Mulciber's attack on Mary Macdonald.

Now, we can't talk about Lily without talking about James and the Marauders.

I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THAT THE MARAUDERS BULLIED SNAPE, OKAY? But listen up: still not a good enough reason to join the wizarding world's KKK. Actually there is no good reason, period, end of message, send tweet.

He loathed them so much, he literally gave zero fucks about their wellbeing.

Even though! Sirius' biggest crime against Severus is jokingly telling him to follow Remus Lupin under the Whomping Willow during that time of the month.

And Severus would swear that James' biggest crime against him (after "stealing" Lily, of course) would be stopping him from encountering the werewolf and saving his fucking life.

Where the fuck was that reciprocated energy when Snape KNEW that James was also marked for death?

Also, are you going to tell me, that with his ear so pressed to the ground about news on Lily, that he didn't know who the real rat was? That he didn't know that it was Peter Pettigrew? This is speculatory, but... Snape had to have known that Sirius was not the betrayer, he must've at least known it was Pettigrew, meaning he let an innocent man waste away in Azkaban and for what? Something that happened when they were kids? I wonder why Sirius is a "stray dog" idk probably because someone let him rot in Azkaban for thirteen years?

Don't even get me started on how he literally stepped over James' body to get to Lily's while Harry sat there crying. Please. Or the fact that he only wanted Lily spared? He literally said "yes, only her, please, Dark Lord, fuck that newborn"?

OKAY AND MY FINAL POINT BECAUSE THIS GOT TOO LONG AND HONESTLY I'M LITERALLY WAY TOO FUCKING ANGRY AT THIS POINT... I PRESENT TO THE COURT: THE CARROWS.

Severus had been made headmaster of Hogwarts, and what does he do? Allow the Carrows to torture muggleborns and first years. Eleven year olds. Disgusting. Please. What the fuck.

I don't think Severus Snape died a fucking hero, or in "penance." NOT when twelve hours prior, he'd been turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to eleven year olds screaming as the Cruciatus Curse was used on them.

Also, James never sexually harassed Lily? Wanna discuss sexual harassment? How does "waiting outside the Gryffindor common room until someone lets you in even though it has been made very clear that the person you want to speak to doesn't want to speak to you" sound?

I am not denying that Severus Snape is a tragic character; he's a very complex and somewhat interesting one, even. All I am saying is that I don't think saying "always" on the brink of death excuses any of your past actions. He's a martyr at best — having his sins "forgiven" by sacrificing himself for a just cause.

Yes, this is a hill I'm willing to die on. But, as always, I am open to a respectful conversation (not argument, conversation). If you disagree, I'd love to hear why. Try and change my mind; as long as you do so respectfully, I will hear you out.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;) 

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here 

“Great. See you then.” 

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer. 

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…” 

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long. 

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction. 

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends. 

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters. 

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.” 

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up. 

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—” 

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.” 

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you. 

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.” 

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.” 

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in. 

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion. 

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to. 

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!” 

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone. 

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion. 

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.” 

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life. 

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong. 

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare. 

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation. 

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends. 

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option. 

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station. 

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal. 

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort. 

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you? 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.” 

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve. 

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!” 

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.” 

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.” 

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again. 

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.” 

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.” 

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!” 

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.” 

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined. 

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips. 

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again. 

6:58. 

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute. 

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards. 

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you. 

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane. 

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you. 

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took. 

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner. 

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain. 

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face. 

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze. 

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind. 

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.” 

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up. 

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer. 

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script. 

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned? 

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced. 

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.” 

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?” 

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it. 

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.” 

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify. 

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make. 

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one. 

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it. 

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?” 

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened. 

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification. 

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you. 

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.” 

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name? 

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him. 

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath. 

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.” 

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you. 

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?” 

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.” 

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.” 

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too. 

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.” 

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder. 

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder. 

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.” 

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips. 

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked. 

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson. 

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.” 

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.” 

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?” 

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.” 

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined. 

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.” 

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.” 

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away. 

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder. 

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!” 

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you. 

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk. 

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye. 

“What?” he grunted. 

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence. 

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word. 

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car. 

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage. 

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen. 

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk. 

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest. 

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way. 

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car. 

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation. 

Except… it never came. 

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise. 

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine. 

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago. 

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes. 

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car. 

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble. 

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.” 

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.” 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.” 

You frowned. “But you said—” 

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.” 

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about. 

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window. 

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything. 

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm. 

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already. 

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim. 

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth. 

This was it. 

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson. 

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car. 

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.” 

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that. 

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you. 

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.” 

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language. 

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.” 

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one. 

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. 

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located. 

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?” 

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.” 

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner? 

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod. 

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time. 

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you. 

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.” 

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside. 

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.” 

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.” 

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid. 

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point. 

He really didn’t want you going anywhere. 

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all. 

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap. 

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition. 

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.” 

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.” 

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate? 

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?” 

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing. 

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly. 

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over. 

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it. 

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street. 

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window. 

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation. 

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.” 

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.” 

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life. 

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.” 

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort. 

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?” 

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink. 

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting. 

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers. 

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car. 

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” 

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—” 

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.” 

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest. 

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat. 

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?” 

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.” 

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency? 

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply. 

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. 

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach. 

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you. 

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion. 

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel. 

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again. 

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert. 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.” 

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?” 

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it. 

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go. 

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck. 

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way. 

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat. 

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper. 

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.” 

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground. 

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut. 

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete. 

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh. 

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.” 

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you. 

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you. 

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel. 

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him. 

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall. 

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight. 

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air. 

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.” 

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box. 

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you. 

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.” 

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.” 

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…” 

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth. 

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth. 

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue. 

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.” 

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself. 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken. 

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap. 

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again. 

“Katsuki.” 

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.” 

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response. 

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue. 

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite. 

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding. 

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable. 

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far. 

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you. 

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy. 

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it. 

“You have a healing quirk.” 

The words hit you like a sledgehammer. 

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them. 

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.” 

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread. 

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now. 

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened. 

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?” 

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck. 

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud. 

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate. 

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.” 

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms. 

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.” 

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?” 

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…” 

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him. 

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it. 

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you. 

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.” 

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you. 

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.” 

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.” 

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?” 

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out. 

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.” 

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?” 

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.” 

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.” 

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?” 

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.” 

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks. 

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?” 

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you. 

Then… 

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.” 

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan… 

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours. 

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.” 

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet… 

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing. 

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?” 

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.” 

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing. 

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.” 

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.” 

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.” 

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!” 

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his. 

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you. 

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?” 

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips. 

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow. 

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.” 

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—” 

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.” 

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten. 

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater. 

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—” 

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again. 

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?” 

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade. 

His silence for your quirk. 

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop. 

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you. 

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other. 

But… 

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.” 

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

[therenlover]

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong. 

Laszlo Kreizler

NO

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.  

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist. 

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour. 

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple. 

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions. 

That’s where the problems would begin. 

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine. 

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry? 

Oh it would be over for him. 

The yelling would never end. 

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling. 

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm. 

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back. 

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert. 

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be. 

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college. 

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation. 

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again. 

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother. 

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor. 

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight. 

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad. 

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family. 

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend. 

Niki Lauda

NO

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons. 

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties. 

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey. 

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door. 

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal. 

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette. 

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most. 

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature. 

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings. 

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps. 

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual. 

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help. 

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it. 

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no. 

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation. 

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it. 

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it. 

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud. 

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never. 

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake. 

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks. 

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father. 

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him. 

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time. 

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin. 

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music. 

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin. 

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige. 

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along. 

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family. 

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier. 

Ernst Schmidt

NO

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory. 

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings. 

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family. 

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could. 

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually. 

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit. 

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues. 

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist. 

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on. 

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing. 

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house. 

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally. 

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other. 

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family. 

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one. 

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him. 

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18. 

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either. 

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t. 

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first. 

Oh how they’d learn, though. 

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone. 

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces. 

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults. 

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else. 

And that something would be my flirty aunt. 

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way. 

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long. 

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him? 

That’s even more difficult to deal with. 

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions. 

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them. 

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone. 

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances. 

For now, though, he’s safe.

[palaceofpassion]

Tempverse: Episode 1:The Desert Flower

Sooo there is a special reason I’m reposting this.

Alone, that’s how this girl felt, no one in this world to talk to on one to be her friend.  Throughout her years she found herself unsociable, unable to start up the simplest of conversations with her peers.  She found herself eyed as if she was a strange creature, something that never really belonged.  And despite this, despite her constantly being alone, and shying away from others she wanted to belong.  Wanted to have a friend, to be with someone who she could be true with.  One day, her parents set off, a vacation they had told her they would be back, they said.  Leaving her with their neighbors, a house full of young girls they said, she could make friends they told her.  

She didn’t believe them, she’d met the girls before, but never did it click.  Never did she find herself drawn to them.  They however, were nice, they never made fun of her, never joked about her loneliness but she still felt a level of uncomfort near them.  But she heard the rumors, there was one more child, a child hidden away because the family was ashamed of him.  Or so the nasty talks of the playground children went, she was unsure of how true this was.  But she supposed… she would learn whether she wanted to or not.  

And learn she did, however… The stories were quite different from the truth.  A lone boy, born alone among a total of eight.  Sickly and unwell he barely left his bed, but alone he was not.  Unlike May who found herself ostracized, even her parents showed little care for her, he was surrounded by warmth and love.  Despite his lack of use, he was greeted frequently by his sisters of different types.  Despite being weak, he was treated as if he was one of them.  Something May didn’t understand, this was not how children acted, they chose to ostracize those different than they.  This was not how families treated one another, they rather not it be their problem.  

Yet in this house of blondes and browns, she found herself… welcomed?  The feeling of uncomfort soon vanished.  The boy, he reached out to her, befriended her in a way none other had.  And through him, the family grew close.  She found herself suddenly wrapped in kindness, pulled into the embrace of a loving home.  This boy would be first of many for her, the first to be her friend, a young confidant whom she could be herself.  Another was the first she spilled her heart to, the first she considered real family, and a third, the first she would give her heart too.  She felt like she could be herself, and the boy had stolen something important.  But the fourth was a sense of fear and dread.  

There was a time, when the boy's eyes shut, for a day he did not wake.  The worst was assumed and the worst they prepared for.  Not a single soul left him, all staying near his wake as they held him close.  Thankfully the fear would pass, he would awaken fresh and anew.  The girl knew that she would never leave his side, so long as she could afford to.  

Unfortunately… she was but a young girl.  Her fate was yet in her hands.  She could not control the flow of time, could not control the will of those that could control hers.  One day… she would leave, from Vale to Vacuo, she would travel back to her homeland.  Begged and cried she did, but upon deaf ears her pleas fell.  The family of ten held her close, they would miss her.  The second eldest, she swore this would not be the last they see.  That she was sure that destiny would intertwine them together once more.  Perhaps there would be a Beacon, a Beacon that could guide them once again?  She did not know the meaning of these words at first, but she held them true to her heart.

To the boy though, “I’ll miss you.”  He said, holding the girl close.  His tears did not fail, even as he struggled to hold her, even as he struggled to leave his domiciliary.  He continued to hold, hoping that it was but a dream, that his best friend, his closest confidant wouldn’t depart.  But… they both knew this wouldn’t be the case.

“I’ll miss you more…”  She followed up, she would miss him, miss him more than she could ever imagine.  True to her words, “I will never forget you…”  She wouldn’t, his name, his eyes, his hair, his scent, everything about him would remain.  

She prayed, prayed that one day they would reunite, that when they did she could take him from his lair, take him from the confines of his self defined prison.  She knew how he dreamed of being a knight, but she would be his eyes, his ears, his world.  She would take him and see him off, hoping that one day they could be together once more.  

“We’ll meet again, I promise.”  And so he promised her, and he was an Arc, true to their word till the very end.

However, life isn’t easy, and she knew this. And as she grew older, her hopes of seeing the boy grew dim.  She aged into a fine young woman.  Though she experienced… difficulties, oftentimes having to pretend to not be what she really was.  She found ways to hide her true form, to pretend that she wasn’t something she was.  Eventually her thoughts of a Beacon began to seep through once more… she knew what she had to do.  There was a Beacon she could travel through, and then-

THUD

May’s eyes fluttered open, “Huh?”  slowly she began to scan the room around her.  “Oh… right…”  She quietly spoke to herself, she was on a Bullhead, headed towards the start of her new life.  Headed towards Beacon Academy, she… she remembered the Arc’s, remembered the words of Rua.  She… she hoped that maybe, even with a sliver that the promise would come true.  But, even as she tried to hope, she held herself tightly pulling herself into a ball around her backpack.  For now she would stay small, insignificant to the world around her.  She didn’t want attention, she didn’t even want to be surrounded by this many people.  But she had a dream, and no matter how scared she was, she had to push through.

TCH

“We will be arriving at Beacon in 5 minutes, please prepare your property.”  The jostling of the ship stirred her into  action.  Her right eye suddenly snapped open when she looked around the room and realized that several of the students had already started to walk out. Grabbing her bag she quickly got up heading outside and decided to take one last look around realizing that she was finally here.

It was exactly as she imagined it to be,It was huge and gorgeous.  The various greens caught her attention almost instantly, how a school on top of a mountain made any sense went right past her, but she couldn’t ignore the spectacle.

However, she was pulled away from her admiration as soon as she heard an explosion. She blinked and once the dust  died down amongst the chaos she noticed three girls.  However, once she got a better look at one of them her face burned crimson.  She tried to pull her attention to the other two, one was pristine white, full, a young woman who liked like she was made of snow.  The other was a girl in a red hood, her hair was dark with tinges of red.  However the third one was in nothing but rags, a collar, and a leash, a leash held by the red hooded girl. Though she didn't catch the start of the conversation she did hear the red girl say "I'm sorry I didn't know that she'd slam into your into your stuff sorry. I have to take better care of her next time I'll make sure she pays better attention to where she’s going, I promise!"

To her surprise several of the students simply walked by but she couldn't get over how the little red one was pulling on a leash as if trying to call the young woman away. Then she remembered from what she had heard before coming to Vale, something about a new law being enforced to entrap Huntsmen and Huntresses that broke the law.  They would have their auras locked, their bodies bound, and they would be given or sold depending on if the person who brought them in wanted them or not.  This… this must have been that, May did her best not to look, however as her gaze fell upon the lithe form of the dark skinned woman, currently on all fours looking away sheepishly as her master was berated, she felt a dark desire burn within her core.  “Bad, bad May!”  

Her attention diverted back towards the direction the remaining students were heading.  Following the crowd she couldn’t help but let her nerves get the better of her.  Her hand clenched against her jacket, pressing against her special binding.  Her chest ached, a problem she had when her anxieties got the better of her.  “Hopefully things won’t be so bad.”  She eventually moved forward.  Lost in her own little world she didn’t see the young blonde man who arrived shortly after her, greeting the girl with short red tipped hair.  

Eventually she made her way into the auditorium, the sheer number of people sent goosebumps down her arms.  “Too many…”  Not wanting to garner any attention she made her way to the corner of the room, thankfully finding an empty spot with very few people.  Eventually she felt her legs give out, her bottom bouncing off the tiled ground as she did her best to calm herself.  However, as she tried to calm herself, sitting away from others, the hustle and bustle of the booming voices began to wear down upon her.  She was never great with crowds, and the fact that so many were her age didn’t make it any better.  She was all alone, perhaps it was her fault, but it didn’t ease her pain.

“You can do this… you can do this…”  She tried to chant to herself, she was never good with lots of people, never good when any amount of attention was put on her.  And though she knew that none of these people would even give her the time of the day, which honestly hurt in its own way, she just knew that she had to keep herself from losing it.  Clenching her eye shut, she tried to chant to herself one more time, “It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.”  You won’t be okay, you won’t be okay, you’re going to fail.   But even as she tried her best, as more people began to gather, she found herself being lost in the quagmire of doubts.  Her eye began to sting as tears pooled in.  She felt a deep pool form in her chest, her breathing became ragged, and her thoughts started to scatter.  “Why now?”  She thought she could do this, thought that this was the right idea.  But then why were all her fears and anxieties suddenly hitting her now?

She felt herself being washed away by her negative emotions, a sea of dread surrounding her as she sunk to the bottom.  She wanted someone to be there with her, though she had no one, she needed to be told she was going to be okay, but any words would simply sound hollow to her, she hoped to find help, but would help ever come?  You don’t matter, go home, you won’t make it, why should yo- Suddenly her body jolted as a gentle hand pressed against her shoulder.  In her panic she tried to shift away, her vision blurred by the clinging tears that stung at her eyes.  “I… I’m sorry!”  She hadn’t meant to bother anyone, she had wanted to AVOID attention!  Panic filled her chest once more, her anxieties boiling over, until she heard a soothing voice call out to her.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, breathe.”  Another hand gently pressed against her other shoulder.  “Don’t think, just try to breathe.”  She couldn’t see the other person, but hearing their voice call out to her was enough to calm her nerves just a little.  Yet, that didn’t fully wash away her anxieties.  Her chest still beat as her heart continued to pump uncontrollably.  Then, another voice, this one a bit more masculine than the previous, though it was low and… and oddly calming, more so than even the first.  

“Hey.”  They said, keeping their comment short, “Uhm… here you can use this… it should help you just a little.”  She felt something press against the base of her palm.  Her fingers wiggled around trying to figure out what it was.  After a minute inspection she realized it was paper, “Oh!”  It was a paper bag… how did they?  “Just bring it to your mouth and nose, and take deep long breaths.  It helps me when I start to have uhm... yeah.”  They didn’t finish the sentence, they hadn’t needed to.  May brought the bag to her lips, surrounding her nose as well.  “Okay, that’s good, breathe in.”  She did so, “Breathe out.”  She followed the instructions.  Eight times she did so, her heart finally calming down.  Eventually she pulled away, exhaling fresh air and not the carbon dioxide trapped in the bag, then once more she began to breathe into the bag.  

Eventually she was able to calm herself, and thankfully the stinging sensation in her eye cleared up.  She was finally able to open her eye, her vision flickering back into focus as she was met with the smiling faces of two very different individuals.  The one to her left must have been the first one to come to her aid.  A young woman with long bright red hair and clear green eyes, her lips parted into a warm gentle smile that seemed to brighten May’s mood instantly.  The other… he was… her heart started to thump again, but not for the same reason as before.  

“Hey, you’re okay, that’s good.”  She… she almost started crying again.  No wonder his voice had sounded so soothing to her, no wonder she’d felt herself calm almost instantly.  “Uhm, I know this is sort of odd timing all considered but, hello.  It’s nice to meet you two, I’m-”

Her lips parted as his name left her lips, “Jaune…”

He blinked stunned that she’d known who he was.  “I… that’s right, how do you…”  She didn’t give him the chance to answer as she practically threw herself at him.  Her arms stretched out, winding themselves tightly around his back.  

A soft, “Oh my.”  Escaped the other girl's lips.  May knew this was embarrassing, knew that she was probably drawing attention to herself, but for once she finally felt just a little bit safer.

“It’s been so long, I missed you so much.”  Her old friend stood there frozen for just a moment.  She hadn’t seen him in so long, so she couldn’t fully expect him to figure out who she was, at least not till she told him anyway.  

But to her surprise, “May?”  “Mmhmm.”  She responded, his arms suddenly wrapping around her pulling her into a tightly knit hug.  She thanked the brothers for her special binder, she would have never been able to get this close to him without them.  Eventually though the two let one another go.  Her heart finally calmed down as she felt she could finally relax.  

Though, “Oh! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have seen that.”  She had nearly forgotten her other hero, the one who had shown up first.  Her eye shifted over towards the absolutely stunning woman in front of her.  She couldn’t help the unusually hot feelings burning inside of her as her eye swapped between the unknown woman and Jaune, and then back again.  

“No!  No, that's alright.”  She felt Jaune’s hand press against hers, squeezing gently as if to reassure her that everything was alright.  Her heart practically drummed in her chest at the way this reunion was going.  “I uh…”  May noticed the way that Jaune looked as if his words were lost on his lips.  She couldn’t really blame him, the girl in front of them WAS rather beautiful.  Though perhaps he hadn’t gotten any better at social interactions?  

Now that she thought about it, what was he doing here?  When had he gotten better?  Did his parents end up training him?  There were so many questions flashing through her mind and she wasn’t sure she WANTED to know the answers, none of that mattered though.  All that did matter was that she was holding him, and oh brothers did it feel good.

She wondered though, was she supposed to feel jealous of how flustered the other girl made Jaune, cause she didn’t, which was weird?  She wasn’t sure if that was weird, did she have feelings for Jaune?  If he was anything like the boy she remembered, then absolutely.  But, that brought up the question, why did she find herself drawn to the other girl's emerald eyes, she felt oddly warm, not uncomfortably so either.  

Apparently the other girl noticed the staring, she seemed to give them an awkward laugh as she looked away trying to avoid their gazes.  “Hahah… I should have known.”  May caught the nearly silent comment, now she had questions, yet she didn’t know how to start them.  

“What should you have known?”  Thankfully she didn’t have to, apparently Jaune was still as socially awkward as ever, that again brought up the question of what he’d been doing up till now.  She’d have to keep an eye on him during initiation, just to be safe.  Though for now, she turned her attention back to the stunning redhead before them.  

“Ah.”  She paused, obviously trying to be polite to Jaune’s abrupt question, “You must have a million questions for me, yes?”  

May and Jaune both blinked, “Why?” came the same question from both their lips.  

This apparently stunned the other girl as she blinked at them owlishly.  “Do… do you not know who I am?”  

