#she has that terrible dad pity where if it were anyone else

[trueblu3-a]

i'm not going anywhere until you let me help. nat

" god you're fucking stubborn. "   it's said beneath your breath,   mixed in somewhere with a sigh as you hoist the rifle onto your shoulders   (   somewhere inside,   travis is sitting...   sleeping...   moping...   you're not sure   ).   for a moment you stand with your back to @warpainte,   in hopes that maybe she'll leave you alone,   let you wander the woods without any company:   but you know better.   in fact,   you've known better for a while.   you   &   her were far from similar in many regards,   while way too similar in others.   case   &   point,   the stubbornness that got you tasked with being the hunter for the group is the same stubbornness that has her standing behind you   (   you can picture something in your head,   her arms crossed,   her head tilted,   a picture of annoyance   ).

" fine. "   it's said as you turn on the heel of your boot,   fingers still holding on to the strap that keeps the rifle stable.   " but you have to walk carefully,   &   you're not touching the fucking gun. "

[shrimpalbuspotter]

What's the thing that stands out to you the most about albus and by extension his relationship with scorpius?

I'm gonna give 2 answers for this but they technically intermingle: One thing that stands out to me about Albus as a character, and one thing that stands out to me about his relationship with Scorpius.

Albus is a character who wears his emotions on his sleeve, even if he doesn't want to. This means we know alot about the motives behind his actions that run deeper than just "I want to save Cedric Diggory because my dad sucks." He's surly, self isolating, grumpy, and often seems rather anxious.

I think the thing that stands out the most to me is actually his relationships with others.

Albus has one friend, Scorpius. You can clearly see that Albus felt comfortable the moment he talked to him on the train, all awkward smiles and giggles. Then, when his cousin (who he grew up with), deemed he wasn't a good fit to be a friend and told Albus they were leaving, he outright denied her.

Cut to a while later, and Albus becomes a shut in. Its never explicitly shown but I take that when McGonagall called Albus "Isolated and surly" she was referencing to him refusing to make other friends. I don't doubt there were people who did try and befriend Albus despite him having a reputation, I just think Albus refused to give them the time of day. He had been laughed at and ridiculed by other students tons of times before, he learned to rely on gut feelings. If Albus doesn't immediately feel like he can trust you, he won't trust you, and it'll take a hell of a long time to change that due to his relentless stubborn. Plus his general opinion of the student body is already more terrible because he knows how everyone in Hogwarts feels about his bestfriend, who he deems more important than anyone else.

Cut yet again! Rose attempts to talk to Albus on the train to Hogwarts as they enter fourth year. Rose seems like she wants to make amends, trying to get Albus to talk to her and apologise, but Albus is still not having it. He sees through her, he knows his cousin. She'd never apologise herself, even if she knows she's wrong. Albus doesn't want to be pitied, and he also knows how rude Rose can be to Scorpius. So once again she's shut down.

Then we move on to him meeting Delphi, and there's something different. He seems slightly confused at first, but he relaxes as she talks. Albus sees this dorky, quirky lady, who talks about how people would make fun of her as a kid, and he automatically trusts her. It was definetly an odd feeling to have, because the only other person he'd felt that from was Scorpius, but Albus has an issue where he sets people he cares about on a pedestal and finds it almost impossible to imagine them doing any wrong, or expects them to always act a specific way. Delphi was in Albus' circle now, and he wanst planning to lose that.

But... then we notice something. Albus becomes slightly distant towards Scorpius whenever Delphi is around. He thinks he really likes her, and he knows she's practically a stranger but he swears there's this magnetic pull that just makes him want to be around her all the time. Scorpius is sort of jealous, but he's happy Albus has made a friend.

It's been pointed out before that majority of Delphis personality was took from Scorpius because she knew that would make Albus like her more. And it worked. She knows Albus find it difficult connecting with people he cant relate to, so she talked about her issues with expectations and not asking to be born into the family you were. (OK this is getting off topic let's go back on track).

In summary, how Albus finds it so incredibly difficult to connect with people then, when does, holds them so close to his heart, is what stands out most to me. Its crucial! Albus is not a person who trusts easily, but he takes great pride in those he can call his friend, even if it's few (cough ONE cough).

On that note... Answer 2. What stands out to me most about Scorpius and Albus's relationship? (Let's go the romantic route)

For me, its the way they are so different from every other ship. I don't think you can compare them to anything, because it won't be the same.

I see alot of people say its a parallel to Wolfstar but... it isn't. Alteast not how they'd be in canon. Because the Dynamics are completely different, and so are the characters personalities.

I think how unique their relationship is is what makes it so special. They were both misunderstood kids who realistically should've despised eachother just like their parents, but they didn't. They took comfort in eachothers presence and didn't care that everyone bullied them, because atleast they were together. Albus would end the world for Scorpius, and Scorpius would save the world for Albus. And it isn't even a Gryffindor/Slytherin relationship either! Which the fandom seems to like alot!

They are two bestfriends, from the same house, who would rather be with eachother than anyone else in the world. The closest thing to soulmates you're gonna get.

Anywhoooo that's my answerrr thank you for the ask anon I was in my feels beforehand and then I got to rant it all out on my favs

[natedogx15]

Miraculous Descendent Chapter 45: Present and Future

Previous Chapter

Nino looks around groggily as he tries to figure out where he is. His vision slowly starts to focus on the legs of the heroes, and he looks up to see them looking at him in worry. Realization slowly takes over him, and he immediately stands up, giving them a panicked and apologetic look.

"Oh man, I got Akumatized, didn't I? I'm so sorry, dude and dudette! Please, tell me no one got hurt because of me." Nino pleads

The heroes winch when they hear his pleading and give him looks of pity.

"Sorry, but you sent almost all the adults into space," Ladybug informs him.

Nino's eyes widen in horror, and he immediately starts rubbing his head into his hands.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man. I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry, dudes. I didn't mean to cause any of this. I was just so angry that my bud's old man wouldn't let me celebrate his birthday. I promise I didn't mean to take other kids away from their parents. I did sorta wish Adrien's dad was away from him, but not anyone else. Again, so sorry." Nino rapidly apologizes to the heroes while explaining his feelings, obviously feeling terrible about the problems he caused despite not remembering any of what happened.

"Woah, woah, easy. You aren't at fault for anything that happened while you were turned into a villain. It's Hawkmoth's fault for praying on your weakness." Cat Noir quickly reassures his friend while placing a hand on his shoulder to try and help calm him down.

"Yes, Hawkmoth is the one to blame for all your crimes, including your terrible fashion choice," Ladybug says, having an angry look at that last part as she remembers The Bubbler's outfit.

Nino and Cat Noir look at her in confusion when she says that, and Nino can't help but ask.

"My fashion choice? What does that mean?" He asks, somewhat dreading the answer.

Ladybug opens her yo-yo and shows an image of The Bubbler for Nino to see. When Nino sees it, he looks horrified.

"What is that thing on my head? What am I looking at? Did I do something to piss off the guy? Why am I the only one without a cool costume?" Nino is shocked at what he's seeing and doesn't know how to react. So, he keeps asking questions as he tries to figure out the sight.

Cat Noir winches at that and gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

"It's absolutely terrible. He should go to prison just for designing that and allowing it to be seen in public." Ladybug agrees as she vents her frustrations now that the danger is over.

"Really? He should go to prison for the outfit alone?" Cat Noir asks with an amused look toward his partner.

"YES! It looked terrible! If something didn't happen to make me want to end this Akuma fast, I would have gotten into a shouting match with Hawkmoth about his fashion choice this time." Ladybug tells him with a glare.

"So your weakness is bad design choices?" Cat Noir asks, amusement clear in his tone.

"No, it's one of the things that can make me angry quickly." She calmly corrects him while the scowl remains on her face.

However, her glare turns into one of suspicion as she looks around.

"What's wrong?" Cat Noir asks her when he sees her behavior change.

"Have you seen any other Akumas?" Ladybug asks him as she surveys the area.

Cat Noir's widen, and his fake ears twitch as he tries to pick up on any sound around them while scanning the area with his eyes.

"Now that you mention it, no. The only one I've seen is Nino." Cat Noir states as he starts to grow nervous.

In Hawkmoth's lair, Gabriel smiles and hums a tune as he enters the elevator back to his office.

"You seem happy for someone whose latest Akuma has been defeated," Nooroo says in annoyance.

"There are a couple of reasons for that. Number one, your horrible design is now gone." Gabriel lists off the first one with a smirk as he looks toward the annoyed Nooroo.

That gets a harsh glare from Nooroo, but it's more out of annoyance, with no real venom behind it.

"Number two, they've won the physical battle today," Gabriel states, causing Nooroo to raise an eyebrow.

"The physical battle?" Nooroo asks.

"Aren't you curious why I didn't give The Bubbler any backup despite having the perfect opportunity to?" Gabriel asks his Kwami, who shrugs.

"I figured you did it to spite me for taking over the design process with one of my fabulous designs and because you didn't want to waste any. I'm guessing there was another reason." Nooroo states.

"Correct. I've decided to take a different approach with these children. I attacked the suits before. Now, I'll be attacking the ones behind them." Gabriel informs Nooroo as the elevator goes up.

"I see, so you're going to be putting the mental pressure of knowing you can create multiple Champions at once but not letting them see any." Nooroo understands Gabriel's plan.

"Correct. They'll be watchful for enemies that aren't there in the first place. However, the pressure of knowing they may be followed back to their home or ambushed when they de-transform will remain. They'll be more conservative with their powers and give me a better chance of defeating them once they've noticed the second one is missing." Gabriel explains.

"What if they don't think about it? Young minds are naive and can not notice important details." Nooroo tells him.

"True. However, it's equally normal for young minds' imaginations to run wild. They worry about every little detail. They'll notice. And when they do, they won't get the implications out of their mind." Gabriel explains as the elevator dings.

"I suppose you're right. We'll see how this plan of yours will go. However, I must ask why you didn't just debut the second power secretly and have the second one follow them after an exhausting battle." Nooroo says, causing Gabriel to pause.

He lets out a heavy sigh and looks toward his Kwami.

"I will not deny that one of the reasons is my impatience. However, another reason stems from not having the perfect Champion to fill that role. Magician of Misfortune is too loud and would be caught despite his powers. Evillustrator's costume would draw far too much attention in broad daylight, and it didn't seem like I would get the one I'm looking for any time soon." Gabriel explains.

He stands close to his large design tablet and starts designing a new suit as if he didn't discuss a strategy to defeat Paris' heroes a second ago.

Back with the heroes, they're looking around in uncertainty as they try to figure out what Hawkmoth's planning.

"Maybe the dude didn't have the chance to. If I went after all the adults, that means I went after him, right?" Nino suggests to try and calm the heroes down.

"No, that doesn't sound right." Cat Noir tells his friend.

"It'd be weird if he did something like that since he seems more careful than anything else. He's never come out before, even when it seems like we'll lose." Ladybug explains to the civilian teen.

"Yeah, if it were that easy, we would've already caught him." Cat Noir agrees.

After a few more seconds of scanning the area, Ladybug finally lets up and looks toward her partner.

"We'll worry about this later. Let's take Nino off this roof and talk about this later." Ladybug tells him, causing him to nod.

"Okay." Cat Noir puts Nino over his shoulder, and the two get off the building, Cat Noir taking it slower so Nino won't panic.

As they do this, the fake doorman listens to their conversation and watches them leave on the floor just below the roof.

"Interesting. They're both young and new to being heroes. But in terms of ability, they display obvious talent. Luckily, it seems like the city isn't in as much trouble as we first thought, thanks to these two. I'll have to make a few more trips to be certain, though." The doorman says before heading toward one of the floor's doors and opening it.

The door he opens leads to a pink portal, and the man walks through without care before closing the door.

He isn't the only one observing the heroes, either. Barkk is currently resting high up in mid-air atop his Miraculous' case. He's been watching everything in the city from start to finish to see how its events play out.

"Well, it looks like Plagg and Tikki chose a couple of promising wielders. And it seems Nooroo's taste in fashion hasn't changed either." Barkk says with a smirk as she lazily lays on her side atop the box.

She then moves onto her back and looks to the sky, staring at it thoughtfully.

"What to do? What to do? I should join the fun soon and choose someone to wield me. But who do I want, and which side should I target this time?" Barkk questions before snorting a second later.

"Why am I even asking that? Of course, I'm going with someone heroic at the start this time. I already said that when I was freed. Maybe I should copy the others and go for a pup too." Barkk begins to plan out what she's going to do.

Her eyes narrow in thought as she debates with herself.

"If I'm going down that route, maybe I should choose someone from Marinette's class. Things will become more interesting if a new Miraculous wielder is so close to one of the pre-existing ones. It'll also provide a larger chance for my chosen and the others to grow. Yeah, that could work. We'll have to see if any of them leave an impact on me, though. If not, I'll probably still find someone around the school who meets my current criteria." Barkk plans.

Unlike some Kwami, Barkk is much more dutiful in helping humanity grow. She doesn't choose her wielders based on any form of comfort they can provide or their past, though the comfort is a bonus. She only chooses them based on the potential she can sense from them and how well their position can help as many Miraculous users grow as possible, not just the Dog Miraculous user. She does this because a majority of Miraculous wielders affect history somehow. As such, she believes the best way for humanity to grow is to target the Miraculous wielders. Of course, this line of thinking has led to her choosing quite a few villainous wielders since antagonization has been known to help others grow.

"I can't wait for tomorrow. It'll be a fun scouting trip." Barkk smirks before having her box fly off.

As she flies, she sees various groups of parents and kids hugging each other happily, thankful today's nightmare is over.

One such group is on a houseboat in the canals, with Juleka hugging a young man in his late teens and an older woman with tears streaming down her face.

The young man has grown-out black hair with cyan tips, light blue eyes, and tanned skin. He's wearing a white short-sleeve shirt with a black Jagged Stone imprint on the chest and black marks on the bottom, ripped black jeans, and black white-sole sneakers with various stickers on each shoe. Over his shirt is a light blue denim open jacket with rolled-up sleeves, dark blue ends, a dark blue hood, and white straps.

The older woman has light skin, bright blue eyes behind large red-framed glasses, and long braided, slightly unkempt greenish-gray hair under an indigo headband with a fake flower. She wears a black coat with a golden trim that reaches her knees over a light pink top and black undershirt, blue jeans with flower designs, and a pair of brown boots. She also has a variety of jewelry on her body, from bracelets and rings to necklaces.

"I'm so glad you two are okay. I was so worried." Juleka cries as she tightly clutches the two.

"We're fine, Jules. No harm done." The young man says with a smile while the older woman laughs with a grin.

"Ai, lassie. No need to worry about us. It was quite the experience. Getting to see the stars without needing a spaceship." The older woman tells her without a care in the world.

"You're not supposed to be having fun being sent into space, Mom!" Juleka shouts at the woman, shocking her family slightly.

"Sorry, las." The older woman says while hugging her daughter closely.

"We're okay, Jules. It's alright." The young man tells her while rubbing her back in comfort.

Juleka isn't the only one in their class having a heartfelt reunion. Sabrina keeps her father in an iron-tight grip while crying tears of relief.

"I'm glad you're okay. I thought I'd lost you too." Sabrina cries into his chest as Roger pats her head soothingly while saying.

"It's alright. I'm fine. I promised I wouldn't leave you." Roger calmly tells her in reassurance.

Sabrina keeps crying on him for a minute more before calming down slightly. However, that doesn't stop her from mumbling.

"I wish I could help somehow, like with the last villains. I wish I could help you and the heroes." Sabrina mumbles, just barely loud enough for Roger to hear.

"You're doing fine. Just help keep your classmates safe, and let us handle the villains. The mayor is trying to help the police force keep Paris safe with the heroes. We're getting extra funding and working on ways to handle superpowered criminals. We'll be okay as long as the heroes are around, too. As much as I don't like having people around your age fighting, I can't say they aren't the ones keeping Paris safe right now. I promise we'll all be okay." Roger whispers promises to his daughter.

That seems to help Sabrina's mood, if slightly, as her tears subside slowly.

"Alright. Please be careful, though." Sabrina begs.

Roger gives his daughter a grin before saying.

"Aren't I always?"

Sabrina glares up at him and shouts.

"No, you'll do anything so people will follow the law! No matter how reckless or stupid it is!" She shouts at him in a chastising and annoyed tone. cvRoger gives her a grin before patting her head with a light laugh.

"Don't worry. Your old man is tough. He'll get through this disaster and see you lead a successful life." Roger promises his daughter with a smile.

Sabrina smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Each member of Miss Bustier's class is having their reunions with their families as they happily reunite. Though, there are some quirky ones here and there, such as with Alix's family.

"I can't believe we could see the stars in space for ourselves. It was amazing. Did you know some people theorize the stars are the people who died during each great end and rebirth in our different mythologies?" A tall young man with chin-length slicked back orangish brown hair, pale skin, and blue eyes behind large glasses says.

The young man is dressed in a white shirt with a golden Egyptian eye symbol, tan jeans, golden sandals, and an orange scarf. Over his shirt is a grayish-green jacket with yellow buds along it.

"Jalil, must you keep looking through those conspiracy theory threads? And must you focus on that instead of being happy that we're all safe and together again?" An older man that looks remarkably similar to the now-named Jalil says, exasperated.

The man has short orangish-brown hair, pale skin, a thick brown mustache, and blue eyes behind circular golden-framed glasses.

The older man is wearing a grey jacket over a black vest with a golden Egyptian hieroglyphic design over a purple undershirt. He also has grey pants and brown shoes. Around his neck is a scarf like Alim. However, his is purple.

"Give it up, Dad. We both know Jalil has trouble keeping his priorities straight." Alix says with a relieved smile as she watches her brother talk about another weird theory.

"I'm just saying those theories will get him in trouble one day. It's bad enough he's recently started researching one of our more important exhibits in the Egyptian exhibit. I worry what he may try one day to prove one of his strange theories." Mr. Kubdel tells his daughter while cautiously watching his son.

"You and me both. I'm glad he and you are safe, though." Alix says while hugging her dad, causing him to smile.

"Of course. I don't plan to leave you before your extra special day happens." Mr. Kubdel tells his daughter with a kind smile.

Alix rolls her eyes and says.

"It's just a birthday, Dad. I don't know why you're so excited about it this year." She tells her father.

"You'll see why I think it'll be such an important day for you. Just be patient." Mr. Kubdel promises his daughter.

The rest of the day soon ends for the heroes, and Marinette returns to her room. Nate isn't with her today as he's spending the rest of the day trying to calm down from almost getting sent into space.

Right now, she's at her workstation and is making something.

"What are you doing?" Tikki asks her chosen.

"I'm making a belated birthday gift to give to Adrien tomorrow. I feel bad he didn't get to enjoy having a birthday party today despite how Nino was quickly trying to set one up at the last minute." Marinette explains to her Kwami with a smile.

"Oh, how kind of you. I'm happy to see you in a mood like this despite everything. It just proves that you're someone capable of handling the pressure. I do hope that it remains like this." Tikki tells Marinette with a smile.

Marinette blushes at the compliment before saying.

"I'm not doing anything too difficult outside of being Ladybug, Tikki. Besides, I have Cat Noir and Nate helping me. So, it's not like I'm doing this alone." Marinette tells her Kwami.

