#other store whose name I don’t remember lady

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Yesterday at a store my friend picked up a pair of shoes and mentioned how difficult it would be to get away with murder wearing them because of the pattern on the bottom. The lady who owns the store was nearby and she chimed in about how she’s terrified that someone is going to murder someone while wearing shoes from her store because all of them have the store name on the bottom and I love strangers sm

[eddiemunsonw]

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

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[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Working on fast food I’ve met a lot of different people, especially when I worked overnights. Here are some of the customers I remember the best (some of them I still see around):

An actual Nazi with a swastika tattooed on his thumb. I always make sure he’s charged more when he comes through.

A guy who asked me to cum in his ice cream.

Two seperate old guys who harassed me while I used the bathroom. One gif banned for being racist to the cashiers up front, the other one tried to break into my stall.

A tired, bruised woman who seemed a bit on edge. There was a guy passed out next to her in the car. She told me to keep the change (it was a lot) and drove off. I never saw her again.

A woman who broke down sobbing because her daughter who had recently died of cerebral palsy loved the rain, and it was raining out.

A man who pulled up while on the phone and loudly shouted into it, “What do you mean I have AIDS?! …Is it the good kind?”

A dude on drugs who choked me against a wall because he thought I made a pass at his sister, smashed a window, got into a fistfight with a manager, and begged the cops to beat him to death when they showed up.

A couple who were exceptionally rude and harassed me, then tried to stalk me home. They got banned.

A drag queen who always wanted extra sauce. I gave it to them free even though the store I was at charged for it.

A kid with a confederate flag hat or shirt (this was over a decade ago, I can’t remember which). I gave him free sauce because I felt bad for him. If I saw him today, I’d charge him twice.

An anti-vaxxer who flipped out because we couldn’t do half hot, half iced water, got out of her car, and demanded to know what my problem was.

The main character of life, who came at a busy time, honked at everyone, and demanded I get a manager to move the line somehow.

A lady with massive breasts that were practically exploding out of her shirt who complained to a manager I was rude to her because I explained how a coupon worked.

A customer whose order was exactly correct, still asked for a manager, and then complained to the manager how I was rude because he overheard me explain to the manager I wasn’t sure what the problem was.

An old man who frequented the drive thru and was entirely innocuous until the day he harassed a woman to the point she was in tears and shaking.

An old guy who consistently pays for his order entirely with change and always drives off before I can count it. He is consistently short ten to twenty cents.

A man who insisted we served pizza.

A guy who tried to order lo mein.

A nice, sweet old Asian man whose initials are “KKK.” He’s one of my favorite customers.

A person whose name is “Barbarian.” Another favorite.

A person named “Icelyn Snow.” Yet another favorite.

A woman who comes through with her cats. Another fav.

A lady who came through with her pet skunk.

A guy with a bearded dragon in his cup holder.

An old man who held the line up for ten minutes because we don’t accept any bills over twenties. He insisted we legally had to and refused to budge even after two managers and I explained the rules to him, and who we had to walk around to get other customers. He finally left after the police were called.

A bunch of kids who jumped a teen in the lobby and ripped her earring out. There was blood on the floor.

A guy who tried to come through while being chased by cops. He caused an officer to chip a wall with their car before escaping.

A guy wit a studded hat that said “Hentai” with an ahegao seat cover to go with it.

A guy who insisted the confederacy weren’t losers and that they were making a comeback.

A guy who tried to hustle us out of ten bucks. I caught him, but he kept insisting I owed him money. He came back months later still yelling about it; I pretended to not know what he was talking about.

A man who came back through after being given sweet tea he was told was sweetened artificially (he and his wife were diabetic). Despite having to take his wife to the hospital due to high blood sugar, all he wanted was his tea fixed and an apology. I apologized profusely. My coworker insisted he was lying for free stuff.

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[leportraitducadavre]

ahhhh, i feel so much better knowing there are more ppl tired with bnha now. i see so many praising it and i'm not saying bnha is bad, it's good, i remember havibg quite a lot of fun reading it but lately... eh, lately it's becoming a chore to read it. deku is deku but how do you feel about shigaraki? not as a character, but more as the power scaling? up until that american hero, i was so sure Horikoshi was writing himself into a wall making the big bad so ridiculously strong. it feels like the american hero was not as much as meticulously planned as she was just an effort to deescalate otherwise a truly op character. without her, even ridiculously op deku would not stood a chance against shigaraki...

Hello Anon -I know you asked me specifically about power-scales, but since you’re one of the few asks I received (and I’ll be honest, that I’m specifically willing to answer -since I’m currently disenamoured with the manga and I don’t think I’ll be able to reply as thoroughly as I usually do for other fictional works), allow me to expand my answer and go on a full rant about Shigaraki, Deku, Dabi and Horikoshi’s writing.

First things first, I’ll reply about your main concern: Yes, I do believe that Cathleen Bate’s introduction and the whole purpose was to take away some of Shigaraki’s powers -and to give more time to the Heroes to prepare in order to face him, since some subplots needed to be addressed and resolved before the main clash (like, who was the traitor and to show some of the characters’ new techniques).

While Deku is limited to the powers that were passed on through OFA -Shigaraki’s AFO holds no specific limit as to how many quirks can be stored. I guess the main issue with it has to do with how much the body of the wielder can handle. If the OFA and AFO are “sibling quirks” then what’s true for OFA should be true for AFO as well, meaning that the more quirks, the more rapidly the body decays. Izuku and All Might are a special case because they were born quirkless, and I’m not completely sure Shigaraki was born with an innate quirk (I think he was born quirkless and his deterioration technique was given to him by OFA during his childhood), and although his collapsing body might have to do more with how his quirk works rather than OFA’s presence -I wouldn’t exactly deny the possibility.

However, and this will be the beginning of the rant,

it isn’t the first time Horikoshi performs something similar -that is, introduce a character with a specific and short-term purpose in mind. We don’t need to go far inside where the manga stands now to see another example: Lady Nagant was introduced as a former hero that became so disappointed with the system that forced her to do terrible things in the name of “peace” that she killed her former employer, and was imprisoned because of it. When she’s introduced, we are led to believe that her ideology and moral standpoints stand against Izuku’s, she isn’t necessarily evil because we understand what she rebelled against and why she committed the crimes she did; therefore Izuku is the embodiment of who she used to be (an optimistic newby that wanted to do good). The encounter between them wasn’t necessarily a physical battle -but an ideology one, which is why it’s won when at last, Lady Nagant (for some reason that is not even properly explored), surrenders to the MC’s perspective, putting her entire hopes for a reformation of the system onto Deku (despite Deku being All Might’s successor, someone whose figure was the main pillar in which the system she despises leaned itself on).

So what was the point of Lady Nagant? Simply put: To establish Izuku’s moral beliefs as the narrative’s parameters to differentiate what’s right from what’s wrong without forcing the hero to perform any deep introspection of their moral beliefs, annihilating the antagonist's characterization in the process.

But what about Shigaraki and/or Dabi? Aren’t they the real characters on which the “anti-system” ideology rests? Well, let me tell you something that many followers of mine (or even mutuals) that read BHNA will probably disagree on: Both of those characters aren’t even that good of a pillar for such an important objective (and some people actually compare them to Sasuke!).

Dabi’s intrinsical desire is to destroy Endeavor -bringing down the system that allowed him to gain and maintain economic and social power is just a resource he uses to affect him, he’s not truly above hurting (or murdering) those who suffered the same as him (Natsuo) nor innocent people that had nothing to do with it in order to stain Endeavor’s name, and his hate to his procreator is so visceral that he stretches that feeling towards his younger brother who unknowingly displaced Endeavor’s favor away from him.

Shigaraki, while more interesting since he was manipulated to believe his innate quirk was equal to an intrinsical desire (you’ve got deterioration because it’s what you want, so do it, more or less) also is against the system because he wants the chaos and destruction that comes with bringing it all down -I am not denying that his hate towards it wasn’t born from his personal experiences (he hates the society because it turned a blind eye to him while he was a child, and the particular distaste he has for heroes has to do with his father’s beliefs that made him hate himself plus AFO’s teachings), so it’s not about revolutionizing the system for neither of these characters, but personal desires.

And now, you can argue -revolutions have nothing to do with “good sides” or “bad sides”, but about an oppressed group standing up against their oppressors, in that sense, Shigaraki and/or Dabi are simply the faces chosen by the oppressed to represent them because they alone are a menace to hero’s society, but the movement in itself goes beyond them. And hell, that’ll be true, the problem isn’t Dabi and Shigaraki starting something solely to reach a specific (personal) goal that spread out of control into something much deeper that they are not interested in, it’s about how Horikoshi ties their twisted morals with such revolutionary movement -hence, transforming it into something wrong from the narrative’s point of view.

And that’s why I’m particularly against comparing any of them to Sasuke -because Sasuke was a problem for the narrative that needed to constantly justify why he was wrong; sure Shigaraki and/or Dabi starting a revolution against the Hero society whose problems are displayed is narratively hard to manage, but Horikoshi purposefully made both of them commit unforgivable things to give the heroes a reason to invalidate their “uprising”. In that sense, Horikoshi is -to me, far less skilled than Kishimoto, who allowed Sasuke to question the narrative until the very last second (he committed no crimes, he killed no innocents), where he had to surrender to the MC’s perspective.

[play-exy-be-sexy]

Neil and his “baby”

One day Neil decides to mess with the press

They’ve been riding his ass since semi finals

And he’s tired of them

Also some of them have been trying to figure out him and Andrews relationship

And neither of them are ready for that to come out yet

So he creates a distraction

A story he KNOWS will get coverage

He comes up with it walking back from class one day

Cause this takes place like his fourth year

Andrews fifth

Anyway he walks by a lady with an empty stroller

Like empty empty

There literally nothing

No diaper bag or anything

And the plan forms instantly

He steals the stroller

Quickly

Like just snatches it when the lady’s not looking

He figures it won’t hurt

Given there’s no proof of her having a baby with her

Andrew is SO confused when Neil walks into the dorm with a fucking baby stroller

Like thirty minutes after he takes it

Cause that things hard to maneuver

And it takes him a while

He’s a 23 year old gay man okay?

He doesn’t have a lot of expiernce with babies

He doesn’t even like them

Except Dan and Matt’s obviously

Anyway Neil tells Andrews his plan and Andrews immediately on board

Cause we all know he loves causing trouble

And pissing off kevin

And this is definitely going to piss off Kevin

Like a lot

He hates the press

But not as much as pranks

So those things combined=chaos and anger

Andrew goes and buys a diaper bag and stuff to put in it

So it’s even more realistic

After, they finalize the plan

When, where, etc.

So that’s how the press finds him: walking around with a stroller all day

At some random grocery store

Next to a baby store nonetheless

Cause these boys have thought this out

Anyway people automatically find him

Cause he kinda left like clues on Twitter and led the press and others to him

Also off topic but Andrews hiding in the car just to see how observant the press is

They don’t see him

So here’s Neil with a stroller walking very slowly to the store and purposely making eye contact with the cameras

No one dares come up to him

Cause believe or not they think they’re being sneaky

Hah funny

Stupid bitches

So he walks around the store for like an hour and a half

Just to make sure everyone seen him

Press and everyone else

It’s mostly just people taking pictures with their phones that will get to news networks eventually

Afterwards he sneakily gets in Andrews car

Cause once again the press is NOT observant

Like they only see what people want them to see

They get back to the tower and automatically check Twitter

It’s all over the Exy pages

And palmetto school pages

The press had a field day

“Star Striker, Neil Josten, is secretly a dad?”

“Neil Josten hiding his secret baby, whose the mom?”

“Is it former teammates Dan Wilds kid or does Josten have a kid of his own?

Allison is definitely the main name that floats around

As well as Renee

They find it very funny

Because they are in a relationship

Obviously

Anyway by the time they play their next game it’s kinda cooled down

But obviously the press is going to ask about it afterwards

“Neil, care to comment on the pictures of you circulating the internet?”

“What ones?”

“The ones taken at a store with a baby”

“Baby? I don’t think I have a baby”

“You had a stroller with you”

“And?”

“And you kept looking in it and taking out a bottle.”

“I don’t recall.”

“It was just like a week ago.”

“Look, the only baby in my life is Kevin.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, Kevin. No ones talking to you.”

“Fuck you, Andrew.”

“So, you don’t have a secret baby?”

“No, I don’t even know where you got that idea from.”

“YOU HAD A STROLLER WITH YOU NEXT TO A BABY STORE LIKE FIVE DAYS AGO.”

“Oh right, I remember. I was at a baby store. Kevin needed some new diapers.”

Kevin walks out.

Anyway the press is very mad because they know that isn’t what he was really doing there so it just turns into a huge confusing mess.

Eventually it dies away but it still gets brought up once and a while.

And Neil is always a shit about it

And sticks with his story

The truth doesn’t get revealed until him and Andrew come out

Like six years later

He does not have a child

He does however have a boyfriend

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 4)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~1.7 words)

Warnings: questionable fidelity, angst, but otherwise tame

A/N: There isn’t a lot of action in this chapter but a whole lot of feelings.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

-

You awoke to the sound of Iwaizumi’s careful shuffles around your bedroom as he got dressed for the day. Rising slowly to a sitting position with a stretch and a yawn, you noticed he was a little more dressed up than usual, his usual polo shirt and khakis replaced with a pair of sharp trousers, a nicely pressed shirt and a tie.

“Good morning, baby,” you murmured, voice still heavy with slumber.

Iwaizumi’s eyes shifted from their focus adjusting the sleeves of his shirt and smiled as he watched you rub the sleep out of your eyes, walking around to your side of the bed to kiss you on the forehead - a soft brush of the lips.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

The smell of a gentle cologne drove you forward, intending to lean your face against his chest, but he was already back to his side of the bed to gather his things before setting out for the morning.

“I did… I can make breakfast if you’re not in a hurry!” You offered, eyes following the young man as he quickly exited the room.