May sure didn’t, then again she wasn’t really in the know with a lot of things, she’d spent so much time training, trying to improve herself that she’d kind of fall out of the loop.  She shook her head, “No… I’m afraid not.”  She sure hoped that the other girl didn’t find it offensive.

“Same for me, are we supposed to?”  

The girl paused once more, almost as if she was a dear who’d been caught in the headlights.  “I… no.”  The uncomfortable feeling that she’d fallen into had suddenly vanished, a soft smile suddenly spread across her face.  May couldn’t help but feel the warm and fuzzy feeling coming back ten fold.  “No, that’s actually…”  She was full on smiling now, “It is a pleasure to meet you both.  My name is Pyrrha, Pyrrha Nikos.”  She stopped after, waiting on something and when that something didn’t happen she simply smiled.  

She had such a really pretty name too!  May felt like everything about this girl was just… oh gods she was amazing.  She wasn’t sure she had the courage to introduce herself, thankfully Jaune did,  “Hi… I… I’m uhm… I’m Jaune… Jaune Arc, Sho… you know nevermind.”  May blinked, thankful she wasn’t the only nervous one around the really pretty girl.  

She was about to introduce herself, finally getting her courage when suddenly two things happened.  “Hi I’m May Z…”  Suddenly the lights turned off, all of the other students suddenly swapped their attentions towards the stage, that was the first thing and the thing she would suddenly become VERY thankful for… then… then the second thing happened. SNAP She heard it first, then she felt it second, then she saw it third.  Suddenly her binding came undone, her jacket which had been tugged due to her little anxiety attack had already been pulled up a little leaving only her thin white shirt… and finally she nearly screamed as her bust suddenly exploded from the binding, her bra nearly flying away smacking Jaune straight in the face and her massive horrendously titanic absolutely gigantic bust popped into view!  Popping straight from under hear shirt she felt her face grow red hot as both Pyrrha and Jaune stood there for nearly a full on moment watching her ginormous tits jiggle freely, the fleshy uselessly big bags of flesh wiggled and bounced as if they had a mind of their own.  Thankfully the shirt hadn’t come fully undone so they didn’t get to see her truly shameful secret!  Them seeing the massive size was enough of a shame for her, she was going to cry, she was going to cry!  

Then it happened, a strange sense of determination suddenly filled Jaune’s face as he eyed Pyrrha who suddenly seemed to wordlessly understand what he wanted.  She watched as Jaune suddenly lifted his hoodie, handing her bra/binder over to Pyrrha like he was used to handling them, which he probably was now that she thought about it.  And then suddenly her world went black as she was covered by Jaune’s previously worn hoodie.  In the brief period of darkness she realized a few things, one she was suddenly being raised up and taken somewhere.  And another…the jacket… it was filled with the scent of her childhood friend.  A wave of nostalgia and… and lust oh gosh she felt her womb practically tremble as she inhaled his scent, washed over her.  Lost in her own thoughts she didn’t notice the sudden thump behind her as her childhood friend nearly passed out at the new revelation… or TWO MASSIVE HULKING revelations.  He had… had sent her away with Pyrrha to clear his own thoughts on the matter.  

May did her best to hide herself within Jaune’s jacket as she could practically feel the gazes from the other students suddenly falling upon her, though to her surprise as they continued on the gazes began to die down.  Even as she attempted to shelter herself within the jacket she could still feel the judging gazes coming from the other students.  A soft whimper escaped her lips as she felt her world about to break down, then she felt a soft hand press against her shoulder.  “It’ll be okay, I’m here okay?”  An angelic voice called out to her, and her anxieties seemed to simply melt off of her shoulders.  

With a nod the two girls eventually made it towards the changing room, Pyrrha stepping forward first making sure that no one else was in the changing room.  Thankfully, the two of them were alone, though from the way Pyrrha began to shuffle her towards one of the small booths, she wasn’t sure for how long.  

While the changing process didn’t take too long, the two of them found themselves wrapped in an  oddly comforting silence.  “So…”  Pyrrha was the first to break it, much to May’s gratefulness.  “You and uhm, Jaune… have you two known each other long?”  It was an odd question, but May supposed there was no harm in answering.  

“Yes…”  She took a moment, perhaps long wasn’t the right word, “We used to live near one another, when we were kids, but my family moved away… we used to be very close…”  May hid away a blush, as thoughts of snuggling closer to her childhood friend came to mind.  

For her part Pyrrha seemed oddly displaced, May couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was off about the obviously popular girl.  “A...are you okay?”  When Pyrrha suddenly snapped from her confusion May noticed the small tinge of red on her cheeks.  

“Ye...yes!  Sorry!  I’m just not…”  She watched the Cereal Mascot stare blankly at nothing, wishfully.  “I don’t have any close friends.”  May, may have been shy and introverted, but she was also observant.  She knew there was more to the story than just that, but she wouldn’t push it.  

“I… if… you like I could be your friend, and… and I’m sure Jaune would like to as well.”  

Pyrrha had liked the idea so much she hadn’t even bothered to give it a second thought as she quickly blurted her excitement out, “Yes please!”  For all her sudden confidence the crimson haired beauty began to bluster, “I mean… yes please… that would be grand.”

May couldn’t contain the rampage of giggles suddenly bustling through her lips, she didn’t have many friends herself, but meeting Pyrrha had been quite pleasant.  “That would be nice, I think Jaune already thinks of you as a friend as well.”  

The crimson haired beauty simply smiled, May hadn’t really been sure of her sexuality up till this point, but she was starting to think she was bi, if the sudden beating in her chest was anything to go by.  “Oh, we should get your uhm, Bra fixed.”  

“Ri...right!”  May had almost completely forgotten about their initial goal.  Without really thinking about it, she began to shift, slipping her arms through the comfortable hoodie and pushing it upwards.  What she didn’t notice, while her head was trapped in complete darkness, was the sudden lustful gaze that Pyrrha had suddenly formed upon her face.  She didn’t notice the way emeralds stared at her, as the jacket began to shift upwards tugging at her voluptuous form.  She wasn’t aware at the way that Pyrrha’s tongue instinctively ran across her lips, or the way that a deep crimson seeped from her cheeks running through her entire body once May had managed to free her luscious bouncing bosom.  She also didn’t notice Pyrrha draw closer, getting incredibly close to her plump mounds of fat.  “P...Pyrrha?”  She called out behind the combination of clothing currently trapping her in place.

“Ye...yes!”  The oddly anxious tone in her new friends voice caught her off guard, but she simply chopped it up to not being used to others, much like herself.  

“Can you help me please?”  She wiggled a little, unknowingly causing her monstrous mountains of fat to sway back and forth.  

“O...of course…”  

She wasn’t sure what had taken Pyrrha so long to answer that time, but the girl eventually moved to assist, taking a position behind her… for some reason?  Eventually the two of them had managed to clear the jacket, stripping May of her top based apparel.  While she hadn’t put much thought into it at first, the sudden realization that Pyrrha was LOOKING at her, caused a general warmth to flow through her.  Her body shook as Pyrrha’s hands slowly sipped past her shoulders, gentle fingers running across her collar bone.  

She wasn’t sure what had it at first, but something hot started to form inside of her lower region.  The heat only grew stronger as the crimson haired goddess behind her, continued to slowly eat up her appearance.  It was an odd feeling, whenever May had people look at her, they were always either one of two categories, treating her as eye candy, or simply thinking ill of her.  But there was something coming from Pyrrha, something she didn’t quite understand on her own.  

“You’re gorgeous…”  The words came out of Pyrrha’s mouth faster than May would have anticipated.  “I… uhm I…!”  

“Thank you…”  Was May’s response, unwilling to let Pyrrha backtrack.  She wasn’t used to compliments, but… she really liked them.  She let out a small sniffle, “I don’t get complimented very frequently… I’m kind of…”  While she’d moved her hands to hold her breasts together at one point, she let her right one loose, running it across her side.  May wasn’t… obese by any means.  But when compared to women like Pyrrha, or that white haired girl from earlier… she was plump.  She had a round bottom, wide hips, and a large chest.  She had belly fat that she’d never been able to get rid of no matter how hard she tried… it was an odd thing, one she wasn’t very proud of.  

“No… no you’re quite beautiful though!”  She felt the heat radiating off of Pyrrha’s hands as they hovered just behind her back.  It was obvious Pyrrha wasn’t used to giving compliments as she was just kind of blurting things out, but May liked them.  

“Th...thank you… so are you… you’re really… you’re hair is really gorgeous, and you have stunning eyes.”  

She missed the way that Pyrrha blushed, the trembling of her fingers, the way that she held her breath.  The two of them sat in silence for quite a bit of time, at least till May ended up breaking it.  “We should… we should get dressed…”  

“Right… right, what time is it?”  May heard shuffling behind her as Pyrrha pulled out her scroll.  “Oh!  Oh no!”  

“What’s wrong?!”  

“We’ve been here for almost an hour!”  

“Wha?!”  

May began to freak out, that meant there HAD to be other people coming in soon!  She needed to get dressed quickly, but by this point they needed to put their sleeping wear on.  

After a quick hustle the two girls began to get dressed, and despite the hesitation in Pyrrha’s touch, she did aid her with putting her bra back on.  May didn’t like wearing it to sleep but she didn’t really have a choice at the moment.  

Finally they’d gotten dressed, both wearing simple cute one colored pajama’s.  May’s own were a light maroon, while Pyrrha’s were a deep crimson.  “Odd…”  

“What is?”  

Pyrrha eyed the room, “The others should have shown up by now, I wonder why it’s so empty.”  

May thought about it as well, it was strangely empty, though as they got near the entrance they noticed a ruckus forming on the outside of the door.  

“Hurry up and move!”  The shrill voice from that Princess Looking girl from earlier called out.  A few more frustrated and angry voices called out as well.  

Eventually as they opened the door they realized what was going on.  Standing in the way of the door was Jaune, in what May thought was incredibly adorable looking blue onesie pajamas with a rabbit on them!  He’d apparently been holding up the door for some time as he did his best to not eye the angry crowd.  

May nearly jumped when she heard Pyrrha’s voice change its unusually calm tone, “What’s going on here?”  

“Oh!”  The white haired girl apparently noticed their change, “Pyrrha Nikos!”  It was quick, but May saw the way that Pyrrha flinched at the girl’s words, obviously not liking the way she said her name.  

“Yes, Ms. Schnee?”  

The girl seemed quite pleased to be known, as she started to practically vibrate, “We found this lout in front of the changing room!  He was obviously acting suspiciously of you in an attempt to do something most untoward!”  

To her surprise May found her fist clenched, she was about to step forward knowing full well that Jaune would never do anything of the sort.  But to her surprise she was beat to the task, “That is not the case Ms. Schnee.”  Despite her fiery appearance May needed to take a step back as Pyrrha practically released an aura of sheer cold.  “I asked Jaune here.”  She pointed at Jaune who was currently bowled over, obviously having taken a blow to the stomach at one point, “To watch over us, as my friend, May.”  She now pointed towards May, “And I got changed.”  She turned her attention back to Ms. Schnee, “You must understand that I do need my privacy.”  May wasn’t sure why, but she felt Pyrrha wasn’t acting like her true self, though she supposed she must have been someone important if everyone was suddenly listening to her.  Questions for later?  

“I… I understand!  He could have said something however!”  

“Tri.. tri…”  Jaune was obviously trying to talk, however seeing as he was currently bowled over he wasn’t able to say anything.  

“It doesn’t seem you gave him the chance.”  Pyrrha stepped over to Jaune, hooking an arm around and under his own lifting him up.  May herself quickly moved to the other side, doing the same thing.  “Now if you’ll excuse us.”  Pyrrha said nothing further as she started off with the duo.

May turned to Jaune once she knew they were out of ear shot, “Are you okay?”  

“Ye...yeah… sorry… ow, they hit hard.”  She heard him grumble something else but couldn’t understand it.  “Sorry… I was worried someone may show up while you were getting changed, I tried to keep them out.”  May smiled, not having once doubted Jaune, she could tell from the way he spoke that he was telling the truth, not to mention how he had been holding his arms outstretched in front of the door.

“Thank you.”  Pyrrha was the first to say her thanks, “I appreciate it… and I”m sorry that I may have tangled you in a mess.”  

“Huh?  No, that's fine, you saved me, so thank you.”  His head swivled back to her, “And sorry, I uhm… I always thou…”  

“It’s okay.”  May smiled, “I was kind of tomboyish growing up.”  If she was being honest she was still pretty much a tomboy even now.  

The trio made their way to a corner in silence, choosing to lay their sleeping bags close together.  While waiting for lights off, the trio ended up making a bit of small talk, May and Jaune learned a few things from Pyrrha, firstly and to their surprise the three of them had been pretty friendless growing up.  Jaune had admitted that he’d been mostly home schooled.  Which May had figured, but at the same time she had noticed the lack of actual training… worry had started to build up inside of her upon a certain realization.  If he was anything like the Jaune she knew… then well… ignoring that moment, May found herself quite entertained by the other two, and from what she could see Jaune and Pyrrha got along quite well as if they were two peas in a pod.  The obviously famous girl is enamored by his talk of having to deal with seven sisters, and his day to day life.  She noticed he’d kept a tight lip on how sickly he used to be, but that was perhaps for the best.

Once they called for lights out the trio began to head to their own beddings, however May had a different idea.  Mustering up a bit of courage she turned her attention towards her friend.  “Jaune?”  

His eyes lazily fell upon her, “Hmm?”  

“Can we… can we cuddle?  Like old times?”

Even in the darkness cast upon them she noticed the way his face tinged red, and the way that Pyrrha suddenly looked quite a bit interested in their conversation.  Of course she expected him to say no, but to her surprise he responded with a calm but quiet, “Yes.”  

Her lips curled into a smile as she drew closer to him, the duo squeezing into his overly large sized sleeping back.  May was much smaller than Jaune, so her feet only reached to about halfway between his own feet and knees.  She found herself snuggling into his neck, his arms wrapping around her back and pressing her close.  

What surprised her however, was how close Pyrrha had moved towards them, “Sorry.”  Her quiet voice reached out to the snuggling duo.  “I’ve never really… had friends… and I”d like to be closer, if that’s okay.”  

A small hum of approval came from Jaune, “That’s no problem Pyr.”  

“Pyr?”  

“Oh hahah… sorry… well we’re friends, and I thought maybe calling you by a nickname wouldn’t be so bad?”  

May herself smiled as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, she knew he was trying to include her as much as possible.  

“I… I like that, thank you.”  

She couldn’t make out Pyrrha’s face, but by the tone of her voice she figured that the girl was most likely blushing.  “Good night you two.”

“G’night.”  Both girls called out simultaneously.  

As the night rolled on May found herself almost unable to sleep, the thoughts of tomorrow eeking into her subconscious, however even that was overshadowed by how ecstatic she felt being so close to her childhood crush and friend.  

Though as she started to fall into the daze of sleep, she felt him shift, his arms gently reaching to her lower back pulling her closer to him.  Then quietly, almost too quietly, she heard him call out to her.  “May?”  

“Hmm?”  

She tried to match his tone of voice, “May, I don’t belong here…”  His voice was cracking, his anxiousness finally getting the better of him.  Thankfully he’d spoken almost directly into her ear, the only way someone would have been able to hear is if they had been right next to them.  And the only person close enough, the other students were keeping their distance, was Pyrrha who was soundly asleep.  And the next closest person was snoring loudly, some blonde girl next to a shorter girl, the one who got yelled at learlier.  

She’d honestly figured as much by this point, though… she wondered what she was supposed to do with that information.  The right thing would have been to turn him in… but she wanted him by her side.  Unknown to the two of them, while they had their private conversation, emerald eyes flickered open.  Their neighbor hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet, although she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the conversation, she’d been unable to rest not with the two so close to her.

May simply nodded against him, “How so?”  She quietly asked.

“I… I faked my transcripts.”  

May hummed to herself, she doubted that fake transcripts would have gotten by the headmaster, or the Headmistress if she was remembering things correctly.  “Do you have Aura?”  

“Ye...yes… My parents unlocked it for me when I told them I got accepted.”  

May nodded, she knew that uncle and auntie wouldn’t have left him high and dry like that.  “Did they teach you anything else?”  

“A little… they taught me how to use the shield to protect myself from falling, I’m not sure why.”  

Ah, so they at least taught him a landing strategy, May had to wonder if they knew something?  She was perhaps being a bit overly suspicious of the situation.  “Okay.”  Quietly she snuggled against him, taking a deep breath of his surprisingly fresh scent, a mixture of lavender and vanilla.  This was no different than her original goal, just that the time table was pushed up a little.  “I promised I’d protect you back then, I’m going to protect you now, okay?”  

She felt him hesitate as he tried to think of the words.  She knew he hated the idea of being protected, he’d been protected his entire life after all.  “No… I ca-”  

She cut him off, doing something so very unlike her, her lips gently pressed against his leaving a chaste kiss.  “Jaune… I want to.”  She could feel the temperature on the back of his neck heat up.  And before he could get another word in edgewise she wanted to clarify, “We all need help… and… you haven’t been trained right?”  

“Ri...right…”  

“Then I’m going to help you… I don’t know if I could do a sword and shield, but I want you to succeed, and until then I’ll be by your side.”  

“Oh… ok…”  

She smiled, once more burying herself into his chest, though she pulled back as she suddenly felt something press against her.  “Jaune?”  

“Ye...yes?”  

“What’s that?”  

She knew what it was, but she was feeling coy, something she never thought she’d ever feel before.

“Oh uhm… I…”

“Am I turning you on?  Now that you know I’m a girl?”  Perhaps the accident WAS for the best after all.

She felt him rumble, trying to find what to say.  “Well I mean… I’ve always… even when I thought… I still thought you were… uhm… really attractive… so it’s not… too different?”  

A silent, ‘Oh’ escaped her lips at the sudden realization.  “Well.. uhm…”  Now she was the one at loss for words.  

“I’ll be honest.”  He started to speak, “Meeting two incredibly gorgeous women in one day, and then finding out one was my best friend, and the other wants to be friends?  It’s kind of a lot to take in.”  She nodded against his chest, she was in a similar position, except she was one of those women according to him, and that realization forced a blush to creep down her face.  Though she had to agree about Pyrrha.

“She’s really pretty, and nice, and amazing.”  

“Yeah, apparently she’s famous?  Those girls were kind of being weird with her, and that uhm Schnee?  I think her name was?  She was kind of… I think she was drooling at one point?”  

May tried not to giggle, mostly to keep her voice down.  “Well it doesn’t matter if she is famous or not, she was nice enough to help me when I needed someone.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t really know anything about it either way, and she seems to genuinely want friends.”  

While the two of them carried on their conversation, they still hadn’t realized Pyrrha herself hadn’t fallen asleep yet.  The girl in question attempted to keep a small sniffle down, as she felt herself overwhelmed by strange yet positive emotions.

The duo continued on their conversation for a little more, until it came to an abrupt stop when May shifted a little, her thigh brushing against the thing poking her.  “Can… can I touch it?”  

If she thought Jaune was warm before, he was suddenly blazing hot.  She was actually a bit afraid that he’d end up burning up before the big initiation at this rate.  But “Okay…”  Even she almost didn’t hear that one, his voice almost a mumble instead of a whisper.  Unable to control herself she slowly brought one of her hands from around his back gently rubbing it against the front of his onesie.  

A bit of excitement started to build as he shivered beneath her touch.  Her finger gently brushing against the solid rod of mass resting against her leg.  She couldn’t believe how big it was, like… she’d seen several already, going to an academy left very little to the imagination especially if you roomed with mostly boys who refused to… well now wasn’t the time to think about it.  Still, none of them had even matched up to half the size of the beast between the two.  If she hadn’t realized what it was earlier she would have sworn it was another arm or leg.  

The anticipation in her bosom began to build the more he shivered at her touch, her fingers gently rubbing against the swollen thing through the fabric.  She could feel heat pulsing from the staff as it started to throb against her touch.  “It’s really big, really really big.”  

He didn’t say anything in response, choosing to bite his lower lip in order to keep quiet.  She could tell he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, or at least she hoped he wasn’t.  The more she touched it, the braver she got, eventually causing her to take a firm grasp of his thing.  Despite being behind the rather soft fabric of his onesie she could feel each and every vein pulsing beneath her firm grip.

She wanted more, wanted to feel skin to skin, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him… at least not if she didn’t offer something else up as well.  “Jaune?”  

“Huhuh?”  

Fighting back a few giggles she continued, “Would you like to touch me?”  

“Wha?”  

“Yeah…”  The very thought of having someone touch her directly would have made her skin crawl, but when that other person was someone she cared very deeply for?  Well she knew she wouldn’t mind.  

“Ye...yes please…”  

“Okay.”  

She felt his hand shift from behind her back, gently rubbing against the curvature of her stomach.  She could feel his hesitance through his touch, so deciding to actually take hold of the situation she tugged against his sleeve, pulling his hand lower.  Once he’d found the band of her shorts, she let him know what she wanted with another gentle whisper.  “Inside please~”  

To her surprise, he was quite quick to respond.  Squelch his fingers sunk between her soaking wet lips, digits digging into her flesh.  A soft moan escaped her mouth as she pressed her lips between the crook of his neck in order to stifle the erotic sounds.  

Despite his earlier confusion, his interest began to overshadow his nervousness as his fingers began to curl inside of her damp viscous passage.  His knuckle roamed against the back, while his finger rubbed against the front.  Her legs parted allowing him to position himself better, and as he found his own pace, allowing soft quiet squelching sounds to escape between the two of them, she found her hands moving towards the zipper at the top of his onesie, thankfully placed in the front for easier access.  

He didn’t question her, possibly too excited to be playing with a feminine body.  Despite moving as fast as she could, she found the pace at which she pulled upon the metal zipper to be agonizingly slow.  Finally, she’d found the bottom, tugging on it once more she was suddenly hit with a quick SMACK her body trembled at the new sensation.  Something big, hard, and hot was pressing against her belly, pulsing against the swell of her stomach.  A thin trail of something gooey and sweltering, rimmed her belly button as the two of them shifted around uncomfortably.

