#this one is a particular doozy because the other side of it never gets such passionate defense but honestly whatever

[mightymizora]

Man same disk horse happens time and time again huh

[intrulogical]

So which side do YOU think has the best chance of getting it through Logan's thick skull that he needs to let himself be more open and trusting of others and not try to do everything on his own, whether it's to prove a point to himself, Thomas, or the other sides?

GOOD QUESTION, and i know i just dmed you my thoughts but i'm gonna attempt organizing them for this post.

i'm not sure how correct my characterization of logan is, but my perspective on logan is that he's always been Aware of what he prohibits himself of doing.

like, you know fanfics, right? when logan faces his emotional suppression, it's always under the prompt that logan was unaware he genuinely had emotions in the first place. that he was unaware he, as logic, was allowed to feel.

but my take is that he is aware he has emotions but consciously opts to suppress them because he views it as beneficial for thomas. and i know you didn't ask about emotions in particular, but i think this way of thinking bleeds into the other stuff he tries doing: being less assertive, work independently.

he upholds this conscious effort of doing what's hurtful to him because he genuinely believes it benefits thomas.

which is why, for me, it's less of a matter of what side convinces logan to be more open and trusting of others. even if there would be a side to do exactly this, i think logan is far down his mental health spiral to respond to that kindly, because he would think all his sacrifices would have become a waste.

it really comes down to logan realizing his methods of planning and helping are proven futile to thomas, and specifically thomas. logan kind of upholds thomas' word as gospel; i think his behavior in DWIT and WTIT really proves how much he prioritizes thomas' inclinations ("you're all not listening to thomas", "what's more important is, is thomas alright?", logan letting thomas go on a date with nico). if he doesn't recognize the futility of his plans, then he'll keep going.

...unless, he breaks. and i see two possibilities. and that's what i'm inclined more to ask— who will be responsible for logan to reach his breaking point? and i ask this because logan is aware of how hurtful these plans are to him, but is so deadset in helping thomas that it doesn't matter what he does.

so, i see two answers for this. the first one is that a side would be responsible for his breaking point. and i mean, i think all of them can make it happen, especially with the trajectory of sanders sides right now.

and the second one, which i think is more interesting (and heartbreaking) is if thomas is responsible for his breaking point. because thomas is his entire world, realizing the plans he creates and the behavior he exhibits now does NOTHING to help thomas would be... ouch. the only reason thomas lessened his assertion in the first place is because it hurt the other sides, which in then hurt thomas. so seeing that his commitments did NOT work and were NEVER working, oh boy, we're up for a doozy.

and i mean, i actually think this is the only reason logan works the way he does right now. i feel like he's aware it's hurting him, but isn't aware it's not working for thomas. if he knew it was futile then he wouldn't have pursued it in the first place.

so yeah, the future of logan ultimately depends on thomas, methinks.

[cwarscars-a]

3,5,6,9 for the Villain questions.

Questions for Problematic/Villain muses

3. What’s an inherently problematic view your character holds

well, i mean - he hates the entirety of wutai (that’s pretty terrible). haha, i think that the thing with heidegger is that initially, he didn’t even care for countries or places / where somebody’s from. i think he does live by stereotypes; he looks at certain places in the world and will judge people based on them (not necessarily in a harsh way) but more of a - for example - i write him as being from junon and junon was traditionally a fishing town / sea-town. so if somebody said they were from junon, he’d mention the sea. 

however, his hatred of wutai / the wutai people is more-so born from his personal loss at the hands of wutai. 

so usually, whereas heidegger would be like ‘yeah, whatever, fuck gongaga. we’re gonna build a reactor there, i dont care a fuck if it explodes’. and not have an opinion on the people. for wutai - he’d be like ‘good, yeah. fuck that place and fuck it’s people’. 

i headcanon that heidegger takes a particular prejudice with wutai because of the way shinra has done so terribly in the war against them for years (until sephiroth comes along). he entirely takes the loss personally, and sees it as something that reflects on himself. i also headcanon that his scar and the reason he stopped fighting on the front lines was because of wutai and so that’s another reason why he hates the place so much and will find any excuse to go to war with them. it’s a dumbass, prejudice view to have and is probably one of the worst that heidegger holds.

as a side-note, also his classism. which is arguably as bad, seeing as it’s not birthed from anything but him being raised rich.  

5. What’s makes your muse respect someone? Are they capable of respecting others without reason?

heidegger doesn’t respect anybody until he sees them in action. like, he likes strength and he likes boldness. he isn’t the sort to respect someone snakey or underhanded (even if he, himself, is very underhanded in his tactics). 

for example, him and shinra are such good friends because he respects the way that shinra is ruthless and gets what he wants. he admires the mans ability to win. i see heidegger as a bit of a bloodhound so when he smells blood, he’s happy. if somebody has a kill count and they’re efficient, he’ll like them regardless of whether they’re fighting for the right or wrong side. 

in a way, he’d probably actually very much like somebody like barret (for example) because barret is very strong-willed and heidegger likes people like that. unfortunately (or fortunately, idk haha) for barret - he’s in AVALANCHE and believes the ‘wrong’ things in heidegger’s view. 

heidegger would never respect somebody without a reason (aside from his kids). 

6. Do they automatically assume certain people are lesser than them?

yes, absolutely. i mentioned briefly above that heidegger is very classist. he sees those living in the slums as unworthy (drilled into him at a young age by his parents / military academy). however, heidegger’s arrogance goes one step further - he sees like 90% of people as less than him. 

in a weird way, he has a sort of complex that tells him he’s done more and therefore deserves more than others. it’s this idea that he should be treated better and be above others because he’s made sacrifices in the past (a bit of a martyr complex honestly!) 

9. What’s a line your muse won’t cross under any circumstance?

AW MAN 

well

this is a doozy. 

i’ve actually mentioned in my rules how heidegger is a lot of things but one for sa / r/pe he is not. i mentioned it there because i used to get approached for it a lot. i think that people see a big, angry guy who is kind of a dick and they assume he would sink to that level, too. but the fact is. heidegger absolutely wouldn’t. the man is physical and he’s aggressive, yes. but i imagine (with me headcanoning him to have two daughters), he isn’t pushy or forceful to women (unless their soldiers and he’s pushing them over a fucking obstacle course or some shit lmao). 

also, in a canon sense - when hojo suggests ‘mating’ aerith, heidegger’s reaction is audible and visual disgust. i remember it really irking me when the remake came out because i saw people talking about how ‘the only director who cares’ when hojo mentions this is reeve but that simply is not true. both heidegger and scarlet show visceral disgust. i think it’s poignant that they added this reaction because, to me, it shows that heidegger would never entertain something like that. he’s an asshole, yeah, but he isn’t like that. 

(i also love that they included his reaction and made it so prominent, too because, to me, it gave him a little humanity - and i think says a lot because we /barely/ see the reaction from the others. why does it focus on heidegger so prominently? like, urgh, i love the suggestion there by doing so). 

[transformers-fan-continuities]

Spotlight: Ties That Bind

This one’s a doozy folks! If you missed the last spotlight you can go read it here, but strap in for The Ties That Bind, an absolutely brilliant take on humanformers. It’s hosted here at @tiesthatbind-tf​ created by @artsy-hobbitses​!

Q) Give us a run down of your cont! What's it about, what's it called, what's it like?

Ties That Bind is a humanformers-based original continuity which is part Science Fiction and part Alternate History where the invasion of Quintessons and introduction of their technology to Earth in 1920 sets the world and humankind on a completely different trajectory. The active narrative spans a period from 1920 to 2070, covering the First and Second Quintesson Wars, the interplanetary Antillan War (leading to the creation of Unicron on Mars) and the Great War which involves the Autobots, Decepticons and Functionist stalwarts, and how it affects the characters.

The cast is pretty sprawling and the narrative is mostly centred around human drama with bits of humor interspaced and a dash of horror (mostly centred around how the previous government often chose to utilize the technology left behind from the Quintesson Wars to create new systems of oppression, which affected many of the characters, in the name of worldwide rebuilding efforts).

Q) What characters take the lead here? Any personal favorites?

I will admit to this continuity being very much heavy on the relationship between Old Bastards  Optimus Prime and Megatron, which is given considerable weight as they were best friends who had known each other since childhood and were deeply intrinsic to each other’s growths as individuals, which makes it all the worse when guilt and betrayal enter the party. Despite being captains in two corners of this battle, there’s a part of them that just cannot let go of their pasts together and they need to reconcile with how this will affect their agenda (Megatron) and how they lead their team (Optimus) who don’t necessarily share their history.

Other characters with significant development include:

Starscream, a Cold Construct in a toxic working relationship with Megatron with whom he is hiding a dark secret, who struggles to balance the underhanded viciousness he believes he needs to gain power and his innate desire from his Senate days to make the world a better place. 

Windblade, a Camien native who fights her government’s apathy concerning the situation on Earth which they see as unsalvageable compared to their more Utopian society. 

Prowl, a Cold Construct raised from childhood to be a cop in a police state, who finds out that he was brainwashed several times  to ensure his obedience and efficacy as a government asset and is now working to reclaim some semblance of the humanity he was never allowed to feel and figure out how much of him is who he really is and how much is programming.

Hound, a sheltered Beastman who joined the fight to ensure that Beastmen the world over would have the same rights he did in his homeland of Shetland Isle, but is forcefully stripped of his humanity and faced with his animal side during the war and has to relearn what personhood means amid his trauma.

Q) Is there a bigger point to this, like a theme or some catharsis? Or is it just fluffy fun?

God with the amount of time I spent sleepless trying to figure out how the logistics of this or the semantics of that were supposed to work in universe, I cannot for the life of me say it’s fluffy fun, but I can’t exactly say it hasn’t been pretty engaging either!

There’s elements of war being messy for everyone involved where there doesn’t seem to be a clear line between friend and foe at times, but I think for most part it prescribes to  Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s belief that people are inherently good, but are corrupted by the evils of society. Despite its dark themes (Including but not limited to child abuse, torture, illegal experimenation  and brainwashing), love and friendships do prevail, kindness does beget kindness, found families are made, even the smallest actions matter, and things do get better because there are people on both sides who genuinely want to, and strive to make it better.

With Cold Constructs and Beastmen, it also delves heavily into what it means to be human; to have agency and personhood.

There’s also a strong undercurrent of taking responsibility for one’s actions, even if they were made with the best of intentions (Avoidance of this is what eats up Starscream and Megatron from the inside, and what Starscream eventually embraces).

Q) How long have you been working on it?

There’s two answers to this!

I’ve had a Humanformers-related universe going all the way back to 2007 around the time the first Bayformers came out---basically I had a choice between learning to draw cars or draw people (I was an anthro artist back then) and I immediately chose people.

The 2007 draft however had no worldbuilding or connective storylines and was mostly a fun little venture into character design and practice which were actually instrumental to me experimenting and learning how to draw humans properly.

I left the fandom for about a decade and when I came back to it in late 2020 around September via the War for Cybertron series on Netflix, I immediately got hooked on the 2005 IDW comics I missed out on and wanted to get around to updating my old designs as well find a way to translate several of the concepts I wanted to explore in a human sense, so the 2020 update became its own full-fledged original continuity with detailed worldbuilding and history.

You can see the artistic evolution of several characters from their original incarnation below!

Q) It’s incredible to see your artistic improvement too! Give us a behind-the-scenes look! Show us a secret ;))

Say hello to my workspace! I’ve been working exclusively on the Ipad Pro since late 2016, which is fantastic because I can basically whip up concepts and sketches on the go anywhere. Nowhere is too out of bounds to work on TTB!

Also, do enjoy this sneak peek at true!form Rung, whose synthezoid human body took years to perfect.

Q) YESSSSS alright I must admit this is one of my favorite Rungs, and certainly my fave within TTB. Amazing. Phew, anyway. Where did you draw inspiration from? What canons, what other fiction, what parts of real life?