“I’m alright!” He called, voice distant now. You could tell he was already rummaging around in the kitchen, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in your nostrils in sharp contrast to the toothpaste you were using to rid yourself of morning breath once you trailed behind him.

You glanced at the time on the wall clock, leaning against a wall opposite the inlet to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly late for work, but he was rushing out faster than usual. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice was muffled between spittle and mild concern.

He glanced at you, hesitating for a split second before smiling. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he replied without answering your question, and then the door closed behind him.

There was a subtle sense of your blood cooling very slightly, a tinge of worry settling in your chest. Venturing back into the bathroom, you finished brushing your teeth, paying exquisite attention to your tired eyes in the mirror as though your reflection was the issue. 

Maybe you were overreacting. Things had been a little tense since your argument, but it was nothing that couldn’t be smoothed over. 

It was only after you’d settled back onto your side of the bed with your open laptop and your screen flickered on to display your ex’s Instagram page that your heart started to race.

You closed it shut again, wincing.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have. He would have said something. The argument would have started right up again. It wouldn’t have ended until one of you was sleeping on the couch or you were sleeping in each other’s arms.

You let out a deep breath, taking a few moments to let your self-defensive thoughts sink into your skin. It was nothing serious after all.

Overreaction after overreaction. The only thing that mattered right now was that you opened your laptop and spent your Friday off of work on getting ahead.

---

As luck would have it, Iwaizumi was stuck in traffic.  Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he’d wanted to escape your apartment as soon as possible and make it out early. He’d actually intended to leave before you woke up. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was still angry. 

Not at you. Never at you. At himself.

He remembered the words he had said to you at the start of your relationship, what felt both like just yesterday and ages ago.

Use me if you need to.

He gripped the steering wheel and grit his teeth, trying to maintain composure despite the fact that he’d been in the same spot on the road for the past ten minutes and people were laying into their horns around him.

What kind of stupid shit was that?

It had sounded good to say it at the time, like most things a guy says to woo a pretty girl. Use him. You’d fall in love with him later, in due time. He believed it was true then.

He hated that he was starting to lose faith in that now.

He hated the idea that someone else, who really wasn’t doing anything but simply existing in proximity to you was doing such a number on him. He couldn’t fault him either. Ushijima had loved you first. 

Did it matter if Iwa loved you more?

---

You’d given yourself that you weren’t allowed to leave your apartment until you got your work done, lest you come up with another excuse not to finish, which meant by the time the clock neared six p.m., you had laid sprawled in nearly every corner of your apartment typing and by now were cross-legged on the kitchen counter, your laptop balanced on your knees.

But you were finally done.

You sighed with excitement. Now to put that behind you. 

Saving your work, you slipped off of the countertop and back into your pair of slippers, moving back to your bedroom to change into a just as comfortable but more presentable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You were running out of snacks, as evidenced by the frequent trips to the kitchen over the past eight hours. What better way to treat yourself for a job well done but with a walk down to the convenience store to stock up?

Maybe you’d grab Iwa a bag of his favorite chips as a peace offering on the way too. 

---

“We’re already out, young lady!” the cashier teased the moment you crossed the store entrance, setting off the bell. 

You pout but still glance over to the row of baked goods, where your precious melon bread is normally stacked neatly in clear packaging, waiting for you. It’s a little bit embarrassing that he knew you would never pass up on it, but you’d lived here long enough that it wasn’t inconceivable that it’d become your defining trait.

“I’m absolutely devastated, sir!” You called back dramatically, making your way to the back for ice cream instead. They had what your favorite in stock, plus a limited edition flavor so you had more than enough consolation.

Satisfied, you closed the freezer door after picking your selection only to meet eyes with Ushijima, whose hand closed tightly around the handle of a fridge door. He stood a good distance away, but his eyes had been on you and remained so; the very slight part of his lips betrayed the fact that he had been trying to come up with something to say for the past couple of minutes.

He did say your name, something like a greeting, out loud, and you reflexively looked away, heart pounding. Granted you didn’t own this corner of town, but what were the chances he’d only chosen to go here?

Quickly realizing you still weren’t interested in talking, Ushijima pulled out a large bottle of water and closed the fridge, deciding not to bother you further.

It was suddenly a good thing that a text message to you on his phone was in drafts only, him not having the heart to send it. It wasn’t for a lack of courage… it was more so due to shame. Even if he felt like he had to apologize, there wasn’t much he felt he could say that would make it better, not worse.

His shame and your discomfort only intensified as he ended up queueing up behind you. Timing was never on his or your side it seemed.

Ushijima watched you tense up ever so slightly, your shoulders hunched as your arms overflowed with snacks, including the freezing tub of ice cream. Normally he’d offer to help with your load, given that he wasn’t carrying much more than the water but again, boundaries.

He’d set that distance himself.

In reality, he probably should have chosen another running path to discharge energy after practice had ended early today. However, it had been long enough that alternative courses didn’t come immediately to memory and he’d been willing to take that chance.

And here you both were.

He hated this, the obvious residual feelings bubbling to the surface after having been repressed for so long, the fact that he couldn’t justify any of his actions, the fact that he hated older him.

The fact that you won’t even look at him. 

Just say something. Anything. 

Is closure every really needed, or is it just an excuse to refuse to move on?

He opened his mouth to speak, yet again, but you beat him to it.

You turned towards him, smiling, albeit a weak imitation of what you’d always offered him, back when you loved him recklessly, with your whole heart.

“I… um, don’t want it to be awkward,” you said in a small voice. The sound of your voice, directed finally to him, unprompted made his own beat speed up.

Was this an olive branch you were extending that he didn’t deserve? He pondered this, steeling himself for the worst.

You kept your friendly expression as steady as possible. You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, to yourself and to Iwa.

You didn’t love him. And for that reason, you had no right to be bitter or cold. Right?

“It doesn’t have to be awkward,” you continued.

Ushijima was at a loss for words now, watching you carefully with his normally sharp, hawk-like eyes but now more like the hawk’s prey, assessing the threat before it. Could he get his hopes up? “We can be friends,” you decided.

It’ll only hurt for a short bit of time, you told yourself. And soon things will be back to normal. As they should be.

A part of Ushijima wanted to reply, I don’t want to be friends. He’d finally realized this, no matter how selfish of a thought it was. However, he was content to nod only and swallow that thought. 

“I’d appreciate it.”

He watched you pay for your items and leave, unsure of what friendship would entail.

---

As you dug into your tub of ice cream a couple hours later, you realized you weren’t so sure what that entailed either.

If only to make it worse, then came the buzz of your phone with a single message, I miss you.

[omimigod]

Aquarium dates

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

Feat: Time-skip! Kazutora Hanemiya x F.reader!

A/n: Pfft,of course there's going to be one for Kazutora.Thank you once again @introvert--weeb for the suggestion

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

It had been a really hectic week for Kazutora at the pet shop.Setting up everything took more time than expected since Chifuyu and Baji weren’t there to help around. The blonde had to help Baji with shifting his furniture to his newly purchased apartment. So you decided to take a few days off from your job as a nursery teacher to help him at the pet shop. Sure it was tiresome but at least you two got to spend more time with each other and just seeing him smile and laugh was all you needed

“There’s this new aquarium that’s opened up near where we stay, do you wanna go this weekend?” he asked as he carried the last box of dog food to the storage room

“Sure! It's been a while since we went out on a date too” you beamed as the male hummed in agreement, smiling at you

“It’s settled then,Those two will look after the store this weekend” he said,taking a seat next to you behind the cash counter,resting his head on your shoulder. You gently ran your fingers through his two toned hair as the male relaxed into your touch

“Baji sure does have a lot of furniture for one person” you mumbled

“I bet he got that extra furniture to wreck when he’s bored” the male blankly stated as you giggled at his comment

“No one would get furniture just to wreck would they?”

“Well it’s Baji “he chuckled lightly as he remembered the incidents form when he used to set cars on fire. You smiled at the male before planting a kiss to his forehead. He inturn lowered his head and nuzzled it into your chest, affectionately wrapping his arms around your waist.Kazutora ended up falling asleep right after that. You ended up having to wake him up and drive him back to your shared apartment as you watched his head move back and forth in sleep. You sneaked in a few photos and videos of him to embarrass him with later,devilishly chucking to yourself. After getting back home you prepared a small meal with the leftovers from lunch and made sure that he ate a light meal.He did have a habit of skipping meals but once you two started living together, you made sure that he had something before you two headed to bed.

Sunday

The two of you walked hand in hand as you went from seeing the Penguins to the the dolphins to the beluga whales. The two of you snapped plenty of photos of you and him mimicking the animals and taking couples photos as well.This had been the most fun you had had in a long time

“Let’s go to see the otters next!” you beamed as the male nodded in agreement,following behind you

“They’re so cute! Look at this one Kazu”you excitedy said,turning to the side only to see that the male was nowhere to be found.You panicked and looked behind you only to me met with another stranger

“Excuse me,have you seen a male with two toned hair tied in a bun?He’s dressed in full black with a grey-”

“Haven’t seen him lady”the stranger coldly answered as he walked past you

“Okay (F/n) calm down,I’m sure he’s fine”you assured yourself as you examined your surroundings.How hard could it be to find him right?He’s definitely somewhere nearby but somehow you were scared.Scared that he might try to harm himself and leave you for good.There was always that lingering fear even though he said he was alright

30 minutes later

It had almost been an hour since you started searching for him and you were definitely panicking.Of all days,he decided to leave his phone in the car and there was no way Kazutora would remember your number since he didn’t even remember his.Your last option was to go check in the parking lot.You really hoped that he was there and that you could find him as soon as possible

“Mommy, why's that old man playing with toys?”a small child questioned as his mother tried to shush him up by covering his mouth her her hand

“Sweetie don't say it out loud like that”his mother scolded as the boy only frowned

You curiously turned to look at the person the small boys attention was on. Your jaw dropped as you saw Kazutora standing in the souvenir shop, examining two plushies.An otter plushie on one hand and a seal in the other.He seemed to be in deep thought as he paid no attention to you marching towards him

“Kazutora!”you yelled causing the male to almost drop the plushies in his hand.He looked at you,eyes wide as you stared at him angrily clutching your sling bag that hung around your shoulder.You had never called him by his full name in a very long time and it frighten him.He knew he screwed up but he was to scared to say anything.He mustered up whatever little courage he had and spoke

“H-Hey (F/n),i uh-”

“Where have you been, Kazutora?”you asked,completely ignoring the males efforts to calm you down.He gulped before opening his mouth

“I-I got lost and panicked when I couldn’t find you and this souvenir shop was the only place that calmed me down so I decided to look around and get something for you and lost track of time in the process”he confessed,eyes sad and scared

“P-Please don’t leave me”he stuttered,helplessly hoping that you wouldn’t.His eyes stayed glued to the floor before you walked toward him and brought your hands to his cheeks,cupping them in your hands

“There’s no way I would ever leave you Kazu,I-It’s just that I was so scared that I lost you.I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything bad ever happened to you”your eyes teared up as you saw the males cheeks flush red at your confession.He brought your hands down from his cheeks and held them gently before planting a kiss to each knuckle

“I’m sorry love.I really want to assure you that I would never try to harm myself especially when I know that it would hurt you.I never want to see you cry because of me”he let go of your hand before wrapping his hands around your waist and giving you a tight hug.His chin rested on top of your head before kissing it gently.You wrapped your arms around him as you enjoyed the feeling of having him nearby

“Mommy look!They’re going to kiss!”the small boy yelled as he pointed at the two of you.Your face flushed red and so did Kazutoras.He immediately let go and looked at the child

“W-We’re not going to kiss!”he shrieked as you nodded in agreement.His mother immediately clasped a hand over his mouth and apologized to the two for you

“I’m really sorry,he’s generally not this loud”she spoke

“It’s not a problem Ma’am”you assured as you smiled at the boy.The small boys cheeks turned pink as he looked elsewhere.You giggled lightly.The lady apologized dragged her son elsewhere.The small boy looked behind his head at you.You were about to wave goodbye to him before a pair of lips landed on your cheek.Your face turned bright red as you looked at the male and saw him making faces at the young boy

“She’s mine!”he yelled as he stuck out his tongue at the boy who was long gone

“Looks like someone's jealous”you teased as he only huffed his cheeks

“Am not”he refused,looking elsewhere

“I kind of like this side of yours thought”you admitted,grinning at the male whose attention was on you again.You intertwined his hands in yours

“Come on! Let’s get matching plushies Kazu!”yous eyes twinkled as he chuckled at your excitement

“Sometimes I wonder who the real child is”

“But you love this child don't you?”you asked,batting your eyelashes at him

“I love you to bits and couldn’t have asked for anyone better”

[fridayfirefly]

A Guardian in Gotham

Read A Guardian in Gotham on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 19 - Guardian

Note: In this AU Master Fu gave out the Ladybug Miraculous to Marinette and the Black Cat Miraculous to Adrien before consulting the Kwami. Marinette turned out to be a true holder, but for the Black Cat Miraculous, not the Ladybug Miraculous. However, she and Adrien made it work and were able to defeat Hawkmoth anyway. After Hawkmoth's defeat she becomes Lady Noire full-time.

----------

Being the Guardian of the Miraculous was hard work. There were no family vacations, no sleeping in or going to bed early, no breaks. Marinette could not relax until Hawkmoth was defeated. Which explained why it was such a jarring change once the Miraculous Team defeated Hawkmoth.

Gabriel Agreste was behind bars. The citizens of Paris were free from the threat of akumatization. Tikki, Plagg, and the rest of the Kwamis went dormant in order to restore the damage done to Duusu's Miraculous. Marinette didn't exactly know what to do with herself. Suddenly it hit her that she was no longer the middle schooler who accepted the burden of Guardianship. She was in her final year of high school, nearly an adult. All around her, her friends were making future plans. Adrien was taking a gap year to help Emilie recover from her coma. Alya was accepted to a prestigious journalism program. Nino was DJing at one of the best clubs in Paris. Luka was releasing his EP. Kagami was training for the Olympics. Chloé took up an internship with her mother.