The more he played with her, his fingers now bearing into her sensitive kitten all the way down to the base, the more she applied pressure to her grip.  He was even hotter flesh to flesh, with every stroke his member pulsed in her hands, the soft skin burned with excitement as she continued her own little venture.  Eventually she pulled up against the tip, the massive swollen glans practically scorched her skin as globs of sweltering hot precum dripped from the tiny slit.  

Something began to churn inside of her as their bodies paced back and forth their minds practically closing the rest of the world off.  So much so that the duo failed to notice the sudden rustling besides them.  

The young crimson haired champion could practically smell the sweetly sick stench wafting off of the duo.  She could hear every word, every moment, despite what one may say about her she was still a young woman.  Her hands had moved between her thighs, her fingers running across the smooth slick line between her vulva.  Her core trembled when her middle finger slipped between her folds, running across the rigid insides of her deep moist canal.  She tried as she may to scratch an itch she’d never truly experienced before, tried her best to stay quiet and calm herself as her body betrayed her.  She wondered how it would feel to have another touch her so?  To be wrapped in the warmth of someone that she could say she loved?  She wasn’t sure… hopefully she’d find out one day.

The two found themselves enraptured with one another, May no longer able to hold back had tugged on the head, the member gently shaking beneath her touch, as she positioned it between her thighs.  Jaune’s hands slipped past her belly, leaving a wet rope of juice against her tanned skin.  “Jaune… please?”  She asked, nay begged him to do it, to slide inside of her, to treat her like the woman she wanted to be treated like.  

Yet to her surprise he simply placed a gentle kiss against her forehead.  “No, not yet…”  Before the disappointment could build she felt a sudden heave.  His member sliding between her plump soft thighs, the thick veins grinding against her pussy, her lips split apart as the rough shaft glided past.  “Ah~♥”  His fingers scraped across her unprotected back, nails filing down her spine until he reached her plump bottom.  She could feel him grasp upon each cheek, his strong hands sinking into her flesh as he squeezed at her bottom.  

While the previous sorrow from having to possibly wait in the future started to vanish, the realization that they would still be getting intimate proved to suffice.  “May.”

Her attention fell back to him, their varying shaded blue eyes meeting each other in a deep loving gaze, but only for a moment as he pressed his lips against hers.  Their first kiss had been quick, simple, chaste, this one was fiery and intense.  Their mouths wrestled with one another as their tongues clashed in fierce combat.  Her arms slipped between his, her fingers grasping onto his surprisingly broad back.  In a move unlike her normal soft demeanor she found herself digging into his skin, her nails raked across his flesh grinding into him like a cat in heat.  

He responded in kind, his fingers plunging further into her taut bottom spreading her cheeks apart as his hips bumped against hers.  Her core trembled whilst his member slid against her lips, rubbing against her already dripping sex.  She wanted him so badly to mess up, to pull back a little too far until he pushed all the way inside of her.  She knew how big it was from feeling it alone, she could tell it would ruin her, destroy her insides so no other man could possibly hope to satisfy her!  And that’s what she wanted, she wanted to have her body split open, wanted him to crush her cervix right into her womb to mess her insides up and to churn her without a hint of remorse.

These feelings and thoughts were so unlike her, she’d never figured herself for the violent sex type, but… the thought of being dominated by Jaune just… it lit a flame in her.  And yet as she closed her eyes, another person came to mind, perhaps in a different way.  She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with another man once they got to that point, but well… What if it wasn’t another man?  What if it was a woman?  Emerald and Crimson swarmed through her thoughts as Jaune continued to toy with her.  “Oh gods~”  

She knew she couldn’t keep her voice down anymore, her womb was already squeezing, begging to be filled with rich Arc seed, even though she knew it wouldn’t get that chance yet.  She found herself lost too much in a fantasy that she wasn’t even sure would happen yet, “Wh...what about… abou… Py…”  She didn’t get to finish her question as Jaune shoved his tongue down her throat, forcing her to silence.  

By the time he’d pulled back she was too out of breath to continue.  “Shhh, we can’t be too loud May~  And… ye...yeah I’d like that too…”  She knew he was just being cautious, she knew no one could hear them, and Pyrrha was asleep by this point.  But she supposed erring on the side of caution was for the best.  “My shoulder… bite it.”  

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the command, but as his nails pressed in between the valley of her ass she felt something coming closer to her.  Far too quickly for her liking she latched her mouth around his shoulder, her teeth gnawing into his flesh to keep herself silent.  Her eyes rolled back as the strongest orgasm she’d ever had in her life finally took over.  A haze fell over her as everything practically faded to black, her hips shook while her sex trembled thin streams of liquid squirting from her quivering core.  

She wanted nothing more but to fall into a deep slumber, however one thought kept her from falling over.  Jaune had started to pull back, satisfied with having pleasured her.  “Jaune, finish.”  

“I… I can’t… it would get on the sleeping bag.”  

She shook her head as she began to pull up her shorts, sliding the back against her plush round bottom and left the front part lowered.  “Here, here.”  She guided him to the slightly sticky center of her shorts.

She could practically see his face illuminate in the darkness, she knew he was the kind of person even till this day that wouldn’t want to trouble someone… but she wanted this.  Before he could utter another word she reached for the base of his member, her fingers gently brushing against his soft neatly cut pubic hairs.  From the start all the way down to the tip she began to stroke him, her hand unable to fully grasp around the entirety of its girth.  

She heard him start to moan, a husky, low growl nearly escaping his lips only stopped when she pulled him into a deep loving kiss.  She felt herself begin to buck against the air, excited for the cumming sensation.  Thankfully she needed not wait long, hearing it before she could actually feel it, thick spurts of white began to splash against her clothing pooling in the center.  

A rush of adrenaline filled her as she pumped him faster, harder, longer strokes!  She wanted his body to give into her, to surrender all his precious seed to her.  When he was done, she felt her confidence begin to pool for one final step.  “Thank you~”  She whispered into his ear, her fingers grasping against the hem of her clothing, tugging upwards till, SQUISH, “OoooooooOoOh~”  There had been so much more of it than she thought.  Her pussy drowned in semen as it pressed against her entrance, squirming inside of just the beginning however unable to get further.  She found herself unable to contain a happy little squee as she kissed against him.  

By this point the two of them had grown fatigued, exhaustion hitting them harder than they expected, they pressed themselves into one another, enjoying each other's warmth.  She wasn’t sure what they would do for tomorrow, but she was going to make sure he passed no matter what.

Just to the right of them, the sleeping bag belonging to their new friend rustled louder, Pyrrha’s fingers dug into her pussy two digits reaching as deeply as they could into her soaking sex.  The other hand rubbed against her backside, a finger gently sliding inside of her trembling hole.  Her toes curled as a surprise orgasm struck through her leaving her nearly defenseless as her brain began to run haywire.  She wasn’t sure what had compelled her, but as the thick sent of sex wafted her way, she wasn’t sure it would be the last… she had a lot to think about tomorrow...

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (14)

  jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: it’s time they got down to business… or isn’t it 😳

words: 6.2k

  chapter fourteen

You spent nearly the whole Saturday on the phone with Inna – because she refused to let you hang up until you gave her a play-by-play of last night’s party (and all that happened after) – and, by the time you finally ended the phone call, you were half-deaf from all of her—supportive but rather alarming—screaming.

And then, before you were ready for it, you and Jungkook had another Sunday night dinner at his parents’ house.

Admittedly, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable seeing his parents again after having learnt that they gave the push that convinced Jungkook to cut his ties with you off, but this feeling only clouded your mind for about fifteen minutes – or, in other words, for the period of time that it took for Jungkook to arrive from his house to your dormitory.

By the time he got here, all that was left in your mind – and in the air around you as soon as you opened the door to let him in – was ease. Routine.

Like you were supposed to spend every Sunday night with his family, holding hands with him under the dinner table. Like this wasn’t somehow weird or unusual, or even awkward. Like this was how it’d always been – with no seven-year-long gaps – and how it was always supposed to be.

Even touching Jungkook after the last time you’d seen him was, most surprisingly, not at all different from touching him before your last conversation. It still caused lighting bolts to explode inside of your stomach, and you were used to the sensation by now.

The only difference was that now you knew.

And knowing allowed you to truly come back to the life you were once a part of.

It felt like the last time you’d been to his house, you only allowed yourself to set one foot in, holding yourself back in case this would all go wrong and hurt you, but now you were ready to try again. Now you were ready to go into it with your whole body – open chest and all.

Sure, the possibility of getting hurt was still there – even if it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook joked about how his mom was more excited to see you than him – but sometimes you had to believe—not just hope—that nothing bad was going to happen, in order to make it true.

And truly nothing bad seemed on the horizon as Jungkook – true to the promise he’d made earlier this week – took you to the ice cream shop near his home as soon as dinner was over so you could pick up some desserts for yourselves. You found the chocolate-chip cookie-flavored ice cream – the one he knew you loved – and all was bliss.

“What is it with you,” you asked him when the two of you walked out of the shop and Jungkook was happily licking two different flavors on his cone – strawberry and mint, “and these flavors?”

“They’re good together,” he defended, pushing his cone towards you. “Want to try?”

You scrunched your nose. “No. I’ll stick with my chocolate—”

“Boring.”

“Hey,” you gave him a look, unaware of the chocolate around the corners of your lips and how utterly irresistible it made you look to him, “you’ve been picking the sweetest flavors of ice cream ever since we were kids. Don’t call me boring if I choose to postpone my diabetes diagnosis.”

“Neither of us is getting diabetes,” he said, absentmindedly extending his hand to wipe the chocolate from your lips and then sucking his thumb into his mouth.

You forgot what you were talking about for a moment as you looked away from him, your face burning hot at the sight, but your hands freezing cold from the ice cream.

Jungkook didn’t notice and carried on. 

“Do you remember when we used to collect those wooden popsicle sticks for no reason when we were kids?” he asked.

“I—yeah, I remember,” you said, taking a distracted bite your ice cream and then wincing when your temples froze. “I-I’m pretty sure we had a reason, though. You said you wanted to build a Trojan horse.”

“Oh, that’s right!” his face lit up just like it did that day when you were eight and you told him you’d help him build it. “I never had enough patience for a project like that. Why did you get on board with it?”

“Because you were really excited for it,” you replied as nonchalantly as you could manage – even though you could see it in his eyes when you looked at him, he did not think this was nothing; it was important to him – and then hid your face in your ice cream again.

Jungkook watched you for another moment, his heart beating peacefully but his mind buzzing with memories. You always ate your ice cream the same way – nearly all of it at once – ever since you were a little kid. He’d always made fun of you for it – not cruelly, because seeing the exhilaration in your eyes and your ice-cream-covered face always made him feel inexplicably warm inside – but now he wanted to grab your hand, stop you, and clean your lips with his own.

“I still have the popsicle sticks in my room,” he said while his ice cream melted in the paper cup in his hand.

“You do?” you asked, turning to look at him and making his suffering so much worse when you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why did you keep them all this time?”

Jungkook was glad you’d reached the gate of his house because that meant he could turn his back to you as he fumbled with the lock – it wasn’t a complicated mechanism, he just needed to look at something else for a bit – and tried to get his lungs to function properly again.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally opening the gate. “I guess I was hoping to still build that horse one day.”

You scoffed at this – Jungkook gave you a dignified look in return – and lingered by the gate for a second before you realized that he’d stopped to let you enter first.

“I’m not mocking,” you explained in response to the look on his face. “It’s actually great that you kept it.”

His mouth dried up when he closed the gate and turned around to walk towards the house before noticing how warm your gaze was. Then, to avoid you reading through him and figuring out what he was feeling, he stuffed a mouthful of ice cream into his mouth.

“It is?” he asked with a slight lisp and then hissed as the freezing sensation went straight to his brain.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a more wary look in your eyes now that Jungkook was in pain from the self-inflicted brain-freeze. “It shows that you’re waiting until you’re mature enough to be able to invest your time into something that requires a lot of patience.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily – you assumed it was from the cold – and lead you past the impeccably-kept bushes in his front-yard, and towards the entrance into his house.

“Yeah, no,” he said, finishing his ice cream in a few large bites that must have very literally frozen his throat. He tried not to let it show as he said in a very breathy voice, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

You shrugged your shoulders, slowly finishing your own ice cream as you brought your free hand over the vines that ran alongside the front wall of his house. “Maybe you don’t realize it.”

“Or maybe I kept the sticks because they reminded me of you.”

You stopped in front of his porch steps, unsure if you heard him right.

Swallowing the final bite of the chocolate-filled waffle cone, you looked at him in confusion – that was easy to mistake for disbelief, “hmm?”

Jungkook climbed up the steps – two at a time because he was always too impatient but, this time, also because he felt like he’d spoken too soon and he needed to put more distance between himself and you – and did not turn around to look at you until he fished his keys out from the pocket of his jeans, and unlocked the door.

“Yeah,” he said then, only giving you a glance as he opened the door and nodded his head inside, waiting for you to walk in first. “I still have a framed picture of us from middle school on my dresser.”

“Really?” you asked, looking at him even though he was now obviously avoiding your eyes.

There was even more surprise in your voice and it stung – you shouldn’t have been surprised about the fact that he cared enough to keep pictures that immortalized your friendship; but you were, and that was his fault – making him feel more self-conscious than he already was.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said and, smiling nervously, he stretched his hand behind his neck to scratch a nonexistent itch. “You want to see it?”

“Oh,” you were still standing on his doorstep while he was inviting you to his room. “Sure, yeah.”

You’d been to his room before – many times, in fact – so you hated the way the hairs on your skin stood up in anticipation. This wasn’t supposed to be any different from any other time you’d been in his room – was it? – and yet, you couldn’t help but remember that this was what you’d told yourself the last time you’d been there, too.

You two weren’t even the only people in his room that day – to celebrate the end of middle school, he’d invited his whole class – but, in your memory, everyone else was blurred and so dim that, sometimes, when you thought back on that day, you weren’t sure anyone else was even there. Or anywhere, for that matter. It’d felt like it was just you and him.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook suddenly brought you back to the present – and helped you realize just how hot your body was in spite of the excited shivers that ran down your back when you remembered his invitation – and you blinked before staggering inside.

Unaware of the several trips down memory lane that you’d taken while simply standing by his door, Jungkook extended a hand for you to take – and you took it, the movement automatic, as though you were in a well-rehearsed dance – and lead you towards the staircase.

You walked into his father on your way up the stairs, but he was on the phone so he merely gave his son a nod – and a smile for you – and then went on his way.

“You know, usually,” Jungkook said, sneering at the dismissal from his father, “parents would tell their kids to keep the door of their room open.”

Shivering again – but acting like you were most certainly not affected by the feeling of his palm against yours – you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“They would,” you said, licking your lips in an unconscious attempt to conceal the effect his not-at-all-innocent observation had on you, “but you’re twenty-three years old.”

He peered at you over his shoulder as he lead you down the second-floor hallway – nearly tripping over his feet when he saw you lick your lips – and then turned towards his room.

“Yes,” he said, “thank you for the newsflash,” and, stopping outside of his bedroom, he explained, “I meant, my parents never said that sort of thing to me. Not once.”

“Oh,” you caught on and lowered your eyes. “So, you brought a lot of people over, then?”

Jungkook smirked – you didn’t see this at first, but, when you raised your head again a minute later, confused by his silence, the smirk was still there – obviously very pleased to hear the not particularly well concealed shades of jealousy in your voice.

“None, actually. You’re the only one of my friends who’s been here,” he said then. “And I’ve already told you, I’ve never dated before.”

You were still unsure if he was pulling your leg. “Well, you don’t have to be dating people to bring them over to your—”

He pulled you into his room by your hand, not letting you finish your question. He closed the door and, this time, you two were really the only people here.

“I’m not like that,” he told you then, “but I understand where you’re coming from.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking him when you spoke, “you do?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the paper cup of ice cream – that was as empty as your mind when Jungkook kept on holding your hand even though, now that you were in his room, there was no reason for it – on his desk, and then leaning against it to look at you. “It’s a nice campus tale, me constantly having girls over. But the only times I did sleep with someone, I didn’t do it in a place I lived. Nothing against that, I’m just a private person in that way, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head once and turned away from him, choosing to watch the starved pigeons, which crept around his backyard, through the window. “That sure makes your reputation better.”

Jungkook snickered, reluctantly letting go of your hand – but only because you were unconsciously pulling away from him – and attempting to explain, “I don’t mean to say I have sex outside—”

“No, I-I…” you cut him off – your flustered state intrigued him further – as you walked over to the dresser that he’d mentioned before. “I get what you mean. It’s an interesting version of “don’t shit where you eat”, but—”

He laughed, the sound taking you by surprise and cutting you off.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” he said, his eyes glistening with humor. “But the saying fits, I guess.”

He plopped down on his bed as he said this and the conversation about how many people he’d slept with had run out – which was good, since you hadn’t braced yourself for a discussion about your experiences in this particular area.

Instead, you took a minute to take the rest of his room in; it had changed so little since the last time you’d seen it. But it was the picture – that was right there where he said it was – that really took you back to the time when you spent nearly every afternoon in this room.

Jungkook smiled as he watched you reminisce, but not because he liked to see the way your features softened as you admired the picture from your childhood, but because you fit in this room far better than he did.

“Are you here a lot?” you asked as if having read his mind.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you told me you moved out a while ago…” you said, “and the room looks just as I remember it, so I just—”

“Oh. No, I’m—I’m not here a lot,” he admitted. “But I do come when I visit my parents.”

“Which is once a year?”

He acknowledged the jab by pursing his lips and retorting, “a lot more than that now that I have you with me.”

You hummed in response but your mind was already elsewhere as you pointed at the ceremoniously locked nightstand in the corner next to his bed, “what’s this?”

It looked so eccentric and out-of-place – not the stand itself, but the chain that ran along both sides of it, a trusty lock in the middle – that you couldn’t help but feel curious.

Jungkook, however, leaped on all fours and crawled over his bed to guard the nightstand with his hands – as if you were Cyclops and were about to burn through the stand with a laser beam from your eyes – a defensive look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he said even though this was obviously the most interesting piece of furniture in his whole room, “just a decoration.”

“With chains—?” you tried to ask but Jungkook jumped back to his previous position and patted the spot on the bed next to himself.

“Come on,” he said. “Sit. Do you remember the last time you were here?”

He knew this was the only way to change the topic – and the defeated look on your face confirmed his expectations – but, when you remained standing across the room, he patted the bed again, more eagerly this time.

“We celebrated our graduation from middle school with the other kids,” he said because you didn’t show any other sign to let him know whether you remembered or not. Jungkook could feel that you did, but, regardless, he still continued, “we played Truth or Dare. Remember?”

It was ridiculous he even had to ask that. Some days – and even more frequently now that you were talking again – your middle school graduation was all you could think about, even all of these years later.

“Barely,” you replied but you both knew it was a lie. “It was a long time ago, lots have happened since—”

“Someone dared you to kiss me,” he said with an innocent expression on his face – because he was just refreshing your memory – but it was quickly replaced by an amused grin when your eyes widened in surprise – not because you were shocked he’d said it, but because saying it aloud conjured up a much clearer image of that day; probably because now you knew that the memory of that day was as fresh in his mind as it was in yours.

“Sure,” you said, laughing weakly to hide how warm your hands, your face, and your whole body was. “That was a thing that, uh… happened.”

“So,” Jungkook was grinning but it was only an attempt to conceal his own anxiety – if he stopped grinning, he was going to have to handle the rapid beating of his heart inside of his chest, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do that just yet. “Truth or dare?”

The question sobered you up from the intoxicating memory and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“We’re not fourteen and in middle school anymore,” you said. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” he urged you again, “truth or dare?”

You knew better than to insist he dropped this – there were barely any people more demanding and frustrating than him; you couldn’t even name one – so you didn’t waste your breath trying.

Groaning because you knew he wouldn’t be pleased with your answer – just like you weren’t pleased with him even suggesting this game – you said, “truth.”

Jungkook smiled knowingly because – just like you’d predicted – he was absolutely expecting this and had, therefore, prepared accordingly.

“Who was your first kiss?” he asked without wasting a second.

God, this was going to be a long night, you started to realize. Now you weren’t sure if the ice cream was even worth it – maybe you should have left after dinner.

Meeting his expectant gaze, you tried your hardest to convey all of your hatred for this game through your eyes – but Jungkook wasn’t watching them, he was watching your lips as he waited for your answer – and then you finally said, “you.”

You were almost expecting triumphant fanfares to go off somewhere outside of his house but, instead of that, Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, indicating that your answer had surprised him – even though it really shouldn’t have; you may not have been his first kiss, but you had never even wanted to kiss anyone who wasn’t him.

He was obviously going to inquire about this further – but what was there to ask, honestly? – but you were categorically not going to let him.

“Truth or dare?” you fired.

Jungkook closed his mouth, decided – begrudgingly – that this was a fair play, and then, true to himself, replied, “dare.”

“Show me your mysterious nightstand.”

He looked disappointed and more than ready to refuse – good, now he knew how you felt – but got up from the bed nevertheless.

He walked over to his desk first and got a singular key out from under the fake-bottom of the top drawer – courtesy of his Death Note phase – before slowly sliding it into the lock on the nightstand across the room. Turning it until you both heard a pleasant click, Jungkook took the chains off and huffed as he looked at you before doing anything else.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see inside so you couldn’t brace yourself for anything but, as Jungkook opened the door of the nightstand, you realized there was no possible way for you to prepare for this anyway.