Tikki nods her head sagely before saying.

"True. However, you're still handling your double life admirably. I've had users that couldn't do that. You've kept your grades high, won a design competition, impressed a celebrity with your work, and figured out one of the Miracle Box's sides with the barest hint. You have done great for yourself. How you and Cat Noir have handled the opponents you've been up against has also been impressive." Tikki compliments her chosen and her partner once again.

"Thanks. But I thought you said Cat Noir hasn't been handling them well." Marinette asks her Kwami in confusion, remembering the last time Tikki graded her and her partner, even if she disagreed with the assessment.

"That was against Stoneheart, an opponent whom physical attacks were useless against and whose object was within his grip and nearly impossible to get to. For the rest, I've given him passing and higher. Especially since he's gained a second power and isn't as limited." Tikki informs her.

Marinette makes a noise of understanding and goes back to her work.

"Hopefully, you two will continue to grow before any other problems arise," Tikki informs her.

Marinette looks at her Kwami in worry.

"More problems?" She asks.

"Of course, one of the laws of Miraculous users is that they're attracted to each other. Eventually, you'll see more than yourself, Cat Noir, Hawkmoth, and whoever Barkk chooses as her wielder. It's inevitable. It may be someone wishing to help against Hawkmoth, or it may be someone who wants to join in on the chaos. So, you should be careful." Tikki warns her.

Upon hearing this, Marinette's inside stir as she grows nervous at having more enemies besides Hawkmoth since they haven't gotten anywhere against him.

She and Nate have begun investigating him ever since they released Barkk. However, they've never done investigations before and are having trouble figuring out where to start with one. So far, they're looking at recordings of Hawkmoth's announcement and trying to find people with similar facial structures and voices. Unfortunately, it's possible that both were heavily distorted when Hawkmoth made his announcement. So, they could be on a wild goose chase there.

Knowing that and hearing it's possible for them to have to deal with more than just Hawkmoth causes her anxiety to rise.

"Don't worry. You're doing great so far. I'm sure you and Cat Noir can handle anyone else who comes here. Besides, if you're lucky, I'm sure Nate will get a Miraculous of his own to add to your team numbers." Tikki reassuringly tells Marinette while giving her a light pat on the shoulder.

"You think so?" Marinette asks.

"Of course, you and Cat Noir have the strongest and most diverse Miraculous since we're the origin of all other Miraculous. That gives you a far better chance against others. Of course, this doesn't mean you can get cocky. It's still possible for us to lose." Tikki proudly tells Marinette before giving her a warning.

"Well, that's reassuring. And don't worry, Tikki. I'll be ready for whatever happens." Marinette promises. However, it's not as effective since she says it with an uncertain smile.

"I am not worried. I am simply giving you a warning since plenty of my previous holders let the power go to their heads." Tikki tells her with the same smile she usually has and flies off.

Marinette watches her go to the plate of cookies she had set up for the Kwami before nervously returning to her work.

Next Chapter

[the-fanaddict]

an in depth analysis of why every character was written horribly, even without the dumb reset

Steve

I mean this one’s obvious. We had someone with such great character development in Trollhunters, 3Below, and Wizards. Personally think that Steve was fine in Wizards (I like his knight subplot) and I thought they were setting up Steve recreating knights of the roundtable, but guess not lol. 

He didn’t even get to fight. He had a strong start in the movie and his concern for Jim really shows his growth from being his bully, but then he got immediately turned into a punchline.

Eli

All of Eli’s involvement with the plot happened offscreen. It’s great that he created the gun robot, but that’s it. Then he got turned into a midwife for Steve. 

Krel

Also a lot of the involvement happened offscreen. He remade the amulet which was cool, but it should’ve held more weight. The amulet should’ve been introduced way later into the movie. 

And okay as much as I love Stuart why did he need to fix the Amulet KREL WAS RIGHT THERE WHY WAS STUART RELEVANT

I know Stuart is good with electronics and he even made Seklos’ canon back in 3below but this is such an annihilation of Krel’s genius.

Plus the whole “It needs to have Merlin’s magic” thing was bs HELLO DOUXIE WAS RIGHT THERE THE ORIGINAL AMULET WAS ALSO MADE WITH HIS MAGIC

Aja

I’m glad she’s come into the role of queen, but by god she was so cold to Jim for no reason. She knows what it’s like to be powerless. She lost her parents to a coup and couldn’t do anything!!!! SHE AND JIM HAD THE MOST UNDERSTANDING IN 3BELOW. 

Also evacuating the earth goes so much against who she was in 3below. She ADORED the Earth. Loved everything about it, not just the people. 

And by god the kissing Akiridion lore is so dumb and so obviously thrown in there with no thought on how it would’ve affected 3Below. The kissing tree is ruined and her relationship with Steve is ruined.

Claire

bruh what do you mean her magic is spent this was not a problem in Wizards. She barely does any shadow magic and then it is spent. How many times are you gonna nerf her like that

I’ve always said Jlaire is what Hiccstrid should’ve been and in the end they become what I dislike about Hiccstrid. Claire was a prize for Jim and was reduced to Girlfriend who Fights. She didn’t have any meaningful or fun interactions with any other character. Really nobody did

Douxie

@douxie-casperan​ goes in much more in depth here https://douxie-casperan.tumblr.com/post/657457589076000768/rise-of-the-titans-and-the-assassination-hisirdoux but i’ll add my thoughts as well

the narrative just gives him one big trauma conga line without addressing any of it. Douxie was tortured by the order and absolutely no one wants to check he’s alright????? Just immediately start questioning him?? 

Archie was his companion for CENTURIES and all he says is “I hope he’s happy?????” honestly this was just httyd3 for them but without any of the emotion

Nari died and Douxie should’ve fucking snapped by that point. He should’ve gone avatar mode again when Nari got stabbed and help Nari kill Skrael on the spot. And then Nari would die. He should’ve been on his knees sobbing hearing Nari say “no more running” one last time. It would’ve been a great parallel to Wizards. 

And then he also was nerfed with his powers but with no explanation. The body swap spell was great. Power move. Everything else was no. Not to mention his magic was so inconsistent like hello that’s not what tenebris excellium does

He took on the order alone in wizards with a tenebris excellium but then bellroc overpowers him and flicks him away like w h  at. 

Toby

If Toby was going to die and have his friendship with Jim be prioritized at all, then for the love of god stop reducing him to a punchline. I mean the series has this issue as well, but he’s supposed to be important here. There are barely any meaningful moments with Jim outside of his death scene and moments from the series. 

Charlemagne 

Literally used as a plot device. Guy who knows a guy. I mean, that’s kind of what he was used for in Wizards as well, but his character moments with Douxie was why he was important. Honestly no reason for him to be in this movie. 

Archie

Archie CHOSE TO BE A FAMILIAR AND DEFY CHARLIE’S WISHES TO BE WITH DOUXIE AND THEN HE SAYS NO THANKS I’LL JUST BE WITH MY DAD FOREVER????????

Strickler + Nomura

Literally brought into this movie just to be a casualty. I will admit I like the small interaction between Douxie and Nomura but he barely knows her so there’s no reaction to it. Their deaths were so goddamn stupid how would a bomb defeat a magical being and why would you send a changeling to brazil. 

Jim

Jim. Oh buddy Jim. For a character with pretty much the only tangible arc in this movie, they sure botched that up. I was ready for the arc to be about him being weak, but I figured it would be due to turning human, not losing the amulet. We’ve been through the fact that without the amulet he’s still the trollhunter. But now he’s back to being powerless. That’s what his arc should’ve been about being powerless, not the amulet. 

I’m not a fan of making him the center of the movie when he’s had way more screentime than anyone else. and to learn a lesson HE ALREADY LEARNED. I wouldn’t have minded as much if his arc was handled any good. 

I hate to say this about one of my favorite emotional characters, but Jim kept angsting way too much throwing pity party after pity party for himself. Like we get it dude. Outside of that he was so emotionless as a leader. There was no charm to him at all. He honestly could’ve given less of a crap about anyone else besides the og gang.  He honestly reminds me a little of rtte!hiccup and how hiccup treated his friends terribly from time to time rip

Douxie getting tortured?? After he fought tooth and nail for him when Jim was hurt in wizards??? Immediately starts pestering him for answers. Where is his kindness? His selflessness? The trademark Jim sacrifice??? BECAUSE GOING BACK SURELY WASN’T A SACRIFICE

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

--

masterpost

[nerdypanda3126]

Playing with Fire

Hope you had a Happy Valentine's Day, @bloody-no-kissu! I stepped in as your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer 😁💖

The prompt I chose to go with was: fantasy, the princess falls for the dragon instead – marinette is a princess and bc of a curse she is locked in a tower with a dragon (luka). while she waits for the destined knight to save her from her curse she spends more and more time with luka. they fall in love.

So I did take a few liberties on this to weave it together, but I really hope you like it! Huge thanks to @writtenbyrain for the beta read on this!  

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Marinette had been told the story of her curse so many times she could recite it by heart. 

“You were a baby,” her dad would tell her. “A tiny little thing, still all wrapped up in diapers. And that… thing—” he always growled at that, as if the dragon she’d been found curled up with had personally insulted him. He would shake his head, and give her a pitying look. “—It stole you from us. And by the time we found you, you were already cursed… already...” he would gesture to her at that point, indicating the way she was every night as soon as the moon slipped above the horizon.

Every night she was engulfed in a blue flame that made it impossible for anyone to come near. Impossible for her to be touched. 

What she was never able to find out, though, was why. Why the dragon had apparently chosen her to curse, why it hadn’t killed her outright when she was barely out of diapers. Why she kept dreaming of sleeping safely within its coils, her fire cooled as if that was where she had always belonged. 

She knew where it lived now. Everyone knew. It had taken up residence in a lonely tower high up on the mountain. Everyone said it was guarding a valuable secret; why else would it be there? Of course, people had tried to find out, although they often came back singed and babbling. Something about a dark sorcerer or a beautiful prince or a shapeshifter or… the stories always varied. 

Finally, a reward was offered. The dragon had been a menace for far too long, the writ proclaimed. Anyone able to bring back its head would be handsomely compensated.

More people flocked to the cause: soldiers from far away places wearing shiny armor and bearing sharp, glinting swords, sorcerers with staffs and books claiming they had this method or another to calm the beast. None of them returned. 

Night after night, Marinette’s flame burned hotter, brighter. And night after night she dreamed of the dragon. She couldn’t tell anymore what was memory and what was a dream. She thought she remembered the dragon plucking her from the river she’d fallen into, breathing life and fire into her lungs, curling up around her to keep her warm until her parents found her. But that couldn’t have been true. The dragon was dangerous, everyone said so. And it had left her with this unbearable curse. 

“I’m going after it,” she proclaimed to her parents after the worst night she'd had in all of her eighteen years of bearing the curse. 

Her dreams had been strong that night. She had awoken to her mom shaking her, screaming, desperately pleading with her to wake up. Her hands and arms up to the elbows had been irreparably burned in the process. It wasn't until Marinette had struggled into consciousness that she realized she’d been burning their house down in her sleep. 

Her parents shared a look after her declaration. One of, “We shouldn’t let her, but what else can we do?” 

Marinette winced as she caught a glimpse of her mom’s burned forearms, still wrapped in bandages and salves to soothe the shiny, blistered skin underneath. Her eyes slid over to the corner where she slept, with only her silhouette outlined in the charcoal her fire had left behind. 

“I have to do this,” she said resolutely. “If there’s one good thing to come of this—” she gestured to herself and to the flames that spit and crackled around her “—it means I can’t be burned if I go at night. With the money, you can fix what happened. I'll stay in the stone tower after the dragon's gone where I can't hurt anyone else. Everyone wins," she finished glumly. 

Her dad sighed in resignation and wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders.

So the next day just before dusk, they packed a meal for her to take with her, kissed her fondly on both her cheeks, and waved goodbye as she started up the path. 

For it was goodbye. A sacrifice Marinette was more than willing to make. 

As she trudged up the mountain path, the forest grew darker and more foreboding. The only saving grace was that as the light faded, her flame started burning, providing her with light to see by, although she did catch a branch or two on fire as she went. She poured her water out carefully on each one, putting it out without wasting her own resources. If she ran out before she made it to the stone tower, it was entirely possible she’d burn the entire forest down, and it would spread back to her village, back to her parents’ house. 

She soldiered on, even as brambles tore at her skirt and arms, as she grew weary of walking, as she ran lower and lower on life-saving water. 

It was the dead of night when she finally reached the tower, and the dragon wasn’t anywhere in sight. She walked up to the tower using the flagstone path, admiring the well-manicured garden from afar. The tower was quiet, almost as if it was slumbering along with the dragon.

She ran her hand along the cool stone wall as she mounted the steps one by one, dreading what she might find when she got to the top. 

Halfway up, though, she ran into—well, if there was a beautiful prince trapped here, then it must be him. He was tall and pale, with a shock of dark hair and enthralling blue eyes framed by deep purple circles, as if he never slept. He seemed startled to see her at first, though she was used to that. A girl on fire was a startling sight.

But then he reached out a hand, smiling. She flinched away from him. His kind smile shifted to sympathy and he dropped his hand. 

“That’s quite a power you’ve got,” he noted easily. 

She shifted uncomfortably away from him. He didn’t seem affected by the heat she always emanated, but she was still careful not to get too close to anyone. 

“The dragon cursed me with it when I was a small child,” she said.

His head quirked sideways, as if he were appraising her or trying to remember something. When he didn’t respond, Marinette tried again. 

“I’ve come for the reward. Is it asleep?” 

“He,” the man said stiffly. “And he’s gone for now. He disappears at night. You’re welcome to come back in the morning to try your luck.”

There was a note of despondency in his tone, and he scooted past her in the narrow stairwell to continue on his way down. 

She considered continuing up the stairs, but if the dragon was gone, there was no point to it. She hesitated before she followed him—the prince, he had to be—down and back outside. 

There was a pool of moonlight in the very center of the garden, and he walked over to it and lay down as if basking in it. The sigh he let out was at once content and terribly lonely. For some reason, it pulled at her heart. She knew that feeling. She had come to terms with her curse, with her lot in life. But that didn’t make it any better when she was unable to sleep soundly without worrying about her flames burning out of control.

She came as close to him as she dared and sat cross-legged on the flagstone path. 

“You’re not… trapped here?” she asked. Every story she’d ever heard of the handsome young prince was that he was trapped, doomed, kept prisoner by the monster. 

He didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled again. “Oh, I am.” 

“But…” she glanced around. There were no fences, no guards, no magical barriers. She had walked right in, after all. “Can’t you just… leave?” 

He did open an eye at that. “Can’t you just… put that fire out?” He smirked before he closed his eyes again and settled with his face towards the moon. “I’ve been trapped here for longer than I care to remember and now…” He looked over at her again, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. “So are you.” 

She looked around again. Still, nothing that would prevent her, or him for that matter, from leaving. He sighed. 

“The dragon, he’s been waiting for you. That… well, some probably call it a curse, but it's more like a bond.” 

“A bond?” 

“You were a small child, you said? When it happened?” 

She nodded, and he nodded back in answer. 

“The dragon was young, too. A child in his own right. He wouldn’t have known…” He sighed and closed his eyes again. “He wouldn’t have known that if he shared his breath with a human, he’d be claiming them. Bonded with them for the rest of his life, tethered to them. Cursed to share a half-life with them.” 

“I’m… sorry... “ She struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. “You’re saying… I’ve been claimed?” 

“If I had to guess, I'd say your fire only burns at night, right? As soon as the sun sets? Maybe only while you slept at first, but it's gotten worse lately?” 

She blinked at him. Her mother’s burned arms floated back to the forefront of her memory. 

“You have a fire burning in you that’s never been yours to control. If you had stayed away from him any longer, you would’ve burnt out of control until everyone you knew and loved was dead. You’re his and he’s yours, for better or worse.” 

“I… wait… you’re saying…”

“You’re intended to be either the dragon's bride or his killer,” he finished bitterly, turning his head away from her. “Not that he has much say in the matter, either, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But if I do… kill him…” she started, grimacing at the thought, “do you think that would lift my curse?” 

“Yours and mine, too.”

“You don’t look very cursed to me,” she muttered. Other than being trapped, as he’d claimed, he seemed perfectly normal. Every bit the beautiful prince she’d heard tales of. With the moonlight falling over him, he was paler still and he looked like a marble statue that had fallen on the ground. His shaggy dark hair flopped over his ears in ragged lines, and even resting he looked tense.

To her surprise, he started chuckling, although there wasn’t any mirth to it. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Nothing,” he said, although he sat up and faced her. “I just wonder if you’ll still think that in the morning.” 

“What happens in the morning?” 

“The dragon comes back,” he said simply, and he pushed himself up to stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in. I have a feeling I’ll sleep better knowing my savior has come at last.”

He quirked his lips in a funny sideways smile, then offered her a hand again. She shook her head at him and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise.” 

She hesitated. The fear of hurting him flared strong and her fire started flickering and sputtering along with her anxiety. His eyes softened, and he reached forward, into her aura of flames. To her complete and utter surprise, his hand came through unscathed. 

“I told you, it’s okay,” he said. 

Stunned, Marinette  laid her hand in his and he helped her stand up. Her fire raced along his arm and arced over his body until he was just as engulfed as she was. But rather than being harmed by it, it seemed he was helping her with it, sharing some of the burden. In fact, when he released her, she looked down at her hands and was shocked to find that the moonlight was the only thing illuminating them. 

She looked back up at him and he smiled, although it was still tinged with sadness, and he gestured with his head to the spot of moonlight that still spilled across the grass.

She ran, giddy to be released from her curse for the first night in her entire life and fearful that it would come back before she could race back to the safety of the stone path. As she rolled in the cool grass, she couldn't help the giggles that escaped her, the pure bliss of being safe under the stars overtaking her. When she finally stilled, she sighed as she looked up at the bright, twinkling lights, unobscured for the first time. They were so clear, all the way up there, like she could reach out and touch one. She lifted her hand up and pretended she could, cupping the full moon between her hands as if she held it close.

She’d gotten so used to the flames crackling around her that without them the world seemed deathly silent. Peaceful, but eerie. 

When she sat back up and turned to look back at the path, she found that the prince had disappeared. To turn in, as he’d said, although he hadn’t told her where she might sleep.

She looked at her hands again, so foreign to her without the bright blue flames. They looked smaller. More fragile. 

Suddenly, she realized that was the one thing protecting her from the dragon. The reason she’d felt so confident in coming up here. She couldn’t be burned at night because she was already engulfed in flames. But he’d taken her flames away. He’d gifted her the ability to roll in the grass without burning anything down, sure, but he’d also stolen her protection. 

Even though her flames weren’t snapping around her, she felt the panic rise up in her chest. What if he was a dark sorcerer after all? What if it was his job to lure people here and steal their power? What if this had all been a trap? 

She stumbled to her feet and clenched her fists. He’d seemed so kind. She’d trusted him. She hadn’t thought he would steal from her.

She marched back inside, uncaring if the grass sizzled under her feet or not. The tower stairs only went up, so she followed them, winding her way up to the top, unsure of what she might say or do if she found him, but certain that she had to find him regardless.

The sound of heavy, deep breathing hit her first. It wasn’t human, that was for sure. It was something much bigger. 