Marinette couldn't move on, the way all of her friends were able to. Marinette couldn't be a normal girl anymore. She couldn't go to university, start a family, live a normal life. She needed the rush of adrenaline that came from two little words - Spots on! or more recently, Claws out!

It was around this time that the Temple of Guardian got in touch with Marinette, offering her an opportunity to continue her work as a Guardian of the Miraculous. They send Marinette a box of old journals, dating back to the 18th century. The journals detailed the discovery of twin "wells of evil" located in the American cities of Gotham and Metropolis, then named Mortham City. The Masters of the Miraculous who made this discovery studied the evil and expressed the desire to find a way to remove it, but didn't have the chance to complete the task before the Temple of Guardians fell. When the Temple reappeared they believed that the Masters had managed to destroy the evil in Mortham, due to the reports of the city's recovery and renaming to Metropolis soon after, but were unable to destroy the evil in Gotham. The city festered, growing more and more troubled while Metropolis flourished. Marinette's task was to do her best to study and remove the evil in Gotham.

Marinette applied to Gotham University, feeling relieved that she might finally find her purpose.

----------

Marinette's dorm room at Gotham University was rather lackluster; it was the typical tiny, cramped American university dorm, complete with a stained carpet and a bathroom shared between six girls. Her roommate was a computer science major named Barbara Gordon. Barbara was older than Marinette, a senior while Marinette was only a freshman. It was a fluke accident that the freshman dorms had filled up before she was admitted. Secretly Marinette wished that she had been able to room with another freshman. Barbara was rarely in the dorm room, too busy with her coursework and her real friends to make small talk with her nervous roommate.

Marinette barely spent any time in her dorm room, either. She spent most of her time in class or at the library studying. Marinette had the ambitious plan of double majoring in both fashion and business, in order to start her own fashion company someday. Her classes overwhelmed her, and Marinette began to regret overloading her first-semester schedule. It gave her barely any time to work on her Guardian work, let alone join an extracurricular.

Marinette wanted to decorate the dorm and make it more of a home, but because of a plane delay, she ended up arriving at the university the day before classes started, giving her no time at all to go to the store and buy anything. Another unfortunate casualty of Marinette's late arrival was that she still hadn't figured out how Gotham's bus schedule worked, so she walked everywhere, even in the pouring rain.

Overall, Marinette's first week of classes was miserable. That was why Marinette was crying in her dorm room, alone, at six in the evening on a Friday night. It all started when Marinette saw a picture of her old class on social media. Alya and Nino were making faces at the camera; Marinette and Adrien were both grinning, Marinette's blue scarf wrapped around his neck; Ivan and Mylène were holding hands, staring into each other's eyes; Rose was posing, kissing Juleka's cheek; Alix was perched on Kim's shoulders; Nathaniel had his arm wrapped around Marc's shoulders; Max was holding up Markov so he could wave to the camera, Sabrina and Chloé were smiling, holding hands.

The photo had been taken years ago, on their first day of lycée. Marinette remembered it well. They had all been nervous about starting at a new school. There was no guarantee that they would all be in the same class. Max had calculated the odds for even half of their class staying together and it wasn't good. But that morning, when Marinette walked into her homeroom and saw all of her friends sitting there, she knew that it would be okay. Chloé revealed that she had gotten her father to provide a generous donation to the school to keep them all in the same class for the rest of their education. Marinette had been so happy to get to stay with her friends. Now she was on a different continent from them.

The tears started to fall, slowly at first, then more and more until Marinette was sobbing, face pressed into a pillow. How could she have made such a stupid decision? All of her friends were in France and she left them, all because she couldn't move on.

Two knocks on the door halted Marinette's sobs. "Babs? Are you in here?"

Marinette got up and opened the door, revealing a young man. He looked to be her age, tall, with black hair and blue eyes. "Barbara isn't here right now," she told the man.

The man blinked, looking at Marinette like she wasn't what he expected at all. "I guess I should have called her before I showed up. I'm Tim, by the way. I was just here to drop this off." Tim held up a container filled with chocolate chip cookies.

"I'm Marinette. If you want, you can drop the cookies off on her desk. I'll tell Barbara that they're from you, once she comes back to the dorm." Marinette wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve, trying to get rid of the evidence of her crying.

"Are you okay?" asked Tim.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a little homesick. Nothing to worry about."

"You should come with me to get dinner," offered Tim. "I was just about to stop in at the dining hall."

Marinette shook her head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"It wouldn't be an imposition at all. I hate eating alone."

Marinette gave him a wary look. "I don't know you. Why would you invite me to eat with you?"

Tim shrugged. "You look like you could use some company, to take your mind off of your homesickness. Unless you want to spend the rest of your night crying in your dorm."

Marinette bit her lip as she thought it over. It would be nice to get out of the dorm and get something to eat. On the other hand, Tim was a complete stranger whose intentions Marinette still didn't trust. Then Marinette remembered the photo of her friends and made up her mind. If she couldn't have her old friends here in Gotham she would have to make new ones. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to get ready."

Marinette threw on a pair of jeans, a Gotham University hoodie, and her sturdiest pair of sneakers.

"So what's on the menu tonight?" asked Marinette as they walked out of the dorm building to Tim's car.

"Uncertain. I can't remember the last time the dining hall actually updating its online menu. I was planning on crossing my fingers and hoping that they would be serving something edible tonight."

Marinette wrinkled her nose. "Is the food usually edible?"

"It's hit or miss. If you want, we could go to a diner instead?"

Marinette nodded. "I don't want to spend my weekend with food poisoning."

"Good choice." Tim turned the car around and started driving into the center of Gotham.

"Are you a senior like Barbara?" asked Marinette.

Tim shook his head. "I'm a sophomore. How about you?"

"Freshman. This is actually my first Friday in Gotham."

"Where are you from?" asked Tim.

"Paris, 21st arrondissement."

"That must be a pretty big change. What made you choose Gotham?"

Marinette shrugged, not wanting to give away her real reason. "I figured all the supervillains and Rogues might remind me of home."

Tim looked confused for a second before a realization passed over him. "I forgot about Hawkmoth. It was a big deal here in Gotham when he first emerged because the Mayor of Paris refused to allow the Justice League to intervene. All because he was worried about 'damaging the historic buildings of Paris'."

Marinette let out a bitter laugh. "That wasn't the real reason, you know. I was friends with Andre Bourgeois's daughter, Chloé. She says that he didn't want the Justice League to get involved in the fight against Hawkmoth because he couldn't merchandise any of the Justice League members. Ladybug, Chat Noir, and the rest of the Miraculous Team, on the other hand, never copyrighted their images. Paris used the Miraculous Team to bring in billions in tourism and Bourgeois never paid them a cent."

Tim looked surprised. "You sound like you know a lot about the Miraculous Team."

"I got to know them all pretty well. My classmates were known throughout Paris as the 'Children of Hawkmoth' - as if it was our fault that Hawkmoth targeted my school at a rate astronomically higher than the rest of the city. Of course, when it turned out that Gabriel Agreste's son was one of my classmates the nickname got a bit more personal."

Tim let out a break. "I suppose moving to Gotham makes sense when you've spent that much time in proximity to superheroes and supervillains."

"Gotham is an improvement to Paris under Hawkmoth. At least none one your Rogues can mind control." Marinette shuddered at the memory of her friends and loved ones turning against her due to Hawkmoth's influence.

Tim pulled into the diner parking lot. The pair got a booth in the back and put in their orders. Tim and Marinette spent the night trading stories of the most interesting Parisian akumas and Gotham Rogues.

Tim was enraptured. He told Marinette that for years it had been difficult for outsiders to get any reliable information about the Miraculous Team, outside of what Andre Bourgeois used for his tourism campaign. So Marinette did her best to share all the little details that every Parisian knew like the back of their hand: That Valentines Day was the worst holiday because all of the akumas were love-based. That they were trained in school to either lock their emotions down or let them all out, if they saw an akuma, to try and diminish the akuma's power. That Ladybug and Chat Noir, once they realized that their fanbase was primarily children, made it a point to never swear during their battles.

By the end of the night, Tim and Marinette made plans to meet up the following day. Tim promised to take Marinette out into the city for the shopping trip that her delayed flight caused her to miss. Marinette went to bed that night hopeful for her future in Gotham, a feeling she never thought she would have again.

----------

Over the next few weeks, things got better at Gotham University. Marinette started spending more time out of her dorm room with Tim, and eventually, with her roommate Babs and Tim's brother (and Bab's boyfriend) Dick. Tim became Marinette's lifesaver after he taught Marinette how Gotham's bus system worked. Marinette finally got around to decorating her side of the room. Her new style and color scheme (navy blue and sunflower yellow, Gotham University school colors) suited her much better than the pinks and whites of her high school days. Her productivity increased as she settled into the school, and Marinette found that she actually enjoyed her classes. It wasn't perfect, but Gotham University began to feel a bit more like home.

Most importantly, Marinette had begun to make progress on her work as a guardian. It had taken a whole weekend, but she eventually located the epicenter of Gotham's evil, a rundown tenement building in the heart of Crime Alley. The basement of the building housed storage units, one of which Marinette promptly rented. She set up her workshop there, bringing out the Miraculous Box so that she could consult the Kwami. Tikki and Plagg both woke up from their hibernation and Marinette got to work.

"I can sense the evil," spoke Tikki. "It's overpowering."

"It's like going from the Sahara Desert straight to the middle of the ocean," added Plagg.

"It does feel similar to drowning," Tikki agreed.

"Do either of you have any idea how to get rid of it?" asked Marinette.

Tikki shrugged. "I wish I could tell you how to defeat it, but it's unlike any enemy the Kwami of your Miracle Box have ever gone up against before. But look on the bright side, we know that it can be eliminating. I can only assume that the Kwami were involved when the evil was eliminated in Metropolis."

"The solution is easy. We cataclysm the evil," said Plagg.

"We don't know what would happen if we use cataclysm against something that isn't fully corporeal."

"Then we use Sass's second chance until we get it right."

Tikki brightened up. "Oh, that is a good idea - using second chance, not using cataclysm irresponsibly."

"See! I do have good ideas sometimes. We could also use Pollen's venom to freeze the evil in place and stop it from fighting back."

Marinette could listen to her two favorite Kwami argue forever. She had missed them terribly. But she had a job to do, so she interrupted their banter. "Do you think I should use Mullo to wield multiple Miraculous?"

Tikki shook her head. "You'll need at least one other person with you. If you get hurt, someone else will have to use second chance."

Marinette pondered that fact. "Luka's going on tour next month. He's stopping in Gotham for a weekend. Chloé is only an hour drive from Gotham, up in New York City, so she could be here any time. If we plan everything right, we could have the evil destroyed before the semester is over."

Once again, Tikki shot down Marinette's plan. "This is too strong for Luka's second chance or Chloé's venom. If you want to do this right you'll need to use true holders."

Marinette winced. Finding the true holder of a Miraculous was a near-impossible task. Of her entire Miraculous Team, only Marinette and Adrien were true holders. While the Kwami could sense a person's aptitude, they needed to be within fifty feet to get an accurate read. There was no way Marinette would be able to find the true holder of both Sass and Pollen. "Okay, new plan. What if I get Mullo to multiply myself and then have each copy of me take a different Miraculous?"

Marinette brainstormed with the two Kwami for hours, desperate to find a solution to the problem that had plagued Gotham for centuries. However, they still couldn't come up with a plan in which Marinette would be able to rid Gotham of the evil without enlisting the help of at least one other true holder. In the end, Marinette decided to take Tikki, Plagg, Sass, and Pollen back to the dorm with her, hoping that they might stumble upon another true holder.

"I wish we had a better plan," sighed Marinette.

"Keep your head up, Marinette. The only thing we can do now is stay positive and hope for the best," advised Tikki.

It wasn't a good plan, passively waiting for someone to solve her problem for her, but it was the only plan they had. Marinette had no other choice. If she tried to take on the evil alone, it would overpower her. It was disheartening. Marinette rode the bus back to her dorm. The streets of Gotham felt colder on the return trip.

Getting dinner with Tim was the only thing that could cheer Marinette up, so she pulled out her phone and sent him an invitation to meet up.

Marinette: Do you want to go get dinner? I heard the dining hall has vegetarian lasagne

Tim: Sure! Be there in twenty

Marinette put her phone away as she got off the bus and started walking towards the dining hall, dodging the sidewalk puddles that never seemed to dry. Even when it wasn't raining, Gotham was a dreary city.

Tim and Marinette chatted about their classes as they ate their food. By the end of dinner, Marinette felt a little better about her disappointing day. Tim could always lift her out of a bad mood. Marinette considered it his superpower.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Marinette as she got out of Tim's car in front of her dorm hall. She expected to get to her room without incident, but as soon as she got into the relative privacy of the stairwell, all four of her Kwami were circling around her head, speaking in rapid succession, too quick for Marinette to keep up.

"I can't believe it!"

"You've got some luck, Pigtails!"

"This is great news!"

"I can't wait to meet him!"

Marinette blinked as she tried to make sense of the Kwamis' words. "What's going on?"

Pollen's eyes were bright. "Tim is my true holder!" the Kwami squeaked excitedly.

Marinette gasped. "Really?"

"He'll make a perfect Bee. He seems so smart and funny and considerate. I bet he'll feed me loads of honey and get fresh flowers for all of his rooms and be my best friend." Pollen sighed dreamily, pure joy in her voice.

"Pollen, have you ever had a true holder before?" asked Marinette.

"Of course. It's been a long time, though - at least a thousand years since my last true holder died. I missed it a lot. But now I have Tim!"

Marinette smiled, overjoyed that she finally had the means to complete her mission, that Pollen finally got to meet one of her true holders again, that Gotham might be freed from the evil that had loomed over it for centuries. Mostly, she was overjoyed that she met Tim all those weeks ago, that he took the time to get to know her, that he was there for her when no one else was.