TTB was initially conceived as a faithful retelling of the IDW 2005 narrative before it was transformed into its own continuity and as such, it borrows heavily from concepts and mirrored plot lines introduced in that run! I chose to have the series inspired off it specifically for the amount of history and worldbuilding it introduced to the franchise.

Anime like Gunslinger Girl and Beastars inspired the depictions of Cold Constructs, especially the more harrowing aspects of their upbringing as government assets instead of children, and Beastmen (Beastformers) in TTB.

I haven’t depicted the world itself in my art all too much, but the architecture from Tiger and Bunny, which has sort of a futuristic Art Deco feel to it, is what you’d usually see in major cities. There is an in-universe reason for that---with a Point Of Divergence set in 1920 followed by 25 years (an entire generation) of progress basically being kicked to the curb due to the Quintesson wars, mankind was basically in a time-locked bubble until the end of the wars, and by then their heroes were 1920s-style rebellion leaders, which lead to 1920s fashion (especially among the Manual Working Class---Megatron, Jazz and Optimus all rock 1920s fashion at some point of their lives) and architecture being celebrated and retained as sort of a reminder of how things were before The Invasion. This anime’s background design is also where I adopted the tiered system TTB’s major metropolises are often built on (with each tier being designated to a different working class) from.

The main artistic style itself is a love letter to 90s cartoons, in particular Gargoyles’ deep and drama-driven character narratives and designs as well as The Centurions’ take on body armor logistics.

I also take inspiration, especially armor-wise, from the characters’ given heritage and background. As an example, Hotrod who is depicted as Irish has the flames on his armor done up with Celtic knots. Welsh aristocrat Mirage’s armor bears olden knight-style filigree and has his Autobot logo designed as a coat of arms. Indonesian Soundwave’s armor and Decepticon logo takes cues from Batik and Wayang Kulit while their mask is based off the Barong.

Q) They are absolutely gorgeous! Show off something you're really proud of, a particular favorite part of your cont.

The worldbuilding in general! Most Humanformers I’ve seen tend to treat it like a fun exercise which it is and is definitely valid, but I found myself wanting a full-fledged world to lose myself in and I sought to try and make that world myself by drafting a detailed history and timeline of events which would affect ongoing narratives, having indepth worldbuilding to include almost all societal aspects of the universe and  expanding on the concept of Beastmen and Cold Constructs existing in a human setting.

I’m not so secretly proud of the research and diversity included to make the cast look like the multicultural, globally-based team that they were meant to be instead of being locked to a single region! My original draft from 2007 was, to put it simply, quite culturally monolithic and I wanted to improve on that aspect with TTB.

I’m also proud that I’ve kept to it this far! I’m a notoriously flaky person jumping from one idea/fandom to another and to have kept at this continuity for the better part of ten months is honestly a personal feat.

Art-wise, this scene depicting a young Megatron working alongside Terminus and Impactor (cameo by @weapon-up-wallflower​‘s OC Missit!)  is definitely one of my favorites since it helps build up the world they live in and plays to familial bonds and comfort found in one another despite their less than ideal circumstances.

Q) Everything has come together so beautifully, you absolutely should be proud. What other fan canons do you love and why? Would you like to see them interviewed?

I am dying to hear more from @iscaredspider​’s Sparkpulse continuity! Her designs are MIND-BLOWINGLY GORGEOUS and I want to hear more about what inspired her to work on it!

Also YOU. Yes YOU BLURRITO. LET ME HEAR MORE ABOUT SNAP.

Q) [wails and squirms away in the mortifying ordeal of being known but in a very flattered way] I WILL SOMEDAY I PROMISE aflghsdjg thank you QwQ

Well that was fantastic, Oni, thank you muchly! A magnificent continuity with so much to look forward to! Coming up next is another personal fave of mine, the first inspiration for SNAP, so stick around...

[opalimagines]

Request: Okay this one is a bit of a doozy but 💚💙. Henry has a crush on you but finds out you like Rick (can be before JSA or not up to you thought it makes sense if it’s before) and makes a big deal about it in front of everybody. Your so embarrassed and Rick tries to comfort you but it makes it worse. You can end it however you want I know this is kinda specific so.... ilysm

Requested by anonymous

Warning: Bullying, mentions of slutshaming

Reader: Neutral

💚 - one person gets jealous that the other has a different valentine (specify who the third character is if you like)

💙 - one person has their feelings for the other revealed by someone else (accidentally or maliciously)

You didn't mind having to sit at the 'Singles Table' every day. Beth Chapel was always nice to you and fun to talk to, and she would send you the recipe for whatever delicious looking thing she had made herself for lunch. Yolanda Montez, a more recent addition, just kept to herself. But who you also enjoyed sitting there with in spite of his generally off putting vibe was Rick Harris.

You'd been crushing on Rick for a few years, but you never did anything about it. He didn't seem to want that sort of thing or for anyone to be close to him at all, even as a friend. So you burned quietly and expected that to continue for the forseeable future.

Whenever Henry King came to the table, it was to slutshame Yolanda, and you even noticed the way she tensed when she saw him approaching. Surprisingly it was you that he stopped next to that day, leaning against the table between you and Beth and interrupting your conversation. "Hey, Y/N."

You and Henry weren't friends. The two of you had been paired together to work on a big project just a few weeks ago, but that was it. You never thought he would speak to you outside of that, and you weren't really eager for him to. "Oh, hi, Henry. Uh, what's up?"

Henry, on the other hand, had developed a crush on you when you worked together. He didn't really notice you before, but after that week of meeting at the library after his football practice, things changed. You had caught his eye, and there was one person in particular who wasn't happy about that and wanted to nip it in the bud.

"Well, since it's Valentine's Day, I thought we could get dinner and go to the drive in." Henry hoped you would say yes, but Cindy's words echoed in his head and part of him already knew that she was right. He had noticed the way you often looked at Rick.

Your jaw dropped and you glanced around the table. At Yolanda as she stared at her tray, then Rick as he glared in the distance, and Beth, who looked just as shocked as you felt. Henry's friends were on the other side watching this all go down, making you feel even more on the spot. "Sorry, Henry, but I'm really not interested in you in that way."

Henry's smile dropped and so did your stomach, because you knew that whatever was coming next couldn't be good. "Why? Because you have a crush on Rick Harris?!" He asked it loud enough that it caught the attention of the rest of the students in the lunch room and they all watched as he continued. "Cindy told me all about it."

You shook your head, but you couldn't respond or breathe. All you wanted to do was run out of the lunch room, your body just wouldn't listen. Now you could begin to understand how Yolanda felt every time he humiliated her publicly.

"I can't believe you would want some worthless trash like him and not me. It's not like he'll ever like you back. He doesn't like anyone. It's just sad and pathetic." Henry laughed and his friends followed suit, making you flinch. He looked at Rick, who hadn't moved a muscle or said a word, then back to you. "See you in class."

Henry left casually, as if he hadn't just thrown a bomb into your life. You could feel everyone staring for another moment before they moved on and went back to their own conversations, but there were still a few sets of eyes on you. Beth gave you a sympathetic look, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet eyes with Rick after all of that.

Finally, your limbs listened and you grabbed your backpack so you could make a line towards the exit. You pushed your way out of the lunch room and ducked into the first secluded spot you could find. You let the tears go and they flooded down your cheeks as you sobbed. Yolanda must have been so brave having to handle being put through even worse than that every single day. Yet there you were completely breaking down.

You saw a shadow on the floor and looked up to see someone you didn't expect. Rick.

He had the same tense body language and guarded expression, but his voice was much softer than you anticipated. "Henry's just an asshole. Don't listen to-"

"No, he was right. You don't like me back and I've known that the whole time. That's why I never said anything. You're just here because you feel bad for me and I can't handle that right now. Please, just go." You sniffled and uselessly wiped away some of the tears. "Please."

Rick hesitated and stayed for another moment before deciding to do just as you wanted, leaving you all alone again to cry in peace.

It wouldn't be until months later, once you and Rick both joined the new JSA together, that you would discover that your feelings had always been mutual...

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 2

[NSFW]

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Part 1:

MINORS

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, wet dreams, mature themes, implied intercourse, swearing, UP TO CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS

Author’s Note:

You already know what I’m about to say 😅 I am very sorry for the delay. Work’s a doozy and I get stressed easy but.. I hope these are worth the wait!! Please enjoy ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

💖Asmodeus:

This day was rather an exhausting one for Asmodeus. Not enough people groveled at his feet as they normally did, he had a multitude of wardrobe malfunctions, and he just couldn’t quite get his hair to stay in place after he struggled for hours, earlier that morning, to get it just the way he imagined. On top of all of that, you were so busy keeping his brothers out of your hair that you couldn’t quite make enough room in your schedule for him. No, he didn’t blame you in the least, it was just frustrating because, on days like this, you were his sanctuary. You meant the world and more to him and whenever he was feeling out of it, you were right there to remind him just how amazing he really was. However, today.... he was meant to take care of himself.

No matter! He had a backup ‘chin up, Asmo’ kit waiting for him when he returned to the House of Lamentation and he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, get in the way. Once inside the house, he made a beeline for his room, put a Do Not Disturb sign on his door, and shut himself away with a click of the lock to ensure that he was certainly NOT going to be disturbed. He stripped himself all the way down to bare skin, dipped into his bathroom, and turned the knobs of his bathtub to the temperature that he enjoyed most. Then, he turned the radio to one of his favorite music stations, dimmed the lights, and lit a handful of scented candles before he finally slid down into the tub and sank low enough so that the bubbles tickled his nose. His eyelids felt too heavy to hold up any longer so he let them close as he let out a breath that he felt as if he had carried it all day. The heated water eroded the tension in his muscles and the sound of bubbles popping and music playing in the distance kept his mind from drifting too far down into a spiral. A waft of his favorite scented candle crept up to his nose and from its serene aroma, as well as the effects of the other combined therapeutic items, he was finally able to shrug away all remaining traces of the stress in his mind and body.

After his much needed bath and his before-bed beauty ritual, Asmo slips between the satin sheets of his bed and before too long, drifts peacefully into slumber.

As the Avatar of Lust, his dreams were no different than his life living with his sin; the adoring crowds, the self-idolization, manipulation, and, it goes without saying, the sex. Not much changes in the dreamworld when you’re practically living it in your waking world. However, this particular dream was unlike any he’s ever had before, and it was all because of you.

In this dream, he was a prince renowned for his looks, for his charms, and, of course, for his riches. But he had grown apart from that lifestyle and such a reputation was a tiresome thing, as it made it rather difficult in finding a proper romance partner that wasn’t after him for his looks or money. He wanted someone that loved and wanted him for who he was deep down. That is why he snuck away to a masquerade ball in disguise, in hopes of finding said partner. He spent a majority of the night talking with some people, dancing with others, and trying his damndest to find his future spouse but to no avail. He began to give up hope and with such a loss comes his indulgence of his sin, in which he finds the nearest and worthiest soul to charm, slip them away from prying eyes, and do whatever each of them pleased.

That is, until one peculiar stranger approached him, gently extended their hand, and asked him without words for a dance. He tilted his head in question, a bit hesitant, as so few ever dared to approach him first. They were either far too intimidated or in awe of him that they waited until he approached them.

The stranger smiled beneath the mask, their eyes giving it away, and they dipped their torso low in a respectful bow, so that they may communicate that they truly mean no harm, while keeping their hand extended in invitation. Asmodeus’ lips give way to a pleased smile and he gingerly takes the stranger’s hand as they lead the way to the dance floor. For hours upon hours, song after beautiful song, they whirled and spun in perfect unison as the crowd surrounding them gave way to their joyous dances. The chemistry was unmatched and Asmodeus was overjoyed, as he felt he had finally found his one, true partner. He simply had to know who they were.