She tiptoed around the last bend, her fear climbing with each step.

She held her breath as a large room at the top came into view. One wall was completely open, and there was a huge, sleek, black, serpentine figure wound tightly around itself in the moonlight that spilled into the corner. One wing was draped over its head, like a curtain.

She held her breath as she backed out of the room. 

Hadn’t he said the dragon wouldn’t come back until morning? Hadn’t he said it disappeared at night? Hadn’t he said—

She cursed the dark sorcerer, the beautiful prince, whoever he was, under her breath as she turned and tripped her way back down the stairs. He had also said she couldn’t leave, but based on the way he’d lied about everything else, that’s exactly what she would do. She would run, all the way back to her parents, to her village, even if it meant sleeping on a stone bed the rest of her life. 

As she ran towards the forest, her steps started sizzling underneath her again, and her hands started to flame up before she could stop them. Her tears dissipated before they even had a chance to fall. 

From the top of the tower, she heard a strangled cry, still inhuman, but closer to it, and filled with pain. It spurred her on, although the fire was starting to burn white around her hands, stinging her painfully, and she shook her hands, trying to put it out. The farther she ran, the more the fire seeped into her skin, making her cry out. 

There was a great whoosh of wind behind her, then footsteps, matching her pace, although more spread out. The pain was blinding, but still she pushed on against whatever unknown barrier was causing it. She cradled her hands to her chest and struggled as each step forward was now a shooting, searing, white-hot bolt of pain through her. 

Strong hands caught her from behind and pulled her backwards—the hands of the dark, beautiful sorcerer. She kicked against him, trying to pull away, but he held fast. The pain behind her eyes cleared and she realized he was taking the fire away from her again. 

“You… can’t… leave…” he huffed as he dragged her backwards. She tried to claw away from him every step of the way.

Finally, though, he’d pulled her back to the clearing and dropped her on the stone path unceremoniously. She bolted back up to her feet and he caught her around her middle and shoved her back down, moving at the same time to stand in front of her and block her path. 

“You can’t leave,” he panted again. “Or we both die.” 

“I’m supposed to believe you’re kidnapping me for my own good?” she spat and scrambled back to her feet. “And who the hell are you, anyway?” 

“Sorry. Luka. I’m Luka.” He held his hand out for her and she smacked it away. He winced. “You have every right to be upset. But listen to me. I’m just trying to protect you. You can’t leave this tower without me.” 

He was still trying to catch his breath, and she noticed for the first time that his eyes had changed to serpentine slits and there was a distinct black sheen on the backs of his hands that worked its way up his forearms.

As she watched, he grabbed her hand and shivered as she was once again engulfed in blue flames and he returned to normal. 

"We're connected," he explained softly. "We share the fire. It's mine in the morning and yours at night. Now that you've come here, you can't leave unless you're either with me or there's no fire to share, or it rips us both apart. So for your own sake, you either stay put or you kill me, do you understand?"

He released her hand, and she looked at them incredulously. That he'd taken her fire away and given it back was proof enough of what he was saying. 

"Kill you?" she asked, his words sinking in through the remnants of pain behind her eyes. "As in… you're the…the...?"

"Yes."

"But you're…" she gestured to him, to his humanness, and he shifted uncomfortably under her bewildered gaze. 

"I know. Like I said, it's yours at night. That was the first time in 18 years I've had the moonlight on my scales." 

She gasped for breath as her fire started spitting around her, casting off sparks that came dangerously close to the grass. "I can't… you're human, or half-human or… I can't… I can't do this!" 

"That's okay. Hey. It's okay." His hands hovered over hers, not quite touching her, leaving her fire with her. "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" 

"Ma-Ma-Marinette…" she stuttered as she attempted to keep breathing. 

"Okay, Ma-Ma-Marinette." He smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Let's just take this slow, okay? Would you be willing to stay here tonight with me? We can talk more in the morning." 

"You're a dragon in the morning," she said, then a hysteric giggle burst out of her at how ridiculous that sounded. 

He chuckled with her and laid the back of his hand against hers. As her fire arced across to him, his eyes turned into slits again and his scales slid over his arm. "I don't have to be anymore." 

She gaped at him as he pulled his hand away again and slid back to humanity. 

"One night. That's all I'm asking." 

Her dream popped back in her head and she blushed even before the question was out of her mouth. "If I sleep… you know, touching you, or like, against you… would that…?" She gestured to the fire still burning around her and then to him. 

He smiled again and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I think so. But everything's stone, so you won't burn anything down if you'd… you know, if you'd rather not." 

She considered for a moment until her curiosity got the better of her.

"One night," she agreed.

He let out a sigh of relief and gestured for her to lead the way. 

As she mounted the stone steps again, her fire—his fire, she corrected herself, he'd shared it with her—bounced off the smooth stone and flickered along with her nerves. This time at the top of the stairs, she paused to look at the room Luka had called his own for 18 years.

There was a nest of pillows piled in the corner, a stack of books with open pages fluttering in the breeze that flowed through the wide opening, a lyre leaning against the smooth wall, and bits and pieces of armor lined up along the wall like trophies. She recognized a few here and there and gulped. No wonder they hadn't returned. 

She half-turned to him, her question dying in her throat, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Tomorrow," he said, gesturing for her to continue past everything. She did, but paused before her flames touched the pillows. 

"Here," he said, and threw out a hand for her to take. Tentatively, she took hold of him and watched as he shivered and his transformation took hold. 

He kept eye contact with her as scales slithered over his arms, his hands turned to claws, wings erupted from somewhere around his shoulders, and his body elongated until it was a solid length of powerful muscle.

She slid her hand to what was about his neck and he blinked slowly at her before lowering himself to the pillows and coiling his body tightly around itself, tucking his legs in what seemed to be a familiar position. 

It was a bit awkward to maneuver herself into his coils without taking her hand off him, but they managed and he draped his wing over her, for warmth she assumed, because the breeze that was drifting in was nipping at her exposed skin. And he was warm, she realized, like having his fire returned to him made him a living furnace.

She could see it, when she twisted to look at him: a deep blue illuminating the thinner skin at the base of his neck and flaring brighter in his chest as he breathed. 

She curled into him and fell asleep with his deep, heavy breathing in her ears and his sleek scales shifting under her hands.  

[mooniefics]

— quietly (it was told to believe)

pairing : connie springer / reader

word count : 2.4k

tags : heartache, hurt / comfort, friendship / love, mourning, first kiss

summary : life has been unkind to connie springer, and you've been there every step of the way.

— originally posted 1 / 24 / 21 —

"connie.." you tugged at the reins in your right hand, guiding your horse over to trot beside his, "are you alright?"

the sun had just set below the horizon, barely lighting the navy sky enough for you to see the thin clouds stretching out over it, the torch in your non-steering hand providing the best illumination over your friend's face. he looked almost dazed before you'd caught his attention, staring off into the distance at what seemed to be the castle ruins your group was making its way towards, but they were unfocused, blank, eyes filled with something so unfamiliar and sorrowful.

he righted his expression instantly when he turned to you, smiling wide enough that his cheeks puffed and his lids squeezed shut, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. "yeah! but today has been so long, i'm honestly just ready to get some sleep."

you knew that couldn't possibly be true, not after what you'd witnessed in ragako. he'd been calling out for his family, tears in his eyes, just to find his home completely crushed, ruined under the disfigured body of a titan. and though reiner had reached him first to offer comfort, you had caught the way connie's voice wavered, alarmed words spilling out of his as he pleaded with his friend to believe him, that the frail looking abomination before him had spoken and welcomed him home. and while you didn't believe that had really happened, you were sure that such a jarring sight couldn't have been good for him, that maybe in his hysteria to find any sign of life his mind had begun to play tricks on him.

and you'd been worried all throughout your team's trek, how his face had gone from tight with fear and adrenaline to resigned and despondent, then weighed down into the expression you'd seen before he put on a mask of bravery and enthusiasm. he looked so tired, entirely overwhelmed with the reality that his entire family may be dead—were most likely dead—and you couldn't imagine that you or anybody else would fair much better in such a situation. but you simply nodded at his false reassurance, cognizant of your comrades flanking you, not wanting to pry into such a fresh, vulnerable wound and humiliate him before the people he wanted so desperately to be strong for.

so you allowed the silence to fall around the two of you on the remainder of the journey to the castle, air filled with the soft pops and snaps of your burning torches and the dull clop of hooves on the dry ground. it was after you'd all tied up your horses, stretched out your sore legs and backs and barely explored the decrepit space before convening for a brief moment on the bottom floor to take inventory, that everyone had begun to drift off in their own directions. ymir declaring she would look for more food, the veterans taking up the mantle of titan watching on the lookout of the tower, reiner eventually taking off after ymir, christa disappearing down a hall with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes—and suddenly, it was just you and connie alone, sitting in silence beside each other around the small, crackling fire.

"connie," you tried, quietly, hesitantly reaching out to settle your hand over his on the cool stone floor, "you know i'm here.."

he didn't reply, vacant eyes gazing into the flames licking at the darkened kindling, and you could see how the tears glimmered on his lashes, bottom lip wobbling before he pressed his mouth into a thin line. "i just— i don't understand." he whispered weakly, "what did the people of my village, my family.. my mother.. what did they do to deserve this?"

you inched closer, fingers curling around his palm, feeling a twinge in your own heart as you replied. "nothing. they didn't do anything. it was just... a terrible accident."

you hated that you could only offer him such a lame explanation at the moment, but you were as much in the dark on the matter as he was. and though your words may have not comforted him, your touch seemed to make up for it, allowing him to turn him your shoulder and squeeze your hand tightly in his own, just barely trembling, feeling the light drip of tears wetting your shirt.

"it just hurts, you know?" he murmured in your shirt, voice fraying at the edges with sadness.

"i know, connie." you took a deep breath, "one day, things will be better."

he sniffled, swallowing thickly, pulling away to wipe his free hand down his face, hopeless hazel eyes blinking at you. "do you really think so?"

you didn't, you never had, not even on your best days, not when you were lying in bed staring up at the dark in the dorms, not when you were fighting for your life and watching the people you'd come to know be struck down for no good reason, their screamed last words and snapping bones and splattered blood as they disappeared forever into the stomachs of titans.

you could feel that pity, that empathy weighing down your heart heavy even further as you gazed at him, eyes stinging with your own tears as you told him, quietly. "we just have to believe."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you didn't know what hurt more in that moment—the heat still lingering over your skin from the steam of your gas tank, the way the belts of your harness were digging uncomfortably into your chest and thighs, mikasa and armin's broken screams as they kneeled on the ground beside sasha, paying no mind to how her blood was seeping into the fabric of their uniform, or connie's face as he staggered to his feet, taut with horror and such an indescribable grief as he stumbled into eren's holding quarters.

you were paralyzed, staring down at your friend, pale and still on the floor of the airship, your breathing so fast that you barely felt like you were getting any air in, heart a few frantic beats away from bursting in your chest. every part of you felt almost entirely numb, falling to your knees and unable to do nothing but gaze on at the scene before you. you couldn't believe that this was how it had all ended for sasha, after surviving three years of cadet training, four years in the scouts, countless expeditions outside the wall, even trips across the ocean—you couldn't believe that this was where sasha met her demise, on an airship away from home, at the hands of a child, still wondering about food until the very end.

visiting her grave was a dreary, surreal affair, and finding niccolo, the man who'd brought her so much joy through his cooking, so confused and anguished as he mourned despite having only known her for such a short amount of time. but even after he'd left with jean's arm around his shivering shoulders, and mikasa had murmured her soft goodbyes when she caught sight of the sun beginning to sink below to horizon, connie still remained, and you stayed behind with him.

only after everyone else had left did he allow himself to cry, trembling as he kneeled before her grave, head resting forward against the engraved headstone, tears dripping down onto the flowers that had been lain before it. he sobbed and cursed, clutching his hands to his chest, letting out the occasional strained whisper of "sasha.. y-you idiot.. why did you have to go and l-leave me behind so soon..?"

and you turned away to give him his privacy, letting your own tears roll freely down your face as you stared out into the orange sky. but eventually he fell silent, and you slowly knelt down beside him, gingerly placing a hand over his back. "connie, it's late, we should get going." you tried not to let your voice waver for his sake, forcing a small smile as you added on, "dinner'll be served soon. sasha wouldn't have wanted us to miss it."

he let out a wry chuckle, lifting his head to gaze at you with teary, wistful eyes. but they flickered back to her grave for just a brief second, and any semblance of a smile on his lips faded, features instead expressing such a raw, incessant sorrow. "things will get better one day, won't they? maybe sasha won't be there, but we'll live to see for her, won't we?"

you bit at the inside of your cheek, forcing down a sob threatening to shake you as you nodded, settling your other hand over his on the ground just as you had at the ruins of utgard.

"we will. i believe in us. i promise we'll see it for her."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"connie locked himself in his room again."

that was all jean had to say before you were up on your feet, walking briskly down the halls to find him. your first few knocks at the door went unanswered, but you persisted, rapping at it more forcefully. "connie, please open up. it's me."

after a moment, you heard heavy footsteps staggering toward the door, uncoordinated hands wrestling with the knob's lock before it unlatched, the door swinging open to reveal your friend, eyes low and face flushed with intoxication, red cheeks gleaming with tears. but before you could say anything, he was tugging you in by the wrist, throwing the door shut behind you and locking it, stalking back over to his bed and seating himself on the edge of the mattress, balancing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"don't want anyone else t' see me.." he faltered, and though you couldn't see his face, you could hear in his voice that he'd begun to cry again, "like this."

you felt your heart clench in your chest, taking in the state of his quarters. his sheets were messy and twisted, like he'd been thrashing about in his sleep, and the bottle of liquor that lay forgotten on the floor was completely empty, the only light being provided by the dim oil lamp burning in the corner.

"connie.." you sat beside him, arm curling around his shaking form.

"i just don't understand," he slurred, nails digging into his scalp, "i don't fuckin' understand what they did to deserve this! my m-mom, my dad.. sunny an' martin.. s-s-sasha... they were all good people.. why does everyone keep leaving me.. why does everybody keep dying..?"

you didn't know what to say, what could you possibly say to someone who had lost so much that hadn't been told to them a thousand times before? i'm sorry? it'll be ok? things will get better eventually? you didn't even believe that assertion yourself, despite having told him for the last four years over and over that the happiness he deserved—the happiness he'd earned through so much hardship—would come someday if he just believed it would.

"i don't know," you whispered, a hand gently coaxing him to sit up, settling on his warm, wet cheek to guide his gaze onto your face, "but you're still here for a reason. we both are. and i know that everybody we know who has died deserved nothing more than to live a long happy life free of all the shit that's going on now, but now it's our job to make sure everyone who has been lucky enough to make it this far will be able to see that happy ending we've all been working so hard for."

you couldn't help but cry alongside him with the way he was looking at you, with such admiration and sadness shining in his eyes, a trembling hand rising to rest over the one at his face. "do you promise?" he croaked, leaning into your touch, "do you promise that you'll live to see the end with me?"

"i promise." you said without hesitation, "i'll be with you every step of the way."

there was death looming over your shoulder just about everyday now, whether it was the thought of your own demise, or that of your remaining friends, or the nightmares of your fallen comrades that haunted your dreams, it was always there, ever-present, clinging to you like a dark shroud. but for now, in the flickering light of his room, his slender fingers threading between your own, his presence warm and comforting beside you despite the despair you shared, you felt like you could truly, honestly promise him that you two would make it.

and you didn't pull away when he leaned forward, eyes hazy, shining and full of more emotions than you could possibly discern, then gone as his lids fluttered shut. his kiss was tender, almost bittersweet, brackish with tears and sharp with the taste of alcohol on his lips, hand trembling as it squeezed yours. and for the moment, you relished in the feeling of him, in all his agony and adoration and steadfastness, every bit of him that you'd loved in so many ways for so long. and though you wished to stay as you were all night, you remembered the empty bottle at your feet, thinking about whether if you managed to put him bed now if he'd be able to get enough rest to sleep away the majority of the hangover he would be sure to have tomorrow.

so you pulled away, smiling at him, patting his cheek affectionately before you pulled yourself to your feet. "you need to get to bed soon. think about how much of a headache it'll be if you don't sleep this off."

"fine." he had sobered up enough to resign to your logic, standing with huff to join you, stooping low to snatch the bottle off the ground and dump it in the small wastebasket by his door as you flapped out his sheets.

you proceeded across the room to the lamp, pleased with yourself when you heard him clambering into bed behind you, moving to the window to shut his curtains before making your way back over to him.

"g'night."

"goodnight, connie." you bent down to plant a chaste peck over his forehead, able to see his face flush with the thin beam of moonlight peeking through the gap in the thin drapes, "i'll see you in the morning."

you left his room, making sure to quietly shut the door behind you, wandering back down the now darkened hallways to your quarters, an odd, but definitely not unwelcoming optimism for the future fluttering about in your chest—a future you could really believe in for the two of you to share.

[vanillasakura]

IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music 

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted 

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

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Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy. 

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it. 

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to. 

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her. 

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing. 

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but. 

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman. 

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable. 

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in. 

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.” 

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.” 

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. 

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.” 

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next. 

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh. 

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.” 

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?” 

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?” 

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment. 

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on. 

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled. 

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

[kannra21]

Not Weak

Geten found herself in a tricky situation and she doesn't want Re-Destro to find out. How can a certain fire-user help her by making things even more complicated?

characters: dabi (todoroki touya) x f!geten

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, past memories, scars, abuse mention, foul language, comfort, making out

notes: I'd like to thank @seenalready13 for proofreading this work since I can be v clumsy with grammar haha. I'm v grateful for the help! And also, the picture above belongs to 九わん (@91qwn), here's the link to the artwork. Please support their work!

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Geten, as the keystone of the entire army, had the task of leading her group and ensuring that anyone within their ranks followed her instructions. The loyalty of their people was unquestionable as everyone adhered to Destro's teachings, and she was immensely proud of her Cryokinesis. 

The ice-user was grateful to their grand commander for granting her this amazing opportunity of making up for all the great things that he's done for her. She wore an honorable title, and her reputation has risen a lot since the hooning of her meta ability for years. However, she did experience all sorts of things their organization had to offer from the moment Re-Destro promoted her to his right-hand woman, believing that she'd be strong enough to take on the responsibility and he was right. It wasn't like she was bothered too much, especially since dealing with a couple of thugs on her own was no big deal for her. Still, this didn't mean that after performing their duties the soldiers couldn't relax and show their true colors.

This was the case with one guy in particular, who was casually hitting on her and calling her pet names which were utterly gross and humiliating. She had the utmost need to wipe the fucker out of the face of the Earth, but she also knew damn well that Re-Destro would disapprove of such actions considering that the army must avoid inner conflicts at all costs. Of course, she wanted to take matters into her own hands, to prove to the commander that she was deserving of her title, but the jerk simply wouldn't take her seriously as she wanted to be through with whatever problem she had without necessarily dragging Re-Destro into it. That's why she decided to take the easier route and use someone to her own advantage.

"What's in there for me?" Dabi asked, uninterested as he fixed the staples on his burnt skin.

It's true that they were partnered up to share their leading spot at the Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment: Violet, but this didn't mean that they had to play nice with each other. Especially after Geten's offensive speech of power and people's place in this world. 

