#looking up and collecting photos of my temple’s old building

[nope-body]

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[joshslater]

Emergency Model

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"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic. 

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," he said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

[khwxbeeda]

Indian Dark Academia: Pune

(all of these are my experiences since moving to the city at the end of July this year)

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The Peth areas are convoluted, haphazardly arranged and teeming with life. You walk through a lane crammed with stalls of fake jewellery, and you want to buy every pair of jhumka and bugdi you can see. You raise your phone and take a close up, deciding that you're gonna post it. (You never do. That picture feels personal, somehow, in a way you cannot explain.)

There is a plaza in Good Luck Chowk on FC road whose basement has a somewhat hidden bookshop. The books there are both fresh and second hand. You make your way to the second-hand shelves and breathe in deeply, savouring the smell of old books and yellowing paper. You want to buy all of them, but you take home the worn copy of a collection of Marathi stories. The old man at the counter gives you a bookmark and tells you to be back with a wide smile and crinkling eyes. (You go back within the week.)

You stand under the dubious protection of a patryacha chhat, cold fingers wrapped around a mud tumbler full of steaming aalyacha chaha. The rain does not look like it will stop anytime soon, but you're not worried. Your best friend is standing next to you with her own tumbler, and both of you are giggling at a story she tells you about her own college— she lives in Mumbai and is visiting for a day, just to spend time with you because she missed you. You silently hope the rain does not stop for a while yet; you're having too much fun.

The sun is high in the sky, but it hides behind rain clouds. You take a step, the soles of your sports shoes scraping over the uneven rock of the tekdi that you decided to explore on an impulse. You're alone, with only the trees and the dog that randomly decided to follow you up the hill in sight. Invisible birds chirp and sing, and you slide your phone out of your pocket to take a photo of the unbeaten path. A little part of you fears getting lost in an unknown place. The bigger, more curious part of you wants to know why the wind sounds so melodious when it slips between the leaves of the trees. You'll post the photo, you think, once you're home.

The college is quiet. It's seven in the morning, and you're already on campus, and have climbed up the walls of the main building to reach that unreachable part of the roof. Except it isn't as unreachable as you thought it to be— the walls are engraved with little messages from the students who came here before you, and you brush your fingers over the letters with a secret smirk. Someone had enough love in their heart to carve a short Urdu love poem for their partner. You search up the words on Google, but the results are inconclusive. An original piece, then. Shame, you think. That is beautiful wordplay. You take a photo, then go back to your book. Class starts at half past seven, and you want to finish at least this chapter.

The library is packed with people, but all of them are silent. It's eerie, but you've been living in libraries for as long as you can remember, and you're perfectly at home in this silence. It feels like being in a temple— there is a awed, almost devotional hush in the air, and you fear that you will breathe too loud. You slip between two darkwood shelves, and brush your fingers over the spine of an old hardbound collection of the works of Pu La Deshpande that looks like it will fall apart any second. You've read this one before, but you check it out anyway.

The exam is tomorrow, but you're sitting in the light of three diyas and feverishly flicking your eyes over the pages of your tattered copy of the Hindi translation of Chokher Bali. This is the eleventh time you're reading the book, but you're still obsessed with it for reasons unknown. Pariksha gayi bhaad mein, you think, and flip the page. The next day, you turn up at the exam hall with bags under your eyes, a completed book, and not a second of studying. You walk out with a score of 19 out of 20, and promptly fall asleep under the shade in the bamboo garden with your head on a friend's lap.

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Tag list: @musaafir-hun-yaaron @hum-suffer @patriphagy @orgasming-caterpillar @mad-who-ra @kanha-sakhi @yehsahihai @h0bg0blin-meat

[warmau]

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse 

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal 

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche 

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long 

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin 

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on 

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him. 

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.” 

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust 

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job. 

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment 

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion 

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief 

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is 

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on 

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else. 

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s 

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least. 

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’” 

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little 

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat 

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive 

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment 

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website. 

[burnedbyshoto]

bakugou leaving reader for the unknown, for his dream, because where they were wasn’t good enough, it was a hindrance on his future. it wasn’t so much that he hated his hometown, the people, or even you — he loved you, after all — but he just could never keep himself tied down to the place he was trying to outgrow.

he leaves for university, in the big city, a campus that is known for making the best, creating trailblazers in every field imaginable, and when he leaves at the age of eighteen, he doesn’t come back. all he remembers is the shocked look on your face and the helpless tears streaming down your face when he broke up with you.

it’s been twelve years, and he’s thirty now. he changed his number when he got to the new city, only keeping touch with his parents out of obligation than anything else. it’s short phone calls, three minute conversations of mitsuki scolding him for not calling enough, for never visiting, masaru trying to gently express their concerns for their only son, and of course, bakugou saying he needs to leave.

his parents are strangers to him, practically, and whenever they try to speak of his past life, the one he exchanged away for the current CEO position he’s found himself in, he hangs up. he doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want the bitter pit in his stomach when they even begin to speak your name.

but they haven’t mentioned you in years.

but the thing about katsuki is, unfortunately, his attitude.

thirty years old and a prominent CEO of a company no older than four years old and yet already a billionaire? practically unheard of. sure, people, normal people, praise him for it, but the board? men who used to people like katsuki don’t praise him.

they hate his harsh attitude, his ridiculous will power, and necessity to do everything, and somehow… katsuki gets put on a leave of absence for a minimum of a year.

at first, it’s fine. bakugou spends the newfound free time traveling, seeing the world, doing things he never was able to because he was building his empire. but three months of nothing leads him to grow restless, bored, and the worst feeling in the world crawls into the pit of his stomach and he realizes in month number five what it is.

for the first time in his life, bakugou katsuki is: homesick.

so he goes home, trading the concrete jungle and modern technology for dirt roads and rusting machines. it’s just for a moment, he says as he sees the life he left behind ages ago.

it’s much slower in his hometown, people much more open and conversing with one another instead of cellphones like he’s grown used to. he isn’t quite ready to knock on his mother’s front door so he goes to the general store and walks straight to where he just knows his past time favorite snacks are.

to his total surprise (notice the sarcasm?) it’s right where he remembered it was through the cobwebs of his memory. there’s one bag of spicy corn chips left and as he reached for it, another hand goes for it too.

he freezes for a bit, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the person who’s hand is connected to the bag of chips he wants.

but he stops breathing for just a moment.

it’s a young girl, most definitely no older than twelve, with your face. it’s exactly the same. but unlike you, the girl had ash blonde hair and deep red eyes.

the girl blinks eyes looking taken back and slightly lost, as does bakugou, and then as if finally caught up on the situation of things, she scowls.

“hands off the chips, old man! I got here first!”

the magic is gone and bakugou feels his eye twitch as he reels backward.

“what the hell did you just say to—?!”

“I said hands off! arent you too old to be eating chips anyways?! you’re practically a million years old, eat the lame corn nuts or something,” she scoffs rolling her eyes as she tucks the bag of chips under her arm.

“aren’t you some shitty little brat!” bakugou hisses, his hand twitching with irritation. “don’t you know to respect your fucking elders.”

“ain’t nothing to respect from what I can tell!”

“aiko, hurry up,” a voice bemoans from behind the aisle and bakugou feels his chest constrict in the weirdest, most heart aching way as you walk around the corner with an armful of party supplies. “we have to get to your grand—”

bakugou stares at you, and you at him. the tension and silence so thick and heavy on the both of your shoulders and tongues.

in the twelve years he’s been away, bakugou has had other relationships. most of them due mostly to friends insistence, and others mostly just because he wanted a warm body nearby. but no one could ever match what you meant to him, not that he could have realized that because he could never think back to you. you were his past, not his present, not his future.

and bakugou was suddenly feeling a lot of things, thinking a lot of things as he looked between you and well… aiko.

“y/n,” bakugou’s voice is hollow, almost unbelievable. “i-is she — are we—?”

“this is my daughter, y/l/n aiko,” you say, steely calm and dangerous. the warm smile you were wearing moments ago clean off your face and your eyes were like glass — shiny, unemotional. “she was born after you left, so you never got a chance to meet her, did you?”

“y/n—“

“y/l/n!” you snap, face still void of emotions. “you don’t have that right anymore.”

bakugou stiffens for a moment, but he knows that you’re right. “y/l/n,” he tries again, your last name a word he’s never had to use in his entire life to address you. “how old is she?”

“mama,” aiko whispers, eyes glaring at bakugou as she stand protectively in front of you, fingers digging into your blouse. “I wanna go now.”

your eyes drop from bakugou, and he watches as a strained but kind smile is expressed to aiko as you press a kiss to her forehead. “okay, go pay for these things for me, will ya? tell tayo-sama we’ll pay him back tomorrow. i’m going to finish this conversation with… with my old classmate.”

aiko looks between you and bakugou, eyebrows furrowed with unsaid questions but she nods, grabbing the things from your arms and going to the cash register. bakugou keeps his gaze on the young girl until your fingers dig into his bicep and your pulling him into a corner that he had definitely made out with you in ages, lifetimes ago.

“what are you doing here?!” you hiss in a near terrible whisper, face frazzled and overwhelmed. “you’ve never been back home! what’s different?!”

“is she mine?!”

“no!” you shriek, fist hitting his chest. “she’s not yours! she’s mine! she’s not some claimable object you get to collect years later!”

bakugou stiffens but also feels like he melts with guilt under those words… youre right. he has no claim to her. all he did was give her life but it was a life where he was probably nothing more than an empty space in. but he looks at you, millions of emotions swimming through your watery eyes, and the snarl on your lips as you stand before him as if you could do anything.

“i’m… i’m sorry, you’re right,” bakugou says, lips pressing into a thin line.

“you shouldn’t have come back,” you laugh miserably, fingers massaging your temples. your tone is weak, defeated, as if for the first time in your life you felt the bottom of the pit. “why did you come back home?”

“mama!!!! let’s go already!!!” aiko whines by the entrance and you tremble in front of him before shaking your head.

“coming!” you call back to her.

bakugou steals another look at what is his daughter. a girl he never knew existed.

“do me a favor, bakugou,” you say passing him with small but domineering steps. “don’t do anything to make her suspect youre her father.”

it took a few hours, probably more, maybe less, but bakugou finally finds himself at his childhood home. he’s heart feeling like it was being swallowed as the front door opened and he saw his older mother and father standing at the entrance. bakugou couldn’t understand what they were saying as they welcomed him in, he could only notice how their home looked exactly the same… well except that the walls that were decorated with photos of him and only him were also covered with pictures of aiko.

“did you know?” bakugou asks before he can even say hello.

mitsuki stopped mid rant, her face moving from irritated mother to exasperated but pitiful silence.

“since she found out.”

“why didn’t you… why didn’t I know?”

“she tried telling you, called you multiple times only to be blocked,” masaru gently explains. “you always shut us down when we so much as mentioned her.”