There were piles of pictures inside – polaroids, of you and him at the lakehouse your families used to rent out every summer – old cut-outs from the school newspaper, showing you, as the president of the Student Council, and the principal of the school. There were the old dog tags you two had gotten together at a fair one spring – because he kept accidentally ripping every friendship bracelet you two ever had – and there were the remote-controlled cars that you’d gotten him for his tenth birthday – you’d been saving up for them that whole year.

Scanning the contents of the nightstand – while Jungkook watched you, biting his lip – you noticed that he had a copy of almost every single movie you’d ever shown him – the DVD of The Sixth Sense, of course, resting at the very front – and, more than that, he had post-it notes glued to all of them with notes ranging from as obscure as, “She said it’s good” to direct quotes from you, “She said I would like it because it’s violent enough to keep me at the edge of my seat but it also has meaning. She smiled a lot when she told me about it.”

And then, as if your heart wasn’t already beating fast enough, you saw the popsicle sticks on the very bottom of the nightstand. Most of them were just scattered there, long forgotten, but some were glued together in what was supposed to be the base of the Trojan horse you two had never gotten to build.

You pulled back, feeling like every time you inhaled, a new memory returned to you, each heavier than the one before. When you finally removed your eyes from the mementos of the past and looked at him, your chest was so full, it was weighing you down.

“You—” you started but the words got lost on their way out of your throat. You tried again, “you kept all of this—”

“Of course,” he said, closing the nightstand now that you weren’t looking at it anymore – he didn’t bother with the chain – and then returning to his previous spot on the bed. “I couldn’t bring it all with me when I left the house because I didn’t know where I was going to go. And I couldn’t leave it all hanging around my room because… well, because I didn’t want my parents to turn the room into a home gym and throw everything out.”

“B-but why—”

“Because it’s important to me,” he replied, knowing what you were going to say, “because these are the things that you and I did together. It’s us. You and me. I kept everything that reminded me of you.”

His words soothed the old wounds but it opened up new ones, too, because, in the seven years that you didn’t have any contact with him, you’d done everything you could to erase him from your life completely – throwing anything that reminded you of him out, until your room and your whole house was void of any connection to him – while he did the complete opposite and attempted to preserve as much of your past friendship as it was possible.

“My turn,” Jungkook said, his voice shakier than it’d been before. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t want to play anymore. You felt like you physically couldn’t play anymore.

“Jungkook—”

“Truth or dare?” he repeated, more persistent this time.

Sighing because this was hopeless, you replied, “truth.”

He shook his head. “You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

You should have seen it coming and yet you still felt a pang of annoyance that completely broke you out of the blissful state the contents of the nightstand had put you in before.

“Yes, I can,” you protested. “You just watched me do it.”

He didn’t give in. “That’s against the rules.”

“There are no rules in this game.”

“Yes, there are.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who made them?”

“Me,” Jungkook said, crossing his legs to find a more comfortable position. “My house, my rules. You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

“Fine, you dick,” you replied – he almost smiled at the name – and settled,  “dare, then.”

It was almost funny, really, how easily the words came to Jungkook as he dared you, “kiss me.”

If you’d have turned your head to the old clock on his wall by the desk, you would have noticed how the arrows had stopped – they stopped long before tonight but, in that moment only, they showed the right time. Almost as if Jungkook wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting to say this to you. Everything in his room had been waiting, too.

Jungkook thought you’d do it -- he thought you’d turn your head, look away. Look for an excuse to back out of this. 

That’s why he didn’t kiss you but gave you an opening to do it yourself, using the game as an excuse. And, in the quiet moment that passed, he waited for your eyes to leave his, refusing the opportunity. But they never did.

You didn’t think you could tear your eyes away from his yearning gaze – just like gravity prevented you from floating off into space, the force of his eyes prevented you from pulling away. Instead, they pulled you in. 

And so you kissed him again, seven years later.

It was just a touch first – you barely registered the feeling of his lips against yours – but, before a chance to pull away even presented itself, the touch melted, locking your lips together.

He tasted like the strawberry mint gum he kept in his car.

He tasted like the flavor of the ice cream he’d picked today.

And, although you’d refused to try it when he offered outside of the ice cream shop, you couldn’t deny it when you were kissing him – strawberry and mint went so incredibly well together.

He tasted like the best friend you’d day-dreamed of kissing before you went to sleep at night.

He tasted like everything you’d ever wanted.

And, belatedly, the triumphant fanfares did go off somewhere in the distance – although it could have just been the sound of your hearts, calling out to each other through your chests – but the only sound you could hear clearly was the sound of his mouth moving against yours as he deepened the kiss, standing up on his knees on the bed and gently pushing you forwards until you landed on your back and he was leaning on his elbows on either side of you.

There were many things you knew about Jungkook – your knowledge coming from all of the days you’d spend together as children – but there were also several things that you didn’t know.

For one thing, you didn’t know what his kisses felt like when there was no one watching.

And now you did as his tongue tenderly brushed against yours, growing more impatient by the second, until you had to hold onto his chest with one hand and wrap the other one around his neck to prevent yourself from completely melting under him.

Furthermore, you didn’t know how long he’s waited for this.

And now you did as his warm body pressed against yours, freezing cold and almost screaming in the parts where he couldn’t physically touch you.

Kissing him felt relieving because you’d waited for this, too, and uselessly tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need his arms around you as much as you did.

It felt freeing because now you could finally admit to yourself how much you’d wanted to kiss him and have him catch his breath against your neck before bringing his lips back to yours again.

But it also felt dangerous because you couldn’t stop – you didn’t want to stop – and, not being in control of your surroundings and, most importantly, of yourself, was something that you knew would have dire consequences. You needed to prepare for this beforehand, consider every possible outcome and—

But then Jungkook pushed one of his thighs between your legs, kissing you harder—deeper—and you no longer cared about being in control of the situation. 

Sighing into the kiss – until he nearly passed out because he’d imagined this before and, for half a moment, he was afraid this was all happening in his head again – you abandoned all of your inhibitions and held onto him tighter, kissing him back with matching intensity.

And that moment – the one moment when you gave in to him completely – was precisely when someone knocked on his door.

However, even though you had both heard it, neither of you reacted to it, your mouths not pausing for a moment and his fingers never leaving the spot under your shirt – right above your waist – where they’d come to rest.

A moment later, you thought you’d only imagined the knock – the sound was already so far away in the distance, it didn’t even feel like you’d really heard it.

In his case, precisely because this – kissing on his bed in his childhood room – was actually real and not just a figment of his imagination, Jungkook simply assumed that everything else had to be happening in some other world where he wasn’t kissing you. In a world that didn’t exist. In a world that didn’t matter.

And so, naturally, he didn’t pay attention to any foreign sounds, focusing on the feeling of your skin, your lips, your touch, you, instead.

But then the knock came again. Shameless, truly, because it had to be obvious what was happening inside; it was impossible not to hear someone knock on the door of a room that was as empty as Jungkook’s bedroom.

This time, you both paused. But Jungkook – who hadn’t lived with his parents in a long time and, therefore, couldn’t remember their habits – was curious if, perhaps, the knocking would go away if unanswered, and so he went back to kissing you a second later.

Much to his—and yours—irritation, however, it didn’t seem like the knocking was going to stop. If anything, it started to get more intense and your hand – the one that pulled him closer to you by his shirt – ended up having to push him away slightly.

“Jungkook?” his mother’s uncertain voice reached your ears, but when you saw his face when he pulled away from you, you felt like you may as well have imagined that sound, too, because the sight of his puffy lips and wide, blown-out pupils made you lean forward to connect your lips again, if only for just a moment.

Jungkook was convinced you hadn’t yet grasped the effect you had on him; he couldn’t just stop kissing you out of the blue like that. And so he leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours until he felt you kiss him back. And then you broke the spell by turning your face towards the door as you tried to speak.

“It’s your mom,” you said, completely out of breath. “You should open it.”

Growling with frustration, he pushed himself off of you and climbed off the bed, not giving you a second to get up and make your activities less obvious before he was throwing the door open a lot more aggressively than he’d intended.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you two were back yet,” his mother said, seemingly unfazed by her son’s obvious frustration. “I just got the pie out of the oven, so the dessert is ready. Your dad and I were waiting downstairs, are you two—”

“We got ice cream,” he reminded his mother in a surprisingly gentle tone – even if his body remained stoic – and then glanced over his shoulder at you. “Unless you’d like to grab a slice?”

“Uh, I—thank you,” you said, standing up from the bed and desperately attempting to fix your hair while still remaining polite, “but I still feel full from the ice cream. A-and your dinner was wonderful, too, of course.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” his mother smiled at you and then gave her son a nod. “If you feel like getting tea with us, we’ll be in the kitchen, okay? Sorry I barged in on you like that, you didn’t tell me when you came back home, so I didn’t—”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook said, still in a hurry. “We ran into dad, though. He knew we were back.”

“He did?” this seemed to surprise her. “Huh. He didn’t tell me.”

Huh, indeed. Maybe his father had his own ways of making sure Jungkook kept the door of his bedroom open.

“Well, no matter,” his mother added. “I’ll leave now. Sorry again!”

She smiled at you once more before she walked back to the staircase. You couldn’t tell if her eyes had been glittering because of the few glasses of wine that she’d had with dinner, or because she was able to tell what had been going on in this room before she came in.

Or maybe she was just happy that you were both home, safe and sound, and hanging out in his room – just like back in the day.

“Well,” Jungkook said after closing the door of his room. He wasn’t trying to conceal his disappointment, “that was my mom and her perfect timing.”

You chuckled. “Ah, she could have come in later. That would have been worse.”

“Yeah?” he liked to hear that you’d been imagining what could have happened later, as he walked back to you. “What do you think we’d have been doing?”

“Anything,” you replied, ignoring the fratboy in him but allowing his arms to comfortably wrap themselves around your waist. You replied to his smile with one of your own but did not dare to close the distance between you, only choosing to carefully rest your hands on his shoulders. “Do you know what time it is?”

Jungkook groaned, knowing that you must have understood his mother’s arrival as a sign that it was time for you to go home. “No, don’t start with the time!”

“What?” you asked, surprised by his agitation. “Why not?”

“Because it’s always the time that interrupts us,” he said, knowing how pointless it was but still cursing the time, the place, and almost the entire universe. “The night always ends before I’m ready for it.”

“Are you ever ready for it?” you asked but, in all actuality, you were asking him something else.

“No,” he said, answering both of your questions. “I’m never ready to leave you. You could stay over, you know.”

He’d once called you the most ambitious person he’d ever known, and yet there was nothing you wanted more than to stay here. Stay for a night. For however many nights it was possible.

But there were too many things to think about, too many outcomes to consider. You’d barely grown used to your relationship as old-friends-who-were-fake-dating before you kissed – mostly unprovoked and largely because you wanted to, not because he’d dared you to – and opened up the door to a whole new world.

“I…” you spoke, swallowing slowly. You knew you were someone who had to learn how to maneuver the magical carpet first, before hopping on it and flying away. That was who you were. “Thank you. But I think it’d be best if I went home tonight.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing and fully expecting you to say this. He wasn’t going to object because you’d already taken a huge step—a leap, really—over your own self when you responded and kissed him, and he didn’t want to pressure you into giving in and making any similar decisions before you were ready, no matter how much he wanted you to make them. No matter how much he wanted you.

But he was still going to give you a hard time about this. Because that was who he was.

“Leaving me wanting more, yeah?” he teased.

“Not leaving you,” you said. “Just leaving.”

He loved the way this sounded like a promise – and he would keep replaying your words in his head until the next time he saw you – but he didn’t show it, taking you by the hand instead.

“Let me take you home then,” he said and then threatened, “you should know before we go, though – I am fully determined to make you feel bad for abandoning me when I needed you the most.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” you replied, making him smile in appreciation before leaning in to press a quick—almost chaste—kiss to your cheek.

He pulled away to open the door of his room and then walked outside, taking small steps and deep sighs, his theatrics always very sharp.

“Off I go,” Jungkook began, “starting my journey of loneliness—”

“Is that from a song?” you asked, interrupting his improvised monologue as you followed after him.

“It’s from my life,” he replied shortly. You tried to suppress your laughter and he continued, more dramatic now that he’d noticed he was entertaining you, “off I go, into the dark cavern of solitude. All by myself, all over again...”

Each one of your involuntary giggles only encouraged him, so Jungkook kept this up all the way to your dorm and then he found a way to keep going over text messages, spamming you with his Shakespearean delusions until you threatened to block his number if he didn’t stop.

And then, after testing you for another half an hour, he finally did stop and went to sleep – alone, but with the memory of you that was so strong, it was like you were there with him.

keep reading | masterlist

[kanerallels]

for your 111 celebration - star wars, kanera, karaoke??? :D

It would be my pleasure!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: TBD, I'm currently on mobile with no way of checking

Tags/Warning: rated G (for good grief, Kanan you drama queen). The only objectional thing is the fact that Ezra is presented as Kanan's biological son with very little explanation. TW for alcohol

The first time Hera Syndulla saw Kanan Jarrus after Gorse was nothing like what she’d expected.

She was in a cantina on Mykapo, waiting for Sabine to return from her mission-- the Mandalorian girl was picking up intel from one of their contacts who lived there, and Hera was watching her back from a distance. It was a good learning experience for the teenager, and she had Chopper with her. Hera was more than happy to sit in the bar waiting for her crew’s return-- and treat herself to a drink while she was at it.

Settled at one of the stools, Hera waited patiently for the bartender to come serve her. As she did so, her gaze wandered around the room. It was the standard cantina, containing quite a motley crew of beings, although not as many as there would be after the average work day. Then it would be filled to the brim with them. In the back of the room was a stage and a karaoke machine, currently being used by a very drunk, very tone deaf Quarren.

She wasn’t sure what made her glance to her side-- perhaps a slight rustle of sound, or the sudden sensation that someone was close by. But she did, and was startled to meet the bright blue eyes of a boy, who couldn’t have been much older than twelve.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a grin. “I’m Ezra. What’s your name?”

“...hi,” Hera responded, caught somewhat off guard. Regaining her equilibrium, she offered him her hand. “I’m Hera. It’s nice to meet you, Ezra.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Ezra said, shaking her hand solemnly.

Curiosity flickering through her, Hera asked, “So, Ezra, what brings you to this bar? I’m… pretty sure kids aren’t allowed in here-- no offense.”

“None taken-- they’re not,” Ezra said with a shrug. “But the owner makes an exception for me, cause I’m awesome. Also, my dad works here.”

“Your dad, huh?” Hera gave the kid a once-over, taking in his scruffy blue-black hair and relatively clean orange jumpsuit. Nothing that would signify he was telling the truth-- but then, there was very little that would point to the opposite. “And where is your dad right now?”

Seeming unconcerned by her questions, Ezra craned his neck, looking around as the Quarren on stage stumbled off to several boos from the crowd. “Huh. Could have sworn he was-- ah-ha!! There he is!”

Ezra pointed, and Hera followed his hand to the karaoke stage, where a new song was starting on the machine. Standing next to it, holding the microphone, was a tall, familiar figure she hadn't thought she'd ever see again.

Kanan Jarrus sent her a crooked grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lifted the microphone and said, “I'd like to dedicate this song to a special someone out there sitting at the bar next to my kid, the drop dead gorgeous Twi'lek woman. You know who you are.”

“Because you just told everyone,” Hera pointed out in exasperation, but Kanan didn't seem to be listening-- nor did the crowd, all of whom seemed deeply invested. Grinning widely, he started to sing, his voice a deep, rich baritone:

“I musta been through about a million girls,

I love em and I leave em alone

I didn’t care how much they cried, no sir,

Their tears left me cold as a stone.

But then I fooled around and fell in love,

I fooled and fell in love…”

Hera had to give it to him-- he had a good voice, better than she’d expected. Catching her eye, Kanan shot her a wink, and Hera dropped her head into her hands in exasperation. “So, he hasn’t changed at all,” she observed to herself.

“Wait, do you know Kanan?” Ezra asked, sounding delighted. “That’s awesome! How do you know him?”

“We met about five years ago,” Hera told him, pointedly avoiding Kanan’s gaze. “On Gorse. He was--”

“Wait, you’re the Gorse lady?” Ezra gasped, his eyes going wide. “No WAY. Kanan mentioned you a couple times.”

“Did he,” Hera said, raising an eyebrow. “Please, tell me exactly what he said.” She wasn’t exactly sure why Kanan would be talking about her with this kid-- his son? The ages didn’t exactly match up-- but she was definitely curious as to how it had come up.

Ezra frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see-- I remember! He told me you were the best pilot he’d ever met, and that you were kinda crazy but also really smart and good at what you did-- but most importantly, he said that he'd trust you to watch his back.”

“What?” Hera said, taken aback. She'd expected parts of what Ezra said, and was even secretly pleased about the pilot part. But to know that she had Kanan's trust? That struck a different chord for Hera.

“I know,” Ezra said, nodding gravely. “It surprised me, too. Kanan doesn't really trust people. I mean, I've seen him trust people before, but it's been a really long time. So when I heard that he trusted you, I knew you had to be special to him.”

“I don't think that's quite true,” Hera said, mildly embarrassed. “Kanan and I-- well, we only knew each other for a little while. I don’t think he could have learned to trust me that much in that little time.” But even as she spoke, she remembered on the Forager, the moment when the ship was coming to pieces around them and Kanan had used the Force to save her. He’d showed her his deepest secret in that moment, a secret that could easily have him killed. But he’d trusted her with it. Maybe Ezra is on to something.

Shrugging, Ezra said, “Maybe, but I think he sees something special about you. Or hears-- he also mentioned your voice.”

As Hera turned that over in her mind, Kanan's song ended. The entire cantina burst into applause, and Hera couldn't resist an eye roll at his antics as he gave the crowd a wave and a bow. Strolling off of the stage, Kanan moved behind the bar and towards where Hera was sitting.

As he approached, Hera lifted an eyebrow at him. “Very impressive,” she said dryly. “Who would have thought you could sing?”

“I live to please,” Kanan said, leaning against the bar and grinning at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hera said. “I do have one issue with the whole performance, however. Did it occur to you that I might be trying to keep a low profile, and wouldn’t want the entire bar staring at me?”

“Trust me, most of them are so drunk they won’t remember our names, faces or what song I chose,” Kanan assured her. “I wouldn’t dream of messing with whatever you’re up to now. We all remember how that went last time.”

“I didn’t think it went that badly,” Hera said, and Kanan’s grin widened.

“Oh, really?”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “The mission. I completed my objective, after all.”

“I suppose you did, Captain.” Straightening up, Kanan asked, “So, what can I get you?”

“Something non-alcoholic,” Hera said. “I’m here on business.”

“I’ve got the perfect thing. So, business, eh?” Kanan made a face as he opened the mini fridge behind him and pulled out a bottle of juice. “That never means anything good.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid that sort of thing,” Hera pointed out.

“Good point,” Kanan said, handing her a glass full of the juice. Hera took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the familiar tangy taste of meiloorun, combined with something a little sweeter. As she took another sip, Kanan turned to Ezra. “And kid, what are you doing out here? We’ve talked about this.”

“It’s boring in the back,” Ezra protested. “There’s nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Don’t worry, Hera’s keeping an eye on me.”

Kanan’s gaze flashed from the kid to Hera. “Oh, she is now, is she? Well, you can’t sit at the bar, at the least. Come back here, okay?”

Ezra grumbled something, but vaulted over the bar in a very Kanan-like move. As he disappeared behind the bar, Hera said quietly, “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Recent development,” Kanan said calmly, and there was a snort from down where Ezra had settled.

“Try five years!”

“That, too,” Kanan agreed, but Hera’s mind was busy matching up the timeline.

“Five years? That was around the time we first met, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, Kanan said, “Yeah. It was actually shortly after that.”

“Was that why you didn’t come with me?”

“More or less.”

Ezra’s head appeared from behind the bar. “Wait, you asked Kanan to go with you? You never told me that! Were you two lovers?”

Hera nearly choked on her drink and Kanan let out a long sigh. “EZRA. We’ve talked about these kinds of questions.”

“You said I could ask you whatever I wanted,” Ezra pointed out. “The first day I moved in with you--”

“Yeah, I know, and you’ve proceeded to never let it go since. No, we were not lovers.”

“Not for lack of trying on your part,” Hera murmured into her juice.

“Ouch.”

“It’s just the truth, dear.”

“Fair enough,” Kanan muttered, a slight grin slipping across his face as Ezra snickered down by his feet.

“I like her.” he told the older man.

“Me, too,” Kanan told Ezra. Turning to Hera, he said, “So, it’s been a minute and a half since we talked. How’ve you been? Find some more crew for that gorgeous ship of yours?”

“I did,” Hera said, a small smile crossing her face. “I think you’d like them.”

“No idea if that’s a compliment for them,” Kanan joked. A serious look crossed his face. “However… I’m glad. Whoever this person is. I’ve always maintained that you needed more support in your life.”

“You never once said that,” Hera pointed out.

“No? Must have been someone else.”

“Must have been,” Hera said lightly. She paused for a minute, studying Kanan closely. He looked different-- older, of course. And despite his cavalier attitude, there was a new layer of something, responsibility, perhaps.

But more than any of those, he looked tired. Now that he was directly across from her, Hera could see the dark shadows under his eyes, and while he still leaned against the bar casually, there was the slightest slump to his shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

One of Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked caught off guard. “What?”

“You look exhausted,” Hera told him, deciding to just get straight to the point. Kanan opened his mouth, presumably to make some joke, and Hera speared him with a glare. “The truth, please.”

He closed his mouth with an audible snap, then sighed. “It’s been a long month. I’ve been working a lot lately. And this time of year is always… hard.”

Hera saw his gaze flick down to where Ezra was, and she frowned slightly. She knew Empire Day was coming up soon-- clearly, it had some special significance for these two.

She started to ask him another question, but heard a commotion behind her. Kanan’s gaze snapped up, and his hand slid towards where a blaster was. Hera turned and spotted Sabine and Chopper making a beeline towards her. “They’re with me,” she told him.