She clenched her fists in her pockets; of course, she should've known that he'd ask for something in return. "I don't have much to offer,” she said through greeted teeth. 

She looked almost pitiful if it weren't for her leading position; she felt stupid to even ask for help when she could've just ended the whole mess with one swift motion of her ice, and bam, the fool's dead. Well, if things could be that easy.

"I... I'M THE TOP LIEUTENANT AND THEREFORE I DEMAND OBEDIENCE! LIKE I NEED TO CONFIDE IN YOU, BURNT CHICKEN NUGGET SCUM!"

"THE FUCK-" Dabi stood up, fire flaring up in his hand and ready to strike as he saw Geten backing off with ice covering her right arm, bracing herself for the upcoming attack.

And then he saw it, at this very moment, the look of hesitation and unease covering her blue eyes. She... didn't want to fight? Was she defending herself? It reminded Dabi of something else from his past, or rather someone, defending themselves from his flames, wearing the exact same expression on their face while protecting his youngest brother. The dripping water from her ice washed over his memories as he obtained one after another in a frantic blur. Nostalgia soon followed the guilt, and it tore him apart, except he didn't want to show it, but Geten already noticed his anger faltering which was her cue to relax.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered under his breath, barely for her to hear. 

"What?" as the question rolled out of her mouth, she internally lost herself in delirium "BLUEFLAME CRISPY MCBACON JUST APOLOGIZED WTFWTFWTFWTFWTWTF-"

"Geten?"

"YES?" she snapped, too loud for what she initially intended. 

"I'll help you, and there's actually something you can do for me in return."

She crossed her arms and smirked confidently at him from her previous ego boost, much to his frowning expression. 

"Whatcha suggestin'?"

"I'll scare the fucker off, and you'll then... cool down my skin from using my flames. Deal?"

Geten looked at him for a moment to determine if he was joking about the offer but from the looks of it and his deep husky voice that she got used to oh so many times during the past week of working with him, she concluded that he was, indeed, not messing around. Dabi expected her to laugh it off or straight up refuse whatever suggestion he had on mind, but from the manner she weighed her choices in her head and the way she looked at him, with those bright, beautiful eyes and long lashes fixated to his own... Wait, when did they get this close?

The two backed off and cleared their throats in embarrassment. They were freaking staring at each other, and for fucking what?

"I... It's a deal then."

"Good."

… 

"Just... don't hurt yourself too much while dealing with the idiot."

Dabi turned his head so fast his neck hurt. 

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO WEIRD?!"

"SHUT UP AND MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

As they reached the place where their target was supposed to be, the man soon showed up by Geten's side and started pestering her with all kinds of bull he made her deal with on a daily basis. And just as she felt sick enough, Dabi put his hot hand on the guy's shoulder, making his skin sting in the first-degree burns. The guy then backed off and glared at the fire-user with utmost disdain.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Listen up freak", Dabi took Geten for the waist and gently pulled her towards himself, her body leaning on his own and fitting perfectly under his larger frame, "I saw what you did there. You’d better stop messing with my girlfriend, or else you'll burn to ashes."

Geten internally screamed and pinched him on the side for being a fucking idiot. "HIS GIRLFRIEND!? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY OUT LIKE THAT!"

"You sound too confident, guess I should give you a nice beating to teach you a lesson."

He soon regretted his decision because Dabi was entirely down to realize his threat, and after a couple of burns, the moron retreated while he still could and left Geten alone.

And while she hated that they needed to make a scene in front of the other soldiers who were whispering to each other and exchanged who knows what kinds of things, she couldn't leave Dabi alone like this so she put his hand over her shoulder and helped him reach a more secluded area. They entered his room because he said that he kept the first aid kit in a drawer. It was also the first time that Geten came by but it didn't look at all exciting either; the room had a very plain interior, darkened space with the shutters down, piles of dirty clothes creased to the side probably waiting to be washed, the bed left unmade since this morning, a bunch of disinfectants sitting on the nightstand and some used medical gaze forgotten to be thrown away. Geten almost felt sorry for him. It's not like she was doing any better but at least she knew how to take care of herself.

She seated him carefully on the bed, and he started digging through drawers until he found what he needed. When he was all set, he began to take his jacket and shirt off but then Geten panicked and lowered his shirt. 

Dabi's confusion mixed with annoyance was now directed towards the ice gremlin's pretty face. "Aren't you going to cool me down?"

"I THOUGHT YOU ONLY MEANT HANDS AND THINGS LIKE THAT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!?" she shouted with blushing cheeks covering her face with her hands.

Dabi soon understood what she meant and closed his eyes, wearing a disheartened smile. 

"It's not like you'll see much. Just a bunch of patched-up skin and bruises. It's not even that hot."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-,” but then she noticed that his expression never actually faltered, he looked to the front and waited patiently for her next move, sadness surrounding his wounded features. It's not like it was his first time reconciling with the facts, but still, being this burnt and knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, but his father was also to blame, which made him remember the days when he wasn't in such a fucked up condition as he was now. It made him feel a bit of regret too. But he needed to acknowledge that the path he took was the one with no return, and he needed to accomplish his mission. Endeavor needed to be brought down at all costs; maybe then he'd gain a sense of worth and show him, prove to him, that he was deserving of more incredible things. The ice-user sighed in defeat and gave up on her embarrassment, "just show me what you got.”

Dabi was brought out of his train of thought, and he took off his shirt. It turns out that he was right, some of his scarred skin was sizzling slightly, and his wounds looked terrible because they were situated further on the back where he couldn't reach. She took the disinfectant from the nightstand and tapped it lightly on the freshly made scars. He made a slight grimace, but didn't flinch, didn't wince, like he was afraid of showing his weaknesses by putting on a tough act. It'll all pay off, he assured himself, once he gets rid of his dad. 

When she finished, he allowed Geten to scoot closer to make her do her thing. Her icy hands on his skin felt so good that suddenly he forgot about all of his problems. He turned his face to the side so she wouldn't notice, but the goosebumps on his skin told her otherwise. 

She made a sly smile and cocked her head to look at him from the corner. 

"What's up, tough guy? Can't hide the way I make you feel good?"

He laughed under his breath. He liked when she was this flirty. It made the situation less awkward. But he also felt uncomfortable with how he needed to depend on someone, just like her, when she asked for his help. Were they that similar?

"I need to ask you something,” Dabi asked quietly like he was probing the waters. 

"Yea?"

"Do you still think that I'm weak?" 

The silence filled the room, and he had the need to explain himself. 

"You said that there's no worth living if the user doesn't possess a strong meta ability. Hooning your power was the only thing worth your time as you didn't wish for anything else. You always thought that our Quirks defined us, that they're things we identify with for life. Now that you've taken a closer look at my condition, tell me, what do you think?"

Geten suddenly grew interested in the laminate floor under their feet as she couldn't look anywhere else, her eyes deep in thought.

"That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, especially since you risked your own health for my reputation."

"... by calling you, my girlfriend?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY ACTUAL SENSE!?, her teeth grew sharp, and her eyes furrowed like some rabid cartoon character. 

"It did, actually. Because of my threat, the fool is now afraid of looking at your general direction, knowing that I'd kick his ass whenever he says something stupid again."

Unbothered, he drank his painkillers from the glass of water. 

"... Wait. You'd really repeat all of this... for me?"

Just as he drank, so did he spit, coughing and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Of course I would, but don't get the wrong idea."

""WRONG IDEA"? YOU LITERALLY CALLED ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"

"IT WAS JUST TO CONFUSE THE FUCKER!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU REPEAT IT?"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU REALLY!"

"THEN WHY'S IT!?"

"I JUST NEED YOU FOR YOUR STUPID ICE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The room fell in complete silence once again, and the tension became so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.

Her expression grew cold, and her eyes bore nothing but pure disgust. "So that's what this was all about."

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SURPRISED NOW? IT WAS OUR DEAL, REMEMBER?"

She sat up from her seat and went straight to the door, readying herself to leave.

"Wait."

Just as she was about to step out, she turned around, his tone of voice catching her off guard only to see him sitting miserably on his bed, head hanging and elbows leaning on his knees, grieving.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Geten stood at the doorway for a minute and then slowly entered again, closing the door behind her. Dabi continued.

"I say things that I don't mean and push the people I care about away."

The white-hair watched his back in silence until she decided to speak up again "... So you actually meant it... the other way?"

"I'm such a sick fuck."

She sensed the crack in his voice and came closer, undoing his hands only to see blood trailing down his face. 

"Whoa, what's going on with your scars?" she tried to wipe it off only to smear it across his cheeks, and Dabi smiled a little.

"Aren't you disgusted by it? Now all of your fingers are red."

She didn't mind his words but created an ice cube to wash it with the water.

"I should call Sceptic. He’s much better at this medical shit than I am."

"No one can help me with it. My tear ducts are all burnt out, and I can't really tear up much."

"Wait, you're crying?"

Dabi refused to say anything as she tried to wipe the rest of the blood off, pressing gentle circles on his now iced skin.

"Blueflame…"

"Hah, actually, you're right. Maybe I really am as weak as you told me back then. I literally am falling apart. How pitiful."

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, and he took his stinging cheek in his hand.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Thanks...."

"I'm sorry. Look, you're everything but weak, so don't you dare call yourself that. You endured so much pain, your skin is the proof of the things you've gone through in life, and you freaking survived. No one would be able to do this but you. You're not weak, Blueflame, far from it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do! If it weren't for your help today, I would have talked to Re-Destro, and he'd think that I was too weak for my leadership role. I never actually thanked you for this, thank you."

"You're not weak either, doll. I'm pretty sure that you've beat my ass the week before."

She just smiled at him, and then they looked at each other the same way they did when they made their offer, except they didn't back off this time. They leaned into the kiss that was slow at first, but then they applied more pressure, and it grew more passionate. It was also their first time, so they couldn't really make fun of each other's clumsiness. Whenever their teeth collided, they laughed a little but continued until it felt right. She melted against him, her lips working in tandem with his and his hand slid up her outer thigh as he leaned forward to deepen it. She grasped his lower lip with her teeth before pulling away for some air, and he groaned.

"God, this felt good..." his chest heaved, his words a gravelly whisper.

She stood up and widened her stance, legs bracketing his own as she reached out to grab the back of his neck. She leaned over, forehead resting against his.

"You're not so bad yourself, gorgeous-eyes."

"I differ, yours are much more gorgeous."

"Really? Kinda sappy coming from your side." she grinned, but this didn't discourage him in the slightest.

"I could get lost in them, I mean it."

He caught her face in his palms, drawing her in deeper as his tongue slipped between their lips and slid against hers. His Quirk activated, his kiss is fierce and sweet all at once, and her head spins as his hands slid up her thighs, warming her up. Her mouth became much cooler now, and it sent shivers down his spine. She planted her icy hands on his shoulders and pushed them both backward, landing on the comfort of his bedsheets.

He drew circles over her back and waist, taking in her beautiful features as her head hovered over his own, hair tickling the skin on his face. She gave him a little peck that made him smile, and she cupped his face, thumbs stroking the side of his cheeks.

"So we're official now?" she didn't know why she asked. It was kind of obvious now, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips.

His expression became serious again as he looked to the side concerningly. He really didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with his fucked up story about his family, hero society, his mission that could possibly cost him his life for the sake of achieving greater good. Now the last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone and die when he finally found his reason. Life was such a bitch sometimes.

"I'm currently dealing with a very unfortunate situation. I'm afraid that you'd get affected, and I don't want to endanger you by it."

She tilted her head questionably, "And I thought that we'd overcome everything as long as we're fighting together."

He looked at her worryingly, but his words bore a tad bit of curiosity in them, "You want to fight by my side?"

"Of course, you have my full support." she grinned widely, and he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was amazing how much optimism, or rather confidence, could be stored in one single ice gremlin. But he loved her more than everything.

"Very well then." he turned them over and planted a kiss on her forehead before getting on his feet and pulling her up towards himself. "Boss told me about some business we need to take care of in the neighborhood. Cocktail hours?"

"FUCK WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY EARLIER!?"

"Relax, we'll arrive on time." he took his shirt and jacket and put them on.

As they walked towards their location, Dabi took her hand in his while some of the soldiers watched them in confusion, remembering when the two fought against each other.

He couldn't care less. She was the first person who ever supported him, so if his days were outnumbered, then he'd as well spend them with the only person worth his time.

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl. 

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else. 

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil. 

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it. 

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed. 

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?” 

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?” 

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face. 

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks. 

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. 

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that. 

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing. 

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home. 

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour. 

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully. 

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?” 

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky. 

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move. 

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’. 

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else. 

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support. 

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while. 

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence. 

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off. 

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment. 

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.” 

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him. 

 “Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago. 

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.” 

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens. 

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word. 

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.” 

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space. 

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens. 

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk. 

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps. 

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away. 

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him. 

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy. 

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe. 

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint. 

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle. 

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets. 

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face. 

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note. 

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car. 

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking. 

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said. 

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands. 

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort. 

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more. 

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home. 

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation. 

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly? 

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform. 

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter. 

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response. 

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving. 

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door. 

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street. 

[berrydoodleoo]

big bro gladio

This was just supposed to be a few quick headcanons? Instead it’s a fic. Less dialogue and action than I usually put in my fics, but eh. Anyway, have my thoughts about Gladio and his relationships growing up.

***

Like Noct, Gladio has spent his life on guard against false friends.

When he was seven, his dad pulled him aside after weapons training. “I don’t want you hanging out with that boy Lycus anymore,” he said, apropos of nothing as far as Gladio could tell. 

Shocked and angry, Gladio pestered him for an explanation, and eventually Dad said it was ‘a potential security issue’. Gladio spent hours trying to visualize how Lycus could be a threat to him -- Gladio was bigger and stronger, Lycus was hilarious and fast on the field but had no combat training whatsoever -- when he realized that wasn’t the point at all. Lycus could be a threat to Noctis. And as ever, anything that happened to Gladio was actually about someone else instead.

He imagined that his Dad had caught Lycus doing something when he stayed over. Going through his office, maybe, or trying to get into the weapons cabinet. He doesn’t mean to, but somehow the rest of the class turns against Lycus as well, and he stops speaking up in class, stops being funny and starts being mean. But not to Gladio; Gladio doesn’t talk to him anymore. As ordered.

Later, he learned that Lycus’ dad was in an argument with the King about infrastructure development in his district. That was all it was.

It’s not that he doesn’t forgive his father -- there are lots of things he’ll never forgive him for, but he’s learned to live with them -- it’s that he’ll never stop resenting him for it. Hating him, for making Gladio an instrument of his thoughtless cruelty.

~

It’s not that he envies Noct. Yeah, Gladio has to guard him, but Noct also has to guard himself, all in preparation for his future as the King. And Gladio has seen how the King lives.

Early in his training, he spent a lot of time trailing his Dad around, just seeing how things worked. After Noct’s thirteenth birthday, the press suddenly shifted their attention from the Prince (who they speculated about wildly -- was he doing well in school? Did he have friends, a girlfriend, post-traumatic stress disorder? Did he cry at his mother’s grave every year?) to the King. Was he planning to remarry?

Remarry? The King?

Gladio wasn’t sure where the question came from, but when it hit, it hit everywhere. Every state banquet was suddenly an opportunity for photos of the King and his conversation partners, accompanied by endless speculation about what that smile meant, that hand shake, that choice of drink, or tie, or watch, and so on. If the person they targeted didn’t answer their questions, they became the target of even more speculation. It wasn’t just the gutter press, either. Gladio turned on the TV at prime time one day and was shocked to see an hour-long special about the King, his courtship and marriage with the Queen, and the potential legal issues surrounding his (rumored) remarriage. They were going to have a special segment about the Prince, with a psychologist to talk about step-families and trauma.

Gladio turned it off, feeling voyeuristic. Everyone in the Citadel was tense after that, bristling with rage, but there was nothing they could do about any of it.

Gladio, in his role as his father’s obedient shadow, was also made privy to a top-level conversation on the topic between Clarus, Cor, and Drautos. Some of the figures pursued by the press had merely been caught in the crossfire, they concluded. Others were attempting to use the publicity to their advantage, which was not a problem for their offices. A few, maybe, had real aims on the King, and ‘love’ didn’t seem to be an option they even considered. Clarus ordered thorough security checks and surveillance on the biggest names, and the whole thing made Gladio sick.

But it didn’t end there. A few weeks later, to Gladio’s horror, the Council had their own version of this discussion, this time with a political slant. All directly in front of the King himself. His Majesty didn’t seem perturbed by the discussion -- he exchanged a Glance with his Shield, but remained otherwise unreadable -- and yet Gladio burned with embarrassment and indignation for him.

~

So as much as Gladio resents Noct sometimes, he also pities him. And so he guards himself, socializes carefully, makes friends among the children of his father’s associates, and never gets too close to anyone.

In high school, he falls in love once, and he’s too busy with dates that ended in making out and heavy petting to notice at first. When he did, he broke it off immediately, cited some excuse about his duties and his dad not thinking the relationship was a good idea. All he could think about was getting away, getting away, getting away. When he got home, his heart was still pounding, and he checked all the locks and codes twice. Was he scared, or guilty?

When they told him they’d confronted his father, his heart stopped. He was certain he was about to be caught in his lie. But the rambling, teary argument that followed revealed that Clarus had been sympathetic but firm, and had invented a completely false conversation to back up Gladio’s falsehoods. 

Afterwards, he never brought it up with his son, and Gladio never asked.

~

After high school, in the Crownsguard, Gladio makes a new set of friends. Many of them are older than him and worldly in ways he isn’t. They have their own routines, which Gladio is indoctrinated in. The whole idea of ‘friends with benefits’ was a pretty sweet deal, he felt, especially since these ‘friends’ often went out on assignment afterwards and he never had to see them again.

(Except Ignis. They only hook-up once -- okay, twice -- or maybe three times -- but they don’t talk about it. More than the weapons training or survival courses, it’s the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.)

At the same time, fifteen-year-old Noct makes his first friend. Prompto. Weird kid, goofy, but likeable. Not cool, really, but then, neither is Noctis. They spend their time goofing around, playing video games and doing homework. Unlike Gladio’s ‘friends’, Prompto stayed, and Gladio was happy for it. Noct needed a friend.

Not like Gladio. Gladio didn’t need anything.

~

During his training with the Kingsglaive, Gladio developed a reputation of sorts. He was known for taking people on flashy dates to exclusive clubs (getting in was effortless, for him), hooking up, and then moving on. All perfectly friendly and above board. He worked himself to exhaustion all week, spent most of his weekend in bed with someone new, and went back to the routine again on Monday. Never the same person twice.

His peers admired him for it. His Dad asked a few questions, and when Gladio snapped, he backed off with a scowl. Iris … Gladio convinced himself she didn’t know what was happening.

Noct and Prompto started dating then, too. It was a terrible idea, and Gladio knew it, but it was clear the kids were in love and besides, he’d seen how the King lived. How Noct would one day live. Hell, he was already half-inside the bubble anyway. He covered for them, even from Ignis for a while (and boy did Ignis give him shit for that), and then he and Ignis covered for them together.

It was good. Nothing was missing, everything was in its place. It was good.