“she even flew out there at one point but caught you making out with some dumb model too.” mitsuki inserts with a huff. “we tried, brat. you just…”

bakugou is silent, his heartbeat roaring in his ears at the thought of his initial monstrous attempt of deleting his past life. mitsuki sighs, sad and sullen.

“there was no point in telling you when you won’t listen.”

or the story of a one sided bitter ex as bakugou and reader are challenged at creating some semblance of a relationship because aiko pieces it together the moment they looked at each other. including a lot of angst, a six month time limit to rekindle a once in a lifetime love story because choosing between family and work is damn hard.

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

[nashibirne]

DESPERADO - 4

Ready for the next part of Desperado? Here it is. You will learn about Helen's past and August's feelings but it's pretty emotional and angsty so I hope you still like it. Let me know and leave me a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Helen Nichols)

Summary: August has survived the fight with Ethan Hunt and the fall from the cliff. A few lucky coincidences saved his life and he ends up with a woman that saves him and gives him shelter in her little hermit hut. He is at a turning point in his life. What is he going to do?

Word count: ~ 3.3 k

Warnings: A lot of angst, mentioning of death and grief, mentioning of sex

UNBETA'ED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own August Walker and anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claim Helen: Rooney Mara

You can find parts 1 to 3 and my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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*************

Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime?

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine

It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day

You're losin' all your highs and lows

Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?

From Desperado by The Eagles, Lyrics: Don Henley, Glenn Frey

August soon lost count. They had sex often after he had been able to dispel Helen's worries regarding protection by revealing that he had a vasectomy years ago. So they fucked almost every day, but Helen wasn't up for more than foreplay and the sex itself. It was always the same, when they were done she got up to take a shower before going on with her daily tasks and it left him feeling strangely used and empty. 

After their first time he had mentioned that the folding bed seemed to be an unnecessary loan now and Helen's reaction had left him speechless. She had laughed out loud.

"I don't think so. I'm not planning on sharing the bed with you...August." His real name just wouldn't flow smoothly from her lips at this time.

"Why not? We've just fucked."

"That's sex, just physical. Sharing a bed is intimate. It requires trust and I'm sorry but I can't trust you as long as you don't tell me who you are and what you're involved in."

"I'm not going to rape or murder you in your sleep", he snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I know, but still…"

And so, since he still hadn't told her the truth about August "The Hammer" Walker and John Lark, they fucked but they didn't sleep together. August found it quite ridiculous but he couldn't do much but accept it.  He just wasn't willing to reveal the dirty truth, even after Helen had finally told him about the FBI guy that had nosed around in the village and about that file that proved that his enemies considered him to be dead. He was too scared she would kick him out of her house and out of her life. He wasn't ready to lose her. Not yet. 

Instead he got accustomed to the situation and in the next weeks they established a domestic routine that was new to both of them. Helen usually worked in the mornings. She was a journalist and writer and to his surprise August found out that in fact she was a bestselling author. She had published three books so far. One about her hermit life in Kashmir, one about the region as a destination for backpackers and an illustrated book that was dedicated to the beautiful nature in the Dachigam National Park and all three of them had been pretty successful in the US. So she worked on her new book till noon almost every day and August worked on his recovery, doing all kinds of exercises indoors and outdoors. 

After lunch they did anything that had to be done around the house and Helen often left for a walk to collect berries and mushrooms or to take photos in the afternoon. August usually read a book when she was gone but on this day he decided to join her. He had done some runs in a small radius around the hut but he had never really explored the surroundings and he felt like missing out on something. Plus, if he was honest with himself, he wanted to spend some time with Helen. Quality time. 

So they strolled through the woods on this beautiful, sunny day, enjoying the warmth of the sun and a light breeze that chilled their cheeks. Helen took a bunch of pictures, concentrating on moss and lichens that grew on giant rocks and gnarled, old trees. August was waiting for her to take a shot of an overgrown branch, leaning against a rock wall, his face turned towards the sun, his eyes closed. "Stay exactly like this." Helens soft voice made him smile but when he heard her camera click he opened his eyes with a frown. "What are you doing?" He turned his face away from her and started to walk on. "Taking pictures of you. You looked great in that light, all lost in thought." She jogged a few steps to keep up with him. "Oh yeah", he snorted, "I'm sure I looked like a supermodel." She stopped him by tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. "You looked like yourself. Confident and very handsome." Her smile touched him in a way that made his stomach flip and he really didn't know how to reply to her compliment. He just gave her a helpless smile and Helen placed a hand on his burnt temple, giving him a tender smile in return. August grinned the awkwardness away and when he turned around his eyes fell on a huge rock that was completely flat on the top , building a natural lookout point over the region. "Look", he said pointing upwards, "the view from up there must be fantastic." 

"Yeah. Maybe." Helen gave him a look he couldn't really read. "Let's just go back home, okay?"

"First I wanna go up there." August ran his hands over the rough surface of the stones, glancing up to figure out the best way to climb the cliff.

"No, that's a bad idea, August. It's too dangerous, and your ankle…"

"My ankle is fine, Helen. It's been more than 8 weeks now. It's completely cured."

"Still... you're not a climber, you could get hurt." She sounded strangely anxious and August had no idea why. The cliff was very rocky, so that natural steps could easily be found and it wasn't very high. It didn't seem to be dangerous at all.

"You don't have to join me. I'll climb up quickly and will be back in a few minutes. You can take pictures of me conquering the mountain." He winked at her before he put a foot on a ledge and started to climb.

"No! August, please…" Helen yelled at him, the despair in her voice making him stop immediately. He turned to Helen with a frown. "I'll be carful, I promise."

"No! Don't do this. Please don't." She sank down on her knees, sobbing, staring at him pleadingly, her voice weak and trembling. August hopped off the rock and kneeled down beside her, taking her in his arms. She was crying now, hiding her face in her hands.

"Helen, calm down. I'm here, I won't climb, okay?" She wasn't able to answer, she just clinged to his body, weeping uncontrollably. He hugged her in a tight embrace, cradling her, rocking her trembling body gently back and forth. To his own surprise it didn't feel awkward or forced, it felt natural, he wanted to comfort her, he wanted to hold her and to be the one to make her feel safe and sound and all this made him realize that he had slowly and somehow unnoticed fallen for her. 

He'd been in love before, of course, he hadn't always been a bitter, cold-hearted jerk, but that was years ago in what felt like a different life. So August Walker knew love but with time he had forgotten about the sensation, after far too many disappointments in his life, not only in love but mainly in his job, he had pushed all positive emotions aside and his heart had gone numb before turning into a stone. It seemed like Helen, with her tough, aloof but captivating and caring personality, was able to touch his heart, to make him feel again, to make him love again. The thought alone scared the fuck out of him but now was not the time to worry about himself, now it was time to take care of Helen.

"Shhh... it's okay. Everything is fine, Henny." He'd never called her that before, it was his secret nickname for her, he just used it in his thoughts, and when she heard it she lifted her head to look at him with a hint of a smile, her eyes still overflowing with tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"No need to be sorry. Just try to calm down." He smiled at her tenderly and gave her hair some soft strokes, still holding her in his arms. When Helen started to relax and her breath went back to normal, August pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Helen gave him a sheepish grin. "I guess you think I'm totally nuts now." She blushed a little and August gave her a wink. "Don't worry. I've seen worse."

They didn't talk for several minutes, they just sat on the ground in the sun, snuggled up to each other.

"It's because of Allison", Helen broke the silence eventually, "she died like this." 

"She died climbing?" August asked softly and Helen nodded, a sad look on her face. "Yes, and it was my fault."

"You said she died in an accident."

"Yeah, but it was still my fault."

"Tell me about it", August asked and after a short moment of hesitation Helen took a deep breath and started to talk. She told him how she and Allison had been on a backpack trip 8 years ago, both of them working for a travel magazine, preparing  a report about Jammu and Kashmir, Helen as the writer, Allison as the photographer. They had stayed in the hut Helen lived in now, doing day trips to explore the region. Helen had heard of a special spot, a mountain that not only offered a spectacular view on a hidden lake but that also was kind of a biotope, a habitat for rare plants she wanted to write about. Allison had been hesitant about the idea of going there because they both were hikers, not climbers but Helen had persuaded her. When they had reached a plateau just below the top of the mountain Helen had backed out at the sight of the steep, exposed mountain ridge they would have to manage to get to the summit. She had refused to go any further but Allison wasn't willing to give up so close to their goal. Helen had begged her not to do it but Allison had insisted on trying. She had climbed only a few yards when she'd lost balance.

"I'll never forget the surprised sound she made when she fell. She hit a rock, hurting her head and she broke her back when she landed on the rocky ground of the plateau. It was terrifying." Helen was crying again, softly this time. August took her hand to soothe her and it seemed to work. She was able to talk again. "There was nothing I could do for her besides holding her hand. She had a fractured skull and internal bleeding. She died in my arms."

"I'm so sorry, Helen. That must have been dreadful", he squeezed her hand and he truly felt the sympathy that was showing in his eyes, "but this wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"An accident that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't made her go on this stupid trip."

"You didn't know that it was dangerous. And it was her decision to climb on the ridge." August's voice was soft and tender and Helen was grateful for his sensitivity and his kind words. She rested her head against his chest with a sigh. "I know. The rational part of me knows that, but the irrational parts of my mind will never stop feeling that dreadful guilt. I just can't shake it off."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." August smiled at her and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Why did you stay?"

"I stayed because I needed a safe space to process what had happened and to mourn. I wanted to return to Maine when I felt ready to face the world again…"

"But you're still here."

"Yeah, I grew to like my hermit life and I fell in love with a man who helped me to deal with this tragedy. And so I decided to stay for good."

"Naseer?" August guessed.

"Yes. He was such a great support. He was always there for me, helped me to buy the hut, to renovate and furnish it according to my taste but our love didn't last. In the long run he wanted me to move to his farm, to become his wife and mother to his children, to live a traditional life as a married couple. But that wasn't my dream, not my vision of my future."

"But you're still friends."

"We are. Now. It took us a few years but after his wedding we found a way to leave the past behind and become friends. He's my only friend actually."

"No, he's not", August said softly and Helen gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you. For...all this. Listening and comforting me...and, well." She shrugged, blushing, gesturing vaguely at him and her and their surroundings.

"Of course. You took good care of me, today I take care of you, okay? Just tell me what you need."

Helen nodded. "I want to go home. Let's go back and watch a movie?"

"Sure. Haven't watched a movie in ages."