Before the next song could play, he took their hand and lead them into an empty hallway where they may share their identities without nosey onlookers. Once out of sight, he brought his fingers up to the mask that concealed the strangers face and looked into their eyes in question, hoping that they permit him to do away with it. The stranger nods and Asmo proceeds, pulling the mask ever so slowly from their face and suddenly, Asmo’s mouth flies open with a gasp and he drops the mask to the floor. It was you.

“MC...?!” He pries his own mask away and looks at you in the same way an artist looks at their own masterpiece after years of hard work. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, tightly. You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around him and smiling from ear to ear. He parts from you only to cup your face in his hands and in a whisper he says, “I’ve searched for you for so long.” You smile warmly at him with a twinkle in your eye, replying “I’ve been looking for you too,” and he can longer restrain himself. He crashes his lips flush against yours in a desperate and hungry kiss. He‘s reluctant to let either of you breathe as he‘s pressing himself against you further, closing the distance between your back and the nearest wall. “I’ve searched for you,” he pants between kisses, “for so damn long.” He moves down to your neck, letting his teeth graze the skin before he sinks them down and licks the bite. The noises that you emitted due to his actions made his knees weak. With his lips close to your ear, he practically whines, “Please, may I have you?” You grab him by the collar, tug him back to look you in the eyes and with a hunger of your very own, you commanded, “Take me, Asmodeus. I am yours.”

He sweeps you off of your feet and into his cradling arms, carrying you to the nearest empty room to give you everything that you desired. With the door shut and locked behind you, he was back onto your lips in a matter of seconds, only this time, he was much more patient. He had finally found you, someone he was going to love far greater than he loved himself, and here you were in all of your unbridled glory, asking for him and him alone. Not for his money, not for his looks nor reputation... you wanted him for who he was and he could feel that as he danced with you, in the way that you kissed him, and would soon feel as your bodies became one. And by Diavolo, he was going to take his sweet time getting there. He paced himself, slowly stripping you of all of your clothing as well as all of his own, and kissed every inch of skin he uncovered of yours, starting from your neck and all the way down to the tops of your feet. He praised you as he went, not letting a moment go by without him practically singing your name and the glory that came with it. He snaked his way back up your body and, for the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning, made love to you in the most beautiful ways, eliciting your sweet melodies of pleasure that he shan’t ever forget for as long as he lives.

Just as he was beginning to whisk you away to his very own castle to marry you, he wakes up. He whips his head around and you were nowhere to be seen, nor was he taking you to his castle to wed you. It was simply him alone in his room. He huffs out of frustration that it was all just a dream... but then he smiles widely with a giggle, bringing a pillow up to cover his reddening cheeks because the dream was unlike anything he’s ever dreamt before, or ever experienced in real life for that matter. And that experience was love. Not lust, romanticization, idolization, or a sorcerer looking for a pact. It was pure love. He simply had to tell you about this dream. He texts you to “come over right away! It’s an emergency! Be sure to come alone. ❤️”

Once you’re there, he sets the both of you down onto his bed, where he usually talked things over with you, snuggles up close to you and relays everything that happened in the dream... EVERYTHING. He didn’t leave out a single detail. To say that your cheeks could melt steel by the end of his storytelling, was an understatement. For the next few days, Asmodeus was like a barnacle on a boat. He never left your side and couldn’t stand being away from you for too long. He also was a little more protective of you against his brothers or anyone else that wanted your attention. He wasn’t having it. For now and maybe perhaps forever, you were Asmo’s, like the masquerade partner you were in his dreams.

❤️Beelzebub:

As a demon, and living in the Devildom, you just don’t really get to have many ‘good’ days considering the whole ‘sin’ thing and fighting in The Great War and then falling because of it and all that jazz. However, today was an exception for dear Beelzebub. He had eaten his favorite meals all day, was lucky enough to spend an exceptional amount of time with you and Belphegor throughout the day, won a championship game of Fangol (devildom football) against the toughest opposing team, and finally had enough remaining energy to celebrate his big win with a surprise house party involving one of his absolute, all-time favorite meals catered by you and Barbatos... human world cheeseburgers. And it wasn’t even his birthday! He’d have to mention this to his brothers to coerce them into doing some like this for when his special day came around but.. ya know... bigger. Oh! And don’t forget Belphegor’s favorite foods too.

The party lasted for hours on end as each brother spent an extended period of time congratulating him on his victory in between moments of him shoveling the food into his mouth, singing his praises for every move and tactic he used in the game that kept them at the edge of their seats, and hyping him up for the next game to follow in which they were confident in him bringing them another victory. Eventually, everyone’s batteries especially Lucifer’s had run out and the time for celebration had come to a close.

Lucifer sent the elder brothers and yourself to your rooms as he stayed behind to help Barbatos clean, as well as monitor Beelzebub while he finished scarfing down the last scraps of food and downing the final glasses of Demonus. “You played well today, Beelzebub,” Lucifer praised, as he cleared away the empty dishes surrounding Beel and the slumbering twin that rested on his shoulder. “I’m quite proud of you.” He paused for breath. “Then again,” he quipped, “I expected no less from you.” Beelzebub tried his best to flash his dimpled smile with his cheeks puffy with food before swallowing it whole, followed by an audible gulp, and chuckled. “Thank you, Lucifer. That means a lot to me.” Lucifer returned the smile, shifted some dishes from one hand to another in order to use the free one to ruffle a bit of Beel’s hair before he stepped away. By now, Belphegor shifted against his brother and mumbled incoherently. Fortunately, Beelzebub spoke Sloth and knew it was finally time to call it a day and take his twin to bed. He grabbed a final cheeseburger and stuffed it between his teeth, squatted low enough to allow Belphegor to climb sluggishly onto his back like a koala, and started towards their room with a light skip in his step. “What a day,” he thought to himself on repeat, all while tucking his brother in and getting ready for bed himself. As he turned the lights out and finally laid down, he gazed up at the ceiling with a dimpled grin on his face and let his thoughts venture towards you before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Of course, they always did ever since you held his hand to help him fall asleep way back when. And since you couldn’t always be there every single night to help him fall asleep again, he had to think of you as an alternative.

When it comes to his resting, unconscious mind, Beelzebub has four different reoccurring dreams.

He’s living an absolute carefree life with his entire family (including his late sister), not bound by sin or Diavolo, and experiencing paradise in its truest form with the ones he loves

It’s an everlasting, all-you-can-eat, buffet, catered by Barbatos, Luke, and you (with your human world cheeseburgers)

He’s reliving the terror of having to watch his sister get struck down and die. Sometimes he loses Belphegor and/or you too, and, if he’s really unlucky that night, he loses absolutely everyone he’s closest to. His sister, his brothers, you, Luke, Simeon...

Some fortunate or unfortunate combination of any of the above.

However, Lady Fortune continued to smile upon dear, sweet Beelzebub and tonight, he was going to experience a dream unlike any he’s had before.

It commenced with you and him taking a trip to the human world so that you could show him a few of your favorite eateries, restaurants, cafes, bakeries, and the like. Of course, Belphegor came along and was lingering close by, window shopping at furniture stores as they usually had the best products for maximum comfort. You first took them to a coffee shop and showed them all the delicious things they could buy. It took some major convincing (and elbow grease and the help of a twin demon) to pull Beelzebub away from the glass, encasing the baked goods, to keep him from drooling on it. Next, you ventured to a nearby ‘ma-and-pa’ bakery where the goods were stocked to the edge of the shelves with various handmade loafs, muffins, cupcakes and cakes, cookies, croissants. You name it, you smell it, and it was there. With stars in his eyes and zero restraint, Beelzebub slapped his wallet onto the counter and pleaded for as much of their inventory as the shop owner allowed. You two left the bakery with both arms carrying bags up to your elbows and giant grins on your faces. After breezing by a number of other food joints, you finally came to the crowning moment that you’ve been dying to show Beelzebub. The local candy shop. His eyes grew to the size of the sun and his mouth swung open as he gawked at the wonderland of hypnotizing colors and towering walls covered in sweets just beyond the window. Belphegor sighed, shook his head with a smirk and mumbled, “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He took the bags you two were carrying and sat on a nearby bench. Seeing Beelzebub unable to contain his excitement, you nodded to Belphie, took a firm hold of Beel’s hand with a big grin, and led him in.

You started off by showing him the taffy puller where the employees kept watch over the machine as it looped the taffy over and under. Then, you brought him over to the cotton candy machine as an employee was twirling the little ball of fluff into an adorable bunny. Finally, you brought him to the wall of candy where you could grab a bag of whichever size you prefered and stuff it to the brim with goodies. Of course, you handed him a couple of the largest bags they had available and off he went in search of a multitude of sweets. You, yourself grabbed a medium sized bag. When he returned to you, his bags were bloated and almost spilling out over the top but Beel simply couldn’t help himself. They all seemed so delicious. What you didn’t know is that he had a little surprise for you whenever you two left the shop.

Once the three of you returned to the House of Lamentation, Belphegor lazily saluted and headed off to the attic, whereas you and Beelzebub had some major snacking to do.

Sitting in the floor of his room, you took your time sharing sweets amongst each other and complimenting their sugary goodness... until he sealed his bags up, slid them away, and scooted closer to you. You eyed him in curiosity, unsure of his wellbeing considering he stopped eating so suddenly. “MC, I wanted to thank you for today and wanted you to know how much it meant to me...” He inches closer, knees touching yours. “...so, I got you something.” He held up a couple of boxes of Pocky, each in a different flavor. “Pick one.” You tapped on the box with your favorite flavor, and he set aside the remaining ones. Pulling out one of the sticks, he hovers the tip of it just outside the immediate reach of your lips. “Say ahh,” he requested, demonstrating by opening his own mouth. Your lips parted with an ‘ahh’ and he tucks one end of the Pocky stick between his teeth and placed the other end in your mouth. As your cheeks heat up and you look back and forth between his eyes in question, you spot a smirk making its way to his face and he takes a swift bite of the Pocky to keep you focused on him rather than letting go and backing away. You attempt to mirror his act by taking a trembling nibble of the Pocky, inching yourself closer to him, to his lips. He takes a bigger bite than before, rapidly closing the distance between you two. Before long, you’re but a mere half an inch apart and you shut your eyes as you consider just letting go before things could go any further. With the Pocky still between his teeth, he chuckles lowly and “look at me,” he demands. As your eyes open to meet his, he smirks and bites off the last bit of Pocky, lifts a hand up and cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, flavorful kiss. His tongue slithers past your lips and chases after the taste of the Pocky that still lingered in your mouth. Meanwhile, he’s lowering you down onto your back and shifts in a way to keep you pinned beneath him. Your whimpers and moans keep stirring the flames inside of him, engulfing every other thought that isn’t you and this newfound hunger for something oh so sweet. He slinks down your body and strips you of your clothes as he goes, leaving little bruises and bite marks in the bits of flesh he uncovers. “I could just swallow you whole...” He reaches a hand down between your legs, swipes a bit of yourself onto his fingertips and drags his tongue along it, savoring the taste of you. “Fuck MC...”

Before he could do as he very much pleased, the intense growl of his empty stomach startled him awake. He is an absolute blushing MESS and the sheets of his bed have somehow become uncomfortable for his lower half. He looks over at his brother, hoping that he’s still asleep. Thankfully, the sound of a gentle snore confirmed it and Beelzebub tiptoed into the bathroom to cool down.