~

When the treaty discussions start up, Gladio ends his dalliances with his fellow Glaives and ‘Guard members. He needs to be focused. No holes in his, and thus in Noct’s, security; no gaps someone could wriggle their way through. It’s easier than he thought it would be. He takes up reading to fill his sudden spare time.

Before the betrothal is announced, Prompto and Noct stop … doing whatever they’d been doing. Noct called it ‘hooking up’, but couldn’t quite pull off the lie. Prompto started training with the Crownsguard, and Gladio had to stand by and watch Prompto run, face-first, into the same hook-up culture he’d just left behind. It was different, from this angle. He didn’t like that Prompto was getting off with people he didn’t know. He didn’t like how they didn’t care about him, how they used bad pickup lines and groped him in public. How they didn’t know about his photos, or his parents, or the kitchen scale on his counter, or his obsessive knowledge about calorie counts and chocobos.

They didn’t love Prompto, but Noct did. From a distance. The kid had turned into a good actor at some point

Prompto got pulled into the wash cycle of hook-ups and break-ups fast enough, but Noct continued on alone. More and more his eyes came to resemble panes of glass, from which something shadowy and mute peered out in silence.

~

After Altissa, Gladio starts sleeping beside Ignis. Just sleeping. They end up spooned together most of the time, Gladio at Ignis’s back, looking out into the darkness that Ignis can’t see. Guarding him from it. Ignis is weird, strangely muted and palpably discouraged, but he clutches back at Gladio as hard as Gladio clutches him.

~

In Zegnautus Keep, Gladio wakes one morning to see Noct and Prompto talking. They know he’s up and moving, their conversation soft and halting behind him. He hears when they fall into a kiss, and stays turned away, giving them their privacy. His face is burning but he’s also amused, a little heartsick, and quietly happy for them.

It’s the last morning the four of them will have together, although they don’t know it yet. Further in the Keep, the crystal and the darkness are waiting. Even further in the distance, a blood-stained dawn calls their names.

~

As they set out into the Keep again, Noct pauses and looks at him. At Gladio. His eyes are full of questions and uncertainty, like a kid who needs to hear that everything will be okay. That he’s done everything right.

“What?” Gladio asks, confused.

Noct just sighs. “Nothing.”

Gladio stares at his downturned face a moment longer, trying to figure him out. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to make him mad. 

“All right,” Gladio says finally -- dubiously -- and without another word, he leads the way.

[thewatermelloncat]

Mothering   (part 2)

part 1

Author’s Note: Guys, I’m stoked with this.

Warnings: Occasional swearing

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

“Didn’t picture you as a much of a reader” Diego nods to the collection of journals lying on the table as he enters the kitchen.

“They’re Five’s” Allison tells him, turning around from her spot next to the coffee pot on the bench.

“Where is he?” Diego’s eyebrows knit together at his absence.

“I sent him back to bed.”

“Oh, really? He pull another all-nighter?” his frown deepens as he begins to flip through the pages of one of the books.

“No, just wasn’t feeling well.”

Diego makes a sound of pity and closes the journal he was flicking through. “He admit that to you?” he raises an eyebrow at Allison.

She scoffs around a sip of her coffee. “Insisted he was fine as always.”

“He might actually be fine” Diego shrugs as he weighs it up. “You do have a tendency to overreact.”

Allison glares at him sharply, opening her mouth to say something.

“Only sometimes” Diego’s voice raises a pitch as he throws his hands up at his sister’s look.

“Need I remind you how he collapsed in that creep’s attic?” Allison reminds him, lessening her stare a little.

“You make a fair point” he admits.

“And he was shaking” she adds.

“Shaking?”

Allison hums as she takes another swig of coffee. “Has a fever.”

“Aw, that sucks” Diego sympathises. “You know how high?”

She shakes her head. “Didn’t check. Just sent him back to bed.”

“Ugh, bed sounds amazing!” Klaus groans as he drags himself into the kitchen, still half asleep.

“You only just got up” Allison points out.

“You guys are already talking about going back.”

“Not for us.”

Klaus scrunches his face in confusion over what Allison is saying as he flops himself into a chair.

“Five’s sick. Allison sent him back to bed” Diego clarifies.

“See, I thought something was up with him last night” Klaus lies, but the look of pity that crosses his face betrays all pretendences that he was aware of it in the first place.

“Did not” Ben rolls his eyes from where he sits next to Allison, on the bench.

Klaus hisses at him and Allison takes a step back. “That better not have been at me” she eyes him warningly.

“No, it was at someone else” he waves her off.

“Morning, Ben” Allison smiles, knowing that he’s around somewhere.

“He says good morning back” Klaus relays uninterestedly, still in a mood with Ben.

“How did you even get him back to bed anyway?” Diego speaks up after thinking it over for a bit.

“Well, he was his usual stubborn self so I threatened to rumour him into it” Allison explains.

“Atta girl!” Ben smiles.

“Were you actually going to follow through with it?” Diego asks, not believing that she would.

“I don’t know” Allison considers. “Probably not.”

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

Three mugs sit on the table newly emptied of coffee when heavy footsteps enter the room.

“Has anyone seen Five this morning?” Luther asks.

“Yeah, I found him in here earlier” Allison tells him. “Why?”

“He’s just not looking so great.”

“I know, that’s why I sent him back to bed” she says and before Luther can begin his next sentence, she turns to him with a deadly serious look. “Where did you find him?”

“Going into dad’s office” he tells her, his face falling when she abruptly stands from her chair muttering something about should of having rumoured him, before striding out of the room.

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

“You lied to me” Allison accuses as she steps into their father’s office.

“Lying implies that I agreed to do something which I then backed out on. I never agreed to do anything of any sort” Five says, not looking up from studying the cover of the book in his hands.

“Then you didn’t listen to me” Allison amends.

“How is that surprising? When have I listened to anyone?”

“Don’t pin this on me” she argues.

“I’m not. I’m just saying” – Five sighs tiredly as he leans a hip against his father’s desk before Allison cuts him off.

“Just go back to bed, please.”

“It’s only a cold, Allison. It’s not a big deal.”

“People used to die from them, back in the day” Luther nods to him and crosses his arms as he leans against the doorway, having followed Allison up.

Five smirks slightly at the notion of his brother thinking that the comment would be helpful.

“Or it might be a bigger deal when it turns into pneumonia because you refused to look after yourself” Allison continues. “And you don’t have the best track record of doing that.”

“Funny, I looked after myself in the apocalypse for over 40 years.”

“Yeah, it was funny how you passed out from a shrapnel wound which you refused to do anything about, wasn’t it?” she mocks him before adding. “That’s the second time I’ve had to bring that up this morning.”

“That’s different” Five mumbles quietly.

“And things are different now” she reminds. “You have time to let yourself rest.”

“Five, just take a day” Luther begs him.

“Or what? You’re going to rumour me into it?” Five challenges, looking at Allison.

She swallows thickly before setting her jaw. “I heard a” – she sighs, cutting herself off. Five had called her bluff, she could never do it.

“Come on, let’s go” Luther nudges her shoulder, knowing they’d lost the battle. Five was too stubborn for his own good.

Allison sighs again and makes to follow him before she turns back around. “You’ll run yourself to the ground” she warns before she finally walks away.

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

“Five”

…

“Five” Allison’s voice and gentle hand on his shoulder calls him back to the realm of consciousness.

Drawing in a breath, he pushes himself off the surface of the desk which he’d fallen asleep on.

“You know there’s more comfortable places to sleep than on a desk?” Allison ribs at him. “Your bed is right there.”

Five tiredly blinks before glancing over to it. “I didn’t mean to” – his voice is weak and doesn’t make it to the end of the sentence before he breaks off coughing, turning away into his elbow.

“Hey, look at me” Allison instructs and reaches a hand out to place against Five’s forehead after he turns back to her. No comment is made over how he ever so slightly leans into her touch.

“You look terrible” she observes, but there is no insult behind her words.

Five laughs but it sounds more like a repressed cough. “I’m sorry, I should have listened to you.”

“Are you apologising to someone?” she teases, widening her eyes. “How sick are you?”

“Shut up, or I’ll take it back” Five manages a smirk of some sort, looking away from her.

“Should we put these away, yeah?” Allison phrases her instruction like a question, gesturing to the journals open on the desk.

Five doesn’t respond but he helps her in closing the books and stacking them at the back of the desk.

“Did you find anything?” she asks him as they work.

He shakes his head. “Just about sleep patterns.”

“Put you right to sleep.”

“Must’ve” Five’s scoff of amusement sets him coughing again, and Allison silently winces at the deep sounds within his chest.

“You sound horrible” Diego comments as he comes to lean against Five’s doorway.

“I can still kill you” he warns when he has his breath back.

“Yeah, by infecting me” Diego tells him before turning to Allison. “The movies about to go on downstairs.”

“We’ll be down” she tells him.

“Down for what?” Five asks looking up at her after Diego leaves, a bit behind in the conversation.

“Klaus has picked out a movie and you’re joining us.”

“Hate to break it to you, but no one’s going to want my company.”

“No one is going to mind” Allison assures him. “And that way I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything else stupid.”

Five shifts uncomfortably in his chair, still reluctant to move.

“Come on, Five. You at least owe me that.”

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

For one thing that Five was glad about being dragged downstairs was that Vanya easily picked up on his reluctance to being there. She’d quickly given her chair up for him so he didn’t have to sit on the couch surrounded by people. Normally he would have protested taking it from her, but he couldn’t be bothered and also knew that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She hums disapprovingly as she withdraws her hand from his forehead after wrapping a blanket around him. Adjusting the edges to cover over his feet tucked on to the chair, she looks back up to him. “Don’t worry about falling asleep. It’s probably going to be a colossal mindfuck” she tells him quietly with a smile on her lips.

The corner of Five’s mouth turns up in a smirk as she sits down and the screen flicks on.

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

Despite the fact that Klaus knows sneezing is an involuntary reaction, it doesn’t make it less annoying. Over the course of the movie Five had been dubbing over the soundtrack with short bursts of sneezing fits. Although they were only in numbers of three to four – well, as previously stated, it became annoying.

He was being respectful, Klaus had to give him that. Muffling them into the blanket wrapped around him almost silently. Though for Klaus almost silent wasn’t silent enough, they were still noticeable. Having a completely different reaction than the rest of his siblings who would spare him sympathetic glances, Klaus found himself becoming frustrated.

After hearing Five sniffle at the conclusion of another fit, Klaus glances irritably over to Ben. Hoping that he will understand him.

“He can’t help it” Klaus is disappointed as Ben looks over at their brother worriedly.

Setting his jaw, he huffs lightly before focusing back on the movie. Perhaps he is being unreasonable.

And so, the movie plays on. Klaus occasionally having to explain what is going on with his siblings claiming that it’s hard to understand. Though otherwise he can watch in peaceful silence. That is until Five shifts in his chair.

“Hiht’cht, hi’chh… hih’isshh”

Okay, Klaus can deal with three.

“Hih’ish”

And four. That’s about the standard amount.

“I’ketchu… i’ktcch”

Five and six are pushing it a bit.

“Ih’ketshuu”

Nah – he can’t do it. A dramatic groan sounds from within his throat as he leans his head back against the couch. His siblings draw their eyes over to him each with a varying look of disapproval. Apart from Five who reads the message and stands from his chair, continuing to sneeze as he leaves the room.

The stares of his siblings sharpen at their brother’s disappearance and Klaus shrinks under their gaze. He sighs deeply as he sits up preparing to follow Five.

“Just leave him be” Vanya tells him with her voice clipped. Knowing that if Klaus followed him, he would only make the situation worse.

Klaus knows that too and leans back against the couch, trying to ignore the disappointment of the people around him.

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

By the time Five reaches the bathroom down the hall the sneezing has thankfully stopped. He feels lightheaded as he shuts the door behind him, which really serves no purpose since he’s alone. Sniffling miserably against his running nose he reaches forward to pull some toilet paper off the roll before bringing it to his nose.

He coughs at the sudden shift of congestion and sinks to the floor, sliding his back down the wall, too exhausted to stand. For what seems like minutes on end he rotates through new sections of toilet paper and by the time he can breathe well enough his nose feels raw.

Sniffling again and throwing out the last section, he debates whether to go back to his siblings in the lounge. He doesn’t blame Klaus for being annoyed at him, since the frequency of his sneezing was annoying him as well. Though that doesn’t mean that he wants to go back and cause more of a disruption. So, even though he knows Allison would want him to come back so she could keep an eye on him, he pushes himself off of the floor and drags himself back up to his room.

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

As soon as the movie credits start to roll Klaus stands from the couch, not bothering to take the disc out of the player. It can stay there for all he cares, or someone else can drop it off in his room. Right now, he knows his priority is finding Five lest he risk the wrath of his siblings.

 “Five?” he knocks quietly on his brother’s door before pushing it open without an answer.

“Hey” Five croaks from where he sits up reading in bed, as the door opens.

“Thought you’d be asleep” Klaus remarks as he steps further into the room.

“Then why are you here then?” Five asks as he places the book down next to him.

“I don’t – fair point” he acknowledges before saying. “I came to apologise.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for. I’m not hurt by it” Five dismisses.

“Whether you were hurt by it or not, it was still bad form and I’m sorry” Klaus apologises pulling Five’s desk chair up to the bed. “I shouldn’t have acted like that when you already feel like shit.”

Five smirks and nods his head as a sign of acceptance. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t even want to go down there.”

Klaus would have made a joke about it but looking at his littlest brother all humour falls away. “You’re really not well, are you?”

“I’m fine, everyone’s overreacting” Five insists before contradicting himself by coughing, tucking his knees up to his chest and bringing an elbow to his mouth.

“The perfect picture of health” Klaus states sarcastically.

Five doesn’t spare him a glare as he lowers his legs and sniffles deeply into the back of his hand before withholding a couple more coughs in the back of his throat.

“Hey” Klaus says sympathetically, seeing how miserable his brother looks. “Can I get you anything? A peace offering?”

Five shakes his head tiredly.

“You should get some sleep, yeah?”

Five nods as he settles down into the mattress, Klaus lifting the blankets over his shoulders.

“Could you get the light on the way out?” Five asks, his voice muffled by the covers.

“Sure” Klaus smiles at him before he makes his way to the door. Stopping at the edge of the room, he turns around to take one last look at his brother already with his eyes closed, before flicking off the switch and shutting the door softly behind him.

[skinks]

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

[novannna]

I Dare You

based on a pin I saw on pinterest where i use a song and write a story sing every single word. I used I Dare You by Bea Miller to write this fic. 

here's the song (:

It takes place mid supernova, when Nova has Danna caught in a jar. She struggles with her guilt for trapping Danna, and questions her loyalties to the Anarchists. This was a bitch to write bc trying to fit lyrics in order is a pain, so please leave likes and reblog!

Wc: 3440

Nova rubbed her eyes, collapsing onto the bed in her and Honey’s room.  She groaned, kicked off her shoes and fell backward.  

She was so fucking tired of the anarchists.  She knew that they had done so much for her, but they expected too much.  And she was exhausted.  They wanted her to keep the charade up with the Renegades.  

And she hated it.  She hated having to pretend to love Adrian.  She hated having to spend every single second of her day with Adrian, Oscar, and Ruby, getting as close as she could when, in the end she knew she would betray them.  

And that was going to make her feel miserable.  Even more miserable then she already was.  

A flutter of black and orange caught her eye, and Nova pulled herself up.  

In her moment of self pitying, she had completely forgotten about her butterfly friend.  

That was another thing weighing heavy on her consciousness.   

She walked over to the vanity, and picked up the small jar.  

“I can remember a time when I was so afraid,” she said to Danna, “maybe the first time I ever felt real, true fear.  A man entered my apartment.  He killed my mom and dad right in front of me.  He killed my sister,” she said with a small sob.  “I couldn’t save her.  But maybe… maybe if I had tried harder I could have.  That was the first time I felt fear.  When I went to a place even my shadow wouldn’t follow me.” 

Nova slumped down to the floor, and cradled the jar to her chest.  “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”  Nova groaned.  “I’m a fucking mess.  But I feel like I can talk to you.  Is that weird?”  She laughed, and shook her head.  “I don’t even know if you can hear me.”    She looked at the butterfly.  It was still for the first time in days.  It seemed as if it was looking straight at Nova.  She groaned again.  “I’m sick of being a tool.  I’m sick of being just another step in my uncle’s plan.  But they are my family, and I have to help.  Don’t I?”

Danna barreled into the wall, then flapped her wings adamantly.  

Nova breathed in deeply.  “I’m so sorry Danna.  I can’t imagine what it must be like in there for you. I- I would hate it.  I’m sorry for being an anarchist.  I know you wanted to believe in me.”  

“Nova!”  Honey’s shrill voice yelled.  “Get your ass down here!  We need you!”

Nova grimaced.  “I guess I’m picking up my sword.  Thanks for listening, Danna.  You actually helped me a lot.”  She set the jar back on the vanity, and scattered a few pins over it, making it look like nothing had been disturbed. 

And she was struck by an urge to shatter the jar.  Let all the pieces scatter, and let Danna free.  Then Danna could go tell the Renegades.  

And Nova could stop pretending.  

She could go back to the person she was before.  Before she met Adrian, and Oscar, and Ruby.  Before she met Danna.

---

“Nova sweetie, what took so long?”  Honey asked.  She dipped her finger into a jar of honey, and lazily stirred it around.  

Nova ignored her, and sat down around the table.  “I thought we were done.  What else do you need?”  She was in a bad mood.  A very bad mood.  She couldn’t handle Honey and the others right now.  

“So snappy,” Honey sniffed.  “I thought you wanted to get back at the renegades for killing your family.  

“I- of course I do!”  Nova said, annoyed.  

“Well you're certainly not acting like it.  I’m beginning to think you’d rather be with that Everhart boy than us.”

Nova sighed.  “Honey, I would never choose Adrian over my family.  His parents basically killed them.  I am one hundred percent committed.”

“Good.”  

Leroy cleared his throat.  “The window of time to rescue Ace is closing.  We have to act soon.  So, we need you to figure out whatever you possibly can about Cragmoor.”

Nova sighed.  “You want me to go talk to Adrian.”

They both nodded.  “Sorry Nova, I know you just got home.”

“Listen, I want to rescue Ace as much as you guys do, believe me.  But give me a break.  ‘Cause I… I- .”  Nova took a deep breath in, and out.  “I’m worth fighting for too.”  Honey started, and stared at her in complete shock.  “Just for… for..”  nova sighed and stared them straight in the eyes.  “For once in my life, give me a break.  Yes, I know what the Renegades did.  But don’t play innocent.  I know you’ve manipulated me my entire life.  And I let it happen.  So just… leave me alone tonight.  I have a lot to think about.  We can overthrow the Renegades tomorrow, alright?”  

Before Honey could respond, Nova stormed upstairs.  She threw the window open, and was half-way out before a thought crossed her mind.  She ducked back in and put the small jar with the golden butterfly into her pocket.  

She pulled herself to the roof, and leapt off.  She bounded across the rooftops, until she had reached an old office.  She scaled to the roof, and pulled the jar out of her pocket.  

“So they can put me in a cage,” she muttered to herself.  “Lock me in a room and throw away the key.  But they get mad at me when I try to stand up for myself.”  She flipped onto her back, and looked at the setting sun.  The sky was alight with colors.  