They got up and walked back to the house and Helen felt strangely happy when she linked arms with him and he let it happen. She knew it was foolish to become emotionally involved with a man she knew close to nothing about, who hid every personal information from her, who was bossy and cocky and way too stubborn for his own good, but she still couldn't help it. She was falling for August Walker and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't the sex, not only. He was a great lover, sure, experienced and skilled but what she really liked about him besides that physical component was his dry sense of humor, his cleverness, his confidence, his dignity and his passion. The way he had fought himself back to life, his willpower, the determination to work on his recovery as soon as he was able to leave the bed, ignoring all pain and exhaustion, had shown her that he was a fighter, a survivor. A strong, protective man she was so attracted to, it really scared her and it was also pretty embarrassing that she was so turned on by his alpha male vibes and the caveman attitude. But there was more to him. He had this broody, emotional side too and she was sure deep down inside he was pretty sensitive and maybe even warm hearted. And so over the weeks she had grown feelings for him, she'd tried to fight hard but unsuccessfully. Each time she went to the bathroom after having sex with August, it was a kind of helpless and futile attempt to wash away her emotions and pour the loving feelings down the drain. Unfortunately it never took more than one look into his eyes to resurrect them. 

An hour later August and Helen were sitting on her couch in front of the TV, sharing a blanket and a plate with fruits and berries, waiting for the movie to begin. She had chosen a film called "The Shape of Water" he had never heard of before. The cover of the DVD was pretty strange, showing a couple hugging under water, the woman looking ordinary but her partner seemed to be some kind of fishman. 

"It's a great movie," Helen said not for the first time, "very moving and romantic. The female protagonist is an outsider, a mute cleaner in a lab and she falls in love with an amphibian man."

It turned out she was right. The film was amazing and it left August extremely touched and with many questions running around in his head. They were eating the last berries, discussing the end of the movie, when he blurted out what he desperately needed to know. 

"Could you fall in love with a monster?"

"He's not a monster. Not to Elisa."

"But everyone considers him to be one."

"Yes, because they don't understand him and his nature, they don't even try. But she does and she knows what lies underneath his spiky appearance."

"So you could? Fall in love with a man who is considered to be a bad man, an enemy, an unscrupulous monster?"

Helen looked him in the eyes, taking her time to answer. "If he was honest with me...if he let me see who he really is...if he explained himself to me and let me draw my own conclusions. Yes, under these conditions, I could fall in love with a monster. I'd rather have an honest monster than a lying saint."

August closed his eyes with a sigh that was full of relief but also filled with fear.

"Well, then let this monster tell you its story."

"You're not a monster…", Helen turned to look at him with a deep frown.

"No, Helen, please. Just listen, okay? And then -as you said- you can draw your own conclusions."

She gave him a nod and August started to talk. He told Helen about his loveless childhood with physically and emotionally absent parents, his youth as the time he gained recognition for being an extraordinarily good athlete and how it turned him into a confident, popular jock. His career at the CIA, his life as an agent, doing all the dirty jobs efficiently, eliminating public enemies indiscriminately and without asking questions in the first years. He admitted that he was nothing less than an authorized assassin legitimized by the state and he described how he got more and more frustrated with time, questioning his job, the national authorities and politics. He pointed out to her that his disillusionment, the years of frustration and the feeling of being caught in an unjust and outdated machinery culminated in following the ideas of Solomon Lane and finally in writing a manifesto under the pseudonym of John Lark. The hardest part was to confess that he had planned on eliminating one third of mankind by letting off a nuclear bomb in the mountains of Kashmir to alter things for the better. After he had ended with telling Helen about Ethan Hunt and their fight he was anxiously waiting for her reaction, not daring to look at her. 

She didn't say anything for a very long time. When she finally started to speak, her voice sounded weak. "You would have killed me and all the wonderful people in this valley without the blink of an eye if Ethan Hunt hadn't stopped you?"

"Yes."

Helen nodded. 

"I see. And if you had another chance, would you try again? Do you still stand by what you wrote in that manifesto?"

"No. I don't. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about it during the last weeks and I lost my conviction. You've shown me another side of life, of thinking. You have made me feel again. Feelings I haven't had for the longest time. Feelings of love, Helen." August almost whispered the last words, scared of her reaction but Helen just nodded again, her face blank, her expression unreadable.

"Say something, Helen. Please." He took her hand but she pulled away.

"I can't, August. Not yet. I need time to process all you've just told me. I need some time on my own." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm going to return the folding bed to Naseer tonight and I'm going to ask him if I can stay with him and his family for a few days because I don't feel well and don't want to be alone. I'll return when I've made up my mind and when I have we won't need a second bed anymore. One way or another."

*****

[honeesucker]

Iwaizumi Hajime as part of my Haikyuu boys after you text them *~spicy photos~* and then fall asleep... 

Word Count: 2,165

Content Warnings: Choking, swearing, dacryphilia, dubcon (can appear noncon but IwaxReader have previous safe word set up for safety), reader is asleep during penetration, overstimulation, double-penetration w/use of toy, Dom/sub themes, use of Daddy; all around we’re being grey-area debaucherous here - there’s aftercare though?

You didn’t hear the door open, or the duffle bag drop to the floor because you were in Iwaizumi and yours shared room, lounging on the bed in a Gudetama sleep short and tank top pajama set. Your chest rose and fell with your soft, deep breaths showing him you were indeed asleep, though even in your sleep you were teasing him (unintentionally, but try telling Iwaizumi that). 

Your legs were splayed open, the hem of one of the legs of your insanely short sleep shorts was riding up and sticking to your inner labia having become wedged during your movement in your sleep, this giving Iwaizumi a sweet little teasing view of your pussy. You didn’t hear him let out a groan from deep in his chest as he peeled off his work shirt, hook his thumbs into the top of his joggers and slide them down baring him to your sleeping form only in his dark grey briefs. He palmed his already hard cock through the front of his briefs, the friction sending jolts through his cock and only making the ache to bury all of him inside you that much worse.

How fucking dare you send those photos while he was at work and then fall asleep, and worst of all you knew he would’ve asked you to stay dressed for him until he got home – unfair because of how late it was – but it was just how you both worked together... but you had to be a brat and change into those damn pajamas, the apathetic face of the egg yolk staring at him from between your thighs. Fuck these shorts... Iwaizumi began to pull the fabric from your hips slowly, the silken cotton slipping from your body easily without much resistance. Iwaizumi froze when you gave a soft little hum in your sleep and shifted, but you only made it easier for him to grab you and pull you gently until your ass was lined up with the edge of the bed. He ran his large hand up your thighs, the goosebumps sprouting in the wake of his touch, ran his fingertips along your hips, along the curve of your tummy, up to the soft swell of your perfect breasts that he loved to abuse and leave bruised and sore. He thumbed over your nipples until the sensitive buds pebbled underneath your soft sleep tank, he gently pulled the front of your shirt down exposing your breasts to the cool air of your bedroom. You gave a soft moan in your sleep at the sweet ghosting ministrations of his skilled fingers, and he smirked, you were so easy to read... your body so honest even unconscious.

Iwaizumi traced his fingers back down to your thighs until he parted your legs further and was greeted by the sight of your already glistening pussy, lips looking so soft, puffy and welcoming. He traced up your inner thighs and along the outside of your core until he slowly dipped into the sweet honey coating your skin. His first finger wasn’t met with any resistance and elicited a low, melodious moan from you again. Iwaizumi had his one finger hooked in you, pressing into your g-spot as his thumb rubbed lazy circles with a gentle pressure on your clit which had your silken walls fluttering around his digit and more juices collecting on his knuckles and your lips. He yanked his briefs off, stepping out of them and gave himself a few strokes using the hand wet with your slick. He bit into his bottom lip to keep from outright moaning just yet, running his thumb over the pearly bead of precum that gathered at his tip to help lube him up more before he was lining up and rubbing the thick head of his cock against your hole. With a quick snap of his hips, Iwaizumi pushed forward into you; the full length of his cock stretching you with a pleasant burn and the jolting sensation of him pushing into you jostling you in your sleep and you woke up startled and feeling someone inside of you, panicked. You started swinging your arms trying to hit whoever was on top of you until both your wrists were captured and pinned above your head, and you saw your boyfriend, muscles covered in a slight sheen of sweat as he leant over you.  

“H-Haji-fuck-Hajime!” You whimpered, fighting against his grip. “Baby p-please it hurts, fuck, what are you doing? Stop!” A fat stream of tears was running down your cheeks as your boyfriend kept his brutal pace, thrusting the full length of his cock in and out completely. You felt the tight coil of your first orgasm already building which only heated your cheeks with embarrassment that you were enjoying this.  

“Thought you could fucking get away with it, hm Y/N?” Iwaizumi grunted, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts that had his cockhead up against your cervix, sending jolts through your whole body. “Thought you could send those fucking photos while I was working and get away with it untouched?” Iwaizumi was leaning over you, his large body, muscled and tight in comparison to yours made you feel so small, so caged in. He switched from his brutal pace as he moved over you, opting for deep-reaching hard thrusts that had buzzes of pain and shocks of pleasure hitting through your whole body. He leant down to your face, one of his large hands wrapping around your throat as he kissed away the stream of tears running down your face, nuzzling his own into the wetness that collected along your neck as well. “My little fucking dumb bitch should know better than to try and be a tease, should know that it will never end well for her...” he said, kissing and sucking along the tender flesh of your neck until he heard you let out a soft moan and bit down hard until he tasted sweet copper in his mouth. He sucked and bit a large bruise where your neck and shoulder met, pulling away with a red-tinted smirk. “Should know that such a dumb baby can only listen, not think,” he said, his thrusts pace quickening until he was spilling white hot seed deep into your body, filling you up but not slowly down. You still hadn’t cum once and feeling Iwaizumi’s cum in your pussy only triggered something in you that ached for more.

“Haji please,” you whimpered, wiggling your hips until his hands came down hard to still your movements, feeling that his cock was still as hard as ever inside of you and he didn’t look like he was done just yet.

“Now, now baby that’s not how I taught you to ask for something,” Iwaizumi mocked.

“Da-mmphmff fuck!” Iwaizumi interrupted your pleading with a series of harsh thrusts that shook your whole body out of its train of thought, his harsh laugh cutting through you, making your bottom lip jut out in a pathetic pout. “Daddy please, please help me cum! I’m sorry for being bad, please I’ll be your good girl!”

“Mm, that’s an improvement,” Iwaizumi said, moving inside of you again to help tighten the coil of pleasure building in you until he pulled out completely which caused you to cry out in frustration, until your eyes widened as you saw him reaching over into the nightstand. Your eyes widened further when you saw him pull your guys’ favorite vibrator, slim and teal in color with white swirls, like his old school colors. You watched him as he turned it on, the soft buzzing filling the room over your panting breaths, until he dipped it into your pussy without warning, though it was thankfully much smaller than him. He was twisting and pushing and pulling it in and out of you at all sorts of angles that had you writhing and begging for him to not stop until that is exactly what he did, robbing you of your orgasm again as you cried out and thrashed on the bed until one look from him told you to stay still. “Just needed to make sure this was nice and wet for you,” Iwaizumi mused, and you didn’t know what he meant until you felt the cool top of the vibrator prodding at the tight ring of muscle at your backside. You whimpered and pleaded with him but he ignored you, pressing the toy in further until your hungry ass sucked it in, a wanton moan escaping you as you wriggled at the fullness. You were an inaudible jumble of mewls and hums and moans as Iwaizumi fucked your ass with the vibrator, the sensations filling you up and building up inside of you so intensely. You were thrown through a loop of sensations as you felt the tip of Iwaizumi’s cock breaching your puffy, soaking hole. He slipped in easy due to his earlier orgasm filling you up with his cum, he swore under his breath as you felt even tighter than before, and now he could feel the vibrations and extra fullness of the vibrator in your ass through the thin wall separating your pussy.  