----------

"So the Kwami are little gods?" Tim stared at Pollen with an almost scary intensity, as if he thought looking away might make the Kwami disappear.

Pollen flew up closer to Tim to explain. "The Kwami are linked to certain aspects of humanity: creation, destruction, intuition, protection, et cetera. We have a certain amount of control over these qualities. I am the Kwami of Subjection, of control and mastery. I can give you the power to incapacitate your enemies."

"Incapacitate them how?"

"Using the power of venom, you will be able to freeze your enemies in place."

Tim wrinkled his nose. "That sounds a little morality dubious. How do you know I wouldn't use it for evil. This is Gotham."

Pollen rolled her eyes. "You're my true holder, Tim Drake. I trust you with my entire being."

"What does that mean, for me to be your true holder?"

Pollen's cheerful expression turned sad. "Of all the Kwami, my powers are the most often exploited. The power of subjection, of complete and total control over your enemies, is corrupting. However, you, Tim, are my true holder. Your self-control is strong, I can sense it. You will not be corrupted by the power I give you. You will wield it fairly."

Tim glanced over at Marinette, and she gave him her most encouraging smile. "I need you, Tim. I've needed you for a while. First, as a friend, when I was at my lowest, and now as my partner. There's an evil that resides in this city, that I have been tasked with destroying. I can't get rid of it alone. I need you to help me."

Tim's eyes widened. "You mean there's a supernatural reason for Gotham's condition?"

Marinette nodded. "There's a well of evil underneath the city. Using the Miraculous, I can remove it. But it's too powerful for me to do it alone. I know this is a lot to ask, but-"

Tim interrupted Marinette before she could finish her sentence. "You know, Gotham is well known for its distaste for magic-users and meta-humans." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted once more by Tim. "However, I trust that you want to do what's best for this city. I'll help you."

Marinette's face brightened. "Thank you! I have a plan but I still need to fine-tune the details. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. For now, you should take the Bee Comb with you. You'll need to form an emotional bond with Pollen before you can achieve peak performance."

"You seem to know a lot about the Miraculous and the Kwami."

"It's my job to be knowledgable. I'm a Guardian of the Miraculous."

----------

"So how does a girl like you become a Guardian of the Miraculous?" asked Tim as they ate their lunch in the storage unit after a long morning of pouring over plans.

"I was chosen by the previous master. It's a long-standing tradition that the Guardian can only be a true holder, because true holders notoriously incorruptible except in the most extreme situations. I was the only true holder that Master Fu knew of, other than himself, so despite my age and despite the fact that I wielded the Ladybug Miraculous rather than the Black Cat Miraculous, the Miraculous I was the true holder for, he passed the responsibility onto me."

"How old were you when you became the Guardian full-time?"

Marinette tensed her shoulders. "I was fourteen. Master Fu wanted to wait longer, but there was a situation. I lost my only mentor, with only a fraction of my training completed."

"That sounds rough," Tim's tone was sympathetic. He placed his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"It was difficult," Marinette admitted. "For the longest time, I was mad at Master Fu for waiting so long to start training me. It wasn't until I got older that I realized why he was so reluctant to start my training. He felt guilty for stealing my childhood away from me. The situation in Paris was bad and tough choices had to be made. I don't blame him, but there are a lot of things I wish had been done differently."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my mentor-" Tim's thoughtful tone turned frantic. "Not that my experience with mentorship would compare to yours, because I wouldn't know anything about being a teenage superhero."

Tim's words were suspicious, but Marinette didn't have time to figure out what he was hiding. They had a job to do. "Well, it's time to get back to work. You need to practice using venom on non-corporeal objects. I want to see if you're able to freeze the wind."

"Sounds good, Bugs."

"Bugs?"

Tim nodded. "I figured you could use a nickname. Do you not like it?"

"No, it's fine." Marinette paused. "Actually, it's better than fine. I really appreciate it. Thank you, Tim."

"No problem, Buggsy," Tim teased.

"Okay, now you're pushing your luck," Marinette teased right back.

----------

Lady Noire and her partner Yellowjacket stood in the basement of a rundown tenement building in the heart of Crime Alley.

Lady Noire spoke the plan aloud, the rhythm of her words revealing that she had spoken them many times before in preparation for the event. "I'll start by drawing out the evil. As soon as it senses the power of destruction that I hold it will try and consume me. I need you to be ready to use your venom the moment it emerges. Once it is frozen, I will use cataclysm. Are you ready?"

Yellowjacket responded. "I'm ready."

Lady Noire closed her eyes and let out her breath in a drawn-out hiss. The shadows around her darkened and she let out a pained gasp as she fell to her knees.

Yellowjacket sprung into action. "Venom!" he shouted, thrusting his palms out to let his power fill the room. The whole room lit up with yellow light, bright enough to rid the room of all but the supernatural shadows.

The shadows, which had been growing exponentially, suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Lady Noire got back up onto her feet, a vicious snarl on her face. "You have been terrorizing this city for centuries. No longer will I will allow this evil to haunt Gotham. Cataclysm!"

The shadows crumbled, leaving behind only natural darkness. The transformation disappeared from Lady Noire, leaving behind a girl, who gasped for breath. "Tim, we did it!"

"Pollen, buzz off," commanded Yellowjacket. He was so impatient to hug the girl that he had his arms wrapped around her before his transformation was finished. "It's over, Marinette."

The girl shook her head gently. "It's not completely over. The effects will surely linger - Metropolis still sees its fair share of villains - but it will be nothing like what it was before. I imagine the vigilantes that roam Gotham will have a much easier job, though."

The boy tensed up. "Speaking of the vigilantes that roam Gotham, I suppose there's something that I should probably tell you. I'm Red Robin."

The girl blinked once, a dumbstruck expression on her face then burst out into peals of laughter. "Just my silly luck that I ask a vigilante to be my superhero partner."

The boy grinned. "I am rather fond of your silly luck. It's what brought us together."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[bokutosworld]

destined encounters | hq boys as people you meet on your solo travel

characters: tsukishima, sugawara, akaashi, bokuto.

wc: 1.7k words of various fluffy scenarios. 

the situation: you were finally able to reward yourself with a much-awaited break. even for a just a few days, you wanted to run away from your mountain of responsibilities and your godawful reality. but what you didn't expect was to meet someone who'll make your vacation worthwhile. 

a/n: i miss traveling and seeing new sights and meeting new people </3 :c also i’d like to hide cos this got way too long than i expected omg the bias jumped out :c 

TSUKISHIMA KEI: The one who helps you when you're stuck in a pinch. He was on his way to the subway when he notices you struggling to communicate with an old lady. He watches as you keep glancing to your phone and figures that your translator app must have malfunctioned (you can never trust those apps, he thought). He really doesn't want to interfere but when he hears the vendor starting to curse you in a language you don't understand, he finds himself standing beside you. He feels you staring as he exchanges a few words with the lady, and when they come to an understanding, he takes your hand and guides you away from the crowd.

That was how the two of you met. Now three days after and Tsukishima can't get you away from his side. After that incident, you treated him to coffee as a thank you and during those minutes, you gained a friend and an unofficial tour guide in the tall blonde. You were joking when you asked him about accompanying you for the rest of your stay but to your surprise (and his) he agreed.

In a span of three days, he's brought you to the museums you've wanted to visit, the restaurants you've wanted to try, and accompanied you in shopping at the night markets. He wouldn't admit it to you but he's also enjoyed himself in those three days, and it was mostly due to your fun company. Now here you were on your last day, and Tsukishima can't help but hope that you didn't have to go home.

"I wish I didn't have to leave this city. I've fallen in love with everything in it," you sigh as you look at the city's skyline dreamily. You've honestly had the best time of your life and it was all thanks to your savior-turned-tour guide who helped you enjoy everything about Tokyo. You turned to him with a smile, only to find that he has been staring at you with intense gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?

It was an all-or-nothing moment, and Tsukishima wouldn't normally risk it, but that time he knew what he so desperately wanted and didn't want to let it slip from his grasp. "Stay." Your mind tuned out the noise for a minute and all you can focus on was his words. Just as you were about to say something, he holds your hand and continues,

"At least that's what I want ask of you. However, that's selfish and I know you have a life back where you are. But I just want to let you know that you have someone to return to in this country."

SUGAWARA KOUSHI: The one you end up in a scuffle with over the last piece of souvenir. You were so desperately searching for the last item in your shopping list, hopping from one store to another in the past hour. When your eyes land on the lone item on the shelf, you almost jump in happiness and run to grab it only to have your hands feel the warmth of another's. You turn to see who was challenging you and was met with the friendly smile of the prettiest stranger you have seen.

You and the stranger, whose name you've learned to be Sugawara Koushi (a beautiful name befitting of the pretty stranger, you thought), spent a good fifteen minutes quarreling about who saw it first and who grabbed it first. Thankfully, before it attracted even more attention, a kind store employee stepped in and mentioned that there was another stock in a different aisle.

Embarrassed, you hastily let go of the item and avoided the gaze of the stranger as you sprinted to the aisle. But the gods seemed to like playing a joke on you because when you lined up for the cashier, he was there waiting for you.

As you finished paying for your purchase, you walked out of the store, feeling the presence of someone following closely behind. He trails you even as you enter a coffee shop, and to your surprise, he settles himself down in the seat right across you.

"What do you want? It's not like I took the last souvenir from you," you snap. He laughs at your annoyance and he brings his face close to you, so close that anyone would've thought that you two knew each other.

"Well, it's not everyday that I meet someone like you. Someone so feisty yet charming," he leans back and puts a finger to his chin, as if he's thinking hard. "Is this what love at first sight is like?" He laughs again and this time, the sound is so delightful that you thought it was music to your ears. And until that moment, you thought that love at first sight was only in movies but with the way that this Sugawara Koushi was so friendly, charismatic, and reassuring, you didn't mind giving that idea a second thought. 

AKAASHI KEIJI: The other lone traveler that you meet in a group tour. You liked booking your trips and activities beforehand which was how you found yourself together with people from different countries headed towards the same destination. The tour guide was busy explaining the history of the tourist spot where you will be making a stop. But all the while, your mind was thinking of a strategy about how you would take photos for your Instagram story. Luckily, you looked to your side and saw another solo traveler and you hoped that he would be up to explore with you.

Though you thought he would immediately turned you down, the stranger was kind enough (even seemed enthusiastic) to accompany you throughout the tour. After exchanging names, the two of you walked together around the first tourist spot. To others, it would seem that you and Keiji (he insisted that you call him by his first name for reasons unknown) have always been close. But the way the both of you hit it off instantly was probably due to the fact that he was so accommodating and never let you feel uncomfortable even if it was your first time meeting.

Keiji has been traveling alone for a while and he had been craving interaction with another person. So your request was a welcome one and he was more than happy to take your photos, hold your things when you need help, and even lend an ear to your stories.

By the time that the group tour was nearing its end, you found yourself sitting by Keiji's side on the bus. You never thought anything of it but you felt sad knowing that you'd have to go separate ways once the bus reaches its stop. You looked at him as he leaned by the window, eyes closed as he was taking a nap. And it hit you then that he had the most beautiful profile that you have ever seen. How could someone like him, so attractive and so nice, be real? You wished you could stay in his presence more.

When you and Keiji exit the bus, you both stood still as if not wanting the day to end. You mentally prepared yourself for what you were about to ask but he surprised you as he took the words right from your mouth,

"Do you have any plans tomorrow?"

You smiled in relief and shook your head no. He lets out a breath and looks at you with eyes full of hope, "Great. Do you want to see the rest of the city together?"

BOKUTO KOUTAROU: The one who gives you a night to remember. If there was one thing you wanted to try but was always busy to do so, that was to go to a bar with your friends. You've longed for evenings where you will stay up late not for work but for drinking and dancing the night away. That's why here you were now, sitting at the bar of one of the most popular clubs in the city. You were holding your second drink of the night and though you were nowhere near tipsy yet, you can feel yourself getting excited as the adrenaline rushes through your veins. You were oblivious to the attention of one very attractive male who wanted nothing more than to dance with you.

He walks over to you and calls the attention of the bartender, asking for a drink of his own. Bokuto relishes in the way you look so free and happy, and he feels himself drawn to your energy. It didn't take long for you to notice him and when you do, you almost spill your drink on him in your surprise. His vibrant laugh brings you out of your drunken stupor and you apologize.

"It's fine, don't mind it," he waves you off and takes a sip from his glass. The two of you were now enjoying each other's company in silence, occasionally stealing his glances as you down the rest of your drink. When he notices you were finished, he turns to you, "Hey, want to dance with me?"

Normally, you would've turned a stranger down but you thought about when you will get another invitation like this. So you agreed and let loose as he dragged you to the dance floor, guiding the both of you to the addictive rhythm of the music.

Every moment that passed by, you found yourself getting more comfortable around the man who've learned to be Bokuto Koutarou. Talking with him felt easy, laughing with him felt as if you've known each other for a long time. He's managed to break through the walls you've put around yourself and left an impression that makes you wish he could be part of your life not just for one night.

He was now walking you back to your hotel, and you don't know what came over you (could be the alcohol) but you asked, "Want to go up to my room?" He looks shocked as if he didn't expect you to say something like that. You scoffed and hit his arm, "Not like that. Platonically. It's too late and dangerous for you to walk at night."

He chuckles, "If you wanted to spend more time with me, you should've just asked." He lets go of his hold on your arm and instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours. "I'd love to."

[fictionadventurer]

More Than All the Gems On Earth: A Retelling of Diamonds and Toads

My mother beats me black and blue while I cast diamonds at her feet. The gems fall from my lips with every apology and plea for mercy, and they scatter across the rough-hewn floor like bits of broken glass. My mother would crush them if she could, and she hates them all the more because she cannot destroy them. The vipers from my sister’s lips slither among the diamonds, cold-blooded creatures born of poison words.