The following weeks, Beelzebub had a hard time avoiding you, bearing in mind that you were a big eater similar to him, and like him, wherever there was food or snacks, you were there too. It’s one of the reasons he used to feel so comfortable around you. However, the very reason for one of his comforts was the same reason it was harder in more ways than one for him to keep his cool around you because he couldn’t quite that sinfully amazing dream out of his head. You unknowingly made things more difficult whenever you offered him a handful of candy as his stomach growled around you. It brought that cherry red blush back to his entire face and he would make an excuse to go back to his room... and you could never figure out why. Was it the flavor? The gesture itself? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? You got around to asking Belphegor and with a shrug of his shoulders, he replied “maybe he had a dream where he ate candy off of your body?” Your cheeks heated up at the thought and you tried to laugh it off, dismissing the idea. Still... just the thought of it kept you up many, many nights. If only such a thing would come true...

💜Belphegor:

Lucifer was NOT giving him a break. How could he expect The Avatar of Sloth to handle so many responsibilities that go against his very nature? Like waking up in general to go to school, staying awake during classes, completing assignments, kitchen duty, attending whatever event Diavolo was hosting simply because Lucifer said so... I mean, it was all TOO much. It was the same situation as if one were to ask Beelzebub to stop eating, or Satan to stop reading, or any of the other brothers to just toss their sins and means of survival into the trash and pretend they don’t have them, all for some goofy prince who decided it was ‘perfectly fine’ to bring different realm dwellers down into the devildom to be buddy-buddy, like there wasn’t a huge, gaping scar diving them all in the first place. Then again... two of them aren’t all that bad. Simeon is an old ‘friend of the family’ and MC... Well? MC is Lilith MC. And they were the warm light at the end of this bleak, never ending tunnel. The thin shred of hope in the world. And he was going to show them how much they meant to him in the best way that he knew how, while also giving Lucifer a headache in the process.

Belphegor plops down beside you at the large desk you two shared before the class could start. He glances around, noticing that the assigned teacher hadn’t shown up yet nor were any of the other classmates, and it was the perfect time to put his plan into action. He hooks his foot around one of the legs of your chairs and slides you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear without much effort. “Let’s ditch this shit hole.” You could feel the smirk against the lobe of your ear and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. With a heavy sigh, you glared at him and could tell from the twinkle in his caverns of amethyst that it was going to be an uphill battle to change his mind. “C’mon, goody two shoes. We won’t be gone long.” A blatant lie. “Belphegor, you know as well as I do that I can’t do that.” You were trying your best to stand firm, undeterred by his attempts at coercing you in hopes that his laziness would make its grand appearance and he’d give up. But not this time. This time, Belphegor had something he wanted to do for you and he wasn’t about to give up. “MC...,” he places a warm hand on your upper thigh, giving it a light squeeze as he leans in to the skin just below your ear with his lips grazing it, “what’s the matter? Afraid Lucifer will find out and tear you a new one?” He shifted his free hand to the bottom of your chair and jerks it around for your body to face his direction, his lips now very close to your own. He brings the hand from the chair up to your face and holds your chin snug between his index and thumb. Your face heats up enough that it could melt lava and your body tenses. You hear him chuckle lowly to himself, amused by how worked up you become from his actions. “What if he’s too busy nagging me to pay any attention to you? Hm? Worst comes to worst, we can just knock it up to you being ignorant of my...,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip while stealing a glance at them, then looks back up to you, “advances... and he lets you off the hook? What do you say to that, MC?” Your mind was empty and his hands on your body were making it difficult to even comprehend his proposal. You could only think of the low rumble of his voice and whatever the hell it was saying was probably going to come back to bite you in the ass later. However, something about the way he said it, the way he teased you in a such a way to get what he wanted... it was hard saying no.

You slowly nod your head, and the hands that once pinned you in place from the gentlest of touches released you a little too quickly. “Great!” he chirped in victory, standing up from his chair and offering his hand to you. You shot him another glare and reluctantly took his hand with an annoyed squeeze to his fingers. “Not for long. Promise?” He giggled, scooping you up into his arms bridal style. “No. Now act sick until we get to the attic. Don’t want anyone thinking there’s nothing wrong with you and you don’t need a day off.” You crossed your arms in a huff, feeling humiliatingly duped. But the way he was holding you made you feel a little bit better about it all, taking into account how much he truly cared for you and teasing you was just his cheeky way of showing it, while also getting whatever it is he wanted. With that in mind, you curled into his embrace and fully indulged in his scheme, letting out a few test trial, fake coughs and thought of something that distressed you to get the tears going... mostly for the runny nose and puffy eye effect. “Careful. Too great a performance and they’ll be badgering Diavolo to revive you in exchange for their soul.” You reeled back with your outermost arm and sent a heavy blow to his chest. “Kidding,” he laughed. “...sort of.”

Once you two make it behind the door of the attic with a quick turn of the lock, he sets you back down onto your feet and stretches his arms out followed by an audible yawn. “You almost had Mammon shift into his demon form over you. Great job.” he quipped. “Yeah, and I hated every second of it. Can we just nap already? All the crying and fake coughing tuckered me out,” you retorted. “Sure, I’ll grab our favorite blankets,” he said, ducking away to go get them. “And I’ll get the pillows and stuffed creatures.”

You separated for a moment to gather the necessities, tossed them onto the bed, and then huddled up to snuggle close beneath the mountain of comfort. You hooked a leg over his waist and he slid one between your legs, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and he draped one of his over your side, nuzzling his face into your chest. “‘night MC... and thank you.” he mumbled. You placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head and replied, “You’re welcome, Belphie. Sleep tight.” “You too.” And with your bids of sweet sayonara, you drift off into a deep slumber, one that only clinging to The Avatar of Sloth could provide.

One of the perks of being said Avatar of Sloth is that he can visit other people’s dreams, especially if he shares a strong connection with the host. Whenever you shared naps together, he’d sneak his way into your dream world and your mind was like a shared secret hideout because it was the only place you two could be alone for extended periods of time. It was also your own wonderland because he could make ANYthing happen. You wanted to fly amongst the stars? He’d take your hands and lift you both into the atmosphere. You wanted to become your favorite human world creature? He’d snap his fingers and away you two would scurry off. Whatever it was that you wished, he could make it happen within your unconscious mind. However, this go around, Belphie had a wish of his very own and one that he hoped you would grant.

Once he snuck into your dreams, he soon spotted you laid back peacefully upon a cloud, reaching your hand up to rearrange the stars in different shapes and patterns. He noticed you had made one of him and yourself, holding hands. The smile that crept onto his face was impossible to hide, no matter how hard he tried to come off as cold or indifferent. “Always knew you had an artistic streak in you.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, sitting up and clutching your chest. “That was fast,” you breathed. “A warning would be nice.”

“Why? I wouldn’t be able to get such a cute reaction out of you if I did.” He floated towards you and hoisted himself up to his place beside you on the cloud. “How charming,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own, earning yourself a light chortle from him. “So,” you continued, “what shall we do this time? Sail some open seas as pirates? Rob a bank as outlaws in the old west? Or maybe-.” He places a hand over your mouth and shakes his head with his shoulders jumping in light laughter. “You seem to forget who I am, silly. I say we continue from where you left off before you were so rudely interrupted, hm?” He lays back onto the cloud and pulls you down next to him. Then, he takes your hand by the wrist and lifts it back up to the stars and starts moving your fingers in different motions so that you’re creating various works of art as you had been before. Getting the picture, you giggle and continue moving your fingers to shape the stars with him watching you in adoration... but he’d never tell you he did so. At some point you make a cow and point it out to him, laughing at your own joke referring to him in his demon form. “See? The resemblance is astounding!” He smirks, sitting up and looking down at you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone hinting towards a playful threat. “Yeah!” you swat at him.

That was your mistake.

He grips your wrist with one hand and rolls over top of you, taking your other hand and pinning both of them above your head. He trails his free hand from your face, down your side and rests it on your hip, keeping you in place beneath him. Your skin twitches under his gentle touch and your face heats up again as your breath becomes hitched in your throat. “N-not fair...” you whined, squirming and trying your best to get the upper hand. He shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Still forgetting who I am, MC?” He leans down towards your ear, his lips grazing the lobe. He practically growls in your ear, “I don’t play fair.” His gripping on you tightens as he moves lower to sink his teeth down onto your neck, earning him a soft whimper, one that spurs him on further. He snakes his hand from your hip beneath your shirt and runs it up and down your sides as he moves his lips to yours, giving them a bite every so often while occasionally slipping in his tongue. For the rest of the dream he is having his way with you and making your wildest fantasies become reality.. as much as your dreamworld allowed.

When he wakes, he opens his eyes to an empty spot beside him where you normally laid. He sits up, scratching his head and finding a new sense of uncomfortableness beneath the blankets, particularly at his groin. He searches the room for you but you’re nowhere in sight. “MC?” You pop your head around the corner of the bathroom doorway, weariness still in your eyes. “hmmm, yes Belphie?” As you switch off the light and shuffle back to the bed, slipping back underneath the blankets, he’s eyeing you in suspicion. “When did you wake up?” He asks, a gravel to his voice from such a deep slumber. “Well, as you were watching me paint with stars, my body woke me up because I had to use the bathroom...” you paused a moment in thought. “Did I miss something in dreamworld?” He ponders your statement for a second, unsure of how to respond. What it be so bad if he was just honest and told you what happened between him and.. what was supposed to be you? “Yes, you did.” he smirked, “You painted a cow and said it looked like me.” “Haha, classic MC,” you quipped about yourself.

The remainder of your time playing hooky, you were the big spoon and his excuse was that it was more comfortable this way now. Unfazed, you snuggled up behind him and snaked your arm under his to place your hand against his chest. Only this time, he couldn’t sleep. Him. Mr. Sandman. Couldn’t sleep. His mind was reeling, constantly going over the way your body moved against his, how your voice and sounds were like lewd melodies to his ears, and the way you made him feel on another level... it kept him and his lower half up for as long as you were snuggled close to him and had your hand so close to his heart. However, the memory of the dream would last for eternity.

[bruhlsbees]

sweet disposition ; 2/? || modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

summary: in a string of odd events, you and alex grow closer - but just as you grow closer, you take two steps back.

pairing: modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

warnings: drinking (alex and reader), smoking (reader)

word count: 10,952 - this one was a doozy

a/n: part two!! here is the set list playlist for the club that is in this part!! thanks everyone for reading this one and enjoying it!! :) if you'd like to be on the tag list please let me know what account to tag as well as if you'd like to be added to this tag list or another fic!!

Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night. While the first day back from break went smoothly, getting back into the routine of teaching again hit you like a wall of bricks. By the end of your second class, you were already feeling yourself begin to drift off, deciding instead of the lecture slides, you’d put on a video discussing who Mary Shelley was and her novel, Frankenstein. Your students didn’t seem to mind all that much, in fact they probably were enjoying the video instead of the slides - still, you couldn’t help but feel bad for slacking.

You were a terrible overachiever - doing your best to be the picture perfect daughter your parents raised you to be. You got high honors throughout your time in school, captain of the girl’s rugby team, a member of the debate team, and at one point you even had two part time jobs. It was incredible that you even managed to keep your grades so well with all that you did.

But that obsessive behavior you were conditioned into left you burnt out after high school. You felt lost, as if you weren’t a person and simply a robot taking orders. You had no idea what interested you or what you even wanted to do with your life. Of course, you went to college, as your parents expected it of you - that and they did oh so graciously pay for your tuition. Your father constantly wished for you to become a dentist, as that was what he did, but your mother wanted you to become a nurse, like herself. But that was just it - you didn’t want to be like them. You were already their child, looking like a spitting image of the two of them, but to live in their shadow, take the torch they passed down to you? That just wasn't you.

It wasn’t until your sophomore year of college that you finally realized what you wanted to do with your life. In your ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class, you realized your love for words. You were deeply inspired by the language of romance and the stories that were created to have you question one's own thoughts. You were especially touched by Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein, which is one of the many reasons you taught an entire section dedicated to her and the novel. As a teacher, your only hope was to inspire students the same way you once were and have them discover their own passions - that to you was the greatest lesson of all.