“Haji-Daddy, ‘mm gonna cum, oh fuck-” your voice was barely audible as you choked on the sensations filling up your lower half, and when Iwaizumi started pistoning in and out of you again in opposite time as he was fucking your ass with the toy you were nearly there.

“Come on, princess, I can feel you squeezing me-fuck-so tightly, cum for me baby! Cum on my cock!” Iwaizumi was pounding into your overstimulated body and with his permission you let go. Back arching and gummy walls gripping onto his cock as your entire lower half buzzed and contracted, pussy clamping down on Iwaizumi’s cock as he let loose another load of white cum, coating your walls and filling you up until he was dripping out of you with every squelching thrust. The vibrations from the toy still lodged deep in your ass kept you riding the wave of your orgasm until you were crying and begging Iwaizumi to take it out and thankfully, he did, having turned it off and thrown it near the dirty laundry. He plopped his body on yours, the weight of him making you feel safe as you came down from your high. His lips kissing along your temple and down to your jaw, along the line of your jaw and down your throat. He grabbed onto you and rolled your guys’ body until you were on top of him, panting and whining as he slowly slipped his softening cock out of you. He continued to kiss along your neck and shoulder, giving a gentle lick to where he bit you so roughly earlier. His hands were running up and down your back as your body still gave into little spasms from the intense orgasm.  

“You with me, princess?” Iwaizumi asked, running one hand down your back at the other stroke your hair.

“Mmm,” you answered, eyes shut and drifting in and out. You felt a gentle patting on your cheek that made you open your eyes, a pout taking over your features.

“Awe, don’t give me that princess, c’mon,” Iwaizumi groaned, petting your sweaty hair down, “need to make sure my baby is good and safe in her mind. Wanna try walking with me to the shower so we can clean up and come back and snuggle?”

You just nodded and let Iwaizumi lift you up and let you lean on him as you walked toward the master bathroom, the large shower that could fit ten just calling your name. He set you on the inset bench and let the steamy water take over as he gentle sponged your body with your favorite soap and then lifted you to press against him as you rinsed off, all the while Iwaizumi was praising you with how wonderfully you did for him, how good you made him feel, how you were his very good girl, his darling princess.  

You patted his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, reassuring him you were good and he did good and everything was good. Perfect, even.  

You two were back in bed about ten minutes later, clean bodies and clean sheets. You were tucked under one of Iwaizumi’s arms, snuggled into his side with your head on his chest.

“You sure you’re okay, princess? I wasn’t too rough?” Iwaizumi was full of anxiety with a bit of how he acted, but he knew you’d let him know if he pushed you too far, right?

“You were perfect, Hajime, you are perfect,” you leant up and kissed his jaw. “Plus, I didn’t need to say Oikawa, didn’t I?” 

You both burst out laughing, and he kissed the top of your hair as he pulled you tighter against him before you both drifted off to sleep, happy and fully satisfied – for now.  

[blazedbakugou]

selfish

In which Bakugou finally gives in to his heart’s desires despite his brain’s protests and allows himself to be selfish just this once.

a/n: this is the part two of my Bakugou fic I posted a while back. Though reading the first one will provide more context, this fic can also be read alone.

read part one here!

read part three here!

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

warnings: angst but there’s a happy ending, aged up characters

word count: 2.4k

pairing(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (romantic)

selfish - PnB Rock

Bakugou looked out the car window as he watched trees, buildings, and streetlights disappear from view. The car ride back home from Kirishima’s was a quiet one, perfect for contemplation and revelations. He was so deep in thought that he had failed to notice that this wasn’t the route to his apartment but instead it was on the way to yours.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, where are you taking me? My place is that way,” he pointed his thumb in the opposite direction.

Kirishima glanced over at him before focusing on the road ahead, “well, I just thought that you two needed to sort things out… so I’m taking you to their place.”

“Yeah? Well, what makes you think I wanna talk to that dumbass?” Bakugou grunted.

Except, that wasn’t what he was worried about. He knew that he’d royally fucked up at the party from the week before, and the guilt had been eating away at him since. Bakugou was aware that you had every right to be upset with him and he wouldn’t be too surprised if you didn’t want to speak to him after your fallout. He just hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“Don’t gotta lie to me, Bakubro. That wouldn’t be very manly of you, besides I’m tired of seeing you look so miserable.”

Your apartment complex came into view as Kirishima turned a corner, entering the parking lot.

“Tch, if this goes wrong then I just want you to remember that it was your idea to take me here.” The blonde scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

- - -

Bakugou wiped his hands against the material of his pants, drying off the sweat that had collected on his walk to your front door. He went over everything he wanted to say in his head before taking a deep breath and knocking on the wooden door. The voice in his head nagged at him louder than ever to turn around and never look back, he could get away in time if he ran, he thought. With each passing second, the voice grew louder and louder until the idea sounded nearly too tempting to pass up. Of course, before he could walk away and flee the scene, you answered the door.

“What do you want, Bakugou?”

He glanced up to look at you, grimacing at the coldness in your voice and how could he ignore the way you’d called him by his last name? Though his mind was soon filled with other concerns, like how exhausted you looked and sounded.

“Just wanted to talk…” his voice came out uncharacteristically timid as if he was afraid you’d slam the door in his face any second now.

You scoffed bitterly, “oh really? Now you want to talk? Thought you were too busy?”

“Look, I know I fucked up. Trust me, I know. So can we just go inside so we can talk?” Bakugou awkwardly shifted back and forth on his feet, hands shoved into his pockets while his gaze remained on you.

A brief silence filled the air between you two as he waited for your response, nervously chewing on his bottom lip in the meantime. You sighed before silently pushing the door open and stepping aside, warily letting him in once again. Shutting the door behind him, you motioned for him to head towards the couch.

“Just… wait here,” you said before disappearing into your room.

The blonde felt out of place as he stood in your living room, decorated with picture frames on the walls. He hadn’t been in your apartment in a long time, probably not since your housewarming party that you threw shortly after graduating from UA. The place didn’t look that much different from what he remembered, you still had the same rug, though it had a few stains now and the scent of the caramel apple scented candles you loved still lingered in the air.

After a few moments of standing in place awkwardly, he hesitantly walked towards the chimney to further inspect a picture that had caught his attention. It was a photo of you and him back when you still attended UA, the very same photo he’d kept in his wallet all these years. Hesitantly picking up the picture frame, he felt himself relax a bit as he reminisced all the good memories he shared with you.

“Miss those days?”

Your voice spooked him enough to clumsily place the picture frame back to where it belonged. Unsure what to say, Bakugou remained silent though his eyes spoke for him. God, he missed those times dearly.

“Yeah,” you sighed before walking into the living room, “I do too. Everything was a lot less confusing back then.”

Still, at a loss for words, Bakugou followed you like a lost puppy to the couch before tentatively sitting down. He felt like an idiot for not being able to use his words and get this over with, but it was your presence that turned him into a speechless fool.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? Or are you going to finally tell me what the fuck is going on?” You rolled your eyes at him from the opposite end of the sofa.

“Uh, yeah I just- I don’t know what to say.” He admitted bashfully.

“You’re joking, right? You don’t know what to say? Why are you even here?”

“No- that’s not what I meant. Obviously, I came here to get some things off my chest. I’m just not very good at this sort of thing and...” his voice trailed off into nothing but silence.

“Spit it out already, for fucks sake. I’m tired of waiting, Bakugou.” Your harshness stung but he knew he deserved it.

“Listen, I came to say that… I’m sorry. Okay? I know that I’ve been an asshole and probably caused you a few headaches,” he noticed your scoff before continuing, “I was dealing with some personal issues and took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“What personal issues were you dealing with that could’ve warranted you treating me like shit? What could’ve been so bad that you shoved aside all our years of friendship and pretended like I didn’t even fucking exist, huh?”

Up until this point, you’d done a decent job at keeping your feelings bottled up. Years of doubt, pain, and confusion were all kept under wraps until now.

“Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost staying up wondering what I did wrong and why you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore? Do you have any clue how much it hurt when I realized that my supposed best friend didn’t want to talk to me anymore?”

There was a certain rawness behind your words, a glimpse at your emotions that showed how hurt you truly were. Bakugou could tell that you were upset, and rightfully so. He knew he needed to hurry up and get his point across before it was too late, and yet he remained frozen in place. Mind racing at a million miles per hour, heart seemingly beating accordingly. At one point, your words had stopped registering in his head, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat.

“Oh, my god! Are you even listening?” You exclaimed exasperatedly.

Bakugou blinked a few times before replying, “yes! I’m listening, I just- there’s a lot on my mind and it’s- it’s a lot.”

You stared at him expectantly, waiting for a response to the rant you’d just dumped on him. It was hard to look at him for longer than a few seconds, and if you looked for a moment longer, you feared that you’d give in and forgive him. But you needed to stay strong and stand your ground, you couldn’t keep putting up with his shit forever and pretend like it was okay. You deserved better.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he sighed.

“Well, you did.”

His eyes flashed a look of guilt before he averted his gaze to his lap, “I know I did, and I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for things to get this bad, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Okay… but I still want an explanation as to why you suddenly decided to change your attitude towards me.”

“I know! I’m getting there, damn it. This isn’t easy for me, you know. I’m trying my best so just… be patient with me.” He frowned.

“Can I… can I try something? Do you trust me?” Your expression softened, body turning towards him.

“Tch. I guess so.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Then I want you to come here and rest your head on my lap, like the old days. Remember?” You offered him a slight smile as you patted your thighs.

A confused expression fell upon Bakugou’s face as he stared back at you. It took him a moment before he slowly let his guard down just enough to do as you said, hesitantly resting his head on your lap. You smiled down at him before gently rubbing circles on his temples, something you did back in UA whenever he strained himself too much during training. A noticeable silence filled the room as he felt himself melting into your embrace, something he had missed dearly.

“Now, go ahead and talk to me. I’m listening.”

Bakugou nodded before taking a deep breath, “you’re too kind for your own good, you know. I don’t deserve this, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you, not after everything I’ve done.”

“Ssh, just keep talking.”

“But it’s the truth…” he sighed, “you want to know why I’ve been so distant?”

You hummed.

The blonde shut his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts, “it’s ‘cause I was doing you a favor— or at least I thought I was. I thought that by leaving you in the past, with my memories of UA, that I’d be able to make things easier on the both of us. Apparently, that wasn’t the case because here we are, three years later back to square one.”