“You did this!” Mother screams, twisting my arm in her iron grip. “You spiteful little wretch! You’ll pay for this!”

It has always been this way--my sister makes the mistakes and I am punished for them. Olive’s task had not been difficult. She had only to walk to the well and give a drink to the old woman who asked. A mere moment of kindness. Yet Olive failed to give even that, and received toads and vipers as her reward.

"I’m sorry!” I cry, and I am. It’s a frightening punishment, even for someone as cruel as my sister. I pity her more than I ever have.

Olive has never felt pity. She slaps my face with the back of her hand. “Witch!” she spits. The word turns into leopard snake as long as my arm; it falls to the floor and twines itself around my leg. “You said she was a beggar, not a princess!”

I try to avoid the toads created by Olive's words as I struggle to escape from Mother. She is pulling me toward the cellar, the place of my most feared punishments. Why is it my fault that the fairy chose another shape? Should it not have been easier for Olive to show kindness to a grand lady?

“No, please!” I scream. A desperate plea for mercy. For understanding. For love.

I had thought that my jewels would make Mother love me, but not even my diamonds were good enough for her. They had to come from Olive. Her hatred of me has destroyed them both, and as always, I am the one to blame.

The thought hardens in my heart like the sapphire that forms in my mouth. They will never love me. They despise the very diamonds I give them simply because they fall from my lips. There is nothing for me here but hatred and misery.

As she strides toward the cellar, Mother steps on a bulbous toad. Her shriek of horror splits my ears, but her grip on my arm loosens. I pull away and sprint out the open cottage door. I flee into the forest with nothing but the clothes on my back and the gems that fall from my lips.

#

Standing by the stream, my words turn into pearls. Milky white, blushing pink, and one as large as my thumbnail that’s as warm and black as a soft summer night. I let them fall into the soft mud of the bank, smiling as I watch the pile grow. Though gems are now common as sand to me, I haven’t tired of their beauty. I speak poems to the sunrise just so I can watch them fall.

I pick out the purest ones from the pile, leaving behind the very small and very large, the ones that are more difficult to use as payment. I brush the rest into the stream, hoping the current will carry them on adventures. Perhaps they’ll be a windfall to a widow in need. A surprise catch for a fisherman. The prize a prince needs to win the heart of his true love.

I put the rest into my pocket, preparing for another day of silence. Which village shall I travel to today? My legend has spread to most of the countryside. Most believe me an eccentric princess. Others accuse me of thievery. I stay where people will accept me and not question my muteness or my money too closely. I’ve paid for nights at an inn with an emerald that could buy a lord’s palace. I buy dresses with pure pink rubies, groceries with chips of diamonds. Most people can’t fathom the value of the gems I give them, but people are starting to suspect, and I’ve become more wary of strangers.

Perhaps it’s time to settle down. Speak myself a fortune that will buy me an estate and servants. Walls to hide behind and people to protect me. For a price, of course.

It’s a cold, uncomforting thought. Would I really be safe among people whose loyalty was bought by my jewels?

The sky darkens with my mood as I travel along the forest path. Is this the best I can hope for? A wandering, lonely life with only as much security as money can buy?

My tears fall with the first raindrops. The cold rain drips down the neck of my gown. Chills run up my spine. I remember the cottage of my childhood. The snug roof. The warm kitchen fire. So long as I avoided Mother’s wrath, it wasn’t a bad life. At least I had a place. A purpose. Sometimes I find myself longing for a hearth to clean or a kettle to scrub.

When thunder rumbles, I remember the cellar. The slam of the door blocking out all light. Long, cold nights with bruises forming on my arms and legs. Mother’s red face as she slapped me that last day. Olive’s snakes winding along the floor.

The memories are too much, and I curl up beneath a tree to weep. I have no past that isn’t tainted by pain. No future that isn’t fraught with fear. I have only myself, and she’s a pitiful comfort in this rain-filled forest. The fairy called me beautiful and good. What use is either to a girl forever alone?

A voice from above, warm and deep, cuts through the cold rain. “Are you hurt?” 

I look up to see a young man on a horse. His clothes are finer than my ruby-bought dress, though he’s rain-soaked and roughened with forest dirt. He carries a gun, and three red and white spaniels stand beside his horse, but he’s no huntsman. I cannot mistake the ring on his hand.

Curled up as I am, I require only the slightest shift to fall prostrate. “Your highness,” I say. Two amethysts fall, hidden beneath my down-turned face.

I hear him jump from his horse. His footsteps are soft in the damp earth and stop mere inches from my ear. “Are you hurt?” he asks again, voice full of concern.

I shake my head in denial.

“Then there’s no sense laying in the mud,” he says. He offers a hand and helps me to my feet. He examines my mud-stained silk dress, my rain-soaked hair, the pack over my shoulder. He meets my eyes and says softly, “You’ve been crying.”

I nod and wipe away a tear, or perhaps a raindrop.

“Why?”

I cannot refuse a question from my prince. After months of silence, it almost feels good to have the choice taken from me. I give him the simplest explanation I can. “My mother has driven me from my home.”

Two roses, a lily, three sapphires, and an emerald the size of a blackberry fall into the mud. The prince watches them fall in astonishment. He picks up the lily, running a reverent finger along a pure white petal. He looks at me. His eyes are like a child’s, wide and innocent and bluer than the sapphires at my feet.

“Why?” he asks again, the question barely more than a whisper.

I don’t know if he’s asking why the flowers fell or why my mother cast me out. Since both questions have the same answer, I tell him my story, beginning with the old woman at the well and ending with my flight from the snake-infested house. Gems and flowers pile at my feet, one for every word I speak--diamonds and daisies, pearls and pansies, rubies and roses. When I finish the story, he takes in the bounty through eyes as wide as dinner plates.

The prince closes his eyes and shakes his head like a man snapping free from the effects of a spell. Then he gives me a sympathetic gaze. “You’ve been alone ever since?”

The sorrow in his voice steals my breath. I haven’t heard such sympathy since my father died. My mother certainly had no concern for my emotions.

Struck speechless, I can only nod.

“Here in the woods?”

I shake my head. “I’ve stayed in inns. Traveled town to town.”

Four more flowers. Four more gems. He watches them in wonder.

“With a fortune falling from your lips?”

“I never speak around people.” I catch five pearls and put them with the bounty in my pocket.

He notices the action and his eyebrows rise. “Yet you carry gems with you. It’s a wonder you haven’t been robbed.”

I can only nod in agreement. Nobles with far less wealth than I have been waylaid on these roads. Now that my story is spreading, I’m not sure how long I can safely travel alone.

He holds out a hand. “Come home with me,” he urges.

I step beneath the sheltering trees, shaking my head. “I don’t know you, sir.” Four carnations and one perfect diamond disappear into the undergrowth.

He sweeps into a courtly bow. “His Royal Highness, Prince Simon Everill.”

Propriety demands I curtsy in return, but I do not speak.

Softly, the prince says, “It’s not in my nature to abandon young women in the woods to fend for themselves. The castle often takes in travelers. You can stay for as long as you like.”

I’m not sure if it’s me he’s inviting or the pile of gems at my feet. But what other option do I have? Miles of walking in the rain, to a town I’m not certain will accept pearls as payment? Days upon days of looking over my shoulder and waiting for highwaymen to find me? This prince, stranger though he is, may be my best chance for safety.

I dip a deeper curtsy. “Thank you, sir.” I catch the three seed-sized diamonds that fall and place them into his palm.

He brushes them away. “No payment,” he says. “Not for hospitality.”

But for other things, perhaps? What plans does he have for my future?

He helps me onto his horse, then mounts behind me. What is your name, my lady?” He asks.

“Agnes,” I say. The word drops to the ground as a flawless ruby.

#

Simon and I sit on the hillside, the castle wall a comforting guardian behind us. We laugh as a spaniel chases away a flock of sparrows. Another spaniel, less zealous in our protection, sits with her curly-eared head in my lap. I run my fingers through her fur and feel a warm thrill in my chest. I have food, clothes, comfort, companionship. I have never been so rich, and it has little to do with the store of gems beneath my mattress. 

Simon has kept my secret during these weeks. At least he says he has. I’ve gotten strange stares from the servants lately, like they don’t know what to make of me, and during a few sleepless nights I’ve wondered if the story I told Simon has been making the rounds. It’s more likely that they wonder about my extended stay, but I can't quite silence the doubts. 

Simon tells me a story of his last visit to the River Kingdom, and I pepper him with questions. When we are alone, I don’t guard my tongue. My words blow away as buttercups on the breeze, and we let pearls scatter on the hillside like seeds for the sparrows. Even if someone were watching from a distance, I doubt they could make out the miracle among the waving grasses. 

When Simon’s story is done, I am breathless with laughter. I’ve never met anyone as gifted with words as he is--high praise from the girl whose voice creates jewels.

Simon smiles at me as I wipe tears of mirth from my eyes. “Agnes,” he says, “You are the most charming girl I’ve ever met.”

“Because I laugh at your stories?” I ask, my tone teasing. Daisies dance away from us.

He takes my hands between his. “Because you’re beautiful, and kind, and gentle and generous and you have more patience than I could show in ten lifetimes.”

The praise surprises me. I’ve long known I’m pretty--I do have a mirror--but I’ve never received compliments on my personality. Mother and Olive made it clear that I was a weak, stupid, spineless thing, and given how long it took me to escape their clutches, I’ve never had reason to disagree.

I feel a blush burning on my cheeks. “You don’t need to flatter me.” The words fall as dull, uncut shards of brown topaz.

“Agnes.” His eyes burn like sapphires in the sun, his voice desperate as a man reaching for a lifeline at sea. “I hadn’t known you three hours before I knew there was no woman in the world who could compare to you. Please, marry me.”

He pulls a golden ring out of his pocket. Within it sits the perfectly-cut ruby that fell when I first told him my name.

I pull away, heart racing. I wonder if it’s possible for my eyeballs to fall out of their sockets from behind my too-open lids. “Simon,” I gasp. His name is a diamond that blinds me with its brilliance. “I can’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

The whole universe has been built upon such things being impossible. I can’t explain reality in a few simple words. I settle for saying, “I can’t marry a prince. I have no title. No family.”

“What does that matter? My father would never forbid it. The gift you have is worth more than any dowry.”

My heart hardens like the sapphire that I spit at his feet. My weeks of happiness here fade away like the childish dream they were. This has been his plan from the beginning. The invitation, the conversations, even his silly little story as we played with the spaniels. All given in hope that I would let my guard down and let him claim every word I speak for the rest of my life.

The ruby in his hands now gleams like a drop of blood from my beating heart. He had gone back to retrieve it, without a word to me. Has he hoarded all the other gems I’ve dropped during our conversations? Have I ever seen the real Simon? Or has this all been an act to get me to the altar? I think of Mother in a million moments of my childhood. After her worst outbursts of temper, she would sigh and beg forgiveness, saying such sweet things that I rushed to her open arms, desperate for long-withheld affection. The moment I came within her reach, she would hit me so hard that my ears rang. I am suddenly certain that Simon’s real face will emerge the moment we marry. I will be his precious trained pet, speaking only to fill his coffers.

I would rather live in Mother’s house again. And I would rather die than do either.

I leap to my feet, gathering my skirts.

“Agnes!” Simon leaps up, alarmed.

I back away from his outstretched hand, tears flying. “No!” I gasp. The word is a dead daffodil. “No, never!”  The last word is an opal, and I fling it at his chest. Then I clamp my lips shut. I will give him no more of my treasures.

I race down the open hillside. Though Simon is taller, he cannot catch me. Years of living in terror have given me speed. The spaniels race after me, barking in alarm, but I soon outpace even them.

I disappear into the forest, trailing silent, worthless tears.

#

It’s an apple blossom morning. My orchard is full of the fragrant blooms, branches weighed down with millions of pale pink and cream flowers. Matching blossoms fall from my lips as I speak my morning prayers. The flowers land lightly on the rain-dampened earth, a carpet of silk for the would-be queen.

I haven’t seen Simon since last summer, and I’m glad of it. I’m proud of the life I’ve built outside of his palace prison. I spent the first weeks in terror, certain he would send soldiers to scour the country and bring me back to the palace in chains. When my first whispers of courage appeared, I traveled on foot to a northern city, one large enough to hold several jewelers. I sold off a month’s worth of words for a small fortune. I bought a modest house on the outskirts where the city kissed the open countryside. I hired servants from agencies, then replaced them until I found people I believed I could trust. My housekeeper has a moral spine of steel. I speak freely in her presence, and she does nothing more than lift a disapproving eyebrow toward the gems that cover her clean floor. She believes my habit to be extravagance bordering on indecency. My butler is a sweet old man, half-blind and half-deaf. I don’t believe he notices my flowers or gems. I sometimes slip him one as a present, spinning some tale of a grandmother’s jewels that I’m giving away.

The garden I care for myself. I’ve planted some of my word-flowers as cuttings, and I hope they will grow. I think the roses have the best chance of taking root. I spend hours out here whenever the weather’s warm, letting the silence and sunshine and blessed hard labor wash every thought and emotion from me. It is only on mornings like this that I let myself feel anything at all.

Something rustles the tree behind me. In the corner of my eye, I see a million apple blossoms rain down. I turn, expecting to see a bird or a particularly heavy squirrel.

It’s Simon. He stands beneath my apple tree in all his palace finery. He is still pale from the winter, but his eyes are bright as ever. He bends at the waist, an apologetic bow. “Your housekeeper let me in.”

Of course she did. Greta can’t refuse entry to a prince. I’m reminded again of how powerless I am before him.

I stand in silence, waiting for the renewal of last summer’s offer. I steel myself in advance against his declarations of love, his flimsy praises of my person, the lies upon lies upon lies he will spin to snare my heart in his web. I scan for movement along the garden walls. Has he brought servants? Soldiers? If he has, there’s nothing I can do, but I won’t give him victory by showing him how frightened I am.