When you told your parents what you wanted to do, how you wanted to study English and teach at the university, your parents all but bit their tongues. They weren’t fond on the idea of you studying English, as they didn’t see the full purpose of it, but when you explained your interest in teaching, that seemed to be enough for them to support you. Though, even if they didn’t, you would have still continued on. For once in your life, the first time, you finally knew what you wanted to do.

Though the constant bundle of nerves that sat in your stomach never seemed to fade away. Some days were easier than others, but other days, when you stared at the picture of you with your parents on your desk, that bundle of nerves seemed to sizzle until you were left questioning your own motives. Were you even doing a good job teaching? Was this really what you wanted to be doing? Were you making the wrong choice?

The bad nights were the ones that left you awake all night, tossing and turning until the sun came up and the birds began to chirp. The sleepless nights also welcomed your new habit of smoking terrible cheap cigarettes. On average you found yourself having maybe two or three, but that particular night, you woke up to see doubled the amount of butts in the ashtray next to your bed. It was worse than a hangover, the guilt of succumbing to such a poor habit. When you finally managed to get out of bed, you grabbed the ashtray from your nightstand and went into the bathroom, dumping them into the waste bin before setting the tray on the counter, letting out a sigh as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You would be turning thirty-three by February, and it made you sick. Thirty-three. Jesus, how did you get so old? You knew the cigarettes weren’t helping the older you got; the faint yellow coming through your teeth that was stained from the smoking and excessive coffee drinking, the stray silver slips of hair, hell, even the wrinkles you caught that morning. Pulling at your skin, you frowned seeing the crow’s feet that sat in the corners of your eyes, the lines in your forehead beginning to deepen.

“Great, this is great.”

You knew that obsessing over your age would get you nowhere. If you obsessed over it, you’d be smoking triple the amount of cigarettes and looking even worse by the end of the month. Taking the cup from the counter, you filled it with water and started lapping the water up, setting it back down while you wiped your mouth as you started to get ready for work.

The routine you had for getting ready was perfected into having you be able to get out the door within the half an hour. You were fairly good with getting most of your things around the night before, so all you truly had to do was get dressed, do your makeup, and leave. Coffee was set to be made ready by the time you were heading out the door so all you had to do was pour it and go. Today though, everything around you seemed to be falling apart.

It wasn’t until you were out of the bathroom, ready to sit at your vanity and do your makeup, that you realized you forgot to get around last night. You noticed the chair was empty, leaving you to quickly move to your closet and dig for an outfit. Unfortunately for you, laundry must have slipped your mind over the weekend, because you had no clean work clothes.

Stumbling back, your mouth fell open in shock, and disbelief, as you stared at the empty closet. It was a college, you knew the dress code wasn’t all that strict, but you still liked to keep it semi-professional. Moving back into the closet, you began to flick through the hangers, looking through your shirts, blouses, and dresses that hung up before finally finding a simple green dress in the back.

“This’ll have to do.” You mumbled, pulling it off the hanger roughly, hearing the hanger snap as it broke before hitting the floor. That was the least of your problems right now. You’d deal with it when you got home.

Turning, you pulled your pajamas off from the night and slipped the dress on over you, letting it settle over your body, clinging to your hips before stopping at your calves. You decided on your black vans that day, not wanting to even bother with the thought of heels as you were already beginning to run late. Pulling the chair out from your vanity, you sat down to do your makeup, reaching for the spot where your makeup bag usually sat only to find the space empty. What? It felt like a sick joke at this point, having your whole routine be off on a morning where you needed to be at work.

Extending your hands out, as if to stop the moment, you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side slightly, “Take a breath, it’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine.”

Opening your eyes, you looked at yourself in the mirror and knew that it would just have to be a bare-faced day. The faint wrinkles on your face seemed to be more prominent today, and it would eat you alive all day. Running the brush through your hair, you tried to ignore the flicker of silver as you untangle your hair, soon pulling it back into two low pigtails. You pulled some pieces out to frame your face before realizing you had to get going for work soon.

Coffee though, that wasn’t something you could negotiate. You could deal with wearing no makeup and wearing something out of the ordinary for a day, but coffee was out of the question. It was your morning fuel to get you through the long day of teaching. It was an on-going joke within your friend group in the English department. By the time you met with them at lunch, they already had their guesses as to how many cups you’ve had. The record one day was seven, which made you realize then just how bad your addiction was. You didn’t mind though, other than the staining teeth, you never thought of it to be much of a problem - until you were needing to use the bathroom every twenty minutes.

After gathering your bags up, keys and phone in hand, you went to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee on your way out the door. It didn’t take more than one step into the kitchen when you realized something was terribly off. The smell of coffee that usually greeted you was not there.

“No...you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Frozen in your spot, you saw that the coffee machine was not on, a warm pot of coffee not made for you to indulge on your way to work. You felt your eye twitch slightly, as if you were on the downhill path to cracking. You realized that though that there was nothing you could do, and you had to leave for work now or be late.

Shaking your head, you headed out of your apartment, slamming the door and locking it behind you before stomping down the steps, grumbling to yourself as you headed towards your car. “So fucking stupid, so stupid...stupid….stupid…”

Stuffing your bags in the back seat, you climbed into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind you before letting out a frustrated scream, gripping the steering wheel in front of you. When you finally came to you, you let out a shaky breath before pulling the seat belt over you with a click. The tension in your body was oddly familiar, like how you were back in high school when things began to fall apart in your “perfect” life. This had to be the universe’s way of pulling a sick joke on you. Did you do something bad? Was karma getting back at you?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It didn’t take long for you to get onto campus and into your office. The parking lot was surprisingly not as packed as you had expected it to be, which felt as though at least something was turning up for you. You grabbed your things from the back of your car before rushing in the building, deciding to take the stairs this time - climbing up the three flights, soon reaching the English department.

You pushed the doors open, heading down the hallway towards your office before stopping at the one just three doors down from your own, hearing the familiar set of laughs. Standing in the doorway, you watched as your friend group gathered around, discussing something while staring at the computer that was opened.

It was Jaxon who noticed you first, the film professor that all your friends tried to set you up with. You couldn’t deny his charm and obvious handsomeness, but he wasn’t your type. You saw him as just that, a friend, and sometimes you wondered if he understood that. His expression softened slightly before leaning back in his chair, “Hey, you look like shit.” He stated, causing the others standing around him to turn and look at you.

“God, yeah you do. What the hell happened?” One of your friends, Jess, questioned, moving towards you to look at your face.

Gently pushing her hands away from you, you could only roll your eyes, “It’s called having a bad day...and me not wearing makeup. Thanks for the kind words you guys, as if I’m not already having a shitty time.”

It was Jaxon who laughed at your sarcastic comment, as he always seemed to do, standing up and handing you his cup of coffee, “Here, it looks like you need this more than I do.”

You felt bad, stealing away his precious cup of morning joe. It didn’t even look like he had gotten the chance to take a drink from it, but you were so moody and having a rough time...a cup of coffee was just what you needed. Smiling, you took the cup from him, feeling his hands rest on yours for a moment before your eyes snapped up at him, “Thanks, Jax, I appreciate it.” You mumbled, bringing the cup to your lips before taking a deep sip.

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a moment before opening them, leaning against the doorway, “Sorry, just had a rough first day I guess. I was exhausted last night and didn’t get around. This morning was rather hectic at my place,” You ran your free hand up your face before shaking your head, “Can’t get any worse though. ‘Least I hope not.”

Your other friend, Gihan, who stood beside her boyfriend, another professor within the English department and a friend, Oscar, smiled, leaning into him slightly, “You still coming out with us tonight? I’m sure letting off some steam would help.”

Ah, that. You had forgotten that it was Tuesday - meaning happy hour at the Sour Apple, a club on the other side of town. It was a regular social gathering for the five of you. Heading to Jaxon’s after work to pregame and then head to the Sour Apple until Jess passed out. You were usually always looking forward to going, but this time, you just didn’t know if you had it in you.

“I don’t know...I’m not sure if I’m in the drinking mood today.” You admitted, taking another sip of your coffee.

“Oh come on, just at least go with us. If you don’t wanna come over for pregaming, why don’t you just meet us there? Or we will pick you up on the way, yeah? You can get a nap in before we tear up the dance floor.” Oscar suggested.

Damn them. They always knew how to convince you to tag along. After a moment of silently debating, you rolled your eyes and let out a huff, “Fine, fine,” When your friends let out a cheer of victory, you could only laugh, shaking your head, “But I’m not getting fucked up! I’m not! I got classes tomorrow.”

With a deep laugh, your attention shot over to Jaxon who was back in his seat, looking up at you with a grin, “Yeah, cause we haven’t heard that one before. Wasn’t it just last semester you were showing up to teach hungover wearing the same outfi-”

“Hey! We don’t talk about that!” You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling as you tilted your head back, finishing the coffee before throwing the cup away in the waste bin beside you. When you stood back up, your attention was drawn to the hallway, seeing Alex, the student from yesterday, standing behind you, an almost embarrassed look on his face.

“Hi...sorry, am I interrupting something?” He questioned, his hands holding onto the strap of his bag, looking in the office to see the five of you. You noticed his cheeks going pink, probably feeling bad for stumbling into the office when he did.

You opened your mouth to explain that he was okay, but Jaxon beat you to it. “Alex? Hi, sorry, I’m not having office hours right now. You know that, right?” Jaxon stated, standing up from his chair to make his way to the doorway, standing beside you, almost too close.

You watched as Alex’s nose turned slightly, shifting his weight back, “Yeah...I know. I’m not here to see you.” He noted, clearing his throat awkwardly before glancing your way, as if looking for some backup with the situation.

Moving away from Jaxon and into the hall besides Alex, you looked up at your friend and smiled reassuringly, “Alex is a...semi-new student in my class, I told him he could meet with me today if he had the time to go over some things for the class,” You turned and looked at Alex, smiling sympathetically, “Sorry, Alex, I’ve been having a rough start to the day. Listen, guys, I’ll talk with you later, okay?”

You didn’t notice the look Jaxon and Alex shared between each other as you left to go down the hall to your own office. The two men, nearly standing at the same height, slightly glaring at one another, as if having a silent stand off between the two. When you unlocked your door and flipped the lights on, you turned and looked at Alex, motioning for him to come in. Hearing Alex scuff in, you set your bags on the floor before pointing to the seat at the round table in the middle of the room, “Please, have a seat. I’m just going to get some things out.”

You heard Alex sit in the chair, his bag settling down beside him while you bent over, reaching into your bag to pull out your laptop, glasses, and copy of Frankenstein, in case he had any questions over the text. You weren't entirely positive as to what he wanted to talk about, but you didn’t mind with whatever it ended up being. It was nice to have the time to get to know him. While he wasn’t properly one of your students, you would at least treat him as such.

When you stood back up, turning around to sit down, you noticed his face was rather red, his body tensed as he quickly turned his attention towards the other side of the room, desperately looking at anything else. You laughed the behavior off, sliding into the seat across from him before opening your laptop up. “You’re rather jumpy, I’ve noticed.” You pointed out, eyes scanning over the screen while you read over some of the emails that sat in your inbox.

Looking from your screen and to him, you could only smirk at his expression. It was like he was trying to be mad, but just couldn’t. “Sorry, sorry. Guess I should cool it on the teasing, huh? Second day and I’m already bullying you. I think one of the signs in the hallway would prompt you to report this behavior to the counselor’s office.” Shaking your head, you squinted over the harsh lights before picking up your glasses, sliding them up your nose, looking back up at him.

“So, is there anything specific you’d like to discuss. I know we didn’t get the chance to properly meet yesterday so if you just want to talk, I’m fine with that too. You decide though, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Alex’s face seemed to cool off, returning to the paler complexion he had, sitting up slightly, his body relaxing, “Um, well, I read some of the book last night.” He explained, bending down to pull out his copy, putting it on the table in front of him. “It was a little hard to get into, but I think it’s just because I was reading it so late.”