“Why would you think that would be such a good idea?”

“Because… all my life I’ve been this selfish bastard who destroyed everything in his path to get to the top. I’ve done fucked up shit that caused so much pain, so much destruction and if I could take it all back then trust me, I would. Eventually, I got tired of being the bad guy, so I decided that it would be best if I just left you alone.”

Your hands ceased momentarily, “So let me get this straight. You thought that you’d be doing me a favor by ghosting me with no warning? Didn’t you ever stop to consider just how hard it would be for me to lose my best friend?”

“You think it’s been any easier on me?” He scoffed.

“I feel like there’s still more you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah… I guess there’s no more avoiding it now, is there?”

“Nope.”

A sigh slipped past the blonde’s lips, “Figured. Listen here dumbass ‘cause I’m only saying this once. I didn’t exactly plan on falling for my best friend, but I did. It scared the hell out of me at first, just ask Shitty Hair. It still scares me if I’m completely honest.”

“How long? Since you realized that you had feelings for me?” You questioned.

“Far too long.”

Truthfully, Bakugou couldn’t have given you an accurate response even if he wanted to. He had no idea when these feelings had started to develop, all he knew was that one day you smiled at him and he felt his heart race like never before.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Be happy that I even told you because I was already set on taking these feelings with me to the grave.”

“Is it really so bad that you like me?” You frowned.

Part of you knew that Bakugou was never the best at putting things nicely and usually it didn’t bother you. Not after years of growing accustomed to his blunt honesty. But that didn’t mean that his words didn’t sting just a tiny bit. Sure, you were happy that you’d gotten your answer but perhaps you’d be happier if he didn’t seem so bothered by the fact that he had feelings for you.

“You need to stop doing that. Stop talking about yourself like you’re just another damn extra. All my life, I’ve looked down on others. Never thought anyone would ever be as great as me. Yet, here you are and now I realize that I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you.”

Bakugou let out a frustrated sigh before sitting up and distancing himself from you, “So maybe it is bad that I like you as much as I do. ‘Cause, you deserve to be with someone perfect for you and I am far from that… Except, I don’t want to let you go. I’m fuckin’ selfish and I want to keep you all to myself. It’s fucked up, I know, but it’s the truth.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, too busy processing all the information that had been dumped on you. It was a lot, but not necessarily in a bad way. There’d always been a glimmer of hope in the back of your mind that he felt the same way but you never expected him to ever admit it. Now that everything was out in the open, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. Katsuki Bakugou, your best friend whom you’d been secretly harboring feelings for had finally admitted that those feelings were mutual.

“I’m the idiot that fell in love with their best friend...” the blonde mumbled, low enough that you’d nearly missed it.

If he had said anything else before that sentence then you hadn’t heard it, you found it hard to focus on his words when all you could think about was kissing him. Ignoring the nerves racing through your body, you took a leap of faith and gently shoved him down onto the sofa, leaning in for a kiss. Bakugou’s face heated up almost instantly with the blush spread across his face as evidence, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head.

You smiled against his lips, “Well, then I guess that makes two of us.”

masterlist // taglist open // requests open

@combat-wombatus @sunflowersuki @blacpiink

[the-broken-truth]

Could you do a scenario where Donna’s s/o is telling stories to her and Angie because they used to travel a lot around the world? (👨✈️) No worries if not!

Broken Truth: I love stories. Let the words weave together!!!

Stories of the World

"I'm home." A deep voice called from the front door of House Beneviento causing the Head of House - who was lacking her veil - and the doll in her lap to look up from the book they were reading as the figure removed the cloak they were wearing and placed it on the coat rack.

"Papa!" Angie called out as she jumped from Donna's lap and ran over to the man, hugging his leg in her death grip as she looked at him with a smile on her face. "Welcome home!"

He smiled as he bent down and gathered Angie in his arm and placed a kiss on her head - she may have been a doll, but he loved her as if she was a real child because she was to him and Donna. Angie giggled before she noticed the large, weathered book & a small box under her father's arm.

"Daddy, what's that?" She asked pointing at the large tome.

"Oh, some things my mother sent me." H said as he began walking to the table Donna was sitting at, kissed her lips, and took the seat across from her. "My mom said she was cleaning out the attic at the family house and found my old Traveling Album & souvenir box in my old stuff." He placed the book & box on the table.

"Traveling Album?" Donna asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You know my father made that company right?" He asked, Donna nodded her head. "I worked for him and saved up some money when I was younger, I traveled all over the world for one year and took photos along with collect trinkets of my adventures."

"You traveled all over the world? How come you never told us about this, My Love?" Donna asked with a confused tilt of her head.

"Well, it never really crossed my mind, beloved. I was so focused on building a life here with you and Angie that my past didn't really matter to me at the moment." He said as he smiled at the Lady of the House and then turned to look at his book. "I'll show you."

He opened his books and began flipping through the pages but what he didn't notice was that Angie had torn open the box like a child on Christmas Day and gasped at all the shiny and strange things.

"What's this, Papa?!" Angie asked as she held up a rather large-looking doll that looked to be made out of wood and was heavier than a normal doll would be.

"Oh, that's a Matryoshka Doll - The nesting doll. I got that from Russia when I spent a month there." He said as he took the doll from Angie and opened it - both her and Donna gasped.

"There's another doll inside it?!" Donna asked.

"Yes, there's a few actually - each small than the other." He said as he revealed the remaining dolls before placing them on the table and flipping the page showing pictures of him in Russia.

"What about this?" Donna asked as she picked up a strange golden necklace with an oval pendant with a jackal's head and strange writing engraved into the gold plate.

"Oh, that's my Amulet of Anubis." [Y/N] smiled as he took the pendant into his hand.

"Who's Anubis?" Angie asked.

"He's the Egyptian God of the Dead." The man explained.

"You have an amulet from the God of Death?!" Angie screamed.

"God of the Dead, Angie. Not God of Death." [Y/N] corrected.

"What is the difference?" Donna asked.

"Anubis doesn't decide who dies - he sorts out the departed souls to see which afterlife they go to." He said.

"Who does he do that?" Angie asked.

"With a feather, a scale, and the person's heart." That confused them so he explained. "The Feather is used to weigh the sins someone committed in moral life - if the heart is lighter than the feather, then you were a good person. If the heart is heavier than the feather, then you were a bad person." He explained.

"What if the heart and feather weigh the same?" Donna asked.

"The same thing would happen as if it was lighter than the feather, it means you lead a virtuous life so you would be rewarded." He said as he turned to the page where he stood before the Pyramid of King Tut with the amulet around his neck, shining gold in the sun.

"You have a flute?" Angie asked as she withdrew a flute of pure white wood from the box.

"Oh, I got that from the Temple of Apollo in Greece." He said.

"Who?" Donna and Angie asked.

'This is gonna be a long night.' He chuckled in his mind before speaking again.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

The Construct of Time, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Written For: The HotchReid Valentine’s Day Trope Challenge, Trope Assignments = Historical AU, Time Travel

Summary: The year is 1924, half a decade after the first World War, and a few years before the Great Depression would devastate the nation. It is a time of contradiction: the modernist uprising of science and innovation, met with a traditionalist, fearful desire to cling to the past in a fast-evolving, urbanist society. And on this morning in Washington D.C. an unmarked package is left outside the office of Aaron ‘Hotch’ Hotchner, P.I., with a note simply telling him to find the rest, and a substantial price tag attached. What he finds in this package is something he has never seen before, hundreds of years old, and he barely knows where to start trying to find more like it. Ultimately he is pointed towards someone that may just have a clue what to do with his charge: a Classics Historian working in the basements of the Smithsonian, Dr. Spencer Reid. Together, what they discover sends them on a break-neck chase across the city, searching for a mysterious collection of powerful artifacts, and the people that are trying to sell them. Forever changing everything they know about the world, the people in it, truth, lies, love, and the fragile construct of time.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (to be determined)

Chapter CW/notes:  Once again no real TW/CW for this. Just lots of academic nonsense and these two men being hopelessly smitten. I got carried away with the staring and looking away quickly and flirting and Spencer looking pretty in low lighting. Once again I based my entire description of The Library of Congress on Pinterest photos and the map outlines on their website. Everything else is my imagination wanting to play with more Tropes. I also did a lot of research on anything that sounds remotely modern as I wrote, and yes: in the 1920′s they did have neon signs, swiss army pocket knives, but the Rubik’s cube wasn’t even conceived until 1974 so Hotch would have no idea what to do with that puzzle box. Spencer is a super genius so he gets a pass.

Word Count: 4,353

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 02: The Meaning of the Message

–

.

Nearly every attendant in the grand stone lobby of the Library of Congress greets Dr. Reid as he leads P.I. Hotchner to their destination. Yet another building that Hotch has never actually gotten to visit and appreciate, despite living in D.C. for the better part of two decades.

The architecture alone is astounding; towering marble archways lined with paintings and dozens upon dozens of statues, and a polished stone floor of rich earthen tones that makes the whole place echo like a time long past. The Academia environment more than an aesthetic, but a permeating sensation that fills the very air and seeps beneath the skin. Much akin to entering a very old, very revered church, it's massive walls filled with more detail than the eye can take in demands respect in a way a rare number of the buildings in the District do. Hotch feels if he speaks one word into the quiet surrounding them it will somehow take away or offend the vigilant temple, so it feels jarring when passer-bys murmur soft greetings of "Good Morning, Dr. Reid," to the man leading him up sweeping staircases and down hallways adorned in priceless murals. Either Dr. Reid is much more important than Sam Cooper had let on, or he spends a fair amount of time there at the nation's official library. He certainly is walking through it like he owns the place. 

A few moments later they emerge into the main Reading Room, a circular room that rises up three stories and shows the hundreds of stacks surrounding it like spokes on a wagon wheel, the ground floor an organized array of research desks and lamps amid a quiet hum of scholars at work. No spoken words, just the turning of pages and scratches of pens and the collective air of minds churning and reciting and piecing history together like squares on a quilt. But Dr. Reid doesn't even break his stride as he crosses the space, nodding and waving shyly at certain people, the P.I. following in his footsteps. Soon they are out of the main public space and back to winding hallways, stints of stairs, priceless artwork, until they find themselves within a forest of shelves and tomes and Dr. Reid is maneuvering between them like they are an extension of himself. He pulls a few volumes off of the shelves as they pass, so fast it should be impossible for him to have known what was where and what he needed. Leaving Hotch confused, and curious. He thought they would at least have visited the card catalog room to narrow down their search.

"You can sit here, I need to grab a few more books from the section above us," Dr. Reid says, placing the stack he'd gathered on a table tucked into a reading cove, turning on the green glass lamp and setting down his satchel he'd brought with him from the Smithsonian. Hotch picks up the first book idly and reads the title: The Age of Italian Sciences, the one below reading Alchemies and Chemistries: Evolutions of Science, and so on and so forth. 