He doesn’t speak. He barely moves. He could be a new statue I bought for the garden. Finally, he asks, “Are you well?”

I nod.

“It’s a lovely house,” he says. “These trees are exquisite.”

Another nod.

Simon’s eyes stay on the blossoms. “The neighbors say you never have visitors.”

Of course I don’t. My gems can buy a house, but they make a social life impossible. How could I attend card parties and balls with diamonds falling with my every word? A mute heiress is a curiosity, but never a friend.

Simon runs a hand along a branch. A dozen petals fall. “Are you lonely?” he asks.

I am, but I hate him for asking. It makes me sound pitiful. I want to be alone. Loneliness is safe.

A falling tear betrays me. The eyes that can spot a partridge across a field watch it fall to the petal-strewn ground. “I thought so,” Simon murmurs. “That’s why I brought this.”

He reaches behind a tree and slides out a basket. Something inside rustles and whines. I step toward it, too curious for caution.

Simon lifts up a squirming puppy. Russet patches blaze on its white fur. I gasp and run my fingers through the silky curls of its ears. It’s so young and warm and alive. I gather it into my arms and let it lick the salt water from my face.

Puppies don’t care about dowries. Diamonds are nothing more than pretty stones for them to chase. They care about food and fresh air and the sheer joy of being alive. I could have no better companion.  

I bury my face in the puppy’s fur. “Thank you,” I breathe, crowning the puppy with apple blossoms.

Simon’s grin makes me think of a summer sky. “She’s fine hunting stock, and I think she’ll make an excellent guard dog someday.”

I don’t care about the future. She’s mine now, and I cry from the sheer joy of having a friend.

Two friends, a tiny voice in my mind insists. Even if this is only a ploy to capture my heart, it’s a very kind stratagem. “Thank you,” I say again.

Simon nods and gathers up his basket. “You can write me if you wish. Tell me how she’s doing.”

My heart shies away from the idea, from another strand that could tie me closer to the crown. But I know what Simon’s dogs mean to him. Refusal would be pointless cruelty. “I will,” I say.

The words fall as a perfect pink pearl. The puppy treats it as a toy.

#

Leaves fall in clumps of color, crimson and orange and gold. Lady wrestles with them while I read my letter; my dog knows better than to disturb me while I read on this bench. It overlooks the orchard and seems the only fitting place to read letters from Simon.

We’ve exchanged more than twenty in the past six months, starting with mere updates about Lady’s health, and slowly expanding to include tales of our days, stories of our childhoods, discussions of philosophy and our feelings about the world. It’s a relief to use as many words as I want without worrying about the flowers and jewels that fall, and I filled five whole pages, front and back, with crossed writing in my last letter. Simon’s reply is nearly as long and I devour every neatly scrawled word, delighting in the sentences that seem to carry the sound of his voice.

His stories are as engaging in writing as they are in person, and before I realize it, I’ve reached the last page. These words have not been crossed; only one set of neat sentences covers the half-sheet.

Darling Agnes, he writes. The endearment shocks me like a thorn among roses. My heart is more yours than it has ever been. I wish with everything I am that those diamonds would dissolve to dust, if it would help you believe that I love you despite your jewels. I repeat my offer from two summers past, and I hope you know me well enough to rightly judge my sincerity. I can only pray you will pity a foolish prince who has done nothing to deserve a wife so far superior to himself.

The pages of the letter fall like flakes of snow, and I tremble like the leaves that cling so precariously to the apple trees. The last months dissolve like a dream and I’m back on that hill outside the palace, back in the cellar with my blossoming bruises. Love is real, I know, but it is never given to me. Simon cannot be offering it, not truly. These months of friendship have been glorious, but a few heartfelt letters are not the same as agreeing to be a man’s wife, giving him my heart to treasure or cast off at will. He will cast it off, I know it. In a day or a week or ten years, it will be thrown into my face as a weapon, my heart aching all the more because I gave it so freely to someone who despised me.

I race into my writing room, pull out a paper, and dip a quill in the ink. My hand shakes violently, but it doesn’t matter. The page only needs one word.

No.

#

Snow covers the garden like diamond dust. The jewels I speak disappear into the drifts behind the house. I cast them out for Lady to chase, and my words of praise provide gems for the next game.

When Lady tires, we walk to the front garden. Two of my yellow roses took root last summer and have become tiny spindles of bushes. I brush the snow from their branches to keep them from being crushed. Dogs and roses--the only things I can safely love.

“Such kindness,” says a voice from outside the gate. I look up to see a gray-haired crone in a ragged cloak. She smiles with crooked teeth. “Do you have any for an old woman?”

I hurry to the gate, reaching under my cloak and pulling coins from my purse. I regularly exchange my jewels for coins now, and I always keep a supply for the poor. I place five of the largest in the beggar’s hands, enough for a month of meals and a comfortable room.

The woman gives it a satisfied smile. “Bless you.” She tucks the coins into her glove. “You’re seen as something of a ministering angel among our kind, lady,” she says. “Beautiful and kind and as mysterious as the holy mountain.”

I laugh. I’ve gotten better at holding back my jewels when I need to, so I feel safe saying, “I’ve been very blessed.”

"Then why are you so sad?” the woman asks.

Her gray eyes pierce me, making it seem pointless to hide my secrets. I give her the least dangerous part of the truth. “I have no family.”

“Girls with that problem usually try make one of their own. A lady like you must have a hundred beaus to pick from.” 

I pretend to cough into my hand, and I slide eight tourmalines into my purse. “Only one,” I say.

“And what a one,” the woman says, leaning over a fence as if to share a secret. “The prince himself pining away for you in that great palace.”

I gasp and forget to stop the daisies from falling. “How did you...?”

“Half the town knows about the royal seals on those letters,” the woman says, “and knows the postman hasn’t seen one for four months, about the same time that the prince stopped attending social functions.”

My blush burns so hot that the beggar could warm her hands by it.

The woman places a comforting hand over my trembling one on the rail of the fence. “You’re being very unkind to that poor boy. Do you think you’re the only one in the world with a good heart?”

It’s like she sees into my soul, and I suddenly remember a gap-toothed woman by a faraway well who knew my history just by looking at me. This woman is shorter and darker-skinned, but those gray eyes hold similar secrets.

So I speak to her like I’ve spoken to no one else--pitiful, pathetic words. I sound like a frightened child as I reply, “It’s the only heart I can be sure is good.”

“Nonsense. Ain’t you talked to him? Seen him? What has he said, promised, done? Has he ever been cruel? Angry? Wicked?”

No, no, and no. He gave me shelter, friendship, love. He let me run away from him. He brought me Lady. If he wanted my jewels he could have sent a hundred men to drag me back to his palace in chains, but aside from the ruby for my ring, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him touch one of my precious words. The only monstrous things he’s done have been inventions of my own terrified imagination.

But my imagination won’t give up so easily. “He could be one day.”

“So could you,” the woman counters.

“I couldn’t throw him in the dungeon.”

The woman closes her eyes and sighs. “Love is a risk. Trust is a great gift. Will you hoard it all for yourself or find the courage to give it away?”

I let out my breath in one long, weary sigh. “I don’t know if I can,” I say. The first words are daisies and chips of diamonds. The last one falls as a perfect ruby in my gloved hand.

The woman presses both her hands around the hand with the ruby. When she pulls them away, the jewel is set in a ring of pure gold.

“Try,” she says.

#

Simon steps into my writing room, looking disheveled and a little bewildered. He brushes snowflakes out of his hair and steps toward my desk. He holds up a hastily scrawled letter. “You called?”

I step toward him and place the ruby ring in his outstretched hand. “I would like,” I say, the words creating a bouquet of roses in my arms, “to make a proposal.”

#

Simon and I kneel before the priest. The pearls from a thousand grateful prayers are draped in long chains across our shoulders and arms. Simon is radiant, a million silent words speaking of his love. He makes his vows with unhesitating enthusiasm, then the priest places the same questions to me, asking me to take Simon as my husband, whatever may come, to the very end of our days.

“I do,” I say.

The sapphires that fall from beneath my veil gleam like tears of joy.

[weirwoodking]

who do you think will be on the throne at the end? is there a chance it will be a woman? do you agree with the theory that bran will be king in the north bc he symbolizes winterfell? idk if i see dany on the throne bc i don't feel like she belongs in westeros, i think she would be better off with a throne on the other side of the narrow sea but i really don't know what i'm saying

It’s very hard to make predictions for ADOS, because we don’t have TWOW yet. So much can change about the story and the characters in one book, thematically and narratively. Think of how much the plot was influenced by just that final Bran chapter in ADWD. 

But, here I go anyway.

My short answer is: no one. (And no, I don’t mean Arya)

Let’s get into it.

Part 1: How the Show Tainted Everyone’s Brains

Obviously, a lot of people care about the Iron Throne plot. Sometimes too much. I do believe that this is mostly because of how much the HBO show changed everything about the story to make the Iron Throne seem like it was more important than anything else. Like promotional posters of all the actors each sitting on the throne, the name of the series itself being changed to “Game of Thrones”, actors getting asked in every interview “who do you think should get the Iron Throne?” as if it’s the last cupcake at a birthday party that everyone’s fighting over, the final episode was titled “The Iron Throne”. The marketing for everything was “it’s the fight for the Throne!” up through the eighth season. It made the object itself become a huge pop culture symbol.

It almost felt like the show was trying to make it seem like the goal of the Night King (a character not in the books) was to sit on the Iron Throne! The show portrayed it as if the Others were just a little distraction that needed to be dealt with so the characters could get back to arguing over the Porcupine Chair. However, in ASOIAF, it’s the exact opposite. The Porcupine Chair is what’s distracting the characters from the real conflict, the Others.

It’s almost comical how that has somewhat transferred over into the fandom, the “game of thrones” is what’s keeping everyone from focusing on what really matters, the “song of ice and fire”.

Part 2: GRRM’s Quote

It wasn't easy for me. I didn't want to give away my books. Every character has a different end. I told them who would be on the Iron Throne, and I told them some big twists like Hodor and "hold the door", and Stannis' decision to burn his daughter. We didn't get to everybody by any means.

-George R.R. Martin

So, he “told them who would be on the Iron Throne”. Something important about this quote is that he doesn’t say who. And, of course, the Iron Throne gets destroyed at the end of the show anyway. Show!Bran doesn’t really “end up on the Iron Throne”. Show!Dany does. George never said that who “ends up” on it in the books is who ends up on it in the show. He’s said that the Shireen thing and the Hodor thing will “happen very differently” in the books anyway. And, of course, another major part of that quote is “every character has a different end”.

I don’t think that who sits the Iron Throne last is necessarily going to be the ruler of Westeros at the end. For example, Cersei (or Aegon) may be the last person to sit the Iron Throne. Or even Euron (however, even though his goal is to rule post-apocalyptic Westeros as a god from the Iron Throne, I don’t think he’ll actually get there). If wildfire is hot enough to melt iron, I could see the throne being destroyed during whatever fiery shenanigans go down with Cersei and JonCon in TWOW. I think it would be fitting for the fight over the throne to end in the next book. ‘Cause the winds of winter are coming, baby, and it’s gonna be time to start dreaming of spring.

Part 3: The Weirwood King

The idea/theory of Bran becoming King has been around for a long time, long before the HBO show even started airing. This is because of the Celtic myth of King Brân the Blessed, whose name means “Blessed Crow” or “Blessed Raven” in Welsh. Other than the obvious connection with the name, Brân the Blessed’s story involves a magic cauldron that can bring the dead back to life. 

In the myth, Brân’s head is cut off and continues talking (think of how Bran’s most powerful aspect is the magical powers of his mind), because in Celtic mythology the head is believed to be where the soul is.

Celts had a reputation as head hunters. According to Paul Jacobsthal, "Amongst the Celts the human head was venerated above all else, since the head was to the Celt the soul, centre of the emotions as well as of life itself, a symbol of divinity and of the powers of the otherworld." (source)

Catch that? “Otherworld”. There is another myth (Irish, specifically) called the Voyage of Bran, in which the title character goes on a quest to the Otherworld. The Otherworld is a supernatural realm in Celtic mythology. It is also where the sidhe (a.k.a. aos sí) live. Remember, the sidhe are what George has said the Others are inspired by. In Irish mythology, the Otherworld is called Tír na nÓg, Mag Mell and Emain Ablach, in Welsh mythology it’s called Annwn, and in Arthurian legend it’s called Avalon. Fun fact, “Avalon” was the title of the novel George was writing when he had suddenly had the idea of a scene in which a young boy and his brothers see a beheading and then find a litter of direwolf pups in the snow. And so ASOIAF happened.

I’ll leave that there, and try not to go down the great big rabbit-hole of Celtic (and other cultures) mythology connections in ASOIAF. The takeaway is: ASOIAF has been influenced by these myths.

I do believe that Bran is going to be King. Not just because of his ties to this mythology, but also because of symbolism in his own story. The most notable one being…

Under the hill, the broken boy sat upon a weirwood throne, listening to whispers in the dark as ravens walked up and down his arms.

[...]

The singers made Bran a throne of his own, like the one Lord Brynden sat, white weirwood flecked with red, dead branches woven through living roots. 

[...]

His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child. 

- Bran III, A Dance with Dragons

Bran is also the only one of the Stark kids who still thinks of himself as royalty:

What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins.

- Bran III, A Dance with Dragons

Bran is the heir to Winterfell. It doesn’t matter if Robb named Jon his heir in his will, the will was written under the pretense that Bran and Rickon were dead.

However, Bran doesn’t have any connection to the Iron Throne. It’s far more likely that he would sit on a weirwood throne, because of, y’know, everything about his story. So, if Bran was King of the Seven Kingdoms, I don’t think it would be on the Pincushion Stool.

If Bran is king of the realm, I do think there would still be a separate Lord/Lady of Winterfell, but I do think that there’s a possibility of a Pevensie siblings ending, where all the Stark kids would rule together as the Lords and Ladies and Winterfell.