“This is your crew? Seems a little young,” Kanan remarked.

“Said the man with a son he didn’t tell me about,” Hera shot back, although she was getting less and less convinced that Ezra was Kanan’s biological son.

Before Kanan could respond, Sabine was next to them, the look in her eyes urgent. “Hera, we’ve got something.”

“What is?” Hera asked, and Sabine’s gaze moved to Kanan warily. “He’s fine,” Hera assured the Mandalorian.

Holding up a hand, Kanan said, “Don’t worry, Mandalorian. I want absolutely nothing to do with this.” Grabbing a cleaning rag, he began wiping down the surface of the bar.

“Not sure if that’s reassuring, but whatever,” Sabine said. Looking back at Hera, she said, “We got a lead.”

“On the survivor from Lasan?” Hera asked in shock. She felt Kanan’s gaze shift back towards them, but focused on Sabine. “Tell me everything.”

“Apparently, he was spotted a few days ago-- Hera, we have a location. He’s hiding out on Pantora.”

“Pantora? That’s only a few days from here.” Making up her mind on the spot, Hera turned to Kanan and slid him a few credits. “Thanks for the drink-- I need to go.”

He didn’t take the money. “You found a Lasat survivor?” he asked, his voice sounding stunned. “There are some left?”

“Only the one that we know of,” Sabine said, eying him warily. “Why? Also who is this?”

Kanan ignored her and turned to Hera. “Let me come with you.”

Hera’s eyes shot wide. “What? Kanan, now’s not the time for--”

“Hera, I’m serious. Let me come with you. I can help.” Kanan’s voice was shockingly urgent as he leaned across the bar, his gaze locking with Hera’s. “Please. I can help you get him to safety.”

“Why exactly do you want to help so much?” Sabine asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Kanan’s gaze didn’t leave Hera’s as he replied, “Because I’ve been where he is.”

Oh. Oh, kriff.

Hera hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You can come.”

“What?” Sabine’s incredulity was almost immediately drowned out as Ezra jumped up from behind the bar.

“YES!!! Finally, we can leave Mykapo, it’s SO BORING here.”

“What the-- Who’s this?” Sabine demanded. “Hera--”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Hera promised. Looking at Kanan, she said, “Meet us in the space port. We’re in docking bay seven.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minute,” Kanan replied, already moving, Ezra all but skipping at his side.

As Hera led the way out of the cantina, her two companions brimming with questions and suspicion, she had to admit-- she hadn’t expected to leave Mykapo with new crew members. But for whatever reason, she had a really good feeling about this, and about Kanan Jarrus. It all depended on what happened next, and Hera was very interested to see what that was.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

I don’t play WoW but I used to play Overwatch and Diablo and this touches on just the general issues that are inside of Activision Blizzard right now regarding the major decline of World of Warcraft and how they’re losing to Final Fantasy XIV, how if the latest WoW expansion or Overwatch 2 flop as they’re projected to do then Blizzard’s most definitely going to pivot almost entirely to mobile games, and how the differences in age demographics are actually dividing the company into multiple camps.

It’s important to note two things: 1) this could be fake but also 2) the link came from Grummz, a former team lead on WoW and producer on Diablo II and Starcraft. It still could be fake despite this, but if he’s sharing it then I feel like there’s at least some measure of truth in this.

Transcription below in case this gets deleted and/or you don’t wanna click the link. Warning, it’s fairly long.

“I’m dropping this here after getting chewed out for three hours over shit the chewee did at work so fuck it. Assume larp and let me vent.”

>Shadowlands is a shitshow. Critical response, Player drop off and just about every engagement metric outside of cash shop have been catastrophic. No higher up expected this because of their “we are too big to fail, if we built it they will come” mentality. They refuse to accept their focus on the world being a begrudged mechanic to funnel players to raiding is not appealing to the player base at large because it appeals to them. They have spent the last 4 months trying to course correct but there is no solid direction and the response to 9.1 has only made things worse.

>Sylvanas is planned to replace the Arbiter despite so many people in the company and god knows how many online saying this would be a total replication of Kerrigans storyline in Starcraft 2 that killed none competitive interest in the brand entirely and you can only go “no, no they WILL like it eventually” for so many real world years before its time to change course. Thus far that has not happened.

>The elephant in the room is FFXIV. To the people in charge they are acting like this came out of nowhere and don’t even seem to understand why its drawing players away in their tens of thousands. We have all tried to highlight things it is doing that are clearly appealing to an mmo audience and not, in my opinion, focussing more on mobile game style retention traps to keep MAU users and habit forming personalities logging in. Its not that they don’t care. They just seem so pig headed and digging their heels in with their fingers in their ears thinking all the problems will go away because WoW is “too big to fail”, there will never be real competition and “they will keep coming back”. But they aren’t coming back anymore. Not in the numbers they used to.

>The people making the spending choices know this. The new model for WoW is market the hell out of a expansion pack for a huge quarter then use 6 month lock ins to pad numbers for the quarters after that. Even if corona had not happened 9.1 still would have been dropping after the initial 6 month subs expired to “keep the chain holding”.

>The mood in the company is tense but also very much “its just a rough transition period”. Activision has been pushing hard for Blizzard to release more regular product and to generate more income per user. As far as i know this is going to be a transition over the next 5 years to a much larger mobile/tablet gaming focus. By all accounts not just WoW but Overwatch was intended to be the moneymaker in the interim but once again someone had the bright idea to kill a game casual players loved on the alter of e-sports hoping for another Brood War. From what i hear the “told you so’s” were loud and a lot of people walked beyond Kaplan.

>The sentiment that was shared quietly in private but being spoken more often is simply that the leadership at Blizzard are not bad people, nor incompetent people but people who had to fill seats left when the old guard jumped ship wether they were suited for it or not. Brack is a genuinely good man out of his depth, Ion is a fantastic raid designer put in charge of designing a virtual world he has no interest or real ideas for and so on. They have been taking form the roles they excel at to be put in positions where they get to do far less of that purely because there is nobody left with the experience to do so and the trickle down is a lack of concrete direction, ambition and focus.

>2021 has seen the playerbase, media and gaming at large “turn” on WoW to a degree i don’t think the leads in their “positivity dojo” bubble considered possible. Its gone from people going “This is how Blizz needs to fix WoW!” to “WoW is no longer salvageable, time for greener pastures” and i think on some level this was never considered as a possibility so there have never been any major plans beyond the usual “try and minimise player drop off by arranging releases around competitors launching updates/products”. The official forums being filled with talk of FFXIV and worse “why do we actually pay a sub?” hasn’t helped.

>There have been some testing the waters lately from certain higher ups if we can remove the line “No King Rules Forever”. Read into that what you will.

>There are still arguments going on about the Kael’thas Voice actor shitshow. I don’t know much about it but i know its heated, wouldn’t be the first time a knee jerk reaction only seemed to generate bad press. We lost a noticeable amount of pvp engagement after the Swifty thing.

>The Preach interview was treated as a disaster and there was talk of more strongly vetting interviewers for “bad actors” and only engaging with a list of questions Blizzard provides. Some pointed out that could just be used to create some form of Fireside Chat akin to the FFXIV “Live letters” but that fell on deaf ears.

>The two sentiments right now among the team are either “we really need a win” or “theres a dedicated cabal of internet trolls out to kill WoW”. Right now we are crunching hard to get 9.2 ready to wrap up the jailors storyline so we can get an expansion out early 2022. If that doesn’t happen there are talks of major shakeups coming down from Activision that have been threatened for a few  years now. Its an all hands on deck feeling thats been around to some degree since the “Is this an out of season April Fools Joke” Blizzcon. A make or break deadline is coming closer and things like Diablo 4 were not planned before then. Blizzard needs a significant win not just in initial profit but consumer goodwill. Nobody likes working at what the public now seems to see as “the bad guy” of the mmo industry.

>This has also made new hires decline. Not significantly but the “you WANT Blizzard on your resume” line doesn’t seem to have the appeal it used to. This has lead to more hiring via friend of a friend, to some rumblings about nepotism, and people severely lacking in experience “because they get great twitter optics”.

>On the topic of Twitter we are not being told to “disengage” from it. Multiple employees like Nervig and Holisky publicly attacking paying customers because they got too heated and couldn’t keep quiet is bad press that could have been avoided. A email reminder has gone around more than once lately stating “if you are not customer relations you should not be representing the company to customers, especially if you cannot remain professional”.

>Lastly the biggest elephant in the room is “yo’ boy” Asmongold. The newer hires cannot stand him. They have used terms like “toxic masculinity” and “dogwhistles to dangerous males” while some of the oldest crowd still remaining have called him “based” or “telling it like it is” which has lead to friction to put it mildly. People are told not to talk about him and the recent FFXIV stuff only made it all worse. The idea that an outside element can have such an effect on the product genuinely upsets people. Like Zach is engaging in some malicious act of cyberwarfare. Many of us have point out the now famous quotes by Naoki Yoshida about understanding that players will drift and we need to make something worth coming back to because they want to but some people for lack of a better word see out customers -or “consumers” as they refer to them nowadays- as some kind of antagonistic relationship where the goal is not being an entertainer putting on a show for a crowd but some kind of game hunter trying to trap a large, profitable kill. I wish i could blame Activision but this is a sentiment from more of the younger crowd than the “tech boomers”. Which personal opinion is probably why so many folks like Metzen and Morheim left.

>Before you ask, yes the topic of “wokeness” has shown up in group talks. Its not all some grand sjw conspiracy, people really do want to feel welcome and represented. However the “we need everything veto’ed by people not working on it to see if its inoffensive and bland enough” rubs some of us the wrong way. Like anything in life you can take something too far and lose sight of the core ideals and with everything gone on since Blitzchung it feels like people are forming little factions to pull people in different directions to decide “What Blizzards identity is now” and how to appeal to new players. There has been some drop offs with “go woke go broke” as the only answer in the survey when unsubbing but honestly we are losing subs in unforseen numbers anyway and still making more money than ever through cash shop “heavy users” so it honestly doesn’t make an impact.

>All in all things are rough right now. Blizzard doesn’t have the love of the customers anymore, is no longer treated as an industry giant and while D4,D2R and Immortal aren’t going to kill Diablo even if they fail the sentiment for World of Warcraft and Overwatch 2 are a lot more tense and stressful. The phrase “it might be good to brush up on your mobile development portfolio if we get another underperformer” has been doing the rounds a lot. If Shadowlands continues its stark decline and Overwatch 2 is looking to underperform like its current projections suggest i think the Blizzard of a few years from now will be imitating King a lot more than trying to learn any lessons from Square Enix’s mmo division.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

<<Prev | Next>>

Ao3 Link

Phagophobia Pt. 10

Summary: Isaac makes an unexpected friend and considers his options beyond mere survival.

Words: 1,194

Warnings: N/A (Please let me know if there's anything I should add here.)

A series of knocks made Isaac jump in his seat. He cursed as the careless jerk of his hand scattered the order of the pages he had floating in the sidebar.

Another knock. Not on the main door but the connecting one to Yi’s room. Glancing at the time widget at the bottom corner of the interface, he saw four hours had passed. Time flew when falling down the rabbit hole.

Isaac got up and went to the door. As expected, the corporal waited on the other side. She gave him a tired wave and suggestion of a smile.

“Got that contact info for you, Soto.”

He blinked, realizing he believed he’d never hear back on the subject. “Oh. Oh!” He stepped out of her way. “Thanks. Great timing.”

Yi entered and walked over to the interface desk. She pointed to all the info hovering in the sidebar. “Doing some light reading?”

Isaac huffed something like a laugh. “Keeping myself busy and killing time. If I find anything useful in the meantime it’s a bonus.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Clues about this bloodborn’s identity, effective hunting cases, encounters between bloodborn and other creatures—anything.” The stuff on Kinslayer and psychic vampires in general he’d just keep to himself.

Unfolding her tab, Yi tapped something on it. “You ever talk to Minnie Shaw in archives?”

“Not personally, no.”

“She’s a wizard at cross-referencing and digging up all sorts of gems. Helped me track down cursed objects and counter wards more than a few times. I’ll shoot you her info too.” She began poking at her tab screen.

Maybe he’d been hasty in judging enforcers. “I guess the magic department uses archives pretty often. Probably more than mine.”

“Well, they definitely come in handy if you want to be sure breaking a ritual circle will stop a spell or get everyone exploded. That sort of thing.” Two red notification points flashed to life among the trifold interface projections. “There. Oh—know who else might help? Yadiel and Nayeli Bosques. You might want an interpreter, though, because both—”

“They’re Deaf. Yeah, I know them. Me and their daughter Delfina—Elfy—have been friends since college. She’s the one who recruited me, actually.”

“Delfina…Short, reddish curls all piled on her head, about a dozen piercings, can’t sit still for half a minute?”

“Sounds like you’ve met.”

Yi shrugged, eyes slinking off toward the windows even though the curtains still blocked the view. “Seen her around is all.”

Isaac didn’t mean to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Bashful shuffling of feet was the last thing he’d expect from someone that brawny and blunt. Besides, he knew how Yi felt. He’d been drawn to Elfy the same way at first, until he’d learned that a) she wasn’t attracted to men, and b) he couldn’t have kept up with her even if he’d been another gender.

“Want me to put in a good word for you?” he asked, grinning. A burst of relief made his head swim. If the last few days hadn’t destroyed his capacity for lame jokes he might live to see better days.

“You’re killing me, Soto. Been longer than I care to say since I went on a date. Probably give me a heart attack at this point.”

Isaac winced. “Khang was still in public relations the last time I had a steady partner.”

Yi clucked her tongue. “Still better than my current track record. Anything serious?”

“Eh, we talked about moving in together here and there, but me being away on assignments about half the year was a deal breaker.” That and Jeremy had suspected him of being a smuggler. Given the constant travel between the States and territories, dodging every question related to work, and the handgun stashed in the closet with several boxes of ammo, Isaac couldn’t blame him in hindsight.

“That’s the story of damn near everyone in the field.” Yi shook her head. “I’m thinking more and more about putting in a transfer to archives. Seems they’re the only bunch who can manage to settle down.”

“Pretty big change, isn’t it? From raiding secret sorcery cults to organizing files?”

Another shrug while Yi tucked her tab into the back pocket of her jeans. “I originally signed up with archives. Shaw was my mentor, matter of fact. Watts got me to jump ship halfway through my training, though. Did the same thing when he was a recruit.”

Curiosity bubbled up in Isaac, but he contained himself. Sure, some people were born into families who were already Coven, like Elfy, and a few just stumbled into a nexus of circumstance that made telling them the truth easier than a cover-up. Most, however, had come to it like he had, with something supernatural barreling into their lives and the Coven helping them pick up the shattered pieces afterwards. Not stories people shared in the break room during lunch. So, instead of the countless questions pressing against the confines of his common decency, Isaac let out, “You look more at home with the enforcers.”

Smirking, Yi patted one of her impressive biceps. “Don’t underestimate my ability to file the right forms. Let me know if you have any trouble getting through to St-Ange or Shaw. I might go down to the lobby for some food later, but I should be hanging out in my room otherwise.”

“Cool. Thanks, Yi.” Maybe this was a ploy to keep tabs on him, make sure he didn’t get himself chomped, but he appreciated the friendly approach all the same.

His case of warm and fuzzies lasted only until she’d left and he looked at the time again. Isaac scrubbed a hand over his face. So many hours left to fill before dawn. He still had plenty of files to read, but little inclination to. Would St-Ange be up? Being a bloodborn researcher one would think they operated at night. Of course, they might be busy with something else. Probably best to contact them in the afternoon, just to be safe.

Isaac stared at all the pages he’d pulled up. Everything didn’t have to be about survival, did it? He’d done what he could for the moment, and talking to Yi had got him thinking. He had to buy clothes anyway, so why not pick out some not meant for trekking across the country? Who knew? Maybe he’d work up the nerve to throw his profile up on a dating network. Pretend to be someone who didn’t study monsters for a living. He did have a big hotel room all to himself. A laugh snorted out of him and he had to slap a hand over his nose and mouth to stop another. That’d give Renato Faria Dimas something to ponder if he really was watching Isaac. Although, a weapon wouldn’t be bad to bring to bed either. He’d ask Yi about it.

Still smiling, Isaac stashed his work sidebar and brought up some of the local shopping info on the main panel of the interface. He’d earned a break. He could browse through some clothes, compare specs on handguns for an hour or two. Just for fun.

[away-from-anthills]

chapter one-

(prologue)

As conversations died behind them and the Gathering glow of Fourtrees began to fade, WindClan lumbered home.

As they had been positioned northeast in the Gathering, they would have to walk parallel to the Thunderpath to get back to camp. The eldest cats, like Shalestar and Sandwhisker, didn’t even think twice as they walked along the gravelly edge, their pawpads having grown thick enough that they didn’t flinch at the pebbles of asphalt beneath their feet. Some of the younger cats, however, didn’t seem as sure. Marblepaw in particular looked quite nervous, as she nearly always did. Her brother and polar opposite, Twigpaw, was cracking macabre jokes about what could go wrong to Milkpaw and Goldenpaw, who seemed particularly disapproving.

Antstep watched Rainleap, who was in the lead, with a mixture of deep respect, high regard, a sliver of wonder, and a smaller sliver of envy. The speckled gray tabby’s chest was angular and defined, like what one would expect to see on a horse, and his yellow-eyes looked like comets in the full moon’s light. There was not an ounce of trepidation in the WindClan deputy’s figure. As Rainleap’s ears flicked around to keep track of the entire Clan, he began to stop in his tracks and step over to the apprentices.

“The Thunderpath, Goldenpaw, is nothing to be afraid of. You’ll get reflexes with it over time. When I was an apprentice-“ -he stopped and began to sign the words as he spoke them so Milkpaw, who was deaf, could also understand- “-when I was an apprentice, I was the most scared of the Thunderpath of anyone in the Clan. Talonscar, who was my mentor, even wondered if we’d have to cancel my trip to the Moonstone because I’d start crying like a kit if I even smelled the Thunderpath.”

“You! Scared?” signed Milkpaw in disbelief.

“Did you have to cancel your Moonstone trip?” asked Goldenpaw.

“We didn’t, in the end- I got used to the Thunderpath, just as everyone else does. But it’s okay to be scared, too. But remember-“ -he tilted his head and smiled- “-if anything happens, just remember, the adults in this Clan are always looking out for you.”

Antstep thought about his own apprentice, Spiderpaw, who was in camp awaiting the Gathering group’s return. She was more like Twigpaw- a loud, wild thing, rather egotistical, and very clever. She was quite the lot to handle- even Shalestar had been hesitant about assigning her to Antstep, as they were quite opposites - but Antstep cherished her regardless. This would have been the second Gathering she would have gone to, but she and her siblings had to be punished for a particularly nasty prank they had played on Sparkthistle the day before, and so Shalestar instructed them to stay home.

As much as Sparkthistle had deserved that…, thought Antstep bitterly.

Suddenly, Rainleap’s ears pricked, and he looked up, stopping where he was.

“What is it?” asked Twigpaw, but Rainleap shushed him, pointing his tail in the direction of the Thunderpath.

There, a deer was slowly making its way across the road. It was young, not over two years old, yet its pair of antlers were impressive and the color of pale oak bark. It was slim and angular, and it craned its head vaguely in the direction of the WindClan cats. It was a rare thing to see; a beautiful thing to see.

“You don’t see one of those every day,” Rainleap whispered, signing so Milkpaw could understand. “Majestic, beautiful things.”

Even the older cats- Shalestar, Sandwhisker- in the front turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the stag. A sense of stillness washed over the Thunderpath, and the stag’s black eyes shined like the Moonstone under that pale moon light.

Everything was still.

And then, there was a noise. Slowly, one by one, the cats of WindClan raised their ears. It was at first, a low hum, but as it approached, it grew louder and louder. A yellow light emerged from the distance.

Headlights.

The stag froze.

The red monster barreling down the road, then, did something monsters never do. Trying to avoid the deer, the beast swerved against itself, its rubber feet skidding along and making a stomach-churning screech. First one way, then another, and then, as Shalestar ordered WindClan to run, as cats ran every direction, as Antstep leapt into a nearby patch of bracken with Russetfoot and Rockscratch close behind and as all the forest seemed to spin, there was a horrible shock, a horrible wail, a horrible crash as the monster plummeted off the road into a nearby tree.

A plume of smoke escaped the monster’s snout. It had, earlier, been big and boxy, but it looked crumpled and almost pathetic now. It looked so very, very… small.

The deer was nowhere to be seen.

A heavyset twoleg in overalls clambered out of the monster’s side door and began to swear as he inspected the damage that had been done. He seemed to get angrier and angrier, his fists tight against themselves and his face red, until he caught sight of a small, bloodied gray body, and his gaze softened.

It was Rainleap.

Gone was the confidence, the charisma, the aura so perfect it had to be sent from StarClan themselves. The tom was limp, crushed between the bark of the oak tree and the front grill of the monster. He was positioned nearly upside down, as if he had tried to jump out at the last second. His chest was crushed inward. His head craned downward, throat-up; a stream of blood left his upper lip and began to pool around his head like a halo. He looked like a dying egret as the moon turned his speckled gray fur pale and as the blood gave it an awful, wicked glow.

The twoleg pried Rainleap’s body from its position and carried it in his. It sunk into his leather gloves, wet and limp, like a newly-borne kit. The twoleg clicked his tongue and mumbled something in a sympathetic, pitying tone. Wandering over to the back of the monster, he picked out a shovel, and began to dig the dry earth near where the monster lay. One, two, three scoops of dirt were dug out, and then Rainleap’s body was set down. One, two, three scoops of dirt were put back, and he was gone.

Shalestar’s expression was unreadable.