"Are you searching for the source of the box?" he inquires, a small inkling of pride in himself for having correctly recognized the origin of the box upon his first observation. 

Dr. Reid nods, "And its purpose. There's something odd about the mechanics of it that I can't quite put my finger on. But I need to go get the book the message quoted, so we can try to understand what it's telling us." In his research notebook, Dr. Reid opens the page to the glowingly white paper and the single line written upon it. Hotch shrugs off his overcoat to toss in the booth, setting his hat on top of it, but does not sit down.

"Then lead the way," he motions back to some of the thin winding stairs that climb more like ladders than steps. "I want to see this for myself, as well. Get a feel for the genre. My knowledge of literature isn't what it used to be."

"Unless you slept through your Classics classes, this one will be hard to miss," Dr. Reid tells him with a quirk of a smile, changing his whole expression as he accidentally falls into something more familiar and less formal. Making him glow brighter than the lamp light beside them or the intense white of the foreign paper on the desk, and softening Hotch's own usually stoic features. He nods again towards the stairs, companionably, and as he follows is once again swept up in how the young scholar navigates the library. More at home than he could ever be in any apartment space or townhouse. 

The Classics section is a mixture of books clinging to life by the few remaining threads binding the spines together, and newer essays and research compiled and freshly printed. Works written by men with only a single, somewhat difficult to pronounce names, and historians that have 'Ph.D.' written in their author biographies at the back. Dr. Reid doesn't even glance at the titles as he weaves through the stacks, this way and that with his fingers skimming the spines bit by bit – as if he could tell what lies within them through mere touch. In the dim lamp glows and golden hues he looks other-worldly. A man seeped in his own element, Hotch merely a tourist in a temple. He watches very intently, how Dr. Reid murmurs to himself as he reads the titles, his eyes darting about reading far faster than Hotch can – he wonder's idly just how fast as it takes them only a few minutes to find what they are looking for.

Those minutes stretch like eons, and in those eons he feels he's seen another universe entirely. What a remarkable thing to witness. It isn't as if Hotch wasn't used to doing his own research in Law Libraries when he was a prosecutor, or when he was studying the practice at Harvard. But this feels transcendent, a puzzle more peculiar than the box that was sent to him only hours ago. Who was Dr. Spencer Reid, and why did he seem to come alive between the rows of books more than he did when interacting with the human beings who shelve them? Every person that works in that Library knows him by name. And somehow, Dr. Reid seems to know every book by name in the same manner. A feat to marvel at, as there are millions of books in this building. 

And just like that, the moment continues to astound him – the young man's eyes zero in and light up as he pulls a book from the shelf, flips through it page by page, finger flowing down as he skims for something. Lips moving too fast for Hotch to read. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the man was reading every word in the span of a few seconds!

"This is it, I know it – I just have to find the passage," Dr. Reid says, looking up at Hotch who was patiently waiting, observing, soaking in the moment and the absolute marvel before him. As exquisite as the statues carved into every corner of the building they stand inside. A romantic or renaissance-like quality to every glance. Frame by frame. So little light between the stacks, yet every angle of his face catches it handsomely. Turns the edges of his auburn curls gold. " –is something the matter?" he asks, when Hotch doesn't answer for a long stretch of pause.

"I'm just a little baffled," he says, low and quiet. "How you found everything so quickly. As if you knew right where it was, not knowing what we were looking for when you got up this morning." If he hadn't seen it for himself, Hotch would have been overly suspicious. Even claim the kid was letting him on, leading him round and round the bookshelves like it was a game. But he'd seen the way the young doctor had worked through everything methodically, narrowing it down from wing to room to section to shelf. It didn't make it any less remarkable, or unbelievable. But the investigator in him kept him skeptical. "How?"

Dr. Reid looks back down at the book in his hands, this one of those copies that were well worn and in need of fresh binding. He seems to be keeping back a smile, and something else that makes Hotch suspicious all over again, but there's a curl to those lips that lessens his worry about it being somehow ill-intended. "Let's just say I did not sleep through my Classics class. I have this book… as good as memorized." 

"You enjoyed it that much?" Hotch asks with a raised eyebrow, stepping closer to try and get a better look at the novel and it's title. Although he finds himself once again more captured by the man's hands than the book.

"On the contrary, I hated it. I was never a fan of the Tragedies, and this one is of subjects that can be very hard to read about – much less observe acted in a play," Dr. Reid says, finally closing the book and keeping place with a finger between the pages so Hotch can read the cover. Oedipus the King by Sophocles. Even Hotch remembered that one; a very controversial play about a prophecy come true, of a son who kills his father and weds his own mother. Hotch can't recall a single line from that play, but he does vaguely remember the gist of its plot.

"Why would you memorize a play you hate?" Hotch questions further, looking between the book and the young man like he can't help it. He most certainly was hard to look away from for longer than a moment. Dr. Reid seems to grow quiet again, that air of a secret kept close to his chest threatening to burst forth, and Hotch is no longer suspicious… curiosity, it seems, is catching. And he is awfully curious about Dr. Spencer Reid.

"I – I memorize everything I read," he admits, darting eyes and that soft, slip of his tongue wetting his lips between one moment and the next. So fast he would have missed it if Hotch hadn't been standing so close to the other. Caught between the stacks, it was easy to forget they didn't actually have any privacy at all, when the moment felt like there was no one else in the world but them. "One of my former professors has classified it as a condition he calls an Eidetic Memory. I can recall nearly everything I've ever read, like shuffling through a stack of photographs. Even books I've read years ago. He still uses me as a subject for case studies whenever he's passing through the District."

"I've never heard of that," Hotch says, surprised and not sure he believes it. 

"Most haven't. He's still studying it; but I can remember lines from every textbook and every reading assignment for every class I've ever taken. I even know all the lines of the Bible, although I've only read it once." Dr. Reid seems to feel like stating his case is hopeless, and Hotch understands now why he was so hesitant to explain himself. The first thing someone would do in this situation is test the young genius, and Hotch has an itch to start spouting verse numbers to see if the man can really recite the Bible like a preacher. But they were here for a reason, and there was a very easy way to test his claim.

So, without speaking a word, Hotch steps even closer to the other, to the point Dr. Reid backs up like he's about to be in the older man's way. As if he thought the investigator was about to leave. But his trajectory sends the younger man pressed back into a book shelf, with Hotch standing in his space and keeping him blocked there by his own broad shoulders and questioning stare. He reaches between them and motions for the book in the doctor's hands, the main thing keeping them apart but for a few inches of space. He can see how the other's face grows that dusty red and his eyes try to look anywhere but right into Hotch's own. "May I?" Hotch asks, clasping the book and tugging it gently from Dr. Reid's hands. Their fingers brush when he does, and it keeps the other man silent. 

With a smirk of a smile, Hotch turns just the slightest bit, leaning his shoulder into the bookshelf beside Dr. Reid, and flips open the book idly. "If you can really remember every line of this book, then you should be able to remember the number next to the line in our message." It's a straightforward enough assumption, and Dr. Reid finally looks stunned in a way that is more baffled than flustered. Like he can't believe Hotch is humoring him, or believing him. "Maybe the handwriting is what's throwing you off?"

Dr. Reid blinks his bright eyes, honey hazel and full of questions. Full of answers. Full of hope, thinly veiled beneath it all. "I suppose so," he murmurs, leaning heavier back into the bookshelves as if they are all that holds him upright. 

"Come on then, close your eyes and think about the typewriter print on the page," Hotch urges, his voice a low soothing rumble as he occupies himself flipping through the book, now somewhere in the 800's when he skims the lines. "There's a number next to every 15 lines, on the outside margin. The message said 'Time, which sees all things, has found you out'." He pauses, glancing beside him to see Dr. Reid had indeed closed his eyes, delicate lids smudged as dark as the circles under his eyes from many sleepless nights. Hotch wonders what exactly keeps him up at night, besides the next chapter in a book. "What's the number right next to it?"

"1265." There's no hesitation in the other man's answer. 

With an even more curious curl to his lips, Hotch flips further through the book until the lines read in the 1200's, and right there at 1265 is the sentence from the message in the puzzle box.

"Well, I'll be damned," Hotch murmurs, low and breathless. How on Earth did that kid just do that? "That's incredible. You are… incredible." Dr. Reid opens his eyes and then they are looking at each other once more. Darting glances, a flush of pride on the younger's high cheekbones, auburn curls trying to curtain his expression from him. But Hotch refuses to let him hide. His own dark tunnel-vision stare drawing Dr. Reid out of his shy reprieve, enough for Hotch to offer the smallest private slip of a smile. Rare, and all his own. "Show me more." 

The beautiful beaming expression that crosses Dr. Reid's face, the young man finally resisting ducking his head to try and hide it once more, is as breath-taking as any of the art lining the walls of the building they stand in. 

" –Alright," Dr. Reid relents, after a moment, and takes the book back from Hotch's hands. Their fingers brush again, it's like lightning crackling in a storm on the horizon. Quiet, yet sudden. "This passage I don't think has any consequence to your case. It's part of a conversation between two of the characters about the son's incestuous secrets, saying that all truth is revealed in time. That nothing can remain hidden forever."

"Well, we're looking for a collection of unknown artifacts that belong in museums," Hotch reminds him. "Or at least I'm sure they do. But you've never heard of or seen this puzzle box in your studies before, right?"

"Never," Dr. Reid agrees. "I suppose it could be in regards to the fact these are secretive pieces, but I think the play itself is supposed to be a clue." He clears his throat and tucks more hair behind his ear as he tries to put his thoughts in order. Hesitating to spout forth information like a break in a dam, the way he holds himself back near painful to witness. Hotch can see the signs of someone who has been told to not talk so much in rude and cruel ways, which is a shame. Dr. Reid nearly starts and stops a handful of times, still flipping through the book when Hotch reaches over once more. Breaks the barrier of touch, and places a hand on his wrist. 

Hotch's palm and fingers feel large in comparison to the younger man's thin scholar-honed hands, his touch encompassing not only his wrist and palm but the ridge of his knuckles as well. Sharp and pale and soft. The young man's pulse is racing like a freight train beneath his fingertips.

"Speak your mind." It's a gentle, low demand, the bass of his voice seeming ever so loud in the quiet hum of the library. But it calls the other's attention back to his face, looking for assurance and still so weary. "As far as I'm concerned, anything you have to say can help me. We're as good as partners, in this. Hell, I should probably be paying you as a consultant." He teases gently, with only the traces of humor softening his face. Most can't see it, usually, but by the way Dr. Reid's gaze washes over his face – Hotch thinks the younger man is catching every single nuance. As if it was bright as neon. 

He looks down shyly, and his dusty brown lashes are so long they cast shadows on his cheeks when he bites back a grin. "You can't afford me," Dr. Reid jests, catching Hotch off guard. Pleasantly so. Hotch smiles back so wide it creases the dimples into his cheeks. 