Something that I’ve never really seen talked about regarding the idea of Bran becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms is the religious differences between the North and the southern regions of Westeros. Of course, the show didn’t deal with this at all. For fuck’s sake, they had Cersei blow up the Westerosi verison of the Vatican and face no backlash. It was so laughably absurd how Show!Cersei’s destructive reign was shown to have like… zero impact on the Seven Kingdoms. 

In short, I’m not too sure that the Kingdom who is majority Faith of the Seven worshippers would react too well to a weirwood-tree-Old-Gods-warg-wizard-king. I mean, when Janos Slynt finds out Jon is a warg he calls him a “thing”, a “creature”, and a “beastling that is not fit to live”, and wanted to execute him not just for being a turncloak but for being a warg as well. And Jojen warns Bran of these things, saying that his own folk may want to kill him if they know what he is.

But… all of that anti-magic attitude might not matter after night falls. 

Part 4: Winter is Coming

I believe that the Long Night is going to be very devastating for the Seven Kingdoms.

Martin is a big believer in making things have meaningful, permanent consequences in his stories. I don’t think that an apocalyptic event like the Long Night is something that’s just gonna get dealt with in a quick snap and have no lasting effect.

A lot of people are going to die. I don’t mean main characters, I mean people that would not survive a normal winter and sure as hell won’t be prepared for this one. Westeros’s food stores have been severely depleted by the War of the Five Kings, and we’ve been told multiple times in the text (particularly AFFC and ADWD) that feeding people during this winter is going to be extremely hard.

Besides that… the whole, uh, invasion of the eldritch ice beings thing might have a bit of an impact on the realm. 

I won’t go into depth about how the Seven Kingdoms will be affected by the Long Night, ‘cause we really have no idea. But, however it all goes down, I do think it will have lasting changes for the people of Westeros. The impact that it leaves may make the concept of Bran being a wizard-king more acceptable. “Oh, well we’ve just seen zombies and winter elves, so what’s too surprising about a magical greenseer warg king?” I think that Westerosi culture becoming more aware and accepting of the existence of magic is the only way that Bran could become the king of the whole realm. The Westeros at the end of the series is not going to be the place that it was at the beginning.

Part 5: Dany: A Home, Not a Throne

To sum up my thoughts on our dragon girl, I don’t think Dany will end up on the Spiky Toilet. I don’t want Dany to be on the Spiky Toilet.

Now, my personal speculation (which a lot of people disagree with, which is fine) is that Dany will never see King’s Landing before the Long Night. I personally don’t think that Dany will ever meet Aegon or Cersei. I don’t see there being enough time in the story for that. Yes, GRRM said that there will be a second Dance of the Dragons, but he also said that the second Dance does not have to involve Dany. He may have originally planned for it to be Aegon and Dany, but probably not once the Meereenese Knot happened.

The Meereenese Knot is what Dany’s ADWD plot is referred to as. GRRM did not intend for Dany to stay in Meereen as long as she has, but because of his “gardener” style of writing, that’s where the story led him. GRRM has said that one of the hardest parts of writing the Meereen plotline (which involves Dany, Barristan, Quentyn, Tyrion, and Victarion) is trying to find a way to cut the plot knot he accidentally got himself stuck in. He has said that Tyrion and Dany will meet towards the end of TWOW, which means that Dany will most likely be spending a large portion of her story with the Dothraki. That part is a completely blank page, but I believe that Dany will meet Tyrion possibly ¾ of the way into the book, and sail for Westeros at the end.

I won’t write a full meta about this here (because that’s not what this post is about), but to summarize my prediction: Aegon VS Cersei is going to be the battle in King’s Landing, a battle which will destroy the city. Dany (who has already rejected sailing for the Throne multiple times) will still be stuck in Essos, dealing with everything she’s still got going on, and will sail for Westeros at the end. Not for the Throne, but to go North for the real fight (remember that Marwyn is also on his way to Meereen to tell Dany that they need her).

Because Dany's purpose is not to fight for the Iron Throne, it’s to fight the Others. Dany (fire, light, and life) VS the Others (ice, darkness, and death) is the main thing the title refers to:

“Well of course the two outlying ones, the things that are going on north of the Wall and Daenerys Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons are of course the Ice and Fire of the title, the Song of Ice and Fire.” 

- George R.R. Martin, 2016

One of the most important excerpts that shows us where Dany’s story is headed is this:

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

- Daenerys III, A Storm a Swords

Dany has a short prophetic “this is what I was meant to do” dream. Dany could possibly have more dreams about the Others in TWOW, visions that will make what Marwyn has to tell her more believable. It’s not like that dream was the only one Dany has had that alludes to the winter threat, Dany has had visions about this since book one:

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.

- Dany IX, A Game of Thrones

Anyway, there’s just a lot more foreshadowing in the plot that this is what Dany is meant to do. I think adding in another conflict into her story once she leaves Meereen would make the story feel bloated and would severely fuck up the pacing.

I don’t think Dany will ever see the Iron Throne. The themes of her story have never been about her wanting the Iron Throne for what it is, but for what it represents to her. It represents the possibility of a home and of feeling safe for the first time in her life, what Dany truly wants. I think that it’s absolutely fine if Dany never sees the Throne or sits on it, and that it makes more sense for her narrative arc if she discovers that she can find a home somewhere else, not necessarily where she thought it would be. 

Part 6: Final Thoughts

So, in conclusion, I don’t really give a shit who ends up placing their ass on the Forbidden Laz-E-Boy, I care about the War for the Dawn. I care about seeing the characters I’ve followed for the past five books coming together to fight the real conflict of A Song of Ice and Fire. Also, even if we do get a Scouring of the Shire-type post-climax for ASOIAF, it doesn’t matter. People don’t see the Scouring of the Shire as the climax of Lord of the Rings, they see the climax as Aragorn leading the forces of good against the forces of evil and Frodo and Sam throwing the One Ring into Mount Doom. Whatever ending resolution comes after the climax of ASOIAF, it doesn’t change what the climax is.

"Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?" the old man barked.

Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. "War, war, war, war," it sang.

"It's not," Mormont told him. "Gods save us, boy, you're not blind and you're not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?"

"No." Jon had not thought of it that way.

- Jon IX, A Game of Thrones

TL;DR:

My prediction: Cersei will be the last person to sit the Iron Throne, which will be destroyed in the Wildfire of King’s Landing. After the Long Night devastates the Seven Kingdoms, Bran will become the King of this new Westeros that has been majorly affected by the return of magic. Also, it would be real nice if Dany found her red door.

God I hope my rambling made sense

[thesnowinthemountains]

Monsta X as the guy who hits on you in a bookstore

(a/n: I work in a used bookstore and this is entirely self-indulgent, please enjoy.)

Shownu

Your intention for the day was to find a vegan cookbook for your best friend, so you wandered over to the cooking section of the bookshop after having already scoured the stacks of fiction and fantasy, taking your own pick. Knelt near the bottom shelf was a young man. You couldn’t quite see his face but his hair was fluffy and promising. He stood up abruptly to his full six foot of height, towering over you, his eyebrows knit together in full concentration. He was flipping through a book on baking, something seemingly too soft for someone of his stature. He glanced over at you while you searched the shelves on your own quest. “Uh…” You turned to him. “Yes?” He seemed taken aback that you had even heard him, staring at you wide-eyed. “Sorry, um, do you know anything about cooking?” He asked quickly. “Some. What do you want to know?” He proceeded to ask a few questions, explaining he wanted to bake cupcakes for a friend’s birthday, double-goaled to both impress and surprise them with actual baking skills. After a few minutes of conversation and light laughter, he shut the book he’d been holding and turned fully to you. “Do you think I could have your phone number or something? I think I would be better at this with a little help…”

Wonho

“Do you- do you work here?” A tentative voice asked from the end of the bookshelf you were currently rummaging through. “I don’t, but I understand your confusion,” you chuckled, contemplating the stack at your feet and the fact that your hands were between books in the shelf. “Oh, well, do you know about books?” You turned to find an incredibly well-sculpted man. He looked entirely out of place but sounded so shy, and you were immediately taken by the messy black hair and large glasses over his nose. “I do. Why?” You stood up fully, also determining he stood a good few inches over you. “I- This is kind of a thing,” he paced over. “It’s my little niece’s birthday next week, she loves reading, it’s all she ever does. I have no idea what to get her, but I know it needs to be a book. I even, look,” he pulled out his phone, “I took a picture of the books she already has so I don’t buy the same ones.” You looked at the screen, recognizing titles from when you were in your very early teens. “Oh, I can definitely help with that. Um, just... “ You peered down at the books you had previously picked out, still on the floor and waiting to be brought home. “I’ll help you if you carry my books.” “Oh, absolutely,” he bent down as soon as you said it.

Minhyuk

“Why won’t you just let me play Green Day, though?” You whined at your boss for the millionth time that week. You had recently gotten a job at a local used bookstore and had rapidly adapted to your small team of coworkers, mostly by taking over the radio which was overly used to Phil Collins and Bryan Adams. You added life to the boutique. “Listen, I like Green Day as much as the next guy, but half of our customer base is little old ladies, I’m not sure they’re super down with pop punk on a Monday night,” your boss replied. “Which album?” Minhyuk jumped in. He came in every now and then, always a mischievous glimmer in his eye. Today was just the same. “American Idiot,” you replied. “Oh, well, that’s a classic, you have to let her play it.” Minhyuk shrugged, turning to your boss. “She’s clearly got great taste, come on.” “There you go, see? Even he wants Green Day!” You pouted. “Sorry, guys, no can do.” You manager sighed. You scoffed, turning to Minhyuk with a pout. “Party pooper.” Minhyuk pulled his tongue before throwing a smirk your way.

Kihyun

He was a regular at the bookstore you worked at. It was a used bookstore, selling anything and everything literary for dirt cheap and he would come in every few weeks with an empty box ready to fill. He would sit on the floor if he had to, scouring the shelves. Every time you checked him out, you would peak at the titles, feigning checking prices. “Have you read this one?” He asked the last time, pointing to one with a black cover, gold lettering. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard plenty about it. I was actually planning to buy it tonight before leaving, but you beat me to it.” He smiled to himself, seeing an opportunity he’d been waiting for. “Well, you’ll just have to borrow it from me, won’t you?” You looked up. “I guess I might.”

Hyungwon

You were hurrying past the romance section into fantasy which had been moved to the back of the store, according to an employee. You were frowning, disappointed your favorite section didn’t sell enough to be featured front and center, overall just stuck in your own head. In front of a showy display for a new release in romance was an ethereally good-looking young man in a long coat, hair falling into his face. He made you almost stop in your tracks, steps hiccupping. He looked up at you. “Do you know anything about romance novels?” He asked casually. You frowned again. “No.” “Right. My mom sent me to get something for her, but I don’t remember the title, so I’m kind of just hoping I’ll find it.” “Ask an employee?” You hid a smile. The answer seemed simple enough. “I would. I don’t remember the author’s name either, just the cover. Describing it as a ‘woman in a man’s embrace with the sky in the background’ well- I don’t think it’ll get me anywhere looking at this.” “Not particularly,” you laughed despite yourself. “What are you here for?” He looked up at you suddenly, and his eyes were so pretty it took you a second to answer. “The, uh, fantasy… section…” “Take me there.” “What?” You asked, confused. “I don’t know, anywhere’s better than here. I have to call my mom. Where’s the fantasy section?” He looked over the shelves and it occurred to you he was tall enough to actually see the section signs over the shelves. 

Jooheon

You had somehow been following each other through the little boutique. It wasn’t intentional, but clearly you had similar taste. He was cute, tall, and you didn’t mind. He knelt down to look at the section for fiction authors whose last names begin in K, then stood up abruptly, turning to L, then M, clearly looking for something. You continued on skimming the shelves. He cleared his throat. "Can I show you something?” He asked you, finally breaking the silence. “Sure,” you replied, eyes wide. He smiled to himself and pulled out a book. “This book here has a photo of me as a kid on it." “Oh,” you giggled despite yourself. So he was sweet, too. 

Changkyun

This was your absolute favorite little shop in the city, one that mostly contained books but often sold all sorts of knickknacks you couldn’t help but wonder about. Where did they even come from? Some had you staring for too long, wondering what they even did. You could spend well over an hour in there, going through the bookshelves, more often than not going home arms full of books, and tonight was no different to the exception of snow lightly floating down outside, covering everything in a dreamy coat of shimmery white. In the shop with you were the owner, at this point almost a friend to you, and a boy surely around your age. He was staring at an old film reel toy on the top of the cash counter, frowning. “It’s a toy,” you offered, waiting for the shop owner to be finished punching your books’ titles into the register.  “Yeah, I’m just wondering what the reel shows. I had one when I was little.” “Well, look at it,” you shrugged. He glanced up at you, small smile hovering over his features before grabbing the red plastic thing in his hand and holding it up. The owner gave you your total and you pulled out your card. “Dinosaurs.” The guy said. “Oh?” “Yeah. Very cool.” He bit his lip and laid it back on the counter while you piled your books, regretting not bringing a bag and questioning how in the hell you were going to take these home through the metro system without dropping them. “You need help with that?” The boy came over. “Uh, sure, but it’s sort of a ride.” “I don’t mind,” he took some books out of your hands. “I read this one, actually. And this one. That one. You’ll have to tell me how you like- sorry, what am I saying?” He laughed to himself. “Well, maybe I will,” you cocked your head, thinking him cute.

[route22ny]

Survivor stories: Death, loss and selflessness during the pandemic

By Jacqueline Cutler / New York Daily News

Those days when the word corona made you think beer or crown feel like long-gone innocence.

So much happened during these 18 months that how we’re reacting to different phases of the pandemic and how survivors are coping are worth documenting.