“I know you hate me,” she said to the butterfly.  “I’ve done terrible things.  I hurt you.  But I’m not sorry for what I did.”  Nove realized she had started to cry.  “I dare you to do something else if you had been in my place.”  

She sniffed, and wiped her tears away.  “I’ll break down the walls trying to keep me down.  I’ll be a higher wrecking ball then the Renegades.  I’m gonna hurt them the way they hurt me.  And I won’t let them tear me down.”  No.  Oh, Nova would never let them win. Oh, she would never let that happen.  They could lock her away at Cragmoor, and throw away the key, but Nova would never stop fighting.

“Danna, I dare you to spend a day in my shoes.  Oh, someone like you?  So used to freedom and choices?  Oh, you wouldn’t last a day.  And I won't let you tear me down.  No, the Renegades will never best me.”  Nova wiped her face again.  

She looked at the small insect.  

“At least I know the Renegades are bad. The anarchists…”  Nova sighed.  “They pretend they're so much better, but I know they’re just using me.  They don’t actually care about me, just what I can do. I had an opinion, but I never spoke my mind, and I wouldn’t argue, even when I knew I was right.  I was too fucking scared of what would happen.  What Honey might do.  But I’m not that girl anymore.  I can stand up for myself.  I can say what I want now.”  The sun had now fully set, and a speckling of stars covered the sky.  

Yeah, Nova had lost almost every battle against Honey and the other Anarchists.  She never won an argument so she had stopped trying.  But she was determined to win the war.

“I’m worth fighting for, Danna.  For- for years of my life, I watched the Renegades abuse me and the Anarchists.  And I know that you and Adrian, and the others want me to be good and do the right thing, but that's not gonna happen.  I’m not changing who I am because it’ll get me farther in life.  So if the Renegades do end up winning, you can put me in a cage, you can lock me in a room and throw away the keys.”  She leapt to her feet, and strode around, her mind too crowded to enjoy the starry sky.  

“In fact I dare you.  I dare you to lock me away, because I’ll break down the walls.  I will be a higher wrecking ball.  And I won’t let you tear me down, no.”  She breathed out heavily.  “But I am sick of this guilt I have.  Sick of convincing myself I’m doing what needs to be done.  I’m fucking sick of having to see you every day, just to be struck by another wave of guilt at seeing you trapped because of me.  I’m so sick of being confused and torn between everything.”  Nova scooped the jar up, off the ground and held it to her chest.  

“I want to throw away the key to my heart,  make it so I can never open it.  So no one can ever open it.  I don’t ever want to give anyone power over me again.  Look at what it’s fucking doing to me!”  She sobbed, to the butterfly.  “I dare you to go to the Renegades.  Bring them here, let them catch me.”  Nova turned to the edge and screamed, “I am done being the double agent!  I am fucking done!”  But no one responded.  No one cared.  Who would?  

“I won’t let you tear me down?  No what a fucking joke.  Danna, you’ve already torn me apart.  With guilt.  With your hate.  With the knowledge that when you’re human again, you'll hate me!”  Nova collapsed back onto the hard roof.  

“I just keep running, running, running.  Trying to find my place in the world, and it always ends back at good vs. evil.  Villain vs. hero. Just like you and me.  Monarch vs. Nightmare,” Nova spat, still crying.  “I’m still fucking trying to find who I was.  Am.  I don’t know.  I would go the distance to find out, but it’s never far enough.”

She held the jar up to eye level, and looked at the delicate golden insect.  

Nova knew exactly what she wanted, but she knew that would never happen.  She knew what she wanted for once.  Yes, she wanted to destroy the Renegades for what they did to her and her family.  Yes, she wanted to tell the Anarchists that she was done being their tool.  Yes, she wanted to save Ace from his fast approaching death.  Yes, she wanted to have it all be over.  

But in that moment, the one thing she wanted, wanted more than anything was to see Danna right in front of her.  To stop that constant guilt from devouring her.  It might mean the end of her freedom, but it was worth it.  To see Danna one more time.  

“But now, Danna, I'm standing straight and I think I know exactly who I am.”  Nova breathed in.  She smiled a little and laughed amid her tears.  

“My name is Nova Jean Artino.  I’m not a Renegade or an Anarchist.  I’m just Nova.  Yeah, I was raised as an Anarchist.  Yeah, I pretended to be a Renegade.  But that’s not important.  Because I’m Nova, and that’s all that matters.”  She carefully unscrewed the top and let the gold insect fly out.  

As it disappeared, Nova whispered to herself, “I can remember a time when I was so afraid.  I trapped a golden girl in a jar so she wouldn’t hurt me, and by doing that, I hurt her.  So now, now I’m terrified she’ll hate me forever.”  

Nova sat down on the rooftop, and waited.  For what though, she wasn’t quite sure.  Common sense told her to run.  Run far, and hide.  Danna would tell everyone, and she would spend the rest of her life behind bars.  

A flicker of orange caught Nova’s eye.  A swarm of brilliant monarchs were flying across the night, heading straight for Nova.  She sprang to her feet as they cycloned in front of her.  

They consolidated into a form still in a Renegades uniform, blonde dreadlocks wild and crazy, brushing against warm brown skin.  Danna.  

“Nova,” she whispered, before pitching forwards.  Right into Nova’s arms.  

Nova hugged her tight against her body, and inhaled the scent of flowers.  She gently lowered the unconscious girl to the ground, using her leg as a pillow for Danna’s head.  

Danna’s eyes flickered open.  “Nova…” she croaked.  

“Hey Danna,” she replied through a blur of tears.  “I’m sorry…”

Danna cut her off by reaching up and cradling Nova’s head.  She kissed her firmly, stopping anymore words from leaving Nova’s mouth.  

“I wanted to do that from the moment I saw you,” Danna breathed.  

Nova sprang to her feet, Danna right behind her.  

“Danna, I’m a bad person.  You should turn me in.  Find a better person to be with,”  Nova said softly through tears.  “I’m tired of living a lie.  Please… just do it already.”  She screwed her eyes shut and held out her hands, expecting Danna to handcuff her, or call Adrian and the others.  

Instead, warm arms enveloped her.  

Nova broke down sobbing, crying into Danna’s shoulder.  It wasn’t pretty or cute, it was an ugly cry.  Tears and snot ran down her face.  

“I’m so so sorry,” she sobbed.  “I trapped you.  I betrayed you.  How are you not mad?”

Danna sighed, and rubbed Nova’s back soothingly.  “In the beginning I was.  I was so mad that you had been spying on us, using us.  I was pissed that I was stuck in swarm mode.  But then… I saw how you lived.  The way the other anarchists used you, and the way you were manipulated.  I know that the Renegades messed up your life a lot, and I understand Nova.  I don’t agree with what you did, but I do understand.”

Nova sobs gradually ceased.  “You should go.  I don’t want to get you in trouble for helping me.  Thank you for everything Danna.”  She pulled herself away from the warm hug.  

“Nova,” Danna said sharply.  “You can put me in a cage, or lock me in a room, however much you want.”  She inhaled sharply.  “You can do whatever you want to try and convince me you're a bad person, but I know the truth.”

Nova turned to look at Danna’s wide brown eyes.  

“You can throw away the key to your heart, but you can bet that won’t stop me.”  Danna smiled at Nova.  “I dare you to let me into your life.  Because I'm in love with you.  And if you think that we can’t be together because you think you're a villain, then I’ll break down the walls guarding you.”  Danna smirked, her soft lips curving into a smile.  “I’m a higher wrecking ball, and you can’t stop me.  Nova Jean Artino, you are going to have to accept the fact that I love you, and I don’t want you to turn me away because you think you’re a villain.  I understand if you don’t want me, but I need you to realize that I want you as who you are, villain or not.”  

Nova shook her head.  “But what about my uncle?  I can’t just let him die, he’s done so much for me.  I won’t let you tear me down, away from my goal, and my family.  No, oh no.  He’s all I have left.  ”  

“Nova, it's too late for him, but it's not too late for you.  Throw away this pointless hope that he can survive this.  I agree the renegades need to change, and you are key to that, not him.”  Danna reached out to grab Nova’s hand, and pulled them together.

Nova pressed her forehead against Danna’s, their warm skin touching together.  

“Nova, I dare you to forget everything.  Forget the Anarchists and the Renegades.  Forget everything, and just think about me.”  Danna smiled at Nova.  “Do you want me the way I want you?”

“Yes,” Nova breathed.  “Oh, more than anything.”

“Then what are you waiting for?  We can leave.  Start a new life, just us.   Forget renegades and anarchists.  There would be no Nightmare and Monarch.  Just Nova and Danna.”

“We can’t…”

“Why not?  What’s stopping you?   Is there anything for you in Gatlon?”

Nova shook her head.  “But Ace…”

“He’s already dead.  We can’t do anything for him.  But we can do something for you.  I know how huge this is- asking you to leave everything and start a new life, but I love you Nova Jean Artino, and I never want to see you caught by the Renegades, or used by the Anarchists ever again.”  Danna looked straight at Nova.  “Will you leave with me?”

“Okay,” Nova said, surprising herself.  “Okay,” she repeated with a small laugh.  “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

Danna’s face darkened.  “Everyday when I was in the jar.  When I saw the way you were treated, I knew I had to get you out of there.”

“That must have been terrible for you to be stuck in there,” Nova murmured.  

“You helped me.  Whenever I saw your face, or heard your voice it made me feel better because I knew nothing had happened.”

“You helped me too.  I’ve never had anyone I could talk to, but for you it felt like you were listening.  And understanding.”  Nova shrugged.  

“I was. Well not listening exactly, but I did understand.  And I wanted to form so I could wrap my arms around you, and kiss you until you were better.”  

“You can do that now if you want,” Nova said lightly.  “I hear it’s good to practice.”

Danna raised her eyebrow.  “Well, we’d better make up for years of missing out then.”

Nova’s face flushed a brilliant shade of red.  “You’re not the first person I kissed,” she mumbled.  

Danna laughed brightly.  “Really?  Who else?”

��Narcissa Cronin.  The Librarian’s daughter.  I don't think you've met her.”  

“Interesting.  But I still think you need more practice,”  Danna grinned, and cupped Nova’s face in her strong hands.  

Danna pulled them together, and they kissed.  

It was like nothing Nova had ever experienced before.  Small fireworks shot through her mind as she wrapped her legs up around Danna’s waist, and they tumbled down to the hard ground.  

They didn’t care.  

Danna ran her hands through Nova’s choppy hair.  

“We should go,” Nova said, breathless.  “If we really want to leave.”

“Yeah,” Danna said, equally out of breath.  She tucked a loose piece of hair behind Nova’s ear.  “We should.” 

She reached up and pulled Nova back down, Nova straddling her hips and leaned down over Danna again, her hair a thick curtain.  

“You’re beautiful Star,” Danna said thickly.  

“You too, lepidoptera,” Nova chuckled.  She leaned back up.  

“Oh stop it.”  Danna pretended to glare at Nova, and leaned back up.  

“Never.”  Nova smirked.  “So you really want to leave?  We can’t come back.  This is a forever decision,” Nova said, her expression souring.  

“Nova, I want you to be my forever,” Danna said, rubbing Nova’s hand.  “I love you, and I’d give up the world for you.”  She stood, and offered a hand to Nova, which Nova accepted.  

“I love you too, but I don’t want you to throw your life away.”

“I’m not throwing it away if it's with you.  I’m just making it better.”

Nova went up on her tiptoes, and brushed a kiss against Danna’s chin.  “I want to leave Gatlon forever and never look back.”

“Me too.”

“Ready then?”  

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”  

Danna burst into her swarm, and followed Nova closely as she made her way down the old building.  

She solidified, and together the two of them walked through the city, hand in hand.  

Nova thought back to the Anarchists, the way she was just leaving them.  They would not last long without her.  But Leroy was smart, and they knew how to survive.  

“Thinking about the others?”  Danna asked.  “I know I don’t like the idea of leaving our team by themselves, but I’d rather you be safe.” Danna squeezed her hand reassuringly.  “They’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Nova responded, thinking about the Anarchists not the Renegades.  

As they walked past the cathedral ruins, Nova whispered, “I won’t let you tear me down, Uncle.  You did what you could to mold me to become your perfect soldier, but now I'm becoming my own person.  And I say no more heroes and villains.  Just me and Danna forever.”  She looked back at the tall girl and smiled.  “She feels better than revenge will ever feel.  And I want her to be my forever.”

Together, hand in hand the couple left the city, and never returned.  

tag list: @honey-harper-official @quinterickson @thepurpledragon4444 @nova-artino @lesbianariescalante @prudence-barnett @plain-jane-mclain

(this is my first tag list so please let me know if you want to be added or taken off)

[elyvorg]

“Well, they’re more like a mom and dad who have a... hands-off approach to parenting.”

“That sounds... awkward. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than never knowing your parents at all.”

“Yeah... me neither. I’m lucky to have my uncle, at least.”

“...Hey, Kaito? You’ve been quiet for a while. Is something wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, nah, it’s nothing. Just spaced out for a bit, that’s all. My bad.”

“You know, Kaito... you live with your grandparents, right? And you never talk about your parents. It... it might not be any of my business, but I couldn’t help but wonder... are you... like me? Or... perhaps a bit like Maki, and you don’t even remember them?”

“Huh? N-No, it’s... neither of those.”

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to—”

“Hey, it’s fine. I... I guess I don’t mind telling you guys. They... my parents died in a car crash when I was ten.”

---

@trainingtrioweek Day 5: Family

Instead of an art today, some rambly thoughts that this prompt gave me the perfect excuse to bring up. (If you’re finding my blog through this event: as well as arts, I also do quite a bit of meta and not-quite-meta rambling such as this kind of thing on here, usually still about the training trio!)

It’s only especially relevant in non-fiction AUs such as UTDP where everyone’s families are actually real, but – can we talk about the fact that all three of the training trio, in very different ways, are lacking in parents with both the qualities of being alive and being decent parents?

Shuichi

Shuichi’s parent issues are only mentioned briefly in one of his FTEs and don’t get nearly as much focus as his detective-related issues caused by that one case that traumatised him. But it’s possible that they could actually explain quite a bit about him.

It seems to be only in fairly recent years that Shuichi’s parents moved to work overseas and he was sent to live with his detective uncle. However, his bitter comment about his parents’ “hands-off approach to parenting” (that part of the line I wrote here was taken directly from his canon FTE) implies that they weren’t particularly there for him even when they were his primary caregivers.

He also mentions in this FTE that he became an apprentice to his uncle “as thanks for looking after me”. Which, like… that shouldn’t be necessary? Having someone take care of you is a basic human right for a child. But apparently, being properly looked after is not something Shuichi takes for granted, to the point that he feels like he needs to repay the person who does it for him. Ouch. Poor Shuichi.

Thinking on this, it feels like Shuichi’s distant parents could be a big part of why he grew up so anxious and insecure, and why he instinctively seeks out people he can depend on wholeheartedly and latches onto them when he finds them, like he did with Kaede and Kaito. And most likely with his uncle too, for that matter.

I can definitely imagine Shuichi managing to pick up on the clues about Kaito that suggest things aren’t great regarding his parents, and quietly wondering if they’re the same – maybe even sort of hoping they are, so that he’d have someone who really understands. And, well, turns out they aren’t quite the same after all, but nonetheless, knowing that Kaito’s gone through something similar and can relate on some level would still help Shuichi feel less alone with this.

Kaito

Meanwhile, what happened with Kaito’s parents probably also played a bit of a role in shaping him into the person he is, but in more of a positive way.

I’ve seen some people assume that the deal with Kaito’s parents is that they’re shitty parents kind of like Shuichi’s are, and that this is why Kaito talks himself up to be so super awesome all the time, out of a desperate need for the validation that he never got from his own home. But I don’t think that fits. While the stress of the killing game and his illness begin to really get to him and gradually break down his self-worth, it absolutely reads to me like Kaito’s confidence in himself at the beginning of the game was completely genuine. I don’t believe – at the start – that he needed validation from anyone else to know that he was the awesome person he said he was.

So, I believe Kaito’s parents must have been great and supportive parents. They’d need to have been, for Kaito to be able to grow up with so much real confidence, so unashamed of being bombastically himself all the time even if everyone else thinks he’s a ridiculous idiot. But then, if those lovely parents had died all of a sudden when Kaito was young (young-ish, but old enough to properly remember)… that would also have helped shape him into the Kaito we know, in that it’d make him even more determined to live his life to the fullest and not waste a moment of it.

[There’s more than just these general unsubstantiated feelings about Kaito’s overall character that make me sure his parents died, though – there’s also a few canon lines that I believe are deliberately subtly hinting at it. If you want to see which lines and what I think about them, I’ve compiled them in a section at the end of this post.]

Of course, Kaito losing his parents would have been an incredibly difficult and painful experience at the time. But with his grandparents’ support and his own natural resilience and optimism, Kaito appears to have dealt with it as well as any kid losing their parents could be expected to. He’d be determined to use it to push him forward rather than let it hold him back, and it definitely seems like he succeeded.

(Even so, it’d still hurt sometimes. He still misses them, even if he mostly does a good job of not dwelling on it or letting it get him down.)

Unlike most of his other “weaknesses”, Kaito wouldn’t ever try to outright hide or lie about what happened to his parents. He’s come to terms with it by now, and he’s not and never was ashamed of it – every kid’s expected to grieve for their parents, after all – so I don’t think it’d quite set off his hero issues and make him afraid of letting his sidekicks down if they found out.

But still, I imagine Kaito wouldn’t bring it up unless specifically asked about it. No matter how much he tries to focus on the positives and assure people that he’s okay with it now, it… tends to make people feel sorry for him, and he doesn’t like that.

However, after being prompted to talk about it during this conversation with Shuichi and Maki about their parent situations, Kaito would come to realise that maybe that’s not such an issue with them. Maki and Shuichi each have their own painful lack-of-parents problems that they’ve had to get used to, so they’re not going to be unconsciously pitying Kaito for his. That’d make a refreshing change from most people.

Maki in particular must have known some kids at the orphanage who’d been in Kaito’s situation, in that they used to live with their parents and had to go through the grief of losing them. From this, she’s able to tell that, while it’s partly because he was lucky enough to still have his grandparents, Kaito really does seem to have dealt with losing his parents remarkably well. Kaito already knew that – his grandparents would have told him how proud they are of him for coping so well – but it’d help to know that someone from outside the situation thinks the same thing.

(He still wouldn’t quite bring up the moments where it still hurts and he finds himself missing his parents terribly, because that’s weakness, isn’t it? But at least, knowing that his sidekicks understand this kind of pain, albeit in a bit of a different way, would help it hurt just a little less whenever Kaito can’t help but feel like this. He wouldn’t tell them, but he’d be really glad to have that.)

Maki

Maki’s probably actually the least interesting one to talk about here, because she grew up in an orphanage where not having parents was normal and never felt like the odd one out, and she never even knew her parents to have any feelings about them in particular. It seems she had more just a general fantasy of what having parents would be like which she could share with the other kids there – she talks in one of her FTEs about how she and her best friend played House in the role of the parents and just had to make it up. Then, of course, Maki gained much worse things to be dealing with and shaping her into the person she is than a simple lack of parents.

Still, being at Hope’s Peak (or whatever other school they’re at together in this non-fiction AU) and suddenly being surrounded by other kids who constantly talk about their parents like it’s normal… it probably feels vaguely alienating for Maki, on top of every other reason she has to feel like she doesn’t belong.