You couldn’t help but smile, nodding in agreement, “Yes, I wouldn’t suggest reading this at night unless you’re trying to fall asleep. It can be incredibly dull at points.” Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms over your chest, “How do you know Jax- Professor Thorne, by the way?”

The question caught him off guard, not expecting to switch conversation topics so quickly. You realized this and leaned forward again, “Sorry, I just - I didn’t realize you had him for a professor. Then again, I don’t know anything about you except that your name is Alex and you are friends with Denis.” Laughing, you shook your head, closing the screen to give him your full attention, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Blinking slowly, Alex’s mouth fell open before he quickly caught up, “Oh, I’m a film student. Professor Thorne is one of my main professors. I actually have his class before your’s. He’s teaching ‘Authorship in Cinema’ this semester. I’m in my last year so I’m just finishing the last few requirements I have,” It was his turn to ask a question, “Are you friends with Professor Thorne?”

You felt your mouth turn into a smirk, “Hard to believe, huh? He’s not as bad as he likes to present himself...he can have a soft side. Film student, huh? You like to make movies?” You asked, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his response.

Alex shrugged his shoulders, “More or less...Denis is the one who is more into movies, at least making them. I’d be fine filming the news or something.” After explaining what he wanted to do, he realized how dull it sounded. He was going to school just to learn how to stand behind a camera and film reporters? His mother was probably rolling in her grave.

You recognized the expression as it faltered on his face. It was one of shame, as if his goals and dreams weren’t good enough for the stereotypical standard and admitting them meant he was no good. “You know, my parents weren’t too fond of me teaching English...couldn’t wrap their heads around why I wanted to do something so ‘pointless’. But that’s just it, it was something I wanted to do, not them. If you want to film for the news, Alex, go for it! Nobody is stopping you but yourself.”

The silence that settled in between you two felt heavy, a laugh escaping your lips to lighten the mood, “How’s that for some teacher’s advice?” You shook your head and shrugged, “You said you are a senior? You’ve obviously been doing this for a long time, if this wasn’t something you wanted to do, you would’ve got out a long time ago.”

Sitting in silence, Alex thought on what you said, bringing his fingers together, picking at the skin around his nails. “My mom died not too long ago. It’s why I started going to college actually,” He began, pulling his fingers away from each other to stop picking at the skin. His fingers began to drum lightly on his book. “My sister and her boyfriend have a baby and nobody needs me to take care of them. I think I went into film because it was something I knew how to do to an extent since I work with television satellites and stuff. It’s weird...doing stuff for my own. I guess sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, because it’s for me and not someone else.”

You listened to him carefully, hanging on every word he said. Dead mother, sister - assuming she is older than him, with a baby. You listened as he went on to explain how his mother fell into a coma and when she woke up he did everything for her - for his family. Of course he was feeling guilty about doing something he wanted to do, he hadn’t been able to put himself first for a long time.

Reaching across the table, a sad smile on your face, you gently placed your hand over his, “You know, Alex, if you ever just need to talk, I’m here. I know you probably don’t want to discuss this with Professor Thorne, but if you are ever just having a bad day, I’ll make myself free for you.”

You had to admit, you were a sucker for the sob story - the broken and troubled upbringing that left someone so fragile. Maybe it was the teacher in you, that enjoyed watching the delicate flowers bloom into something strong and beautiful. Or maybe it was just the human in you - hearing him talk about how after two decades he finally has put himself first, made you take pity on him. Either way, Alex knew how to make your heart hurt.

Pulling away, you watched as his smile turned slightly, taking his hand to move up to his nose, wiping it with the back of his sleeve before dropping his hand back down. “Thank you…” He mumbled, his eyes drawn to the blank space on the table. Alex tried his best to blink away the tears, not sure as to why he was getting so emotional suddenly.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head and looked up at you, who had been watching him carefully, ready to jump and comfort him if things went south. You had dealt with your fair share in emotional students. Typically they were girls, but you wouldn’t deny the gentle embrace for a male student. To say a boy couldn’t cry like a girl, well, that was just ridiculous.

Alex wasn’t expecting to open up so easily with you. He had whole-heartedly intended to come in to discuss the course, ask you a few basic questions about yourself, and go. Alex couldn’t lie, seeing you talking with Professor Dick made his blood boil. How could someone like him associate with someone like you? And to hear you defend him, to say he wasn’t ‘all that bad’...yeah right. It was bad enough that Alex saw him in class, but whenever he wanted to talk with you he’d see him then too.

Perhaps that was what was so wrong about it all. He knew he was jealous of him, of his friendship with you. Not because he looked better than him, no, it was because if Professor Dick wanted to, he could have you. He was your age, a colleague, and enjoyed kissing ass. He would say that he read Frankenstein to impress you, because he knew that was your favorite, but he wouldn’t really.

Alex though, Alex would read Frankenstein for you.

It didn’t cross his mind that you were older than him. He knew that most guys his age were pining after someone their own age. Someone who was still naive, perkier maybe, and would be wrapped around your arm at all times. But Alex, Alex liked that you were older. You held yourself in a different way than other girls. He liked how you had dimpled skin, wrinkles from age, and you weren’t as perky as girls his age.

Jesus, mommy issues much?

So that was it - he enjoyed having someone worry about him for once rather the other way around. When you spoke so carefully towards him, holding his hands and not questioning the tears that so obviously burned in his eyes, he felt safe.

“Thank you…” He found himself mumbling out, looking back up at you with misty eyes. He felt his smile grow as his cheeks ran pink, watching as you nod, your own smile on your face.

“Of course, Alex. I’m glad you came in today to chat, it seems like you needed it. Us teachers, it means a lot to us when our students feel comfortable enough to come and talk with us about personal issues. At least for me, it makes me feel more like a person than just someone who gives you a failing or passing grade.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders before looking down at your watch. Technically your office hours hadn’t even begun yet, it only being 12:54. You wondered if Alex was hungry, would it be appropriate to ask a student to get lunch?

Before you could even attempt to ask Alex if he wanted to go out, you noticed someone standing in the doorway. Fixing your attention behind Alex, you smiled, seeing Lara, one of your students from your other class in the doorway.

“Oh! Hello, Lara! I’ll be with you in just a minute,” You felt bad for rushing Alex out, but it didn’t seem right to leave a student hanging, “Um, I’m sorry, Alex. I forgot that Lara had emailed me about having a meeting. I’m not sure how long we will be, but if you want to wait we can talk some more after.”

You noticed him frown, clearly not wanting to leave right away, however he gathered his things without an issue, forcing a smile on his face as he stood up, “No, don’t worry about it. Thanks for listening. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Turning on his heels, Alex moved out of the office, bumping into the student, Lara, who tried to take a step in too soon, running into his chest. “Oh! I’m sorry I-'' Looking down, Alex felt his ears grow warm, watching as Lara stared at him for a moment before blushing, “Hi...I’m Lara, I’m in Professor’s class that’s held on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” She explained, taking a step back.

She was cute, Lara, there was no denying that much. But Alex didn’t feel the same spark as he did with you, so when she was painfully trying to flirt with him it just went over his head. “Alex. Nice to meet you. I’m not, I’m not really in her classes,” There was a brief, and awkward, pause, before Alex moved around her. “Uh, sorry, I gotta run.” He rushed out of the conversation and down the hall, quickly making his way out of the department and to his class.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“I’m just confused as to why we are going.” Denis explained, taking the shot glass from Alex before ‘clinking’ it against his, tipping his head back to take. He gagged slightly at the burn, but finished it nonetheless.

When Alex stopped in earlier that day to meet with you during your office hours, he overheard you and your friends talking about going to the Sour Apple after work. You knew the club they were talking about - it was the one that he lived just down the road from. He didn’t expect you to be the type to go there, but then again, he didn’t know you at all.

But he couldn’t tell Denis that, no. He couldn’t tell Denis that he had the hots for their professor after just one day and he wanted to go and see her. He was a boy, though, so of course he had no real plan as to what he would do if he saw you there. It’s not like he could buy you a drink and ask you to dance. So what would he do? Watch you from the corner like a creep? Part of him truly just wanted to go and make sure that Professor Dick didn’t do anything stupid. It was his caretaker personality kicking in, the need to have to defend you, even though you never asked for it. So what was he going there for?

“Look, you know I’m all for your movies and drinking some beers and watching what you’ve created, but why don’t we go and do something different tonight, yeah? Let’s go down to the Sour Apple and who knows, maybe you’ll even find a girl?” Denis rolled his eyes at the comment, shaking his head before leaning against Alex’s counter.

“Plus, they got happy hour going - or so I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but on a Tuesday?” Denis shrugged and looked at Alex, with a flicker of concern in his eyes, “No offense, Alex, but you aren’t the best sometimes when holding your liquor. It’s already bad enough when you stumble home from my place, but a bar? You think you’re gonna wake up to see tomorrow?”

Denis was right - Alex suffered under the addiction of two things: beer and cigarettes. During his time taking care of his family, he relied heavily on the two to keep him in check, give him a bit of a release. But now that he was on his own, he didn’t need to rely on them.

“I get where you’re coming from, I do, but let’s just go have some fun, okay? If things really aren’t fun for you, we can come back here and do our usual. Does that sound fair?”

For a moment Denis seriously considered just heading home then, but deep down he knew that the change would be good for them. He had a suspicion though that there was something Alex wasn’t telling him, about why he so badly wanted to go down to the Sour Apple. Finally, after what felt like forever, Denis nodded and smiled as Alex clapped down on his shoulder, shaking him.

“I know you’re gonna have fun, Denny Boy - come on! Let’s get going before all the happy hour drinks are gone.” Pulling his jean jacket over the red flannel he decided to wear that night, Alex grabbed his keys and wallet, stuffing them in his pockets before opening the door to head out, locking it once Denis made his way out. The two trekked down the steps, moving quickly to get outside. Once the two were hit by the breeze of the evening air, they began their journey down the road to the Sour Apple.

It didn’t take long to hear the music booming out onto the street, the neon lights illuminating the block while the line of club-goers waited outside to be checked in. As Alex and Denis waited in the back of the line, he anxiously looked around, seeing if he could spot you with your friends. He wondered if you were here already and inside, or if you hadn’t left yet. Maybe you decided to not come at all? Alex was so worried about searching for you that he didn’t even realize the line was moving until he felt a sudden shove to his back.

“Hey! Pay attention!”

The rough voice from behind sent an instant headache to Alex. Looking behind him, he glared slightly at the older gentleman who towered him that was just as impatient as everyone else. The gentleman had a look on his face, almost testing Alex to see if he’d say or do anything. Denis, however, was the one to pull Alex away, gripping his arm tight as they moved up even more.

“Sorry about him,” Denis quickly rushed out to the angry man behind them, looking at Alex after. “Dude, what is your deal tonight? You aren’t acting like yourself?”

Pulling his arm away, Alex shook his jacket back down as it had bunched up, shaking his head, “I’m fine, man. Let’s just hurry up and get in.”

Alex didn’t mean to snap at Denis, in fact he really didn’t know why he was in such a poor mood to begin with. Yes, there was the boyish lust for you that he had fogging his brain, but that wasn’t enough to give him any reason to snap. As the two continued their way through the line, getting up to the bouncer and showing him their ID’s, Alex let out a sigh once through the door.

“Listen, Denis, I’m really sorry man. I didn’t mean to snap at you back there, that guy just really pissed me off is all.” It wasn’t a complete lie, the guy really did piss him off, but again, it wasn’t enough of a reason to have him snap at Denis.