"Then consider me your charity case," Hotch says with a tilt of his head, pressing his shoulder into the bookcase as he glances back to the book. "Now tell me, what's the brilliant mind of yours thinking so hard about?"

With a sigh that moves his whole chest, parts his lips, Dr. Reid seems to center himself further and then… opens the floodgates to his inner thoughts. "This particular line is obscure, it isn't even the whole passage, and it's not one of the more well known quotations used in essays and analysis of the play. There are much more memorable, prominent passages that could read much more clearly into giving you clues. There's much more obvious and accessible plays, for that matter." He chews on his lip for a beat, closing the book and looking at the author name printed there. "Sophocles is one of the only three tragedian playwrights of Ancient Greece who's plays survived to modern times. There's not a lot known about him except he was well educated and wealthy, and wrote one hundred and twenty-three plays. I can't help but think the meaning of the line, about things not being able to stay hidden from time, and the fact his plays survived the passage of time are connected somehow. There must be layers to this clue." 

"Do any of those layers point us where we should go next?" Hotch inquires, taking in every word and mulling it over himself. "Maybe this has something to go with Ancient Greece? Or a Greek person? Or an academic person? Not everyone would know this line upon first glance like you."

"No, they wouldn't. Not unless they studied it very specifically," Dr. Reid agrees, nodding. "I think you might be right. The person you are looking for is in my field, or is helping whoever is trying to sell and smuggle this collection you're searching for." 

"How many scholars and historians are there in D.C.?" Hotch asks, already dreading the answer. Dr. Reid's face goes a little drawn, but his eyes move back and forth quickly as if reading something in thin air. Calculating numbers in his head.

"Well over three thousand, not counting students at Georgetown and teaching assistants here on internships." Dr. Reid swallows hard, considering his calculations. "I could – probably narrow that down, a bit. To scholars of the Classics and Literature. We have many scholars in the District, Mr. Hotchner, but not all are as appreciative of the past and what it can hold for the present." 

He tries not to shiver at the name again. No longer an unpleasant shiver, either, which makes the effect somehow worse for Hotch's situation. He needed to stay focused.

"Yes – you said not everyone would know this line. It's not a notable one. So it would take years for others to research and find this, but it only took you seconds," Hotch muses out loud, once again finding he's doing so as he traces the lines of the young doctor's face with his gaze. Was it possible that the person who sent him the box, the one who probably put the clue inside it (although he has no proof of this), meant for Hotch to go this route? The box itself is hundreds of years old, but the paper inside is not and the ink still looks fresh. 

Maybe the message was truly meant not for him, but for Dr. Reid… and Hotch was merely meant to find him. 

But to what end?

 .

—

 .

They return to their alcove, and Dr. Reid skims the books he'd left there previously. He has to be, he's flipping through the pages so fast the words seem a blur. Hotch almost wants to ask him how he's retaining any information that way, but by this point he trusts the other man's process and isn't sure if he should question him further. Not wanting to interrupt whatever is occurring here. 

"I need to run some tests on the box and the paper," Dr. Reid says after a time, some books marked with little torn slips of paper and a litany of notes and numbers written in his notepad that are definitely meant for himself by the chicken-scratch lettering and shorthand. "And read into a few more sources that I have back at the Smithsonian in my laboratory. I –" he pauses, the books collected in his arms like a shield to protect him as he asks his next cautious question. "I was hoping you'd entrust me with the puzzle box, for the time being. So I can run my experiments and do more research for you." 

Knowing the amount of money his benefactor was willing to pay for the collection, and the inkling they had for just what type of person would be on the lookout for it, Hotch finds himself inclined to agree. And trust. Dr. Spencer Reid isn't an easy man to read, but Hotch has spent a lot of time observing his face and mannerisms and has had a very intimate look into the man's mind the past couple hours. It might make him a fool for such a pretty face, but Hotch feels that he can trust the young doctor with this.

"That's a good idea. Some of the folks I need to talk to are in some shady areas, so I shouldn't be walking around with a priceless relic in my pocket." He means the comment in jest, but it catches and snags Dr. Reid's attention in a completely different way. He looks up with wide eyes and a worried expression. 

"Will you be alright, going alone?" he asks, and seems to immediately know how it sounds. It's not as if Dr. Reid is in any way an intimidating presence to help back Hotch up when he does his questioning. But the sentiment is well felt, warms Hotch's chest and eases that smile back onto his face where it dimples one cheek handsomely. 

"I'll be alright. All part of the job." He steps back up to the man, right in his personal space, and Dr. Reid doesn't flinch back this time. The scent of dust and worn leather and roasted coffee hang in light, fragrant traces about him. Clean skin and sun-beam warmed hair. The wool of his vest, the spice of his soap. It's an aroma that would be easy to sink into. But instead, Hotch reaches for the man's satchel and puts the wood and brass box containing the puzzle within it. Securing it on the man's shoulder for him, before speaking low and just in the space between them. "Keep it out of sight, and don't ask any of your colleagues about it until I return. We don't know who we can trust with it, or how much this collection may be worth to someone else."

Dr. Reid nods in understanding, Hotch so close he can feel the gesture as much as see it. "I'll see you soon?" 

"Tonight," Hotch agrees, hoping he won't be breaking that vow. "Tomorrow morning, at the latest. It depends what I find, and… if I'm followed." He couldn't be the only one looking for this collection, and sooner or later he would end up crossing paths with them when he really starts snooping around. 

"Be careful," Dr. Reid asks of him, serious as can be, and Hotch tries not to smile too fondly at that. 

"I'm not going anywhere yet, leave me on my own and I'll be wandering around this place for days trying to get out," he says, to ease a smile back onto the younger man's face. "Lead on, Doctor. Without you, I'm sure to lose my way." 

It sounds more charming than he meant it to be, but it's worth it for the way Dr. Reid regards him then. Those warm, bright eyes gone even warmer – to the point of simmering.

"I have faith in you," he confides, and if Hotch had been a weaker man… he would have fallen prey to the coy shyness that calls to him like a siren song.

Oh, this Dr. Reid was going to be trouble for him.

.

—

tbc…

—

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Tagged list so far: @physics-magic @thaddeusly @sideblogforcrimpy

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[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now. 

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?” 

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said. 

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has. 

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.” 

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes. 

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

1.

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

2. 

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

3. 

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

4.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

5.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

6.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

7.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

8.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

9.

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during  a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[jonnyparable]

Cottage Hills: The Island of Sun, Part IV

Day Four: Island of Memories

Today, after their raucous evening, Kai and Popuri have an early breakfast, and Kai decides that perhaps it's time to pay Dr Diggs a visit at the museum for a more cerebral and educational day out.

They head on over to the Simbayang Museum of Maritime Antiquities, and are greeted by Dr Diggs.

Diggs:

"Kai! Popuri! How wonderful that you've come! We've got some new exhibits and artefacts since the last time you were here, Kai, which I think might interest you both! Come on in!"

Inside, the relatively small, single storey building is crammed with all kinds of paintings, murals and carvings on the walls, glass displays full of artefacts, and large sculptures behind velvet ropes. Having seen nothing like it, Popuri is amazed by the museum's collection.

Kai:

"Well, Dr, you've certainly been busy! This place is overflowing!"

Diggs:

"Thank you! We've been working hard, and indeed, some of the newest relics we've managed to uncover are on display here as well. Would you like to see them?"

Dr Diggs leads them over to a few glass cases, with all manner of historical artefacts within, including some ceramics and what look to be jewellery.

Popuri:

"Dr what are all these? Who made these artefacts?"

Diggs:

"Well, we know that about a thousand years ago, a civilization known as the Pranajaya Empire lived on the island and ruled over much of the region. They had up till fairly recently been considered myth, so consequently, we don't know too much of them yet, but over the years, we've learnt more about their way of life here on the island and about their role in this region's history."

He leads them over to an intricately carved stone statue of a female figure. She has a kind, peaceful expression, one hand holding a flower.

Popuri:

"Wow, what a beautiful sculpture. Who is she?"

Diggs:

"This is what we think is a statue of a legendary founder of the Pranajaya, Princess Ityawet. Not much is known about her but legends say that she came out of the sea, with a strange flower in hand, and led the people to peace and prosperity. It is said that under her rule, the Pranajaya became a prosperous and powerful maritime society, who traded widely in the region."

Popuri:

"What happened to them? Did they leave any other clues of their civilization?"

Diggs:

"Well, that's the thing, we don't know fully yet why their civilization collapsed. Some evidence points to some sort of power struggle after Ityawet's death, and the ensuing civil war destabilised their society, and their cities were abandoned. Of course, there's still lots of research to be done, but thanks to Professor Kawanto, we've since uncovered some large ruins on the other side of the island, deep in the jungle, that shed some new light on the Pranajaya and their cities."

Dr Diggs leads them over to a wall near the entrance, and shows them some photos hanging there, under a plaque dedicated to Prof. Widyana Kawanto. The photos are old images of a large ancient ruin soaring over the jungle, with the signature of the professor.

Popuri:

"Who is this Professor Kawanto? Is he still around?"

Dr Diggs looks down solemnly as Kai gently places his hand on the plaque.

Kai:

"She...she was my mother...she built this museum, and she's the one who discovered the ruins of the great Pranajaya civilization."

Diggs:

"Yes. Kai's mother, Dr Widyana Kawanto, is a reknowned academic, environmentalist and archaeologist, and just the latest in a long line of Kawantos who have made extraordinary contributions to the island. Thanks to her, progress in the field has leaped ahead decades. Prof Widyana uncovered the ruins of what we call the Temple of the Monkey King. I was there the day these pictures were taken. I took them! I was just her student back then, she was a fiercely intelligent and driven woman. I was lucky to have been her student. We are honoured to continue the work she started."

Diggs:

"Well ahem, I have to run now, but why don't you two come see the ruins tomorrow with me? I'm sure you'll love to see it! "

They agree to meet him tomorrow and they leave the museum. On the way home, they walk in silence. Kai seems very deep in thought, with a faraway look on his face. Back home, after a quiet dinner, Popuri finds Kai looking up at some pictures on the wall. She gently places her arms on Kai's shoulders.

Popuri:

"You must miss her alot. She seems like a wonderful mother."

Kai:

"She was... She was kind, and funny. And strong. I never knew my father. He died before I was born, and my mother raised me on her own. She loved this island. She would tell me stories and legends about our past, and she taught me to love and respect the natural beauty of our island, and our way of life. She advocated for the environment, and for the conservation of important heritage and archaeological sites around the world.... but twelve years ago...she... "

Popuri:

"I'm sorry, its ok if you don't want to talk about it."

Kai:

"... It's alright. She disappeared twelve years ago. No one knows what happened to her. But back then, when some big hotel guy wanted to come build a resort here on our sacred mountain and open the island to tourism, my mother opposed it and confronted him. He soon left, and construction stopped. Everyone celebrated and thought it was over. My mother then went on an expedition to find a new set of ruins from the air. She never came back, and the plane was never found. The next thing we knew, the hotel was built, and things have never been the same since."