For a moment, Emberheart reached out to the makeshift grave, which stood just by the twoleg’s feet as he pulled a little device from his left pocket and began to speak into it. Shalestar pulled her back. WindClan warriors began to cluster around their leader.

“What will we do now?” Antstep timidly asked the blue-gray tom, his amber gaze still focused upon Rainleap’s grave- not simply because of how fast everything had gone, how it felt the earth was still spinning beneath him, but because it hurt his heart too much to look at Shalestar.

“We need to go home,” said Shalestar. The back of his throat sounded pained in a way Antstep had only heard from him a few times before. “I… I have a lot of work to do.”

And then, he turned to address his Clan- the wide-eyed warriors, the terrified apprentices, all of whom were looking to him for answers. He looked to the sky- the moon was not quite at its peak.

But was he looking to check the time, to know how long he had to choose a new deputy- or was he looking for another speckled star in that endless night sky?

“Expect your new deputy… by Moonhigh.”

-

A terrible feeling began to bubble in Antstep’s belly as WindClan hurried away from the spot where Rainleap had died. The uncertainity that hung in the cool night air was so thick it was tastable- and it tasted bitter as bitter could be. Shalestar was on his last life, and it was as if Rainleap was born to replace him. If Rainleap was not to be Rainstar, if WindClan had been robbed of the future that it had built its back on recently… who would take the mantle instead?

For the most part, Antstep considered his Clanmates. Emberheart would be a good leader. Or Toadpool, although he was a tad too naïve. Russetfoot, maybe? Or perhaps Stoatslink… Sparkthistle, definitely not.

And yet a slither of him wondered. How would he do as deputy? It was unlikely Shalestar would elect him, of course, but the thought still sprang to his mind…

Soon, the forests gave way to the open meadows of WindClan. Heathers and tallgrass danced in the air, the pathways that WindClan moor runners had trod upon for generations glowed silver, and the entrances to tunnels that were founded beyond the memories of one’s memories beckoned under the starry sky. Yet the worry of returning to WindClan territory- the worry of telling those who had stayed behind the freak accident, the blunder of StarClan, that had befallen Rainleap- eclipsed the beauty and the warm scent of home.

A small, dark gray figure stood in the distance- Antstep recognized her immediately. Spiderpaw sped towards him, her eyes aglow with curiosity. He realized she had likely sat there waiting nearly the entire time they had been gone.

“How did the gathering go?” she squeaked, skidding to a stop in front of him. However, as soon as she was struck by the expression on Antstep’s face, she lost enthusiasm. “… Did something happen?”

Antstep didn’t want to explain to her that Rainleap had died- as he knew she, talkative as she was would then go and tell the rest of the Clan. There is no worse way to hear news than an apprentice who doesn’t fully grasp the severity of what has just happened.

“Shalestar will tell you,” he replied. Spiderpaw looked confused, but upon seeing the other, similarly-glum faces of the other WindClan cats, she nodded and turned away, her large ears still pointed towards them in hopes of eavesdropping.

As the cats trod closer, through the layers of gorse-flowers that cradled camp, their dens came into view. All the cats in the little sandy hollow’s eyes were upon them, waiting to hear the news of what had happened at the gathering.

“How are the other clans?” asked a ginger molly, peeking her head out of the nursery as a tortoiseshell kit gnawed at her foot. Before she could even finish the question, Molethroat came running over to her, burying himself in her shoulder.

“Where’s Rainleap?” asked a male dark gray tabby apprentice nearly identical to Spiderpaw. There was no reply.

A dreading curiosity began to wash over some of the WindClan cats who had stayed in camp- even Cherrycloud’s kits seemed to pick up that something had just happened. Some didn’t seem to want to know, instead shifting their weight back and forth as they imagined what horrible things could have happened.

“Maybe Tatteredstar announced that she wants ThunderClan to take over the whole forest. Maybe she’s taking Rainleap as hostage, and we have to pay ransom,” said the male dark gray apprentice- he clicked his cheek, as if to say he was telling a joke, but his breath smelled of anxiety.

“Don’t say that sort of thing, Coalpaw!” scolded his mother next to him as she exited the nursery. He lowered his head, looking rather ashamed- but something caught his amber eye, and he stood to full attention. Shalestar was making his way up the Tallrock. Arthritis wracked the old tom, and his ears looked particularly weather-beaten in the full moonlight, but his gaze was determined. This was something he, and only he, could do.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Tallrock for a Clan meeting.”

Fraught silence filled the air as WindClan cats shuffled around, finding their own seats. Antstep positioned himself in the middle alongside Russetfoot, trying to avoid any cats who were close to the late WindClan deputy- he was never good at comforting others, and he figured he’d just be in the way. Whitetooth and Marblepaw sat themselves just by the base of the Tallrock, facing their Clanmates instead of their leader.

“The Gathering, this evening, came and went with no incidents. There was an argument involving Tulipstar of RiverClan and Tatteredstar of ThunderClan, but it was settled, and at no point did it involve WindClan.”

Coalpaw seemed relieved that the situation he dreamed up on his own had been disproven.

“On the way back from the Gathering, WindClan walked on the side of the Thunderpath. We have done this for many Gatherings before, and in all of the cases I can remember there was no accidents. However-“ -Shalestar swallowed- “- a monster swerved off the side of the Thunderpath into a tree, hitting and killing our deputy, Rainleap.”

There was a second where the words Shalestar uttered had not yet been processed. And then- slowly, at first, and then all at once, like a kit wading into the water- the sandy hollow broke into howls of ugly grief. Stripedwing, Rainleap’s sister, collapsed to the sandy floor in shock, and Russetfoot hurried over to where she was to comfort her. Talonscar, who had barely managed to leave the elders’ den when the news was announced, began to whimper as the other elders comforted them. The air smelled of the salt of tears, and Antstep felt his head fog up with a headache of sympathy. Even Shalestar- almighty Shalestar, steadfast Shalestar- seemed to crumple as he took in the sights and sounds of grief and panic. WindClan was mourning its most gifted son.

Shalestar waited a very long time to continue, letting the grief of the Clan bleed out into the earth. At long last, when the initial howls gave way to silent weeping, he continued. “We were not able to secure his body due to external circumstance, but rest assured, his body was buried in a respectful manner.”

By his killer, Antstep thought, but he knew saying anything would only make it worse.

“Rainleap was many things- talented, humorous, kind, intelligent- but, most importantly, he was one of us. He would have dedicated more lifetimes to WindClan than the amount of lifetimes all the leaders in this forest have put together. He was born the weakest kit of his litter, he died the pride of all of WindClan, and all of the forest. It was an esteemed honor for me to be his leader.”

Shalestar said that with every WindClan cat that passed away- but Antstep knew he deeply and truly meant it this time from the pained sound of his voice.

“As you know, I am on my ninth and final life, and I expect that it will not be long until I join StarClan’s ranks. When I made Rainleap my deputy, I fully intended for him to ascend as WindClan’s leader after my death. However, destiny is, at times, a beautiful liar and a crooked path. As early as I can under the present circumstances, I will choose a new deputy for WindClan- one who I think will be able to take good care of all of you when I am gone. WindClan’s next leader will not be Rainleap, no. I can’t say if they will be better or worse than he- they will simply be different. But I assure you all now, everything will all turn out alright in the end eventually.” He turned away slowly after eyeing the warriors of the Clan below him.

“…Meeting dismissed.”

-

“One thing I’ll never forget, about Rainleap that is,” said Rockscratch late that night, taking a bite out of the rabbit he was sharing with Stoatslink, “for all the professionalism he had as a deputy, for how put-together he was… Damn, he was the biggest flirt in the forest when he was an apprentice. It was embarrassing.”

“Remember when he had that massive crush on Mossfang in RiverClan?” said Russetfoot, wandering up to them now that Stripedwing was asleep. He started to laugh in that sad, fond sort of way. “And she didn’t care at all for him. I swear to StarClan, she would have sooner dated a skunk’s ass! I don’t even think she’s into toms to begin with…”

“Oh, he made such a fool of himself at Gatherings back then… He had a thing for RiverClan, I swear. I always joked if he wasn’t careful there’d be a bunch of baby Rainleaps bouncing around the river someday…”

Antstep laughed at the thought- he had forgotten how Rainleap had been as an apprentice. The idea of Rainleap being anything but perfect had all but washed away in his mind. He thought of the conversation Rainleap had had with the apprentices just before he died, about how much the speckled tabby had feared the Thunderpath as an apprentice. How dark that seemed now…

“Now, Antstep, he was an apprentice by the time you joined WindClan so you never saw him as a kit- but we’ll tell you, as we were his nursery denmates, we saw all kinds of shenanigans him and his siblings got into. He’d be so embarrassed to hear us bring it up now. There was the time he escaped the nursery with Stripedwing…”

As Russetfoot began to ramble off, Antstep thought about Shalestar. The old tom was still in his den, debating to himself on who to choose. Only Whitetooth had been in the den at all.

Maybe he’d choose Rockscratch or Russetfoot? The two red tabby tom twins were Antstep’s closest friends. Rockscratch was more boisterous, more quick to fight; Russetfoot was calmer and gentler and dedicated to his mate. Antstep remembered how Shalestar had been when he had the leader as his mentor- he always appreciated calmer cats, who’d be willing to hear out debates and make amends. Russetfoot would be a good leader. And maybe Rockscratch could be deputy. Wouldn’t that be something?

His thoughts were cut off as he heard pawsteps behind him. He turned to see Whitetooth, the WindClan medicine cat, staring at him.

“Antstep. Shalestar wants to see you in his den.”

Antstep was confused, but he put the pieces together immediately. Of course- I was his last apprentice, and most of the warriors are about my age, so he wants to see me to get my opinion. “Should I go now? Or-“

“Come along with me,” simply replied the medicine cat.

As they walked across camp together, Antstep got a good look at Whitetooth, who he normally didn’t interact with much as he rarely went to the medicine den. The medicine cat was friends with everybody and nobody. They generally kept to themselves, but they were deeply trusted for their skill. Under the clear night sky, their almost all-white fur, which smelled of berries, seemed to glow.

Antstep got the sense Whitetooth was analysing him. Their gaze was scanning Antstep top to bottom- there was a conclusion being reached behind those teal, dawn-colored eyes of theirs, but Antstep couldn’t figure out what conclusion it was.

“Here we are,” said Whitetooth, stopping a whisker’s length away from the leader’s den. “Shalestar told me this was to be a private matter, so I shall see you later. I wish you good luck.”

Good luck?

-

“… You wanted to see me, sir?” said Antstep, suddenly feeling worry boil in his throat. But that worry soothed itself when Shalestar looked upon them. This was, after all, the very same cat who had insisted WindClan take Antstep in; who had mentored Antstep himself.

“…Yes. I have reached a conclusion, Antstep. But I need to make sure it will be alright with you first before I announce it. It is quite a lot to take in- it was for me, after all.”

An inkling scurried around Antstep’s mind. “… What is the conclusion, if I may ask?”

Shalestar took a deep breath. “Antstep. I have always seen you as something of a son to me. When we found you as a kit all on your own, you know I had just lost my children to a wildfire. That is why I mentored you. It felt like a sign, like StarClan themselves dropped a kit on my densteps to raise in place of my own. And… when I die… I want someone who I feel I can personally trust, who I have a personal regard for, to carry on Clan life, not just a fellow Clanmate with leadership skills.”

Antstep nodded, realizing what Shalestar was about to ask him.

“I am aware that it is a lot to ask of you, and that Rainleap left behind big pawprints to fill. But I fully believe that if you have the time to learn the ropes and adjust, you will be a wonderful deputy- and, if fate allows for it, a wondrous leader. So… Antstep… may I make you the next deputy of WindClan?”

At first, Antstep felt ill. He was barely able to keep ahold of his apprentice, let alone an entire Clan! And what would the other Clans think? When Currantstar announced a former kittypet was to be the next ShadowClan medicine cat when he introduced Rosettepelt at a gathering a couple of seasons ago, he was made a laughingstock by the other Clans. And that was ShadowClan! They let in outsiders all the time… But Antstep had been a rarity, only allowed in because it was against the Warrior Code to leave a kit out there on their own.

But then… a sickenly sweet idea hit the corner of his mind and bounced into it. The deep awe the leaders had instilled in him just earlier that night. The way they were all so loved by their Clans. The respect Rainleap and Shalestar got, the way everyone seemed to approve of them. Love. Respect. Approval. It could all be his.

He just had to say one word.

“Yes, Shalestar.”

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Return of the King

So we’re back to the quasi-filler stuff. This episode does set a few things up for the finale, like bringing Edmund to Corona, but none of those things are actually good and it’s still mostly filled with irrelevant shit alongside the more important stuff. 

Summary: King Edmund arrives in Corona to see his long-lost son, Eugene, and to give him the royal sash of their bloodline. Eugene wants nothing to do with him, but Rapunzel invites him to stay. Later, the sash is stolen and a ransom note is left behind. Edmund and Eugene decide to go and retrieve it. Meanwhile, the Stabbington Brothers plot revenge on Eugene as they are both viewed as a joke by the other criminals.

So How Did the Stabbingtons Escape the Prison Barge 

Last we saw them they were stuck on a prison barge along with Lady Caine and all of the other season one villains. How did they escape? Did Lady Caine or anybody else make it out? If so then where are they this season? 

We’re not going to get any of those questions answered are we? 

Man this is just sloppy continuity. Which ironic, because these two were only brought back this season because of continuity. They need to be “redeemed” so that they can be at the wedding. I guess it just sucks to be you if you’re an original villain for this show and not named Cassandra. 

Why Is This Deserving of Ridicule? 

Like...We’re talking about a world renowned thief and adventurer and his magical royal girlfriend who are well known enough outside of Corona to be mentioned and there for no doubt people know how they both defeated monsters, daemons, and several criminals besides just there two guys, right? 

This plot point makes no sense. 

You could just kick these dumbasses butts and be done with it. I doubt they’d bother picking on you again if you did.  

Did we really need even more motivation for them to want revenged against Eugene?

Rapunzel is Back to Being Her Bossy Self 

Rapunzel has not earned the role of “wise administrator” yet. She’s only been out of the tower for two years now and she has yet to prove to the audience that she has managed to learn anything since then. By jumping the gun and forcing her into a role that she hasn’t grown into, and by ignoring that this whole show started out as a coming of age story, it just makes Rapunzel unpleasant to be around. All her “advice” is just her ordering people about with a veneer of chipperness to try and mask her controlling nature. People who should know more about their own lives than she does and have no reason to listen to her.  

So We’re Showing Rapunzel Being Responsible... By Having Her Avoid Responsibility? 

Part of why the writers made her “acting queen” for the first half the season was to get her to grow into the role of becoming full time queen. However they screwed this up by not having her actually learn anything and having her avoid the real duties a queen preforms. 

What Rapunzel is doing her is just being a socialite busybody. The only administrative thing she does is approve some low-scale building plans for a small business. A thing that would have been handled by a lower official in an actual functioning government.   

Once again Rapunzel is being selfish and doing what she like, ie bossy people around while having them kiss her ass, as the real work of running the kingdom is left to someone else. This isn’t being responsible, it’s being hypocritical, but don't expect anyone to ever call Rapunzel out for this. 

Pointless Action Scene is Pointless

At this point, the low stakes action sequences are just cringe. Like is this an adventure show or not people? Stop forcing crap like this and give us some real conflicts instead.  

How Did You Get Here So Fast Edmund?

It took Rapunzel and company nearly a year to get to the Dark Kingdom. Even if Edmund wasn't delayed with pit stops like they were, it would have still taken him several months to get here by horse. 

Did he take a boat, or have four to six months already past since Rapunzel’s Return? 

I would argue that this episode was aired out of order and should have been later in the season, but Cassandra’s appearance at the end of this story, and Hamnuel’s appearances in later episodes, would suggest otherwise. 

Crap like this is why season’s three timeline doesn’t work unless you stretch everything out to two years instead of one. 

Read the Room Rapunzel

One could argue that Rapunzel is just trying to be polite, but that doesn't really hold water. 

For starters Eugene is clearly upset and has every right to want to set boundaries between himself and Edmund. Ignoring that is incredibly rude and if my significant other ever did such a thing, well they wouldn’t be my significant other for very long. 

Secondly, Rapunzel could have offered other accommodations if she felt pressured to be polite to Edmund. Not only are their lots of inns in a port town known for trade, many of which are probably well-to-do, but there’s also that convent that was mentioned back in season one. It has to be somewhere in Corona itself and as the so far only mentioned major religious organization in the country it would no doubt have stately quarters for when royalty and nobility would visit. 

So not only would it be a suitable place for a visiting king to stay in, as it would be made for such things, but it’s also far enough away that Eugene wouldn’t feel like his space is being invaded but close enough that Edmund could come and go as he pleases. 

By that point it’s still between Edmund and Eugene and Rapunzel can stay out of it, like she should. 

Eugene is Right

These are all valid reasons for cutting someone out of your life. Furthermore, you don’t even need a reason. If you don’t want to associate with somebody then just don't associate with. It’s your life. You don’t have to justify how you choose to live it and people who actually care about you should respect that. 

Unfortunately no one respects Eugene.  

Not Edmund, not Rapunzel, and most certainly not the writers. 

Then Why Don't You Get Closer to Edmund, Rapunzel?

I understand Rapunzel’s viewpoint here. Edmund is the only person she’s ever met who has experienced the same isolation that she has. He’s one of the very few people whom she can empathize with. 

However that doesn’t give her the right to force her views upon her boyfriend. If she cared so much than she could just befriend Edmund herself and leave Eugene out of it. 

Trying to encourage a child to have relationship with a parent who neglected them is super tone deaf at best and outright disrespectful at worst. It’s also highly hypocritical seeing as Rapunzel cut Gothel out of her life for similar reasons and Eugene only ever supported her for it. 

No really, flip the situation. If Eugene tried to encourage Rapunzel to give Gothel a second chance everyone would be slamming him for it. So why does Rapunzel get a free pass? 

Shorty Already Did That, Eugene. Don’t You Remember? 

I mean, you were literally right there when it happened. Are we forgetting season two the same as season one now? 

So Why Are Stan and Pete Suddenly Back, But Not Cap?

I mean we went through all that trouble in Rapunzel’s Return to write them out of the narrative and here they are without any explanation. Why are simple set ups so dang hard for this show? 

Rapunzel is Overstepping Her Bounds Here

Ok, giving Edmund a place to stay is one thing. Suggesting to Eugene that he should give Edmund a chance is not appropriate but still forgivable. But this? 

This crosses a fucking line! 

Eugene is not Rapunzel’s subject. He’s her boyfriend, and a prince in his own right. Rapunzel can’t just volunteer him for crap without his consent. That’s just indirectly ordering him about like she would a servant.  

Once again, flip the script. If Eugene tried to force Rapunzel to work with Gothel everyone would be up in arms. Why is this then deemed okay? 

This is Coercion

Not only is Edmund and Rapunzel trying to guilt trip Eugene here but she even fucking elbows him!

Like this isn’t “cute couple bickering” here. That kind of stuff is reserved only for inconsequential shit. 

This a woman trying to strong arm and guilt trip her husband to be into having a relationship with his abusive father! Because guess what? Neglect is still abuse! 

Rapunzel has zero say in Eugene and Edmund’s relationship. It’s none of her fucking business! Trying to force her into this plot just makes her look like an asshat. 

I mean look at this smug smile! The fucking bitch is proud of being a shit human being and a terrible girlfriend. 

And of course don't expect the show to call out this behavior as wrong because of out of date sexist double standards. If you think any of this is okay then just role reverse Eugene and Rapunzel here and then tell me its still alright. 

The Show Missed a Real Trick By Not Naming Him Horus Instead

Horus, the sun god, would have been a nice bit of irony and given meaning to the name while keeping the joke virtually unchanged. You could have had both lore and a punchline. 

And I would argue that the joke as is, isn’t even funny. Horace is indeed a lame name, but not for the reason that the show gives. It’s lame because it’s not unique enough. There’s already a Disney character named Horace and I’m sure there are real people out there with that name as well since it’s not completely unheard of. So the joke falls flat and winds up insulting anyone with that name. 

Don’t Expect Any Pay Off for Eugene’s Identity Issues This Season

Yeah the show makes a big deal out of Eugene having a mid-life crisis through out season three, but then never resolves it in any meaningful way. 

Edmund Is an Asshole 

I don’t care how “crazy” he is. Calling someone by a name they don't wished to be called is just plain rude. Acknowledging someone’s preferred name is just a basic common courtesy that is expected of everyone. Once again, this isn’t funny, quirky, nor charming, just unpleasant. 

So the Animators Wasted a Model on a No-Named Character Who Only Appears Once

Someone said this little girl appears in season one, but it’s not noticeable if she does. She also doesn’t have a name and this is her only speaking role. What a waste of money. Just have one of the braided girls from the movie instead. You already built models for them and haven’t really used them. 

And before some mentions race here, this is poor rep already cause the character has no impact. 

Turns Out, Varian Didn’t Even Need Those Truth Serum Cookies

Not only does this dumb down Pete to a ridiculous degree, but it also invalidates everything Varian went through in The Alchemist Returns and the grief he got from everyone for using the truth serum. 

Oh, and it’s also lazy writing and a plot contrivance.  

That’s Not Figgy Pudding!

This is Figgy Pudding.

It’s a boiled “pudding” that’s more like a cake with dried fruit in it. During the 14th through 18th centuries such bread puddings were made to be carried around in ones pocket or knapsack for eating on the go. They’re nothing like the creamy custards we call puddings today. 

It also looks nothing like what’s shown on the screen below. 

That’s like a half eaten loaf of wheat bread?  

That’s jelly filled .. apparently...?

Once Again, If You Have to Make Everyone Else Incompetent to Make Your Hero Useful to the Plot Then You Need a New Plot

Rapunzel has zero business in this plot. She doesn’t even need to be in this episode beyond a cameo. Trying to cram her into the protagonist role in a conflict that doesn’t involve her is just a disservice to everyone.  