But at least Shuichi and Kaito understand, in a way. They know what it feels like to hear the other kids casually talk about doing things with their parents while only being able to wish that were normal for them. Maki’s not so much of an outsider, not when she’s with these two.

And in that same way, Kaito and Shuichi would feel less alone in this regard when the trio are together. All three of them have learned to live with their situations and not complain, but it must be nice to have someone else – two someone elses – who know the kind of feeling they’re going through and can relate, even if it’s rather different for each of them.

They’d be able to bond over this – and not just as hero and sidekicks, but as equals, because this is something even Kaito isn’t completely okay about. They are friends.

(Or, maybe, they’re also like a found family? Shuichi and Kaito are certainly the closest thing to a family that Maki’s had in a long time.)

  ---

[appendix: why I’m sure Kaito’s parents died]

First off, there’s the possibility that Kaito’s grandparents are the subject of his motive video simply because he never knew his parents at all, a bit like Maki. But that can’t be the case, based on this line from his second FTE:

Kaito:  “When I was a kid, I’d go to my gramps’ place to play sometimes…”

If he considered it his “gramps’ place” at the time and only went there sometimes, he wasn’t living with them back when he was that young. So apparently, his parents were still around at that time.

Which means that something else happened with Kaito’s parents to make his grandparents the most important people in his life. There are pretty much two possibilities for this: that Kaito’s parents died sometime after those stories he told in his FTEs, or that Kaito’s parents are just assholes and so he prefers his grandparents to them.

With regards to the possibility that his parents are assholes: aside from how I don’t think that fits because Kaito’s confidence is too genuine until the killing game beats it down, there’s also one line vaguely relevant to this topic that suggests they aren’t. In UTDP, in a scene where he’s being pestered by Kokichi:

Kaito:  “You’re still like this at your age? Doesn’t it make your parents cry? Do you even visit?”

Kaito automatically assumes that Kokichi’s parents care about him, even though it could potentially begin to explain a few things about Kokichi if they didn’t. If Kaito’s own parents sucked, you’d think this’d make him likely to consider the possibility that Kokichi’s might do too. Instead, though, that option doesn’t cross his mind, so it seems like Kaito unconsciously sees parents being decent as the norm.

Meanwhile, there are a few subtle bits throughout the story that indicate Kaito might have some experience in dealing with grief prior to the killing game. At the end of trial 1, after suggesting Shuichi visit Kaede’s lab to help come to terms with her death, he says this:

Kaito:  “Understand? There’s only one way to get through this awful feeling. No one’s gonna be able to console you if you’re just sitting here alone. If anyone’s gonna help you, it’ll be her… in your memories.”

This really reads to me like Kaito is speaking from experience – that he’s saying this because he found that something similar helped for him when he was going through a similar kind of pain.

Then there’s the part in trial 3 where he’s encouraging Himiko to face up to Tenko’s death:

Kaito:  “Our only option is to face her death head-on!”

Himiko:  “…Nyeh? Face her death?”

Kaito:  “Himiko… I understand what you’re going through.”

It’s a little oddly specific of Kaito to say that he understands what Himiko’s going through when he hasn’t personally lost anyone he was especially close to in the killing game like she has. And Kaito is absolutely not the kind of person to lie or exaggerate about something this serious and personal to somebody else – this moment is about Himiko and her feelings, and Kaito knows that and wouldn’t try to artificially make things about himself. So this strongly suggests that Kaito does in fact have some idea of what Himiko is going through and is thinking about a loss he suffered outside of the killing game. Facing it head-on sounds like just the kind of thing Kaito would have tried to do for his own grief, doesn’t it?

Then, only a few lines later in that same conversation, Kaito says this:

Kaito:  “Abandoning someone who died and only thinking about your own survival… That’s just as bad as a hit-and-run! I won’t forgive something so messed up!”

Which would be an extremely weirdly-specific thing to say in this situation… except that it makes perfect sense if you assume, based on his earlier lines, that Kaito was already thinking about how he felt when he lost his parents.

So, yeah. When I wrote that Kaito’s parents died specifically in a car crash, that wasn’t pulled out of nowhere either. I really believe that’s what the writers had in mind as the truth about Kaito and deliberately hinted at here.

(It does make sense that Kaito would have lost his parents to an accident like this rather than to something like illness. It’s statistically more likely that he was raised by both his parents, and if that’s the case, an accident is something that could take both of them from him at once where illness most likely wouldn’t. Plus, if he’d lost his parent(s) to illness, spending the days and weeks leading up to their death(s) knowing he was going to lose them, you’d think Kaito would have ended up better at psychologically dealing with his own deadly illness than he actually is.)

There’s also a few lines Kaito has here and there about making the most out of the time you’ve got:

Kaito:  “If you’re not going to get yourself in gear now, then when!? Now’s all you’ve got!”

Kaito:  “Life is short! I don’t have time to waste loafing around here.”

…which, granted, is a very Kaito-like sentiment in general. But it does suggest that he might have learned first-hand that life is short, like he could be thinking about how his parents’ time got cut off abruptly when he’s saying this kind of thing.

The only part of this idea I pulled somewhat out of thin air for this post was that the accident happened specifically when Kaito was ten, but I think something around that age range seems right. Based on the fact that it’s so relatively hard to spot the signs of this in Kaito’s behaviour, it feels like losing his parents wasn’t so recent that the wound is still raw, and also not so early on in his childhood that it would have left a huge, noticeable scar on his psyche. Kaito’s long since managed to come out on the other side and develop a healthy, positive way of dealing with grief that he can try to pass onto both Shuichi and Himiko during the game, such that doing so is the only real noticeable sign that he even went through anything painful himself at all.

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Where do we go from here?

Chapter 11 on ao3

Chapter 11: A peaceful Christmas

George was eventually let out of hospital on Christmas Eve, he wanted to go back to his small flat above the shop but had been overruled decisively by the rest of his family. He grumbled a bit about this but knowing how stupid and stubborn he had been he reluctantly agreed. He was more annoyed about the healers ordering him not to work, and having to leave running the shop to Ron and Percy at the busiest time of the year.

 Individually he knew both were more than capable, but they could be a little inflammatory towards each other when forced to work together. He desperately hoped the spirit of Christmas would keep them civil, and find a way to work together without him being there to manage the pair of them. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and Harry had also offered to help out, it warmed his heart at how much his family was there for him, and made the empty space inside him feel a little smaller. He just wished he could have convinced his mother to let him at least be at the shop, but she had insisted on following the healer’s instructions.

Today had the potential to be the busiest day of the year for the business, and he wasn’t going to be there. They had done well with sales last Christmas but the atmosphere has been tense if nothing else, with customers in a rush to get a few things and get home as quickly as possible. But he would not be there to witness how different it would be this year. He  had to stay at the Burrow with his mother watching him like a hawk, and without his girlfriend.

“How am I ever going to see you now?” He complained to her as she helped him settle back into his old room. “I'll be surprised if mum even lets me go to the paddock without an escort.” He knew he sounded a little whiny but couldn’t help himself.

“You are telling me the legendary George Weasley can’t find a way to see his girlfriend whenever he wants?” She was arranging his toiletries on top of his chest of drawers and not looking, she glanced over her shoulder at him when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Not if the unstoppable force of his mother has anything to do with it.” He grumbled, setting the picture of him and Fred the day they opened the shop on the little table beside his bed sliding a finger across the glass. 

“And when has that ever stopped you before?” She told him making it sound like a challenge, he managed a weak chuckle. 

“And your father says I’m the bad influence.” She walked over to where he was standing with his hands in his pockets, and snaked her arms around his waist kissing him gently. 

“That’s when he thought the only reason I ended up in detention was because of you and Fred.” He loved the way she did not avoid his twin’s name around him, as so many others did. It was impossible for him to talk about his life without mentioning Fred. “Dad has liked you for a while now. Especially when I told him how many times you kept me from trouble.” 

“Well that’s good to know.” He smiled and kissed her softly. “I am sure we can figure it out. Now that we both know how we feel I don’t want to be apart from you any more than I have to.” He glanced at the bed then back at her. “When do you have to be at Holyhead?”

“I should be there already, but my boss told me to come a bit later so it’s ok.” 

“No it’s not.” He said firmly. “I won’t have you jeopardise your opportunity just because of my foolish behaviour.” He could not quite believe how much she was willing to compromise for him, but he was not going to create any more obstacles for her. “I promise I am not going to keel over as soon as you leave my side.” He took her hand and marched them back down the stairs. She turned to him when they stopped in front of the fireplace and placed her palm against his cheek. 

“You were, and still are grieving. We can all do foolish things when we are. I will come spend some time with you tomorrow evening I promise. Have a great Christmas, enjoy the time with your family.” They kissed again a longer deeper kiss, George loved the feel of her fingers tangling in his hair. He grabbed a handful of her ample behind and she squealed as he squeezed it pulling her in closer. 

“You could bring your dad here, you know mum wouldn’t mind, there will be plenty to go around?” He offered but she shook her head. 

“I know, and thanks, but we like it to be just us at Christmas. It’s something special we do for each other.” He nodded his understanding and she kissed him goodbye.

Molly found him still standing there and handed him a cup of tea. He tried to smile for her, she was hurting for him as much as for herself and he did feel terribly guilty about that, when he wasn’t annoyed at her hovering. She rubbed his arm.

“She is a lovely girl, I hope you are doing right by her.” 

“Of course mum. I love her.” Molly’s eyes sparkled with the unshed tears, but this time they seemed to be from happiness.

“It is truly wonderful for me to see my children have partners to share their lives with.” He considered his mother’s words and took a chance.

“So you are not going to scream at me if I stay over at her place when she’s home?” She crossed her arms and looked a little uncomfortable when she replied.

“George, as much as I would like certain ways to stay the same I know the world is changing. You are a grown man with your own business, your own life away from here. I cannot say I approve, but I can perhaps learn to accept, just promise me you tell me when you plan on not coming home so I don’t have to worry.”

“I promise mum,” he said bending over to give her a hug and feeling a little better about being back under his mother’s wing.

  *

 Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was absolutely crammed with people looking for last minute presents. It had been the same pretty much all week, but this was now the last day they would be open, Christmas eve and the feeling of panic had intensified. While George was under strict instructions to rest up and stay away, it was all hands on deck for the rest of them. As Ginny looked around the shop she realised there was probably more help than was actually needed, but everyone had felt like they had let George down and were determined to do this for him. 

Fleur had initially been on the till, but when a stream of adolescent boys had crowded around it, buying random products just so they could talk to her, making wild claims to impress her. Percy had decided it was not morally fair, and she had been given the task of cooking up some skiving snack boxes instead. Bill had then taken over the till, until his scarred face had frightened a small child, the parent of whom had apologised so much Bill had wanted to leave in embarrassment. They had both decided to go not long after that, Fleur promising to make more of the snack boxes at home and bring them over later. 

Now Ginny was on the till and she was enjoying being part of the team. Ron and Percy were rushing around restocking shelves and helping customers. Charlie was doing his best to help out where he was directed. When lunchtime came and went she realised she was starving and her feet were starting to ache. Hermione watched her bend over to rub her ankle and took pity on her, the girls shared a smile at the sight of Charlie surrounded by a group of giggling thirteen year olds, flirting with him outrageously, and asking about the love potions. Charlie seemed to take it all in his stride and dealt with all the attention with polite responses.

“Go and take your time with lunch, we’ve got more than enough people,” Hermione told her quietly during a break in the que. “Harry is still hiding in the stock room so you will probably have to remind him what time it is.”

“He won’t want to go anywhere busy.” She said with a slight sigh. Whenever the two of them went out together in the wizarding world they would always get quite a bit of attention. Harry always got the attention whether or not she was with him, but at least it had reduced to people staring more than everyone appearing to shake his hand and tell him well done. Those were the kind of days that had made Harry want to wear his cloak or not go anywhere at all.

There had been quite a crowd when they’d first opened that morning, and word had quickly spread that the golden trio were all working in the shop, but many of the visitors had not been interested in buying anything so they had been gently told to leave if they were just going to stand and stare. Harry had retreated to the stock room after that, and Hermione had spent most of the day in the office with the accounts, the only person both Percy and Ron agreed could do as good a job as Percy himself. 

She wondered where they could go for lunch without attracting attention. Harry had always been more comfortable out and about in the muggle world, and Ginny was slowly becoming more used to it herself. It tended to be where they went when out together.

“Then take him somewhere quiet.” Hermione told her in exasperation. “And don’t worry about hurrying back you two are the last to eat.” She quickly wrote down an address on a piece of paper. “Tell him to take you here. It's a little place that I think he’ll love.” Ginny looked at the address.

“A music shop?”

“It has a little café next door that's never overly busy. Go and have fun, I think Harry could do with some normal.” Ginny squeezed her hand gratefully.

“Ok but if you need us…”

“I know, but I honestly think we can handle it. Just be back before closing so we can all go to the Burrow together.” Ginny nodded her agreement as she left her friend to find Harry and take him out for lunch. 

 The music shop was colourful and loud as they approached, walking hand in hand. It had not been too far to walk from the leaky caldron, and it had been pleasant to spend time walking with each other despite the cold. Harry had kept his beanie hat pulled low over his forehead and his scarf wound around his mouth so all Ginny, or anyone else, could see were his glasses and nose. Ginny was wrapped up against the cold too, the sky was going from a pale to ever increasing darker grey, with a cold nip in the wind.

Stepping into the music shop was a welcome relief from the cold. It was true that it didn’t seem to be busy. Most of the muggle Christmas shoppers were concentrating on the main shopping centres so they could stay out of the elements, these tiny little back street vendors were a welcome haven from the chaos. She knew Harry would love to spend some time looking through the records, but the café beside was warm and inviting. It had a swept wooden floor and comfortable looking booths upholstered in grey wipeable fabric. There was a small bookshelf at one side of the room full of well thumbed novels. A little hand written card above said take on leave one. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and warm bread.  

“I can see why Hermione likes this place so much.” Harry said pulling off his hat and ruffling his hair before unwinding the scarf from his neck and approaching the counter. There was a hum of voices as several of the booths were occupied, and the music from next door was drifting into here too. Removing her own hat and scarf she hung back slightly, reaching for Harry’s hand, still a little unsure in such places. The options for drinks alone were baffling, she never usually drank anything other than tea, and she didn’t want to ask what a Panini was in case they realised she had no clue. Harry sensed her nervousness and squeezed her hand before putting a reassuring arm around her waist. 

“Do you want a hot sandwich or cold?” He asked her as the girl behind the counter smiled politely waiting for their order. “A pot of breakfast tea and a cappuccino.” He told her while they decided on food. 

“I don’t know, hot?” She murmured to him. 

“It’s okay, it’s not a test.” He chuckled at her, “go find a place to sit and I’ll order for us if you are okay with that?” She nodded, happy for once to let him take charge. She found an unoccupied booth by the window and slid into it. 

He smiled as he joined her at the table carrying a tray. “They even use loose leaf tea.” He exclaimed, taking the pot and sliding it to her along with a large teacup and tiny jug of milk, before taking the round cup of chocolate dusted foam for himself. Once she had poured herself a generous cup full she wrapped her hands around the bowl of it warming her chilled fingers. 

“When I considered ways I could get you alone again, this was not quite what I had planned,” she told him, she hoped he would mistake the flush in her cheeks to the cold outside.

“It’s not quite been the time together I had hoped for either.” He replied sympathetically. “I offered to look after Teddy tonight but Andromeda wants him with her, which is understandable. I really think it’s going to be hard for her tomorrow, much more than she would ever let me see.”

“Mum invited them to ours for Christmas dinner, they are coming aren’t they?”

“Yes they are. I couldn’t let them be alone at Christmas, and your mum feels the same.” He smiled that happy little smile he got when he thought about his godson. “He has grown so much already. I hope Andromeda doesn’t get mad at me for buying him so many presents, but I just couldn’t resist.” He looked genuinely worried about upsetting her.

“I am sure she’ll understand, it is his first Christmas after all.” She understood completely why he wanted to spoil his godson, he was determined to give the little boy everything he never had as a child. “What did you get for Kreacher?” 

“Some new pillowcases and bedding. Now that the ministry is repurposing Grimmauld Place as Auror trainee lodgings, Kreacher doesn't seem to be so attached to the old place anymore, he wants to look after me at the flat, he is very protective over me now.”

“Well of course he would be, you avenged the death of Regulus, and you have been very kind to him. I think it would make me happy to know you’re being fed properly. I remember how he kept bringing you sandwiches and watching you eat them, before we left Hogwarts.”

“Hey! I can cook for myself now.” He said in mild indignation. “Your mum’s been teaching me.”

“Then how come every time I stay at yours we have a takeaway or eat downstairs?” She replied, quirking an eyebrow at him. He put his hands up and shrugged.

“Okay so I can’t cook well enough to let others consume it, apart from Ron.” He conceded. “And you haven’t stayed that often. Not as often as I would like.” His eyes darkened as he looked at her and she felt that familiar swoop in her stomach. She squashed her rising want for now, something she had been forcing herself to do more often lately. There had been one embarrassing incident at St Mungo's where they’d almost been caught by a porter. Luckily they had still had all their clothes on when they had walked in on them, Ginny had blushed as red as Harry’s jumper that day.  They had both been behaving so inappropriately that she had not allowed herself to even kiss him at the hospital since. 

“Mum’s been so ill with worrying about George, the last thing I want to do right now is stir up more trouble. You are staying at the Burrow tonight?” He nodded slowly as she already knew this. 

“Then all you and Hermione have to do is swap rooms and we can all be happy.” She grinned into her teacup.

“Gin, that sounds perfect but there is some kind of spell on your stairs I’ve never made it to your room any time I’ve tried.” He looked truly puzzled as he remembered past experiences.

“I asked George about that.” She went on to explain further as he looked up a little horrified. “In a roundabout way so he didn’t know what I was actually asking about. And he said it works in a similar way to apparating, it is all about the intention.” He still looked a little unsure, “When you leave Ron’s room, it is with the sole intention to visit Hermione, think of a question to ask her or something. Nothing remotely sexual or inappropriate towards me,” He nodded his understanding, a leering grin creeping onto his face. 

“All my thoughts about you are inappropriate right now, especially since you banned me from touching you at the hospital.” She felt her skin catch fire again under his intense gaze and wanted to dive across the table and snog him silly, but the waitress turned up with their food and killed the moment slightly.

She looked down at her plate that held what looked like a squashed toasted baguette. “Mozzarella, tomato and basil Panini.” He explained. “Or mine is cheese and ham if you prefer?” She took a tentative bite of the hot, crispy, and gooey sandwich and could not stop a satisfied moan of pleasure. “That good eh?” He chuckled, his eyes still hungry for her. She pulled a stringy piece of cheese from the edge and popped it in her mouth. 

“We have to teach Kreacher how to make these so we can have them at school. This is the sort of thing that should be taught in muggle studies.”

“Sandwich making?” He snorted.

“No, prat! Shopping, muggle money, food shops and cafes. Instead of how muggles manage without magic, it should be teaching us how we can interact with their world.”

“You make a good point.” He said his eyes were bright with the idea. “You should write it down and submit it.”

“Me?” She squealed in disbelief.