Popuri:

"You think that the hotel's owner had something to do with it?"

Kai:

"No one knows really. That's just what the locals believe. They've cared for me ever since. They're all like family to me. Maybe... Maybe she's still out there somewhere. I travel everywhere to try and find clues of her... But nothing...coming back here to this house has been hard... I guess there's too many memories here."

Popuri:

"Maybe it's time to make new memories."

Kai smiles sadly. He caresses Popuri's hand, and says its time for bed.

[madasthesea]

“What is a Build-a-Bear?” Nebula's rasping voice framed the words like they were a foreign language, careful and slow.

Tony blinked at her. He was still in the Medbay, slowly recovering from starvation, oxygen deprivation, and the last of his stab wound. The time between getting off the ship and waking up here was blurry. Nebula, who had suffered from hunger much less than Tony, had come to visit him while Captain Danvers and the raccoon prepared their ship to go find Thanos.

“What?” he croaked.

“You called Rocket a Build-a-Bear.”

He didn't remember doing that, but it sounded like him.

“Oh. It's a stuffed animal,” Tony explained listlessly, picking at his blanket. “It's for kids.”

 Peter's room was a mishmash of Lego figurines, science apparatus, and second-hand furniture. Tony glanced around, taking it in. The last time he'd been here recruiting the kid, the space had been much more bare. He smirked as he saw the Star Wars spaceships, but it turned into a wicked grin when he caught sight of a red and gold stuffed animal.

“Kid, what is that?”

Peter looked around from where he'd been rummaging in his desk for his spare webshooter. He saw where Tony was looking and his cheeks immediately flushed.

“Um. A… birthday present.”

Tony reached out and picked it up. The little bear had gold Iron Man masks all over his crimson fur and was wearing a shirt and pants that looked like the Iron Man armor, complete with a tiny glowing arc reactor and a cloth mask.

“It looks new,” he remarked casually.

“It isn't!” Peter hurriedly assured him, rushing over and trying to snag it from Tony's hands. Tony pulled it closer to his chest, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

“Don't get grabby, Parker,” he chided. “Now, come here, we're taking a selfie.”

“You give these slain creatures to your children?” Nebula asked. Her voice and face were as emotionless as ever, but there was something like disgust in the tilt of her head.

Tony, jerked out of his thoughts, took a second to catch up.

“What? No! Geez, no. They're not real animals, they're made of cloth.”

“Cloth,” Nebula repeated, sounding dubious.

“Yeah.” He hesitated for a second. “Come here, I'll show you.”

He reached over to the bedside table, where he'd slammed his phone down half a second after Rhodey gave it to him. He'd taken a single glance at the lock screen photo—one of Peter with engine grease all over his face, the car he and Tony had restored together barely visible in the background—and promptly hyperventilated until he passed out. He hadn't touched the phone since, and his hands shook as he reached for it now.

He swallowed hard, unlocking his phone and carefully not looking at his background picture—this one of him, Peter, and Pepper all asleep on the couch. He opened his camera gallery and quickly scrolled through the file of photos of Peter, trying not to see any of them, any of the hundreds of memories that would forever more be nothing but agonizing reminders of his own failure.

He overshot the one he was looking for and had to go back, but finally he pulled up a picture of Peter's Iron Man Build-a-Bear, his own hand holding it up to the camera.

Nebula crowded around the head of the bed, peering down at the screen. She looked at it critically for a second, glancing between it and Tony.

“What is it's function?” She finally asked.

“Kids cuddle with them,” Tony replied. She looked confused. “You know, hug them?”

Nebula shook her head.

“Oh geez. Um. Like, like this.” Finger hesitating for a second, Tony swiped to the next picture. His breath stuttered in his lungs.

Beaming up at him from the screen was the ghost of Peter Parker, bright and young and perfect. The teddy bear was tucked under his chin and his cheeks still faintly pink with embarrassment. Tony had had to make a really stupid “dad joke" to even get Peter to smile. In the picture they'd taken together, Peter was mid eye-roll.

Tony's thumb hovered over the image as if about to caress the boy's face. He could feel Nebula looking at him, knew she recognized Peter as the kid that had died in Tony's arms. And even if she hadn’t, she still would have known—she was the one that had heard him screaming Peter’s name in his sleep, whispering apologies to the Peter he hallucinated once the infection took hold.

“Why do they… cuddle them?” Nebula made a face at the word and Tony snorted, still staring at his screen.

“Us humans do that. We, um, need physical contact.”

  Tony woke up to the hazy awareness that came with heavy medication. He remembered the entire fight, this time, and groaned quietly. His injuries would take forever to heal, his busted knee would probably ache for the rest of his life. Getting old sucked. But taking the brunt of the damage was worth it as long Peter got to grow old, too.

Speaking of Peter, Tony felt a suspiciously Peter-shaped weight against his side. He peeled an eye open and, sure enough, Peter was tucked up against him, his arm over Tony's stomach.

“Kid,” Tony groaned. Peter looked up at him, a nasty bruise on his temple.

“Mr. Stark.”

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked, fighting the pull of medication trying to make him fall asleep again.

“Human contact helps dull pain,” Peter told him. He pressed himself a little closer. “Is it working?”

“Better than morphine,” Tony said drily. Peter made an aggravated noise at his sarcasm.

“I'm trying to help,” Peter whispered.

Tony sighed, shifting a little so that Peter's head was nestled more comfortably against his shoulder.

“You know you don't have to feel guilty, buddy. You really don't.”

“And you know that I do anyway, so just let me…” Peter trailed off.

“Let you cuddle me?”

Peter nodded shyly.

“It's the only thing I can do for you right now.”

Tony closed his eyes. This kid.

“Eases pain, you say?”

“And helps you sleep,” Peter added, his own words getting thicker as he started to doze against Tony’s chest.

Tony ducked his head and lightly kissed Peter's bruised temple.

“Well, heaven knows I could use some of that.”

 Tony jerked himself out of his own thoughts this time. The picture of Peter was blurry now, and Tony blinked hurriedly to dispel the tears.

“Do you… don’t alien kids have something like that?” he asked.

Nebula's dark eyes stared at him for a long moment.

“I don't know.”

Right. Suckiest dad in the universe.

“Tell you what, when I'm up and moving again, and you're back from your space adventure, we'll go get you one.”

Nebula worked her jaw for a moment, like she was going to argue, but her eyes betrayed curiosity and a little bit of excitement in her gaze.

“Fine.”

  Marching up to a Build-a-Bear after the end of the world with an ex-homicidal blue alien was pretty high up on Tony's list of ‘weirdest things I’ve ever done,’ but he glared at the shop attendant that cowered behind the counter as if it was totally normal.

He'd been a little surprised the place was still open, actually. Plenty of stores had had to close their doors after the Snap, too short staffed or without managers and owners.

This was the same store he'd come to with Peter. It still smelled the same. The memory punched the air out of his lungs.

  “Keep your eyes closed, Pete.”

Peter scowled. “Mr. Stark, people are giving us weird looks. I can feel it.”

“Chill out. Just a couple more seconds.” With both hands on Peter's shoulders, Tony steered them through the brightly lit store, around little kids and stands with tiny clothes hanging on little cardboard hangers. When they reached the right spot, Tony reached out tipped Peter's chin down so that he'd see the surprise right when he opened his eyes. The kid didn’t even flinch at the unexpected touch and Tony’s lungs constricted at the trust Peter put in him.

“Alright, kiddo. Go ahead.”

Peter opened his eyes.

“No way…”

There, at the end of the line of Avengers themed teddy bears, was a red plush with spider web patterns all over it. It was wearing a replica of the Spider-Man suit and had a mask shoved up on it's head, smushing the ears.

“Congrats, kid, you've joined the ‘recognizable enough to make a profit’ league,” Tony laughed, both hands still on Peter's shoulders.

“Oh my gosh!” Peter picked up the stuffed animal, running his fingers over it. He tugged the mask over the bear’s face.

“Looks just like you, Pete,” Tony joked, grinning widely. Peter gave his arm a soft whack.

“This is amazing. I have to take a picture and show Ned. He’ll freak,” Peter rambled, fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“Or you could just show him in person.”

“It’s a bit far to come—” Peter started, looking around at the store with a furrow between his eyebrows.

“I’m obviously going to buy you one, kid,” Tony interrupted, rolling his eyes. “To add to your collection.”

Peter blushed. “Mr. Stark.”

“After all, you can’t have Iron Man without his loyal sidekick Spider-Man, can you?”

Peter pursed his lips, but there was something soft and awed in his face, like being Iron Man’s sidekick was a dream come true. “Not your sidekick, Mr. Stark.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tony assured him, ruffling his hair. “Now, come on, show me how this works.”

Twenty minutes later, they were leaving with a new teddy bear, the little pseudo-birth certificate that came with reading ‘Underroos.’

“Your face is leaking.” Nebula’s voice startled him so badly he flinched. His hands flew up to his face, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

“Right. Sorry.” Nebula didn’t say anything. It was one of the best things about her.

“What do I do?” she asked, a little quieter as if embarrassed to not know.

“Just pick one you like,” Tony said shrugging, walking around the store and peering at each bin full of animals waiting to be stuffed. Nebula trailed along behind him, examining them as if wary they would come alive and bite her.

When they came to the Avengers ones, Tony paused. The Spider-Man bear was still there, the crate almost empty. The only ones that seemed more popular were Iron Man and Captain America. Tony smiled a bit. Peter would flip if he knew he’d beaten out Thor.

“That’s your son,” Nebula remarked, a touch surprised.

Tony swallowed, looking at the little plushie. He decided not to correct her. “Yeah. He, uh, he’s pretty popular, here on Earth.”

Nebula stooped and picked out a Spider-Man bear. “I like this one,” she proclaimed, with a confidence that surprised Tony. She’d never expressed real preference or dislike for anything before.

Tony cleared his throat. “You... you don’t have to get that one, just cause it’s—You don’t have to get that one for me.”

“I like this one,” she said again.

“Alright, Bluebell.” She glanced up at him at the nickname. “Let’s go get you your very first stuffed animal.”

After the bear had been stuffed, the little heart placed inside—Nebula had been very confused at that part—and closed up, the worker left them to pick out clothes and whatever else they wanted. Nebula looked at the bear in her hands for a long moment, and then raised it and tucked it under her chin, mimicking what she had seen Peter doing in the picture Tony had showed her. Tony watched, one eyebrow raised, as she stood like that for a long moment, eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes, she looked at Tony.

“I see,” she said simply. Tony smiled.

  Two weeks later, as she and Rocket boarded their ship to leave Earth, Nebula had her little Spider-Man bear—decked out in an Iron Man outfit, at her insistence—under her arm.