Winnie The Pooh Is More Mature Than This Show

More of that meta commentary I was talking about last episode, and it just as full of shit as ever. 

Seriously Find Her, Keep Her is the best script I have ever seen in any show. It’s perfectly balanced so that anyone of any age can relate to it. It’s real and heartbreaking and perfectly suitable for small children to understand. There’s no shock value, no darkness, no modern satire, but its far more mature and complex and deep than anything TTS has tried. 

Also Rabbit is a far better father than any dad in this show, while still being cut from the same trope. There’s no shame in being a children’s show when its done well and this now 30 year old kids show runs rings around what ever mess Tangled is trying to sell. 

Eugene Isn’t Exaggerating Here and I Don't Know How to Feel About That

Turns out Eugene did grow up with these guys the same as he did with Lance. It’ll be confirmed only two episodes later. That just recontextualizes everything. He didn’t just betray some rando guys that he held no feelings for, he betrayed people that he’s known and worked with since childhood. 

Now just because he’s known them doesn’t mean that they were family to him like Lance, but like the fact that he keeps claiming then as such through out the episode would suggest that perhaps they were like siblings. 

That’s ... ingenious. That makes Flynn Rider retroactively an even worse person and gives the Stabbingtons real reason for vengeance. 

Only the show doesn't do anything with this!  It just makes Eugene an even bigger jerk in the movie for zero reason. 

Let Me Reiterate, Edmund Is an Asshole 

Just like with Frederic, Cassandra, and Rapunzel the show uses framing to try and make the audience side with people who do unforgivable things. 

Edmund is an abuser. He neglected his own son for 25 years. But the show presents him as “funny” and “quriky” and “look at his pouty face, he’s so lonely”.... 

No!

Edmund isn’t deserving of anything and how he treats Eugene here is garbage. 

This show is utter crap writing wise but boy does it know how to gaslight its own audience into siding with bullies and abusers.  

Eugene Is One Thousand Percent In the Right Here, But Don’t Expect the Narrative to Acknowledge That

There’s nothing you can do to make up for that. 

Eugene might forgive him. Eugene might move on from it. Eugene might decide a relationship it still worth having with Edmund. But the horrible thing still happened and it happened because Edmund allowed it to happen. There’s no going back from that and everything going forward has to be on Eugene’s terms alone. 

But the narrative won't allow Eugene that agency. 

Even as he makes his grand proclamation about being done with Edmund the cameras chooses to focus on Edmund and his feelings. The story is already priming the audience to prioritize Edmund over Eugene so that when the forced and contrived forgiveness scene comes we won't question it. But it only comes because Chris doesn’t deem Eugene as individual person with thoughts and feels of his own, but as an avatar to fulfill his wishfulment fantasy regarding his own personal daddy issues. 

Rapunzel’s Characterization in Season Three is Just....Off

Ok, even ignoring the major stuff, like not recognizing what she’s done wrong, putting her into roles she’s not meant to carry, and making her a shitty girlfriend suddenly, Rapunzel just behaves contrary to her character all through out season three even in small subtle ways like here. 

On the surface this seems like a clever call back to Great Expotations, but lets examine more closely, shall we. 

On one end we have yo-yos; an invention that’s been around since ancient Greece and is so wide spread across the globe that the word “yo-yo” itself is theorized to come from Indonesia and the Philippines.

On the other end there is Rapunzel. A woman who spent 18 years isolated inside of a tower, because of this she is both ignorant of somethings and insatiability curious and eager to learn.  Or at least she was, until striking out onto a year long road trip, and having now been out of the tower for only two years, claims to know better than the entire fucking world about this object who’s existence she didn’t even know about until only a year and half ago! 

Like what kind of sense does this make? Why would you abandon the core of her drive and motivation, to learn, explore, and grow, and then call it “development”? 

How Did Edmund Get Beat By These Guys?

Edmund took out Adria. The Brotherhood is suppose to be the best physical fighters in this world and Edmund is supposed to be best out of all of them. Yet he’s taken out by two random, mediocre dudes who didn't even jump him. They gave him time to respond and he stood up to fight them. 

Was all his physical prowess tied into that axe? Is the axe magic? 

If you characters have to be depowered for unexplained reasons for the plot to work than you haven’t a good plot. 

This Isn’t as Heartwarming as You Think It Is Show

If Edmund knew where Eugene was this whole time then he could have actually provided for his son. He could have arranged adoption with someone by letter, sent money, food, clothes, ect, maybe even wrote to Eugene directly and kept up a long distance relationship to be there for him emotionally. 

There is literally no excuse anymore for Edmund to hide behind. He literally neglected his duties as a parent, just cause. 

Finding these things shouldn’t make Eugene happy. Finding these things should piss him off even further because that’s how any logical adult would respond to this bullcrap. 

I sure know I’m angry. I’m angry that Eugene is a pawn for the creators’ writing wank-off rather then being treated as human being; as an actual character. 

“Nice” Isn’t the Same Thing as Kind, Rapunzel

One could argue that she’s not even superficially nice in season three, but the real problem here is that the show, and by extension Rapunzel herself, doesn’t understand the difference between being “pleasant” and actually being a good person. Outwardly polite people can stab you in the back, can kill you even, and not care, as Rapunzel has demonstrated repeatedly since season one.   

Do They Have to Be “Family” for Eugene to Give a Damn? 

Can’t Eugene just do the right thing, because it’s the right thing to do? People don't need to be friends and family to care about each others lives. Kindness isn’t transactional. Empathy and true charity doesn’t come with strings attached. If Eugene’s whole arc is about becoming a better person, then making the Stabbingtons “family” kind of undermines this. 

Don’t Reward the Dude for Doing the Bare Fucking Minimal 

No seriously. Edmund forfeited the right to ever be called “dad” by Eugene a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t get to be called that now just because he stopped being a piece of scum and showed the bare minimal of human decency. Even if Eugene decides to have a relationship with Edmund after this, it doesn’t mean that  he has to be recognized as his dad or that that relationship will be a parental one.  

Eugene, and by Extension the Show, Places Rapunzel Upon a Pedestal to  the Detriment of All

Only 4 villains out of 20 get redeemed in this show. Four, and yes I’m counting the Stabbintions as one entity here. That’s 16 times Rapunzel failed to give someone a second chance just cause she didn’t feel like it that day, and even here she did fuck all in trying to give the Stabbingtons any sort of chance. That was all on Eugene. 

The more this show goes on, the more it looks like Eugene is just in love with the idea of Rapunzel rather than who she actually is as a person. It’s a disservice to both their characters but it damages Rapunzel most of all because the show perpetuates this over idealization to everyone she interacts with. 

It’s really sickening to watch and terrifying to know that some uphold this selfish brat as a “role model” for little girls. There’s nothing empowering in being an inhuman “goddess” who can do no wrong....even as they do several wrongs and never gets called out on it.    

This Isn’t “Cute”

Eugene can’t even have an opinion on a fucking toy!

Look if you still like New Dream despite how horribly written it is this season, then good for you. That is completely understandable, especially since this is mainly a problem with season three and not really in the first two seasons and certainly not in the movie. 

But if you try to deny that they aren’t toxic in season three, that people who do have problems with how they’re written aren’t valid in their concerns, than you’re either someone who hasn’t been paying attention or someone who has gross double standards for women in relationships. 

This Scene Is A Waste of Time

This doesn’t tell the audience anything. It contradicts what was previously established concerning her powers without explanation and then just throws the creepy girl voice in there for a lazy hook. It doesn’t work at foreshadowing since we repeat this info all over again in the next episode and it doesn’t expand upon neither Zhan Tiri’s nor Cassandra’s characters.

 In fact it kind of contradicts Cassandra’s characterization in the last episode as well. Is she a remorseless bad bitch or a vulnerable woobie? She can’t be both. Not in the way show is going about it anyways. 

It’s poor time management and poor storytelling. 

Conclusion

It was mildly better than Rapunzel’s Return, but that’s not saying much. Everyone’s character is still circling the drain and there’s no escape line in sight. 

But before I close out, here is a real world update. I had to quit my job at Amazon for personal reasons and am currently job hunting. I’m not hurting right now, I do have money saved up to cover me for at least a month and I’ve been doing commissions here and there, however despite having more time technically to write these reviews, I’m now having to juggle it along with artwork and job hunting. 

If you would like to support my reviews and other personal projects you can send me a tip over at Ko-Fi and more public commissions will be opening soon over there as well.  

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[whatgaviiformes]

10. Music Makers - Part 6 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside

Chapter Summary:  Virgil and Gordon and music

 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You are Here - Final Section

Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-)  

Adding also - this is the final bit. Thank you all so much for the reblogs and the likes, and the tags. The support has been wonderful and I am so humbled. I hope you have enjoyed. I am posting the last bit here, and tomorrow sometimes I’ll probably post the FF and Ao3 links for the story in full, but for now, this is for you tumblr. Thank you. 

Part Notes:  A thank you to @gumnut-logic​ for the read through because I needed another set of eyes on what is a complicated set of boys below. It’s been a whirlwind of a day. 

For tunes this time - Green Onions. 

***

Music Makers - Part 6/The Conclusion

“You want to do what?!”

“I want to use your accident as a simulation for training.”  John continues to layer cream cheese onto his toasted bagel as he speaks, but Gordon has stopped his knife mid-spread, the heaping dollop of hazelnut hovering dangerously on the dull edge.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” John says, his countenance severe as green eyes stare piercingly to meet Gordon’s shocked expression.

“O-kay” Gordon says slowly, placing his breakfast down onto his plate and pushing the breakfast meal aside. “Why exactly?”

The hydrofoil had exploded before anyone could ever have anticipated the destruction; there had been no time. The only way to use his accident for a rescue simulation was to admit what really happened. And while Gordon was grateful for what John had risked by hacking confidential WASP files to discover the cause of the accident, no good could from clueing in Scott and Virgil to the knowledge that it was sabotage, that someone – they still don’t know who - had tried to murder him and had succeeded for seven others. He planned to take the knowledge to his grave and has asked John to do the same. Which is why it was strange for their Thursday morning to start with such a suggestion.

The four of them had been running sims for weeks. There was nothing that would beat live testing the equipment and they had done test drives of the pods and ships, but running mission scenarios was different. Before they introduced International Rescue to the world, they needed to be able to trust each other completely, to know how to work the problem.

Scott had naturally taken to the role of commander, his instincts well in tune with countering the details of John’s “missions.” Since it was all simulations, Virgil would often challenge Scott’s decisions, walk through the equipment they would have at their disposal, and offer additional suggestions. Brains and Jeff had started to create practice rescues as well, so John got the practice he needed to best support communications.

Overtime, the rescues became more complex. They were all experts in their fields, so it was natural for them to lean into the rescues that met their niches, but when they went live that wouldn’t always be the case. Just yesterday, Gordon had given his family a crash course on how to best avoid getting the bends in a deep sea rescue, and Gordon has learned more about functioning in zero gravity than he hopes he will ever truly need.

Sometimes John and Brains would program the mission to have an urgency to it, sometimes it was a mission of precision. And they’d failed. A lot. A lot less lately as they started to get into the groove, but they always worked the problem until they solved it.

Even knowing what he did about the bomb that had been placed deep in the hydrofoil’s engine, Gordon’s knew his accident was…unsolvable.

“But how are we supposed to solve for the impossible, John?” John doesn’t answer; he just looks at Gordon patiently, pointedly. Waiting. “Oh my God, you want to give them a Kobayashi Maru!”

John nods. “Yes.”

“No, I don’t like it,” Gordon says, shaking his head.

“Look, we will do everything we can, and we will still lose people. Scott and Virgil—” the and you goes unsaid “—need to understand that! They’re getting too complacent, and they need to understand the stakes. We can’t save everyone.”

“We understand the stakes,” he argues, but John is shaking his head vehemently.

“No. You don’t. You all have shown you’re going to be a hell of a team, honestly,” he says. “But it’s all been puzzling through the situations, how to use the pods. I need a way for it to feel real, and I can’t use the avalanche, so —"

“Don’t you DARE.”

“I’m just trying to find something—"

“John, stop.” Gordon says, grasping at the redhead’s shoulders and gently shaking him. “I need you to turn off rescue work here. How can you even think to do that to Virgil? What exactly are you trying to prove? I didn’t think you would be so cruel.”

Gordon can’t fathom what would possess John to pressure his brothers – Virgil who, he clearly has mis-understood, and Scott, who after two months MIA, had been returned to his family with an honorable discharge and a pair of haunted eyes and agitated reflexes that were mere phantoms to what they imagine he went through captured behind enemy lines.  If training in the Air Force was anything like WASP, Gordon knew just why and how Scott closed himself off from feeling at times.  

John pales. “I’m not—”

“What is Virgil supposed to think if you give them the avalanche and they can’t solve it?” Gordon feels heat flush up his neck.  “What if they can solve it? I don’t even know what’s worse, but I won’t let you do it! I won’t!”

“I know. Look, I know, Gordon. You haven’t let me finish; I said I am not going to use to avalanche,” he says, urging Gordon to understand. He knows how difficult this is. He’s been going through it in his head for days before mustering the courage to ask Gordon. “Just let me start over.”

“Fine. But get to the point.”

“Tell me - when is the last time any of you used someone’s name on a rescue simulation?”

The question takes him by surprise. He knows they receive the victim’s name in the scenario briefing, but he can’t remember a time when they used names. The simulations were life-like enough that they could role play if they need to, yeah, but the point was to practice with the equipment. But then, they had been exceeding expectations there lately.

“How about the last mission? Do you remember the victim’s name? How about his age?”

Gordon stares blankly at his brother. He thinks it started with a B, perhaps. Brandon? Bradley?  

“It was Randy, and he was 8.  Virgil geared up with the Jaws of Life, moved the cross beam to save him, and got him out of the fire to safety. You don’t even know why the boy froze, do you? It was because he was scared. Randy was deaf and he didn’t hear a thing Virgil said. Virgil can’t do ASL in the exo-suit, and for the entire simulation he faced away from him. Virgil may have gotten him out, but he didn’t give him very much trust in International Rescue.”

“Yeah, but he would still be alive if it were a real situation.”

“Gordon, the situation was never about the fire. It hasn’t been about learning the equipment for weeks. Please. I am not trying to be heartless. I just… don’t know how else to make it feel real to them. And I am worried.”

“So, what? You’re trying to make a point about their compassion, and yet you’re showing them none? I don’t want any part of it,” he growls. “And you make your own no-win scenario. Leave mine out of it.” Gordon slides his chair back and storms off.

After a few seconds, John too retreats to his room, after wrapping up the two uneaten bagels for later. He has a lot to think about.

***

Gordon finds Virgil in Thunderbird 2’s hangar, checking her over for the test flight they are planning to undertake after simulations today. His dark hair is swept underneath a large headset that could appear to have a safety function to protect his ear drums, but no, Gordon knows they are his older brother’s preferred set of sound blocking, bass pumping, wireless headphones.

He'd bought them for him himself, as a thank you after one of his more difficult nights, and he knew from experience how immersive the sounds were through the speakers. There was no one else around other than Gordon, which Virgil had yet to realize, and so it was a sign of just how focused Virgil was in his work.

Gordon steps further into the hangar and observes the adoration Virgil puts into his careful touches as he checks the green supply ship. Over the past year and a half, Virgil has channeled all of his creativity and ingenuity into her build. Thunderbird 2 was what Virgil needed, his special project to distract him from the burdens of Gordon’s injuries as he healed.

He sits down on a crate and closes his eyes. Virgil had sacrificed so much for him. If anything, the simulations had shown just how eager Virgil was, and John didn’t know their brother well enough if he felt Virgil was forgetting the stakes. Virgil knew the stakes better than anyone. The idea for International Rescue had been born from loss after all. A loss that Virgil was a breath away from being part of.

How can he possibly blame him for his excitement to share Thunderbird 2 with the world? For getting lost in the details? The problem was the simulations would always be awkward for him. He compensated for his lack of acting skills by leaning into what he knew well, which was his patience, knowledge of machines, and an innate talent for challenging Scott.

Gordon didn’t need a simulation for him to have the upmost faith in Virgil’s compassion. John hadn’t been here to know how tenderly Virgil cared for him while he was healing and so he couldn’t see what Gordon could: that when it was real and when it mattered, Virgil’s heart would only be focused on the people they were trying to save.

A no-win scenario would break him.

When he opens his eyes again, Virgil is still oblivious to his presence, but he’s abandoned his wrench and with his hands free has started to dance, his head bopping, energized with the beat that only he can hear. A shimmy and a spin and he finally catches sight of Gordon, who laughs with the scene. Virgil is so in his element today, and the joy Gordon feels is so counter to his anger from earlier that morning.

“Hey!” Virgil calls, a little louder than he realizes with the headphones still around his ears, but he removes them as he realizes and walks over. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. Whatcha listening to?” Gordon can hear the pulse from the speakers.

“R&B Soul.” Virgil pulls the headphones off his neck and sets them around Gordon’s ears. The cool blues bassline vibrates through his bones and he too rocks his body with the music for a couple seconds.

“S’cool. I like it,” he says, before relinquishing the headphones back to his brother.

Virgil accepts them back, his eyes suspiciously bright as he places them around his neck once more. “Sorry,” he says chuckling lightly at himself.  “It’s just – you’re dancing.”

“I know. Who would’ve thought?” He grins devilishly as he attempts a pirouette and fails.  

“I did.”

“Yeah, yeah you did.” Gordon goes quiet a moment, whispering, “Thank you.”

“You really don’t need to keep thanking me, Gordon.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

***

After dinner, Scott finds Gordon sitting on the edge of the pool, swinging his feet in the chlorinated water. It’s wild to think that after all this time, Thunderbird 1 is waiting below for her first mission.

“You skipped simulations today.”

He grunts. “I know. How did it go?” He knows Scott will assume he skipped for his health.

“Well we need an astronaut, that’s for sure.”  A space mission. That’s… different. “We could use you tomorrow if you’re up for it. We still haven’t been able to launch correctly and it’s John’s program so he’s not talking.”

“I am not a space guy, Scott.”

“Yeah, but three of us are better than two,” he urges. “We’ll figure it out.”­­­­

***

Mayday! Mayday! Impact imminent.

He can’t get the sounds of John’s pained voice out of his head, panicked calls for help that they have been trying for hours to reach.

Over and over.

Until finally, they did reach Thunderbird 5, and after so many times hearing his brother die, John had programmed for them to see it.

“We’re too late; run it again,” Scott had said, pale. “Okay, how do we improve our launch speed this time?”

Then for another three hours, they kept trying to tick off time, to get there faster, until their time plateaued and yet they still were unable to save their sibling.

The mechanical voice – All systems offline. And the screams for help fade to nothing, and Virgil knows what to expect. It’s been torture. Virgil collapses in front of the too white, too pale, too dead figure and screams for it to stop, ripping off the virtual headset.

His knees are weak, but he dashes to John all the same – he needs to see him, to feel him alive. But John’s expression stops him in his tracks.  

“It’s not solvable.”

John shakes his head, his expression tight. “No.”

Betrayal flashes through Virgil’s eyes.

“What the hell, John!” Scott shouts and Virgil jumps at the volume. He puts his hand on Virgil’s trembling shoulder. “How long were going to do this for?”

“I-I didn’t think you’d keep running it that long!”

“Of course we were going to keep running it, John – you’re our brother. We would never give up on you. God dammit!”

“I’m sorry, look, Gordon was right-”

“Gordon knows? Is that why he’s been skipping? I thought he was hurt.”

“No, no. Well not really, but–”

Scott eyes flash, and he leaves the training room in a flurry of angry curse words. Virgil cringes as the door slams.

“Virgil, I mean it,” John pleads. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think you’d stay in there. I really didn’t.”

His fingers twitch, as he starts to feel life back in them again, his heart suppressing the vision of red hair caked with blood and unseeing green eyes. John is not the most tactile of people, but despite being quite tall among the Tracy family, his shoulders slump and he seems so small.

John is still his younger brother, though, and he’s upset, and they both could use the hug Virgil had been wanting. He covers the rest of the distance to John and envelops him in his arms.

“Damn you,” he whispers into red hair, and yet he never wants to let him go.

***

Scott is livid. Gordon is absent. John is remorseful. Alan is unaware, lucky kid.

Virgil feels sick. He taps on his watch and calls for Gordon. “Where are you?”

Through the communicator, the aquanaut responds that he’s on the beach by the dock and invites him to join if he wants. Virgil wants. He needs to get out of the villa. Maybe get some fresh air as the sun ducks beyond the horizon.

After a few moments gathering himself, he begins the trek down. In his left hand he carries a guitar, in his right he holds his shoes, as he steps carefully over the granules of sand towards his brother.

Gordon is already strumming on the ukulele when he approaches.

“Did you know?”

“I had an idea,” Gordon admits. “I didn’t agree with it.”

Virgil hums, plopping down next to him on the large beach blanket he’s laid out along the sand. Virgil likes the guitar, and it’s a lot more portable than a baby grand piano. But also, there’s just something powerful about a beach bonfire with the sound of plucked strings.

It's easy for Virgil to fall into chords that complement Gordon’s melodies, and they aren’t playing anything in particular, but it’s seamless when Gordon passes the harmony to Virgil.  The ukulele transitions to the accompanying chords, and Virgil smiles thankfully, nodding as he picks up one of many underdeveloped melodies in his head. Virgil fingers fly along the frets, and it's apparent in his loosening posture when he starts releasing the tension in his shoulders.

Gordon places his uke in his lap after some time and leans back into blanket, content to listen to his brother’s playing.

The gentle notes drift with the tossing of wind currents, until suddenly Virgil rounds out a melody with a sigh.

“I think we need to talk.”

Gordon nods and offers to call John and Scott if Virgil will start working on the bonfire.