“Why not? It is your idea. I could tell Kingsley about it but education is left to the head of Hogwarts, as it should be.”

“You want me to submit a change of curriculum to McGonagall? While I’m still at school?” she could not quite believe what he was suggesting.

“There is no better time, you’ll be too busy with your own career when you leave. There are so many other projects and ideas I wanted to have an input in before I started my Auror training, I’ve had to let others take them over.” She knew he was talking about all the misplaced and still missing muggle born witches and wizards, he had wanted to help but Kingsley had assembled a task force and they were making good progress. Harry had played a big part in helping them by providing them with his family’s home to set up as a shelter.

They finished their meal without much more conversation, she glanced out the window and noticed the weather turning for the worse, as icy rain was falling heavily. She doubted there would be many more people venturing out in this weather so felt no need to rush back. This was the first time she and Harry had been together away from her family since George had gone into hospital. She had needed Harry’s support, his strength, he had been there for her. She had been so angry at George, so angry at everyone else for not looking out for him better. She had wanted to give Ron both barrels until Harry had stopped her, seeing what she couldn’t, that he was already broken by what he had discovered. She had forced herself to calm down, Harry had shown her she had to. It was not fair to blame them, she had been just as blind. 

Ron had pulled himself together quicker than she thought she could have, but then again, it was not the first time her brother had to recover from a traumatic experience. The family were making quite a habit of it. Knowing that George was going to be okay, that he wasn’t going to continue trying to carry on without the support he needed, had surely helped them all.

“I don’t think they’re going to miss us at the shop, they’ll probably end up closing early if this weather keeps up.” She told him, looking out the slightly steamed up window.

“It’s Christmas Eve Gin, no shops close early. There will still be some fools leaving it to the last hour of the last day to buy their gifts. Regardless of the weather.” He sounded mildly irritated by the idea of leaving something to the last possible chance. She considered for a moment what he had bought her, it would be something thoughtful, and more than likely useful.

“It doesn’t matter anyway as Hermione said we don’t have to go back until they are heading to the burrow, so we have a few more hours before then, and I certainly don’t want to spend them in a café.” She told him, he grinned wickedly back at her.

“Well what are we still doing here then?”

  *

                    As soon as they found an empty side street Harry took her hand and apparated them straight to his bedroom. She laughed deep and throaty as he started to unwind her scarf and kiss the revealed skin of her neck. She pulled his beanie hat off his head so she could grab onto his hair, the ends that had peaked out of his hat still damp from the rain.

                  “Oh Ginny,” He mumbled into her ear as he bit it gently. “I will worship you until the day I die, and beyond.” She could only hum her pleasure in response as his hands had managed to find their way into her coat and under her jumper, making her skin shiver where his cold hands touched. Her hands worked furiously to relieve him of his own clothes until he was standing in just his faded jeans and boots. It was his turn to shiver as she slid her hands across his chest and gently scratched her nails down his back, the moan that escaped him as she did this was truly delicious, and she felt her body respond in kind. He swore in frustration as he struggled to remove her jumper. He had lifted it above her head but somehow the wool tangled in her hair clip trapping her arms and obscuring her face. She could not stop the giggles that erupted from her at the ridiculousness of it, she laughed even more as his frustrated swearing intensified. He growled at her and pulled the neck of the jumper just enough to reveal her grinning mouth and bit her bottom lip gently. 

                  “You think it’s so funny perhaps I will leave you like this.”

                  “Just rip the damn thing if it’s stuck.”

                  “Really?” his voice sounded very deep, and rough, she could not see him but she knew his lips would be curling up in just a slight hint of a smile. There was definitely no longer any hint of frustration in his voice. “I quite like the idea of keeping you all tied up.”

“Please, just rip it off.” She told him trying not to let the panic that was building up in her show. She tried to wriggle herself out of the fabric but the damp weather had made the fabric stiff and inflexible. “I don’t think I like this Harry.” She said with a nervous laugh, without another word said she was free from the claustrophobic feelings, and her jumper now lay in shreds at her feet.

                  “I’m sorry Gin,” he said, “I was trying to think of a spell without hurting you.” His eyes were full of concern for her as he guided her to the bed where they could both sit down, she rubbed the feeling back into her arms and tried to bring her breathing back down to normal.

                  “That’s alright, I thought I could handle it, then it felt a little too much like being restrained.” She did not want to tell him exactly what it reminded her of, not right now anyway, the passion that had brought them straight to his bedroom had been diluted somewhat but she did not want to kill it completely.  She leaned towards him, deliberately brushing her chest against his arm as she kissed him, his arms wrapped around her as he responded pushing them down onto the bed. “Now where were we?” His hand slid under her bra and she pulled away despite herself at the chill in his fingers. 

                  “Why don’t we warm up in the bath together?” He suggested noticing the goosebumps and her shivering. She smiled and nodded remembering how large the bath was.

  *

                    Ron gave the two of them quite a glare when they got back to the joke shop considerably later that afternoon. The rest of them were just finishing up putting preserving charms on all the perishable products and counting up the takings to take over to Gringotts. Percy walked out from the office a clipboard and quill in hand.

                  “Well I think we are in pretty good shape. Good job everyone excellent work today. I think all that’s left to do now is go home and enjoy Christmas.” Ron gave him a meaningful glance and nodded his head towards herself and Harry.

                  “What about these two? They’ve managed to skive off the whole afternoon.” Ron said, sounding extremely disgruntled.

                  “Relax Ron.” Ginny said, giving him an overly sweet smile. “Hermione said we were not needed so we went and had a lovely relaxed lunch.”

                  “Why is your hair wet?” Percy asked suspiciously, his eyes squinting at them.

                  “It’s raining.” Was her quick reply.

                  “Why are you wearing one of Harry’s old Christmas jumpers?” Charlie asked, with a glint in his eye. 

                  “Because my jumper got snagged and ripped so Harry kindly let me have this one.” She crossed her arms angrily noticing their sidelong looks at each other. “Stop it, stop interrogating me please. Do I ask you a million questions every time you spend time with your girlfriends?”

                  “What did your jumper get snagged on?” Charlie smirked. Harry, who had remained quiet as she had answered her brother's questions, looked a little uncomfortably at Charlie’s rather large and scarred arms, but he didn’t back down at the glares, instead he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. 

                  “I don’t think this treatment is very fair.” He told them. “I’ve hardly seen Ginny since she’s been back at Hogwarts. I don’t think it is right that you all force her to defend her actions, but if it was one of your brothers not your sister would you be asking?” His voice was very steady as he spoke to them. “We are a couple now, we are going to stay together, and the sooner you all get used to that the better. I have done enough of hiding how I feel for this witch, I love her, there is nothing more to be said. So why don’t we just lock up and go home.” Charlie raised his hands in surrender to his heated words but it was Ron who spoke.

                  “It’s not like that at all mate. I’m happy for you two, you know I am, and I‘m really trying not to be so protective, but it’s not exactly something any of us can switch off. I was just annoyed at Ginny for getting out of the work, nothing to do with the two of you. Not that I speak for anyone else” Harry looked to Charlie who nodded and gave a little shrug.

                  “I think only someone exceptionally brave could take on someone like our sister, and since I have never met anyone as brave as you nobody else would stand a chance.”

                  “Well I am glad you can see that.” She said dryly. “What about you Percy?” somehow she thought Percy was going to be the one to mention her age, how young they both were to be making such big decisions.

                  “Harry is part of the family.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, she beamed at her brother, his simple acceptance meaning more to her than she ever thought it would. Just like that three of her brothers had acknowledged and accepted her relationship with Harry. “Now come on everyone or mum is going to worry.”

  *

                   Ginny’s memories of the first Christmas after the war would be forever filled with the warmth of being with family and friends. The true and unshakeable peace of finally feeling that her family was safe from danger, she loved them all dearly, and Christmas had always been her favourite time of year. Fred, Remus, and Tonks were not with them in body but remembering them made her feel they were with them in spirit. She didn’t go with Harry to visit his parents' graves, although she had offered. He had left very early Christmas morning, while the house was still quiet, and nobody noticed him leaving her room telling her to go back to sleep. 

The joy of watching baby Teddy eating his Christmas dinner and getting as much of it in his hair as in his mouth was undeniable. But the most enduring memory of that Christmas came a few days later when Angelina took her to Holyhead.

 Ginny desperately wanted to keep her cool as they walked into the iconic Harpies stadium but knew she was going to fail miserably. She giggled despite herself as she walked past the entrance to the spectators stands, and further down the tunnel onto the actual greener than green grass of the pitch. She knelt down to run her fingers through the short blades, and smell the fresh special air of a professional Quidditch pitch. She knew she was grinning like a fool as she took in her surroundings. She heard Angelina’s soft chuckle as she walked behind her.

“It’s pretty special isn’t it?” She took a massive lungful of air and breathed out slowly. “I still can’t quite believe I get to stand here.” She offered her hand to help her back up. “Come on, the team are looking forward to meeting you.” She led them around the pitch, through the home team’s door, and along a white and dark green tiled corridor that sloped gently downward, the stone floor of which shone dully from the many feet that had polished it over the years. The air smelled of broom wax, leather, mud, and the unmistakable smell that was always around changing rooms. Murals of the current players decorated the walls and as they whizzed by her, the drawings were so realistic she could almost feel the whoosh of their movement as they scored goals, battered bludgers, and made spectacular saves. It felt special, it felt like coming home to her. They didn’t walk far before Angelina stopped outside of a green wooden door that had a large golden talon painted on it.

“We are going in there?” She squeaked excitedly. “That’s the players changing room!” she stared wide eyed at her former captain, all pretence of keeping cool gone. Angelina leaned against the corridor her legs crossed at the ankle, a very knowing smile on her face.

“Oh, didn’t I mention you are going to do some drills with the team today?” She had a gleam in her eye very akin to George, and Ginny tried very hard to control the butterflies now dancing around in her stomach. She desperately tried to order the thoughts that were running through her head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Just so I am clear, I am going to change into Harpies gear?” Angelina nodded slowly thoroughly enjoying this, “I am going to fly out there, in the stadium?” she nodded again. Ginny was struggling to believe this was happening. “Wow. Why me?”

“Merlin’s sake Ginny I thought you were smarter than your brothers. I told Gwenog and the coaches about you, about your ambition, and she told me to get you down here so she could watch you.”

“But I want to get here on my own talent, I don’t want to be offered a space because of who I am friends with.” She exclaimed angrily, she was determined to do things without any favours.

“It’s only a trial Ginny, if you fuck it up there is nothing I or anyone else can do to change that. You are here on your own merit already. I’m a scout, it’s my job to tell them about you. I wasn’t doing you a favour, I was giving you the same chance I would anyone I found as talented as you. Now hurry up and get your arse on that Quidditch field and don’t let me down.” She opened the door and ushered her in leaving her to get ready.

                  The team was waiting for her inside the changing room. Already in their kit and full of welcoming smiles. These women were her idols, it felt surreal to be stood amongst them like it was nothing. Gwenog stood a little in front of the rest and offered a firm handshake, before introducing her to the team, who did not really need any introductions.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Ginny.” Becca Fletcher the star chaser greeted her warmly. “We’ve all been looking forward to seeing you fly. I was at Hogwarts when your brother Bill played, how’s he doing?” She showed her to a space on the wall where a set of green Quidditch gear was already set out for her. 

“He’s doing good thanks. Still working at Gringotts.”

“I heard he got married.”

“Yeah, she’s okay, not a flyer but nobody’s perfect.” It was very odd to see the woman who’s poster image regularly scored goals on her bedroom talking to her as if she was just another player

 “We’ll see you out there.” she said clapping her on the back as she left leaving Ginny to settle her nerves and find her focus.

Stepping out onto the pitch again, this time in Harpie’s kit, with the reassuring weight of a broom resting on her shoulder she felt a little more comfortable. She quickly joined the team who were in various positions as they stretched their limbs on the pitch. They took her through a few training drills and manoeuvres that she was familiar with as warm ups, then she was matched up against Sandy Larson the Rookie Beater who was a solidly built American who grinned at her in a very cocky manner shouldering her bat.

Gwenog came over to them and handed her the Quaffle. “The play is to avoid Sandy, no bludgers involved just flying skills and don’t drop the Quaffle.”  She made it sound like it was easy. Ginny took the Quaffle and felt the familiar pre match focus as her fingers found a familiar grip on the ball and her mind calmed to the task at hand, this was going to be no trouble, it was just another match she had to win. Gwenog gave her a knowing look as she nodded her acceptance of the instructions.

It didn’t take long for her to wipe the cocky grin from Sandy’s face as the beater struggled to stop her going where she wanted. The broom she was using was a little twitchier than what she was used to and it kept trying to oversteer, she quickly realised how responsive it was and tried to reduce the strength of her movements. It was almost like the broom knew what she wanted to do, it soon became as natural as breathing allowing her to concentrate on getting the better of Sandy.

When Gwenog blew the whistle for them both to land she was full of the flush that flying gave her, she had always felt at home on a broom, and being here had made it extra special. Sandy gave her a massive hug when they landed full of the thrill of the flight too.

“You were awesome.” She exclaimed. “I had a pretty hard time keeping you in range.” Ginny beamed at the praise. “It’s going to be interesting to see you play in a real game.” If that was not a ringing endorsement then she didn’t know what was.

Gwenog and the team coaches had been standing off to one side as they flew, watching them closely but nothing gave away what they were thinking. She re-doubled her efforts for the remaining drills hoping that she was good enough. When the team finally called it quits for the day she was worn out. She just stood in the showers letting the heat of the water relax her tight muscles, dreaming about the giant bath in Harry’s flat. When Angelina found her she was on the bench back in her own clothes, her head leaning back against the tiled wall a look of wonder on her face.

“Did today just happen?” She breathed.

“You bet your Bertie Botts it did.” Angelina replied. “And not only that, the head coach is very excited about you. You might be offered a spot on the team before you even finish school.” Angelina’s voice was full of fierce pride for her, Ginny tried to be excited about it but she needed to keep herself from dreaming too big too soon.

“I have to finish school. I don’t think my mum could cope with another of us not finishing our education.”

“Don’t worry they would never ask you to do that anyway. It would only be to stop another team signing you up before they could.”

                  “The Harpies are my dream. I would never play for anyone else.”

Harry gazed upon the sleeping perfection of Ginny lying in his bed, despite her small frame she still managed to take up nearly all of it, her arms spread wide and one leg hooked over a pillow in imitation of how she usually lay against him, she managed to make his baggy faded t shirt look sexy. Towelling his hair dry he wanted nothing more than to slip back into bed with her, but instead he dressed quietly, and kissed her head. Her eyes snapped open at his touch and grabbed his wrist.

                  “You’re not going anywhere without giving me a proper kiss.” She told him rolling over so she could pull his head to hers. 

                  “I thought you were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” She attempted to pull him back into bed. “I can’t Gin, I’m sorry.” He took a controlling breath as she kissed his neck, her body felt so hot against his. “I swear Ginny Weasley you are going to kill me if you don’t stop. I have to be in court today” Her chuckle was deep and throaty but she pulled away letting him stand up.

“Just remember when you’re stuck in that stuffy courtroom, I’m in your bed. Waiting.”

“I don’t think those kinds of thoughts will help my day pass by any easier. Do you have any idea how much you are torturing me right now?” He closed his eyes and tried his best to recall the last training manual he had been reading instead of his red headed siren. “Today is important, I have to be focused.” Her wicked smile faded at his serious look.

                  “I understand, I’m sorry, but you make it too easy.” She sat up on her knees and reached out to take his hand kissing the palm. “I’ll see you when you get home, love you.” He leaned down and gave her one final kiss. 

                  “Love you.” He murmured before disapparating with a loud crack.”

                   There was the usual busy rush of employees arriving at the ministry that morning, Harry did his best to blend in with the rest but he still thought a few people noticed him, but thankfully nobody approached him today. He spotted Ron’s mop of red hair above the rest of the crowd waiting for him at the newly created memorial. They greeted each other warmly before continuing to Auror headquarters together.

“You ready for this today mate?” Ron inquired gently, he knew better than anyone how much today mattered to Harry, it had to go well, and they had to see the importance of correcting past mistakes. 

“They may not even call me to testify, Kingsley said my written testimony might be enough. It feels like it has taken forever to get this far. I just want it over with now, and it’s only the beginning.”

“They updated the list. Five trials are scheduled for today now, not just Sirius’ hearing.” Ron informed him realising that Harry hadn’t been told, even though this would increase his chances to be called. Harry grumbled and muttered under his breath as he took this in, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Who are the five?” Harry asked, Ron gripped his shoulder in a consoling way as they entered the lifts and had to end their conversation. They did not pick it back up until they were stood at Harry’s cubicle.

“I didn’t recognise four of the names, it appears to be those accused of collaborating with the death eaters but Narcissa Malfoy’s name is on the list.” Harry rummaged through the pile of internal memos that littered his desk. He had not had much opportunity to clear the backlog from his time in the field and his enforced time off over Christmas.

“I want to be there for all of it. I owe it to those who can’t speak for themselves.” Ron did not look happy about his answer.

“It’s not your responsibility mate. You have enough to do without adding to it. I need to go and report to Hestia, you should go find Robin. They’ll call for you if you are needed.” Harry nodded to his best friend letting him think he was agreeing, but as soon as he found the papers he was looking for he made his way down to the courtrooms where he knew Robin would already be.

  Courtroom Ten was already quite full as he arrived, even though the hearings were not due to start for another half an hour, there was a buzz of excitement in the air for the start of the trials. A lot of witches and wizards wanted to see justice being done, and plenty of others wanted to be seen wanting justice done. Harry joined his mentor by the door to the holding cells, the murmurs of the people sitting waiting intensified slightly at his arrival but he tried to ignore it. Robin’s face was an unreadable mask in front of so many people, but Harry heard him mutter under his breath some choice words. Harry took up a position to his other side assuming the same expressionless mask of just another Auror doing his job.

The whole assembled crowd stood as minister Shacklebolt entered and took his seat at the head of the wizengamot, his assistant right behind him with a large stack of papers.

“Good morning everyone. Let us get straight to the task as hand shall we?” He looked to the man to his immediate right, who had remained standing as everyone else had sat down. 

“First order of business is the acquittal of the late Sirius Black.” He announced, “In light of the evidence, that Peter Pettigrew was not murdered by Black, did not die at all but instead faked his death. I have confirmed testimonies from several members of the Order of the phoenix that Sirius Black was working for them in the fight against Voldemort upon his escape from Azkaban. He never had any dealing with death eaters or Voldemort at all.” The room was filled with the sound of rustling papers as the members of the court read through the notes and testimonies they had been provided with, once the noise died down Kingsley spoke up again.

“All in favour of acquitting Sirius Black of all charges.” The majority of the council raised their hands. “Those against?” Harry scanned the faces of those who still could not bring themselves to admit their mistake.

“Keep calm lad.” Robin’s voice was low and pitched just enough for Harry to hear. “You’ll get your chance. Don’t start giving eye daggers to members of the Wizengamot.” Harry tried to school his features back to a more neutral. Internally he was elated to see his godfather’s name finally wiped clean. He hoped it would help him rest a little more peacefully.

“Motion carried,” Kingsley’s voice boomed, he caught Harry’s eye for just a moment and nodded, before everyone moved on. “Next order of business?”