All Denis could do though was shrug, smiling weakly towards his friend, “It’s cool man, come on, let’s not kill the mood before we even get a drink. Make it up to me by buying the first beer, yeah?”

It was a deal that Alex couldn’t say no to and after nudging his friend, Alex and Denis made their way towards the bar, wedging themselves into a couple seats before ordering the first round.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You could already feel the buzz settling in once the sudden rush of heat hit you as you made your way into the club. You couldn’t remember what Jax said he put in the punch, but you knew having three cups probably wasn’t the smartest move. Everyone else seemed to be doing just fine, but then again - you also were the one running off of no sleep.

When the five of you got in, Gihan and Oscar instantly took off towards the dance floor, grinding up against one another to the sound of the music. You turned your nose slightly, more so at the sight of how obscene they looked. You heard Jess yell for them to get a room in which Gihan only flipped her off as a comeback. The remaining three of you headed towards the tables that were in the back of the club, grabbing one that would fit all of you before dumping your coats down.

“I’m going to get a drink, who’s coming with me?” Jaxon asked, clasping his hands together before grinning, clapping hands with Jess who announced that she would as well. Shaking your head, you felt Jaxon and Jess grab your arms, pulling you with them.

“So it seems even if I wanted to say no, I wouldn’t have had a choice.” You laughed as you stood at the end of the bar in between the two, waiting for one of the bartenders to grab your order. As you leaned against the bar, you couldn’t help but groan, your feet already killing you in the heels that Gihan and Jess offered you. It wasn’t that your outfit was uncomfortable or you hated it, but you didn’t see why you couldn’t just wear what you were wearing early.

“And what if there is a cute guy there who wants to take you home? You’re gonna leave wearing your work clothes?” Gihan asked, digging through her closet to try and find something for you to wear.

You could only roll your eyes, sitting on her bed, playing on your phone, “Gi, who says I wanna go home with someone? I got classes tomorrow, I’m not trying to wake up at some stranger’s house and figure out where the hell I am.”

Jess could only laugh at your annoyance, flopping down on the bed beside you, “Oh come on now, lighten up a bit. We are only trying to help you. You found your makeup bag and dolled yourself up, might as well finish the look off with something cute.”

Before you could ask why what you were wearing wasn’t cute, Gihan triumphantly stood up, presented the silky white pants and brown one shoulder tank top.

“I have a belt too,” She explained, moving to lay the outfit on the bed, “Snatch that waist of your’s up a bit.” You couldn’t help but laugh, looking down at the outfit before nodding, giving in to the makeover that Gihan was having with you.

“Thanks, Gi, yeah, this is great.” You slipped your vans off first before pulling your dress off, tossing it to the side before putting the outfit on that Gihan picked out for you. It was cute, and you were glad it wasn’t some 2006 hooker look that you feared she would give you - the last thing you needed was for someone you knew to see you looking like you were trying to pick someone up.

It was Jess who wanted to do your hair, pulling it out of the pigtails you had in earlier, fluffing your hair out before pinning some of it back out of your face. “There, now you look ready to go and have some fun.”

“Is that who I think it is?”

Looking up from his drink, Alex frowned, letting the straw dangle between his lips for a moment, squinting over at the end of the bar where Denis was pointing to, seeing Professor Dick and you. He tried to hide his excitement, playing it casual before nodding, “Oh yeah, it looks like it’s Professor,” He shrugged going back down to his drink, “She looks nice.”

The casual comment sent Denis laughing, looking back at Alex who was sipping down his Jack and Coke, “Nice? Man, she looks hot! For a teacher I mean...damn.”

Alex had to fight back his eyes from rolling, the twinge of jealousy settling in him. He knew that Denis was only looking at her because she was out of her typical teaching attire, or so he assumed given he’s only seen her now in two different outfits. Denis didn’t like her the way he did. Alex tried to suck his drink down, chewing on the straw now as he avoided the thoughts that ran through his head. When he glanced back up to see what you were doing, he frowned when he didn’t see you at the end of the bar anymore.

“No way! What are you two doing here?”

Turning around, Alex was pleasantly surprised to see that you had made your way over to them. There was a grin on your face as you shook your head, hands on your hips, “Don’t you both have homework you should be doing?” You teased, laughing as both men blushed.

“Oh, I’m only kidding. I’m sure you kids like to let loose sometimes too. Weird ain’t it though, running into your professor at the club?” You lifted your glass to your lips, finishing it off before wedging between them, motioning towards the bartender for a refill. “I’m buying their next round! I’m at the end seat!” You shouted over the music, watching the bartender nod in understandment.

Alex did his best to not get too hot and bothered by how close you were, your body practically flush against him with how tight the space was as you wedged yourself in the middle. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until you stepped back. Exhaling, Alex opened his mouth to speak before hearing Denis beat him to it.

“Hey, Professor! Now that you’re here, I actually had a question abo-”

“Oh no, no! I’m not answering any questions about the reading right now,” You let out a laugh and looked over at Alex, motioning towards Denis, “He always a goody-good?”

It was Alex’s turn to laugh, watching as Denis blushed from the teasing that came from you, “Oh yeah, can’t ever get him to loosen up.” He teased, winking at his friend who could only swat at him.

You laughed at how silly the two looked, shaking your head before taking a sip from your glass, “You boys are ridiculous. Listen, I’m going to go and have some fun with my friends...don’t, don’t be ratting me out to the board if you see us doing anything not family friendly, okay? I’ll pretend I don’t know you, if you pretend you don’t know me. Yeah?”

Before you turned to head back to your friends, you pointed at the two bottles of beer that were in front of them that you bought, “And don’t be telling anyone I’m out here buying you guys drinks.” You shot a wink their way before disappearing into the crowd.

Feeling his cheeks grow warm, Alex turned, taking the bottle into his hand before tilting his head back to drink. He typically wasn’t this flustered, but damn did you have to wink at him? Denis, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear, nudging Alex with his elbow, “See? I told you she’s cool. What professor would buy their students booze at a club?”

Meanwhile on the other side of the club, as you returned back to your seat, you could only think about how silly it felt seeing students at the club. Of course the two of them were allowed, it’s not like they weren’t able to just because they went to school - but running into students at such a taboo place, it made you almost feel...wrong.

You slid into your seat at the table, Jess and Jaxon talking amongst themselves before they noticed you returning. Looking over at you, Jaxon’s smile faded slightly into a frown, “Where’d you go?” He asked, almost sounding possessive.

Trying not to think too much of it, you motioned at the bar, “A couple of students are here and I just went and said hi to them. Alex, a student from your film class, he was one of them. He’s here with one of his friends.”

At the mention of his name, Jaxon frowned, nodding once before glancing over at the bar, “So I see,” He picked up his drink and downed it quickly, setting the glass back on the table before glancing at you, “So what’s up with you and him?” He asked suddenly.

Taken back, you sat back a bit, not being able to help the laugh that escaped from you, “What are you talking about? Up with us? Alex? Jesus, Jax - he’s a student. What do you mean what’s going on between us?”

The way he shrugged his shoulders so carelessly made your blood boil. This wasn’t the first time he questioned our relationship with anyone of the opposite sex. Anyone who could be seen as a threat in any way towards him, he wanted out of the picture.

“He’s not the type to just go to the teacher's office hours. I just think it’s a little weird. You said you just met him yesterday? I’ve known him since he started college, okay? He’s not as nice as he likes to say he is.” Jaxon spun his finger around the rim of his glass. Jess, on the other hand, sat in awkward silence, not sure what to say while you sat on the other side, red in the face.

“Funny, I think the one who isn’t as nice as they like to say is you.” Your comment earned a jabbing glare your way from Jax, who’s own face began to turn red.

“At least I don’t play hard to get.” He mumbled, although both you and Jess very clearly caught what he said. Oh what a turn of events.

“So this is what it’s about? You’re still hung up on the fact that I turned you down?” You let out a laugh, so rocked by the disbelief that you weren’t even sure how to react, “If you weren’t such a presumptuous asshole, maybe I wouldn’t have turned you down.”

And you thought that was it. He fell silent and his drunk brain was malfunctioning, desperately trying to figure out what to say next. What came next though surprised all of you at the table.

It was almost an instinct. You caught what he said to you so quickly and then the next moment your drink was in his face. Serves him right for calling you a bitch.

Pushing yourself off the chair, you grabbed your coat and headed towards the exit, ignoring the calls from Jess and eventually Gihan and Oscar who were returning from the dance floor, confused as to what was all going on.

“Are you dense? What the fuck is your problem?” Jess demanded, shoving Jaxon’s arm as he tried to coward away in his drunk shame. She scoffed and shook her head, grabbing her own coat before beginning to chase after you, calling out your name over the music and crowd of people.

When you burst through the door, the breeze hitting your face, you quickly dug in your coat pocket for the carton of cigarettes, pulling one out before sparking a light, bringing the cigarette into your mouth and taking in a long inhale, blowing it out in a huff.

“Fucking prick.” You mumbled, moving away from the busy line and to the emptier side of the building, leaning against the wall as you smoked your cigarette, looking out at the road as cars rushed by, ignoring the people who walked by you.

You weren’t surprised to hear the sudden rush of clicks that came out of the club, your name called out as Jess rushed up to your side, “Hey, Jesus, I don’t know what that was about. You okay?”

Flicking your cigarette into the road, you exhaled your last puff before turning towards Jess, motioning towards the club, “I mean, yeah, but really what the fuck was that?” You did your best to not project your anger out onto Jess, but you couldn’t help the yelling that soon came out of you. “Who the fuck does he think he is to sit there and question anything I do? Hmm? I’m so sick of him. I’ve been playing nice for months now, defending him to everyone - and this is what I get back?” You shook your head, laughing as you fumbled into your pocket to get another cigarette, “No, I’m done. Done! I ain’t going back in there and I’m not speaking to him.”

Your hands were shaking from anger, trying to spark the lighter and light your next cigarette before Jess finally had enough of watching you struggle, stepping forward to take the lighter from your hand and lit the cigarette herself. You took a long inhale before exhaling, offering it to her, “Thanks…”

She took it without a second though, nodding once before inhaling, “Look,” She began, tilting her head back to blow the smoke out and not in your face, “I’m not saying you gotta listen to what he says, but there’s a good chance he’s not going to remember this in the morning. You gonna tell him or let him figure it out?”

You fell silent, debating with yourself on the best approach to this. “I’ll text him, tell him how it is and he can read it in the morning. Like I said though, I’m not talking with him. Not now, not ever. I’m done. I don’t care if you guys still hang out with him, that’s your choice, but don’t drag me into any group outings again if he’s going to be there.”

Nodding, Jess handed the cigarette back to you, watching as you quickly finished it off yourself, flicking it this time on the sidewalk before crushing it out. “You need a ride home? I can come back and pick you up after we drop Jax off at home.” You shook your head, declining the offer quickly.

“No, no I’ll figure something out. Thanks, though.” You smiled weakly at Jess and watched as she nodded again, reaching down to squeeze your hand. After a moment, she let go and turned, heading back inside to find the others, leaving you to your thoughts outside.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Alex had noticed your absence, or at least not seen you, for quite some time now. He knew he shouldn’t be worried, because you were a full grown adult and with friends, but what worried him was when he saw the table you were sitting at with only your friends and not you. At first he waited, hoping you were in the bathroom and coming back soon, but when you didn’t, that’s when he got nervous.

Denis seemed to be in a trance, perhaps it was the last shot he took, sending him over the edge; but whatever it was, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Alex fidgeting in his seat beside him.

“Hey, man, look. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I think I better head home,” He hiccuped and groaned, feeling sick to his stomach, “I’m gonna catch a cab home, so don’t wait up for me, yeah? I had fun...see you tomorrow?”

Alex smiled and nodded, standing up to help Denis from slipping, grabbing his jean jacket from the stool before shaking his head, “Let me help you get a cab, okay?” Denis didn’t seem to protest, leaning into Alex’s hold as he pulled him out of the club and out onto the street, waving a cab down before helping Alex into the back.