“Voices from the Pandemic: Americans Tell Their Stories of Crisis, Courage and Resilience” is a powerful reflection on the last year and a half. Pulitzer-winning journalist Eli Saslow has managed the near-impossible: He makes you want to read more about the pandemic.

This doesn’t bother with maps of where the virus is spiking or death tolls. It can’t be of the moment. Instead, it’s the story of all of us — those who have taken every precaution and those who refused to acknowledge COVID’s deadly path.

Done in the style of the late great Studs Terkel, these are oral histories as the history is happening. Each section has people sharing their stories in their words.

Sure, it’s edited for clarity, but there’s no spin. It’s unfailingly fair: When a tenant recounts her eviction, the next entry is from a landlord who exhausted her savings trying to not evict people.

Even though we think we know the stories of the pandemic, we can’t – at least not all of them. And we never may. Saslow carefully selected a cross-section of people; some who have since died, some who recovered, some who never may.

Saslow reminds us of the first whisperings. On Jan. 4, 2020, there was news about what was considered a pneumonia outbreak in China. Five weeks later, it had a name, COVID-19.

A month later, life as we knew it stopped.

“She’s dead, and I’m quarantined,” Tony Sizemore, of Indianapolis, says of his love, Birdie Shelton, in the first entry from March 2020. “That’s how the story ends. I keep going back over it in loops, trying to find a way to sweeten it, but nothing changes the facts. I wasn’t there with her at the end. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I don’t even know where her body is right now, or if the only thing that’s left is her ashes.”

With that gut-wrenching opening, we’re off. We meet dozens of people we’ve never heard of, which is precisely the point. Everyone knew when Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson were among the first celebrities to get COVID.

But this book introduces Bruce MacGillis, a man in an Ohio nursing home. He refused to let temp workers who couldn’t wear masks correctly get near him and isolated himself until he was vaccinated.

“I’m a hard-ass about this stuff, and I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he told Saslow. “I can’t afford to take chances.”

Some who tell their stories are the superheroes of the pandemic.

A shift leader of a nursing team in Detroit, Sal Hadwan, recounts insane shifts. While we celebrate and honor health care workers – now more than ever – the dire conditions they were working under were horrifying. Remember garbage bags serving as protective gear? Some had one mask per shift.

In April 2020, Hadwan said: “We’re basically handling the most severe cases in the ER, which is not our training. These nurses don’t have a second to relax. You’ve got one patient’s oxygen running out and another whose heart rate is going wild. All you can do is try your best to hear the alarms and then sprint as fast as you can from one emergency to the next. You hope you make it in time. Sometimes you don’t.”

Naturally, it’s bleak. But there are also stories of humanity at its best.

Burnell Cotlon of New Orleans (pictured above) turned his grocery store in the Lower Ninth Ward into a food pantry. He couldn’t afford to, but some of his neighbors couldn’t afford to eat.

As he said in April 2020, “Last week, I caught a lady in the back of the store stuffing things into her purse. We don’t really have shoplifters here.” He knows the customers in his two-aisle market. The woman swiped a carton of eggs, hot dogs, and candy bars.

“She started crying,” Cotlon told Saslow. “She said she had three kids, and her man had lost his job, and they had nothing to eat and no place to go. Maybe it was a lie. I don’t know. But who’s making up stories for seven or eight dollars of groceries? She was telling me, ‘Please, please, I’m begging you. How are we supposed to eat?’ I stood there for a minute and thought about it, and what am I going to do?”

Colton started running tabs – for the first time. He went from having zero customers on credit to 62 within a month. He kept giving to neighbors until he fell three months behind on his mortgage.

In a postscript, Saslow adds that when Colton’s generosity became known, online fundraisers brought in $500,000. Naturally, he put it to great use: forgiving his customers’ debt and beginning construction on a subsidized apartment building. “He also gave out free school supplies and turned his store into a free vaccination site for the community.”

Every page in this is sobering. Every story chilling, relatable, and absolutely forthright.

For those who lost their jobs and who were living paycheck-to-paycheck, rent became impossible to pay. To lose your job, your health, your relatives and now your home is unbearable. Granted, the news often focuses on the tenants, while many of us assume landlords only take time out from counting their money to harass tenants.

It’s a lot easier to feel for the tenants, who are doing all they can.

Saslow interviewed Tusdae Barr, evicted during the pandemic. Although money was tight before COVID, Barr was making rent with everyone in her family chipping in — until work dried up. Barr eventually found herself ousted, then in cheap motels, and finally with relatives.

If you never thought you could sympathize with a landlord, meet Jayne Rocco of Deland, Fla. She became a landlord 25 years ago when broke, reeling from a divorce. Rocco found a lender, bought and fixed up a cheap house, then flipped it and bought two houses. She continued doing this until she had 10 properties, none fancy. Rocco’s profit was about $40,000 a year pre-pandemic.

Trying to help her tenants and pay her bills, Rocco exhausted her savings. She’s still trying, and still has troubles. With some of the people featured, their troubles are financial. For some, such as a newlywed, former athlete Kaitlin Denis, of Chicago, the effects of long-term COVID, are medical. She’s drained and can barely get out of bed.

And some trying to help, such as Amber Elliot, county health director in Farmington, Mo., found herself threatened with anti-vaxxers posting photos of her kids online.

The book ends with a leading voice of science. Stanley Plotkin, 88, a virologist, “developed the rubella vaccine that’s now in standard use throughout the world.” He’s worked on other life-saving vaccines and consults for the World Health Organization.

“Parents can expect their children to grow up, and that’s a relatively new thing,” Plotkin told Saslow in January. “It shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

If this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that nothing can.

(source)

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet Ugly- 13 with Danbrey?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The bus is not as fun as she remembers.

When Aubrey was a little kid, her mom would use the bus to take her to the museum or the movies or, on the best days, the magic store. Yes, the Little’s had a nice car, but her mom believed that not only was the bus better for the environment, it was a way to remember that there was nothing scary about being around people who come from all sorts of circumstances (Aubrey later learned this was due to her mom once being at a PTA meeting where hands were rung over children using public transportation being exposed to “unsavory” people).

“The world is full of all kinds of people, firebug. That’s not something to be scared of.”

She wipes her eye surreptitiously under the West Virginia sun. You’d think she’d have learned not to think about mom in public by now.

The bus line she’s using for her tour is inexplicably crowded; half these towns are on their way to being ghosts but somehow she’s always fighting for a seat. She doesn’t like her chances for this leg of the ride, since she got distracted reading about the history of Doc Martens and ended up towards the back of the line.

By some luck, there’s one seat left as she squeezes onto the bus, using her body to keep people from elbowing the fabric carrier containing Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. But in the time she takes to turn to sit, someone else slips into the spot, so fast it’s almost inhuman.

“Um, excuse me, but this was my seat.” She turns to confront the thief and finds herself looking at a young woman about her age, with honey-blonde hair and hazel eyes which, were she not tired and grumpy, Aubrey would have lots of compliments for.

“No, it wasn’t. I got here first. You’ll just have to stand.”

“That’d be fine if it were just me.” The bus pulls away from the curb, “but it’s bad for Dr. Harris Bonkers to be suspended for too long.” She adjusts the bunny bag, hoping his big brown eyes and wiggly nose will make her case for her.

“Awww” the blonde coos, booping him through the mesh, “don’t worry little guy, you aren’t going too far. You’ll be fine if your person stands for a little bit.”

“It’s not a little bit, it’s twelve hour trip to my next stop!”

A smile full of understated charm and triumph, “It’s thirteen to mine.”

“Aw beans.”

“......are you going to get out of my lap at any point?”

“No” Aubrey turns her head to look out the window, “this is a good seat, even if there’s someone in it. I’m staying.”

It’s not her finest moment, to be sure. But she’s tired and heartsick so she is staying in this seat, damn it. The other woman grumbles something and slumps back against the black seat.

They hit the next stop, but not enough people get off, so she stays in her mystery lady’s lap. Her seat(mate) pulls a baggie of granola from the pocket of her definitely-not-cute-at-all overalls and crunches it louder than necessary by her ear.

“Uh, your rabbit is trying to get out.”

Aubrey glances down to see the mesh front straining as Dr. Harris Bonkers attempts to reach the granola.

“Don’t beg, young man, it’s rude.”

“Can he have a piece?” She holds up a dried strawberry.

“Um, sure.” Aubrey watches as she unzips the top of the carrier and let’s the rabbit nibble the treat from her hand. Aubrey’s a little jealous.

They don’t say anything to each other, but the rabbit gets two more treats before they reach the next stop. The person who’s spent the whole trip asleep in the window seat next to them jerks awake and hurries off the bus. Aubrey scoots into it before anyone can dare challenge her.

They’ve just turned onto the highway when she says, “Thanks. For, um, for sharing your granola.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’m, um, I’m sorry for sitting on you.”

“Yeah that wasn’t great, but if someone was going to sit on me I’m glad it’s the cutest passenger on the bus.” She points at Dr. Harris Bonkers, but keeps her eyes on Aubrey.

“We’re both kinda tired. We had a show late last night and we’re nervous for the one tomorrow.”

“Show?”

“I’m a magician and he’s my assistant. I’m known as the Lady Flame” she snaps and finger-guns, setting off a flashpaper, “but you can call me Aubrey.”

“Ma’am, no smoking on the bus!”

“Sorry!” She calls to the driver.

“I’m Dani” the blond boops Dr. Harris Bonkers again, “whose this guy?”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD.”

“Nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Are, um, are you just traveling for fun?” She unzips the carrier enough for them both to pet him.

“Not really. I was running an, uh, an errand. I’ll be glad to get back to Kepler.” She fiddles with something in her pocket, “could I see more of your act?”

“I think that might get me thrown off the bus.”

“Don’t you have pictures?” Dani smiles.

“Oh duh, right, here, I even got someone to take some videos.” She scooches closer, Dani closing the remaining distance to rest their shoulders together. As they move through the videos, Dani is noticeably excited, even claps a few times. When Aubrey’s battery dies, they say “fuck” in sync.

“...want to play ‘I Spy?”

“Hell yeah.”

The next three hours pass in a flash, the two of them laughing and trading stories, all the while both cuddling closer to the window (to better play the game, of course).

They reach a travel hub, the driver informing everyone that they’ll leave in an hour on the dot. The two of them select a Dennys, since in Aubrey’s experience they tend to ignore her bringing in an eighteen pound rabbit.

She charges her phone while they eat, Dani getting corned beef hash, (“not as good as the one my friend makes back home”) while Aubrey has pancakes. She gets a little syrup on her cheek and nearly asks Dani to clean it off for her. With her tongue.

It’s dark when they get back to their seats, but the driver keeps the A.C cranked to the point that Aubrey is shivering. Dani pulls a shawl from her backpack, draping it around them both like a blanket as the trees become nothing more than vague shapes in the dark.

They talk about Aubrey’s tattoos, about the garden Dani has back home (“lots of veggies, you’d like that, wouldn’t you buddy?”). Last night starts catching up with Aubrey, yawns threatening to steal her attention from the way the light catches in Dani’s hair.

“Wanna see more videos?” That’s low energy flirtation, right?

“Of course.”

As she opens the videos, she hits an older album and an image of her and her mom fills the screen. She freezes, like the highbeams of the past are barrelling towards her and all she can do is watch.

“Aubrey?” Dani touches her cheek.

“Um, sorry.” She shoves the phone in the pocket of her jacket, “I, my, my mom died a little while ago. That was her. Um. I guess that was obvious. Sorry.”

Dani’s fingers find hers, interlacing them gently, “I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I...I get it. My family is, well I made some choices that mean I’ll never get to see them again. I, the reason I went on this trip was because I heard one of my brothers might have, uh, done the same thing. He hadn’t.” She sighs, “I don’t even know if they’re all still alive.”

“That sucks. This all. Fucking. Sucks.”

Dani nods, rests their heads together, “You know what doesn’t suck? Meeting you.”

“Pfffft” Aubrey smiles through her tears, hoping the joking noise will hide her blush.

Dani cups her cheeks, “I’m serious. Getting to know you feels like, like rounding a corner and seeing your house after years away. I, this is going to sound silly but please tell me you’re stopping in Kepler for a show?”

“I’m not but I, um, I guess I could still stop off there? If you really wanted me to.” Something about Dani’s smile, the warmth in her eyes, soothes her grief to sleep for now.

“I do, fireblossom, so much.”

Aubrey blushes, “Think you might be my first fan; no one else ever requests a show.”

Dani kisses her cheek, “I might even request one in private.”

“I could get into that” she yawns, “damn it, I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna keep flirting with you, cutie pie.”

Dani shifts their luggage, scoots sideways and guides Aubrey’s head down into her lap, “Get some rest, Aubrey. Just being able to look at you is enough for me.”

“Awww” Aubrey nestles against her stomach, “you’re so cute...just a...cutie...pie...zzz”

The last thing she feels is a kiss on the forehead and Dani tucking the shawl around her.

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

Aubrey does not want to get off this bus; Dani is cuddled up next to her, telling her about what kind of flowers she’d grow her, when he stops come up.

“Whelp….this is me.”

Dani helps her off the bus, passing her the carrier containing a sleeping Dr. Harris Bonkers. Then she smirks, “is your balance pretty good.”

“Yeah? Wh-mmphhoh” She holds tight as Dani nearly knocks her off her feet in a kiss. She tastes like the strawberry poptart they split for breakfast and is not making it any easier to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come see me in Kepler?’ Dani murmurs against her lips.

“Promise.”

A kiss on the nose, then a longer one on the mouth that makes Aubrey feel like she’s going to go up flashpaper. Then Dani is gone, off towards Kepler. A town Aubrey has no knowledge of and no idea how to navigate. And she didn’t get Dani’s last name.

“Fuck.” She says to the rabbit.

The rabbit simply snuffles in reply.

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

A few hours after her most catastrophic show to date and getting a gun pointed at her, Aubrey walks into Amnesty Lodge and finds a certain face, haloed with golden hair, waiting for her by the fireplace.