John was keen for the invite, knowing he would need to be called on before his apology for the error would be accepted, but Scott had taken some talking to. After he left, he’d gone for a run along the bluffs and had settled a bit away. He finally agreed to come join with Gordon’s persuasion, but he would be a while yet.

Virgil has the fire roaring and Gordon has stepped away to talk to Scott by the time John arrives, picnic basket and roasting skewers in hand. Virgil turns from stroking the fire and accepts the picnic basket, peeking inside.

Marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers. Hell yeah.

When Scott approaches, Virgil is playing a tune on the guitar, and Gordon and John both have their skewers extended over the flame, marshmallows browning in the heat.

He is disgusted by the angry shriek of the alarms that sound in his ears at the sight of John, but he swallows down the memory, as he joins his brothers around the fire.

They are not sure what to say to each other, the smoke rising between them and drifting into the night sky, but Virgil’s music is soothing against the tense air, and it’s obvious who is still struggling to the most to meet each other’s gaze.

Gordon shrugs and picks up his ukulele to join Virgil’s song.

A lightly browned marshmallow enters Scott’s field of vision, and he follows it to meet his brother’s apologetic eyes.

“Thanks.” Scott nods, taking the treat. He’s not one for sweets as much as his siblings are, and he can’t remember the last time he had an actual all out s’more. But John knows that, knows Scott’s preference, and has quelled his instinct to stick his skewer in the fire itself to burn it black the way he likes it.

He's furious with him, but he still feels warm at the thought.

“Okay, let’s talk.”

John starts. He explains about the simulations, the number of missions he’s designed to try to get them to focus on the nuances of the people they were to be saving (even many of these are new even to Gordon), and how he was so desperate to get them to feel something. How after days of trying, and days of running worse and worse scenarios in his head, he felt he needed to do something drastic to create a no-win scenario that would challenge them beyond how they had before.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. Virgil,” John finishes. “I knew it would be rough, I just didn’t think you’d be in there that long, repeating it on a loop like that. It must have been torture.”

“It was,” Virgil admits.

“We needed to save you, idiot,” Scott says at the same time.

John is quiet, nodding. “Too real?”

It’s Scott who says yes. “Okay, so how were you involved?”

Gordon frowns at him. “I wasn’t.”

“He knew what I was trying to do. But didn’t agree with it. He didn’t know exactly what I programmed.”

“Be glad,” Virgil tells him. It’s awkward, after hearing John’s explanation, describing to John and Gordon exactly how the program had made them feel, the desperation, the awful loop of the same terrible result over and over.

“Well thanks for the nightmare fuel, I guess,” Gordon says. His brown eyes are dark, thankful that the secret of his accident is still safe, but so torn at how seriously John had taken his words to make something up. “Wait, is that something that could happen?”

“Anything can happen. That’s been the whole point.”

“Well, not if we have a say in it,” Scott proclaims. “We are Tracys. Never give up, remember?”

“But John’s right too. The reality is we can’t save everyone,” Virgil adds with a nod in John’s direction. He doesn’t agree with the methods and will have nightmares for days, but he understands how this whole mess started.

Gordon strokes the fire, adding, “Not going to stop us from trying, though. Hand me another marshmallow, Virgil, please.” Virgil does so, and Gordon squishes it slightly, before promptly tossing it in John’s surprised face.  “Don’t be stupid next time.”

The marshmallow hits the center of John’s forehead, leaving a trail of sticky sugar there before it drops silently to the sand. Virgil smiles down at the guitar, suppressing his giggle with a series of notes, while Scott’s laughter is carried into the sky with the rising smoke, and John himself snorts at his own predicament.

Gordon wipes his hands on his shorts to clean off the remains of the marshmallow on his fingertips, before he picks up his instrument as well and joins Virgil in his song, just as he will for years to come, as they both will, and just as the four of them  – and eventually five – will come to know each other’s steps as naturally as they know their own.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Marry Me - Monty’s Perspective

A/N: Here it is. I’m so sorry this took so long to put out. I was having a really hard time getting into the right headspace to write this. I hope you guys like it! I recommend listening to Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me when you read this. As usual, feedback is appreciated and much love! -Em

Ellie was coming back into town for her engagement party this weekend. I was the first person she called when Evan proposed. She damn near gave me a heart attack when I answered, and she was scream-crying.

Flashback

I was watching the Chargers game when Ellie called. “Hey Elliebear.”

“Heaskedmetomarryhim.” She screeched on the other line. I had no idea what she said. It sounded like she was crying. And that I would be deaf in one ear. I pulled the phone away from my head until she stopped freaking out.

“What was that?”

“Evan proposed.” What?

“Oh?”

“And I said yes. I’m getting married Montgomery.” Oh.

“That’s great Ellie. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the pit that was forming.

“Thank you. I wanted you to be the first one to know, so I just wanted to call you quick. I can hear the game in the background, and we have more people to call so I’ll let you go now.”

“Okay, tell Evan I said hi and congratulations.”

“I will. Bye Monty.”

“Bye Ellie.” I hung up and sat back on the couch. She’s getting married.

End flashback

I was on break at work when I got a text from Ellie.

Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

I texted her back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

She replied right away. Drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear.

I stopped at home to change after work into something more comfortable. I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a random t-shirt before grabbing an old flannel and running out the door, so I wasn’t late.Ellie barely beat me to the café. It wasn’t surprising really, since she was always the early one.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?” the barista asked her.

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I said behind her. The barista looked at her, unsure if she should ring it in or not. Ellie nodded and turned around to face me. Before I had a chance to say anything, she jumped into my arms for a hug.

“Hey Elliebear.” I grunted.  

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” She told me, scandalously. Sure, you did El. I didn’t let myself think about the possibility of her liking me that way when we were younger.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” she paused. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.”

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.” I wouldn’t call what I did, dating. The point wasn’t to find someone to bring home. Who I wanted to bring home was over 900 miles away.

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” She replied, sarcastically. We reached for our cups at the same time and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“Don’t know why he’s hyping it up to be a nail biter.” Scott laughed.

“We are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I joked. “Have any of you seen Ellie? She’s usually here to force me to English by now.”

“Nah man.” Scott replied.

“Need lover girl to make sure you do what you’re supposed to?” Bryce teased.

“Fuck off. It’s not like that with us.” Unfortunately.

“Sure it’s not Monty. I refuse to believe you never hit it.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” I threatened, lowly. Don’t push it man. Bryce shut up at my tone. “I’m going to go try and find her. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

She was arranging her books when I found her at her locker. She was trailed by Clay and Alex. I pulled her into my arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” she laughed.

“Never.” I laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach said as he grabbed her book, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I replied, putting her down and shaking my head.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

I sat through just about the driest English class of my life, counting the minutes on my watch. Math was no better. We were reviewing for a test that almost the whole

class failed. Somehow that was our fault for not studying enough. I let out a sigh of relief when the lunch bell rang.

The table was already mostly full when Ellie came and sat next to me. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” I stated. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at me. I threw it back at him. I knew how important her faith was to her. Some things just weren’t okay to be joked about or questioned. When it came to Ellie, faith was one of them.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I know he has. I don’t like it. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I watched her from the corner of my eye as she smirked to herself before beginning. I’d seen her pray for real before. This wasn’t that. “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.” She smirked at Bryce. I choked on my juice. She probably isn’t wrong. Was pretty funny when that kid got hit though.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” She was true to her word. I was late for Geography because I was watching her sit in an empty alcove praying. Bryce didn’t sit with her.

The locker room was abuzz with excitement. It was the homecoming game. Not to mention our season opener. If we wanted to start the season off right, we had to win. Sure, we joked around about Hildebrandt being an easy team to beat-they came in second to last in the league last year-but there was still a chance they would pull off a miracle. Especially if Bryce threw like he did at lunch. “Yo Monty, is Ellie coming to Monet’s tonight?”

“She said she would. Not that she’ll give you the time of day.” I waved off Matt’s question. She’s not interested. Trust me. Find someone else to have your eyes on. Several ‘oooo’s were voiced around us.

“How do you know?”

“Just do, man.”

“I could treat her real nice. She’d beg me for more.” Are you fucking kidding me?

“Oh shit.” Someone muttered, seriously. I didn’t really hear who it was. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears was too loud. Coach Kerba wasn’t in the room. He was talking to Banes about plays. No one in here will snitch. Not when it’s about Ellie.

I immediately turned towards him and cornered him against his locker. The rest of the team stood silently, watching us. I got real close to his face so only he would hear me. “You even think about her like that again and I will bury you so deep they’ll need ground penetrating radar to find you. Not that they’d recognize you if anyone found your body. If you so much as brush against her too hard in the halls, I’ll break your jaw. You understand Carraway?”

“Y-yeah. I got you. Never said a word.” He breathed in response. I had scared the living shit out of him. Good. I stepped away from him and after a few beats the incident was forgotten and the mood was light again.

The game wasn’t that exciting. Had it not been homecoming, most people probably wouldn’t have shown up. As expected, it was in our favour most of the first half. Ellie waved at me between plays. She was practically beaming. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting to play. It wasn’t the nail biter Principal Bolan had promised this morning. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would end up winning. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating.

I waited for Ellie outside the locker room, as per our tradition. “Good game.” She called.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.” I smirked.

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” My brow furrowed.

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.” Only because it’s you asking.

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

I sighed, making it seem like a hassle just to get a rise out of her. I was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” I called back to him. Bryce didn’t respond.

I turned around so I could give her a piggyback out to the car. “Hop on”. Once she felt secure, I walked us out to the parking lot. I pretended to not pay attention when she stole my baseball hat. She couldn’t see the way my smirk turned into a smile when she did.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.” Already has my name in it. Yours would just complete it.

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

I set her down at her car. “No, you wouldn’t.” I called her bluff. You’re too sweet to do it. Or you’d fix it right away if you did. She rolled her eyes at me.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.” I waited until she got in her car and drove off, before starting my own engine and following her.

Ellie beat me to Monet’s as usual. I nodded at and stopped to chat with some of my teammates when I came in. Matt nodded awkwardly at me as I passed. I glared in return. My coffee was set across from her when I got to our table. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.”

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.” Not that anything would look bad on you. Suits her. She’s wearing my shirt.

“That’s what I thought.”

We chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He waved.

“Justin! You made it.” She exclaimed, too excitedly. Making him think you were forced to babysit him by being overly happy isn’t going to help Elliebear. I shot her a tone it down look. Justin smiled uncomfortably as she offered up her seat. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” I flirted, patting the chair next to me. The smile and blush she tried to mask didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin said, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. I was on my best behaviour with Justin and even laughed a few times at couple things he said. There was no mention of what he witnessed in the locker room.

My hand found Ellie’s under the table and I grasped it carefully. I had to make it look like I hadn’t done it intentionally. I could see the pink flare of her cheeks and my lip twitched upwards.

“Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin left us to go investigate. I caught the quick glance at our hands, even if Ellie didn’t. Thank you, Foley.

“And then there were two.” I muttered, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Then there were two.” She repeated.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.” She seemed nervous.

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?” I slowly inched closer to her. We have never gone here. But there’s no way she doesn’t feel this pull.

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” She said, coyly. My fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. She beat me to it.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” I replied, leaning in a little more. What am I doing? What if she doesn’t feel the same way. Am I about to ruin our friendship? Do I even care? Before I could kiss her, fucking Bryce Walker beckoned from across the room. Son of a bitch. You couldn’t wait two god damn seconds, could you? This better be important.

I stopped just short of kissing her. “What?” I answered, curtly.

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. That is what was so important you had to interrupt this moment? That could have waited. Fucker. I nodded in response and turned back to Ellie, hoping the moment wasn’t gone. I knew it was though. I sighed internally. She was smiling at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it normally did. She’s upset. I didn’t know what to say to try and salvage our moment. Instead, I watched her take a sip of her latte and check her watch.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I’ll take bullshit for 200, Alex. She never was a good liar.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?” I tried to hide my disappointment.

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” She hurried out of the café so fast, someone might think there was a fire.

I threw my head back in my chair and ran my hands down my face. Bryce and Matt were watching me when I looked out at the room again. I mimicked Ellie’s actions and took my half empty cup to the counter. “You couldn’t have waited one minute, could you Walker?” I grumbled as I passed him.

“Sorry dude.” He called after me. “My place-.”

“Half an hour. Yeah. I got that.” I shook my head as I left the café.

End flashback

I turned to watch her take a sip of her latte. She still savoured the taste and licked her bottom lip the same way. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

Blonde girl… Lip piercing? No. Was a red head. The sorority girl? That was the brunette with the Adderall. Blonde… oh! Chirpy. “Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.” You always thought I did.

“Exactly.” I laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

Her easy explanation surprised me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.” Oh God.

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?” Why do I care? Because you love her you dolt.

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” She squeezed me tightly. When we pulled apart, I looked down and saw she was wearing my shirt. She kept it all these years.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah, but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” She offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” She smiled and hugged me again before leaving.

No matter how much I tried to talk myself into cancelling at the last minute or just not showing up to the party, I couldn’t do it. As much as I wanted to let her finally think that I was an ass, I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt her like that. So, I manned up and went to Ellie’s engagement party. I showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” She beamed. Her whole face lit up when she saw me.

“Hey Elliebear.” I said as I hugged her. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. He looked so uncomfortable with our interaction. Maybe he noticed how much brighter her face got when she saw me. She pulled away first and turned towards her fiancé.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” She motioned between us. I shook his hand awkwardly.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” I replied, trying to hide the wistfulness and ignore the pang of jealously in my chest.

Jill called her over for something and she pointed Scott out to me. Trying to avoid a pissing match El? “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes. Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

I laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.” He doesn’t like me.

“Hey Scotty.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up. Justin and I had a bet going. I owe him fifty bucks.”

“Well, you know. It’s Ellie.” I grabbed a cupcake from the stand and took a bite. Not bad. I see why she wants me to monitor Scott.

“That’s why I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You came.” Justin said, patting me on the back in lieu of greeting.

“Yup. Where’s Sasha?”

“Girl talk with Ellie and Jess and some other girls.”

“Riveting. What choice did I have? My options were come, watch her with Evan, and hate every second of it for an hour or two, or, not come and have her hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“I guess. Are you going to go to the wedding?” Justin asked.

“See if Evan lets her invite me first. He doesn’t seem too impressed so far. Thanks for that by the way Scott.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

“If you’re invited? Which you will be, because you’re her best friend.”

“Then what kind of best friend would I be, if I didn’t go to her wedding? I’d just hate myself for a few more hours then. That’s better than a lifetime of her hating me.”

“Fair. Look, if you want to leave, just say the word. We can go back to my place and drink.” Scott offered.

“Thanks. I need to stick it out. It’s Ellie.” The rest of the party was fine. I talked to Jill and Rob for a while. I even talked to Evan for a bit. It was awkward but we didn’t fight each other. If he suspected anything about my feelings for her, he didn’t say anything. I left that evening, wondering if he noticed Ellie looking for me and not him all afternoon and letting my brain go somewhere it hadn’t gone in years. At least, not willingly gone in years.

I held out some sick hope that maybe, just maybe, the engagement wouldn’t last. I knew it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. This was the girl that I had been in love with since the eighth grade. That’s when she stopped being like one of the guys. When she became something more. Even though I knew it wasn’t an attainable thing, even back then, there was always this little spark of hope. She was the reason I didn’t really date in college. She was the reason no girl was worth bringing home to meet my mom. They were all compared to her. They would always be compared to her. I always hoped that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her. That hope vanished when I checked my mail after work that Wednesday. The fancy envelope and familiar script were enough of a giveaway. I didn’t need to open the card to know what it was. The invitation. I sighed as I went in the house and opened the card. I merely skimmed for the important dates and time. I knew in that moment that I had finally lost her. I also knew that I would go anyway as I signed, sealed, and mailed the RSVP that night. I had to go. It’s Ellie.

**

The day had finally arrived. I had been dreading this day for the better part of a year. It was the morning of Ellie’s wedding. I woke up, forced myself to get out of bed, made coffee, and showered. I stared at the black suit hanging on my bedroom door for fifteen minutes. Arguing with myself about if I was really going to do this was getting me nowhere closer to a decision. If I go, I’ll hate myself. If I don’t go, she’ll hate me. If I go, I’m losing her. If I don’t go, I’m losing her. If I go, then I’ll get to see her. If I don’t go, I won’t see her. If I go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. If I don’t go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. Finally, I came to a decision. I wasn’t willing to risk losing her because I couldn’t show up for her. If I wasn’t going to be able to be with her, at least I could still be in her life. Maybe. But I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. I put the suit on and fixed my hair. Then I went to the liquor cabinet and filled a flask with whiskey. I couldn’t drink it in church because if Ellie found out, she would kill me, Ten Commandments be damned.

I arrived at the church forty-five minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to start. I took a sip from the flask in my pocket on the city sidewalk. Spotting Bryce, I walked over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“It’s going, you?”

“Same old, same old.” We chatted mindlessly for a few minutes until Justin showed up with Clay and Sasha. I’m shocked we haven’t gotten a happy announcement from them yet. She looks thrilled.

“Justin, Clay. Hey Sasha.” The trio greeted me, and Clay took Sasha inside. He seemed to pick up on the displeasure radiating off of her.

“Holding up okay?” Justin asked.

“Sure.”

“He’s at his best friend’s wedding.”

“I know. Just trying to be nice Bryce.” Zach showed up and broke some of the tension brewing between Bryce and Justin. Never thought I’d be happy to see Zach freaking Dempsey.

“So, I heard from one of the groomsmen that she looks beautiful.”

“Of course, she does. It’s Ellie. And it’s her wedding day.” I said. Scott found us milling in the back of the chapel and came over. He didn’t bother greeting us.

“Have you talked to her?” he asked.

“No. I wanted to give her space. In case I decided not to come.”

“Oh. You could go talk to her now.”

“And say what Scott?”

“Tell her.”

“Tell her what? It’s her wedding.”

“I know that.” I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to our little group. They weren’t.

“Tell her what exactly Scott? How do you propose I go about telling her that I think she’s making a mistake and that I’ve been in love with her since we were thirteen? I’m not going to do that. Not today. Not ever. I’m not messing this up for her.” I whisper-yelled.

“He has a point Scott.” Zach pointed out.

“If I say something, I’ll lose her forever. So, to avoid losing my best friend, I’m going to sit here, watch her marry the man she loves, and wish her the best. And then I will go home, get very drunk, and sleep the hangover off for the next two days.”

Scott raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. I get your point. I’m not going to push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Even though I made a good little speech, the closer we got to the ceremony, the more uncomfortable I became. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of wanting to do exactly what Scott suggested. I wanted nothing more than to go find her and tell her how I felt. But then I looked around the room and saw all of these people waiting excitedly to see Ellie and Evan get married and live happily ever after. I wasn’t going to be the reason that didn’t happen. But the closer we got to ceremony time, the closer I also got to losing my resolve to sit here and watch this happen. I couldn’t watch her marry someone else.

“I can’t do this.” I said suddenly.

“What?” Zach asked.

“I can’t watch her marry him. I can’t sit here and watch them get married. I can’t give her up like this.”

“What are you doing Monty?” Scott asked. I stood up from my seat.

“Tell Ellie that I’m sorry.” With nothing more to say, I turned around and walked out of the church. My friends didn’t try to follow me, too stunned to process what was happening. I got in my car and drove. I wasn’t sure where I was driving until I pulled into the lot.

I opened the door to the quaint café and saw that our table was available. Though, I suppose now it was more my table than our table. I lost her today. There was no way I was getting her back after what I did. I slipped my jacket off and hung it over a chair to save the spot, before going to the counter and ordering.

“Can I get a tall bourbon neat. Make it a double.” Monet’s had been licensed a few years ago.

“Sure thing. Rough day?” The barista asked.

“You have no idea.” I shook my head and took the drink she set in front of me. Back at what was now only my table, I pulled out my phone and scrolled though some old photos. A lot of them were of Ellie. She used to like to steal my phone and leave me with some selfies to surprise me when I opened the app. I scrolled through the seemingly endless stream of photos and ordered another bourbon when I finished the first one. My trip down memory lane was interrupted when I got a text from Bryce.

I need you to tell me where you are.

Why?

Because I do. Now tell me where you are.

Why?

Montgomery. You want to tell me where you are.

Fine. If you must know. I’m at Monet’s. Now why do you need to know?

I’m sorry about homecoming night. I hope this can make it up to you at least a little. I stared at the screen in confusion. Shaking my head, I put my phone down and went back to sipping the amber liquor. What the hell is he talking about? Fucking Bryce. I didn’t look up when I heard the bell chime above the door. Nor did I look up when I heard the click of high heels against the wood floors.

“Is this seat taken?” I heard a familiar voice, softly.

I looked up at her then, my eyes widening in surprise. What is she doing here? She is supposed to be getting married to Evan. What does this mean? Why is she here?

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

I scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from my glass, not looking at her for fear of letting my guard down again, only to be crushed again.

“Hey,” she started, reaching for my hand. I looked at her hand and paused before letting her take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment. Noticing I had about fingers width of bourbon left in my glass, she grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” I protested.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” She told me while she stared into the bottom of the now empty glass.

“You- really?” Wait, how did she know I was there? “How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.” Of course, he did. I sighed internally.

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.” I told her, trying to make her understand that I couldn’t be the reason she spent her life unhappy.

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

Easier. Sure. She finally admitted it. She’s in love with me. I chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

She furrowed her brow at me, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When I didn’t say anything she added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.” I muttered.

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” she told me, sighing dramatically.

I looked at her through my eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” she rolled her eyes and stood up to go order me another shot. Before I could chicken out again, I surprised her when I grabbed her wrist to stop her, before pulling her down into my lap, she fell rather gracefully given the fit of her dress and kissing her deeply. I pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other.

“How about that shot now?” I smirked.