When he told the cab driver the address, he smiled once more at Denis before patting his chest, “Take it easy, man. Call me if something happens and you need me, okay?” Denis nodded slowly, squeezing Alex’s hand before sighing, “Thanks, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taking a step back, Alex watched the cab pull out, sighing as the sudden rush of cold air hit him, prompting him to pull his jean jacket around him tight. When he turned around on the sidewalk to start heading home, he wasn’t expecting to find you, standing outside, smoking a cigarette.

It took a moment for you to really process who it was, feeling a bit out of it. You had gone back in the club once after Jess left to get a couple drinks, slamming down a few shots out of anger before heading back outside, finishing the carton of cigarettes off shortly after.

Alex was the one to approach first, a worried expression on his face as he stepped closer to you, “Hey, what are you doing out here?�� When he was close to your face, he noticed under the illuminated neon sign how red your eyes were, as if you were crying. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you were, crying pathetically out on the street.

“O-Oh! Hey...Alex…” You felt yourself struggle to make a cohesive sentence, leaning against the side of the building for support. “What are you still doing here? Is Denisss here?”

When you began to slip, losing your balance, Alex was beside you in seconds, catching you and holding you in his arms, “Hey, woah, careful!” He helped you regain your balance, although his arms stayed wrapped around you, “Denis just left...I could ask you the same. Why aren’t you inside with your friends?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you adjusted your stance, leaning your weight into him. You noticed how warm he felt, despite standing outside in the cold, and how he smelled of a mixture of liquor and cigarettes. To anyone else, you’d probably gag at the smell, but in that moment, it was comforting.

“My friends are not someone I want to see right now.” You explained, turning your head into his chest, resting your cheek against him.

Was it friends? Or someone specific? Alex of course wouldn’t push it - if you could hardly stand on your own, how did he expect you to explain something to him that obviously was a little complex.

He only nodded his head, bringing his hand to your head for a moment, hovering his palm over your head before gently resting it on top of your hair.

“Do you have a way home? Do you need a way home?” He didn’t know if he trusted you or a cab driver enough to make sure you got home safely. It wasn’t something he was too thrilled on, despite the obvious attraction for you, but he began to realize it was your only option.

“Why don’t I take you home? To my place?” He suggested, coaxing you to stand up as he began to walk you down the sidewalk carefully, back to his apartment, “I can take you home in the morning. But you should probably sleep.”

You were the one to stop, pulling yourself away from him slightly. Despite being a little too drunk for your liking, you still felt in your gut that this wasn’t right, “Alex...I don’t know if I can do that. It’s not appro-”

Alex quickly stopped you, balancing you as you began to lean too far back, “I know, but you can’t get home alone. Please, just for tonight. You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You can trust me.”

You should have turned away, asked for him to take you back inside to your friends. You would deal with Jax for the extra hour if you had to if it meant ending back up in your own bed...but for some reason, you knew that just wasn’t going to work tonight.

And in some sick way, you did trust Alex. More than perhaps anyone else in that moment. The student you just met, you trusted him more than your own friends.

Nodding your head slowly, after a moment, you sighed and leaned closer to him, “Okay...thank you.” You felt the embarrassment sinking in, the idea of a student taking care of you made your stomach twist...or was it the one too many drinks?

It didn’t take long for Alex to get you to his apartment. He only struggled when it came to the stairs, practically having to carry you as your legs began to turn into jello on the second flight of stairs. He remembered doing this for his mother’s birthday, after her coma, when she wanted an old friend to come over.

He was so drunk, Alex remembered, that he had to help him shower and dress. Thankfully for Alex now, all that was the issue was getting you up the stairs. And finally, when he did, Alex could only sigh in relief, pushing his front door open as he coaxed you onto the couch. He locked the door before returning back to you, kneeling as he pulled your heels from your feet, putting them near the door for you to find easily in the morning.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you to bed.” Bending down, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up, tightening his grip so you wouldn’t slip, turning to his right to walk with you towards his bedroom. He did his best to not trip over the stuff on his floor, making sure to watch your feet so you wouldn’t do the same. He became almost embarrassed with how messy it was. Thankfully you were too drunk to realize the mess, and hopefully in the morning you wouldn’t pay too much attention to it.

He got you to lay back on his bed, adjusting the pillows under your head before pulling the duvet up to cover you. “Okay, you good? I’m going to be out in the living room, I’ll keep the dorm open in case you need anything. If you do, just yell and I’ll come in.”

You nodded, eyes closed as you tried to relax. Your head was spinning and your heart was racing. “Thank you, Alex.” You mumbled, body curling under the duvet.

Smiling, Alex nodded and stood up, turning the lamp off, leaving the lava lamp on, before heading out of his room and into the living room again. He let out a sigh as he picked up one of the pillows by the window, a blanket as well, before making his way to the couch, kicking his own shoes off and tugging his jacket off before laying down. Alex adjusted the blanket to cover him before staring up at the ceiling.

He waited until he heard you fall asleep, not taking too long before he heard your deep breathing, a faint snore kick in. Closing his eyes, Alex smiled to himself, soon letting sleep take him over as well.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The next morning, Alex woke to the sound of the birds chirping from outside, the sun peeking through the curtain and hitting him in the eye. With a groan, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and processed his surroundings. He felt his eyes droop shut again, tired from the night before. Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he leaned to the side and pulled out his phone, looking to see that his boss had texted him, asking him where he was.

It was then that he realized that Alex had work. Muttering a string of swears, Alex quickly texted his boss, explaining that he wouldn’t be able to come in today due to him feeling under the weather. He had hoped that Denis didn’t text something similar - the last thing he wanted or needed was for his boss to call and chew their asses out.

When Alex didn’t get a text back, he assumed that his boss was pissed, but accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming in. Swinging his legs off the couch, Alex took a deep breath, letting out a yawn before pushing himself off the couch, stretching and cracking his joints.

The apartment felt particularly quiet that morning, and Alex couldn’t figure out why. That, and why he was sleeping on the couch. When he headed from the living room and to his room, seeing his bed made, a scribbled note on the pillow, he carefully made his way over, picking up the note.

Alex,

Thanks for letting me stay the night. I’m going to assume that nothing happened and I don’t need to change my name and flee the country - given that we were in separate rooms and wearing our clothes.

While I appreciate the gesture, I would like to apologize for my behavior. As your professor I recognize how inappropriate it was last night and I would like for this to stay between the two of us. Along with that, I think it would be for the better if perhaps you didn’t sit in my class. Instead, go to Professor Thorne’s office hours - I’m sure he would appreciate it.

Again, thank you.

Alex had to read the letter four times before he finally really processed what it was that you wrote. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew Professor Dick must have said something to you last night, and that’s why you were acting this way. But...what if it wasn’t him at all? And this truly was your own words, how you really felt?

Stuffing the letter in his jeans, Alex quickly changed his shirt, freshening himself up before grabbing his school bag and heading out of his apartment. He needed to hear from you what this meant, if you truly meant this, or just what exactly was going on.

By the time he got on his scooter and made it onto campus, it was only going on 12:30, meaning there was a good chance you weren’t there yet. When he made his way up the stairs and into the English department, down the hall to the end where your office was, he stopped short, noticing that you were at your desk, back turned towards the door.

He took a deep breath first, pushing down on the handle before opening the door quietly, knocking on the door to signal you were there before shutting it behind you. When you had turned around, you hadn’t expected to see Alex, with your letter in his hand now. It was then that you felt your face grow hot, standing up from your chair.

“Alex, good afternoon. Is there something I can do for you?” You asked casually, trying to avoid staring at the letter to make it known just how oblivious you were trying to act with the situation. Shaking his head, Alex took two steps forward, stopping when he noticed you take a step back.

“I don’t get it. What happened? I mean, I read what you wrote, but it just doesn’t make sense.”

“What don’t you get?” You felt your eyebrows furrow before looking behind him at the window, making sure nobody was listening before back at him. “Look, I appreciate what you did for me last night, but that was a mistake, okay? I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I’m your professor and you’re my student. What happened was incredibly inappropriate and I do not feel comfortable right now with everything going on.”

It felt so sudden. The past two days were truly a blur. One minute you were meeting a student who was eager to join your class, the next you were in his bed drunk. Maybe it was what Jaxon had told you that made your head spin so violently, lash out at Alex with your own fear - whatever it was though, you knew that as a professor, your only choice was to be professional.

“So, what? I’m just supposed to walk away from this and pretend it never happened?” Alex asked suddenly his own irritation building. He knew this wasn’t you - it didn’t take a genius to know that you weren’t the type to push a student away like this, even if you had made a mistake.

He took a step forward, his expression softening, “Did Professor Thorne say something to you last night? Did he do something?” He was taken back with just how quickly your own expression changed. Going from a rather solemn one to red, pure rage. It was as if he tripped over the wire of a ticking time bomb.

“Even if Professor Thorne were to have said something last night, that is none of your concern. I’m sorry Alex, but I believe you have overstayed your welcome. Please, leave my office.” You pointed towards the door, eyes shifted down as the tears began to build. You hated making a student feel so confused, so sad, but in this case, you knew it was only for the better.

With his mouth fallen open, Alex stared at you for another moment, almost waiting for you to tell him to stay, that you were sorry and changed your mind. But it didn’t happen, it never came. He stifled a laugh and shook his head, looking her once over before turning and leaving her office, slamming the door shut behind him as he made his way down the hall.

He was slightly disappointed to see that Professor Thorne had not been in his office that day, because if he was, Alex knew he wouldn’t have been a student for much longer.

[yumgrapejuice]

An analysis on Ranboo’s lore playlist

okay y’all first of all, ranboo has a killer taste, i love him, and second, i couldn’t resist. i’m an analyst by nature. am i looking too deep into some things? did ranboo maybe choose some songs purely for the vibe? perhaps. do i care? no. let me have my fun.

I’m gonna drop my own analysis/interpretation based on these songs but feel free do use this yourself if you want!! And also feel free to disagree/correct me on anything!! I’m not a professional musical analyst lol and I did take some inspiration from already existing interpretations for the more lyrical songs.

here’s the playlist btw

“Introduction to the Snow”—introduction to the album. Fitting for the playlist’s beginning, seeing the tone. It’s mostly referencing (self-imposed) isolation.

“Dream Sweet in Sea Major”—this Miracle Music’s whole album is about dreams and reality, how they clash, loneliness and the wish to be close to someone, yet still remaining isolated. Very whimsical, metaphorical, melodic, and it has this vibe as if on the edge of consciousness. I’d say it fits quite well with c!Ranboo’s general vibe. This song in particular deals with sleepwalking(ha)/being in a dreamlike state, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurred.

“The Mind Electric”—oh this one fits Ranboo extremely well. First part is in reverse, the second in normal (mirroring), and it can get quite unsettling. Like you’re not sure what’s happening with the instrumentals, many different voices. Again, very metaphorical, but to put it shortly, the protagonist is being judged for a crime they’ve committed and, in their defence, they say: “Father, your honor, may I explain, my brain has claimed its glory over me; I’ve a good heart albeit insane”. They get “condemned to the infirmary” for that, where electric shock is used on them as a form of “therapy”. As a result, the protagonist loses grip on reality and themselves and truly does go insane. They beg for mercy and sympathy, but there’s no one to help them. “Someone help me; Understand what's going on inside my mind; Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me”—need I say more, really?

“Live and Let Die”—the phrase “live and let die” means to live your life how you wish and let others live how they wish without interfering. At first, you live by the phrase “live and let live”, meaning you have your ideals and you try to change the lives of others according to them, but as life progresses, you stop caring as much/try to distance yourself from others’ business.

“Turn the Lights Off”—dreams and nightmares. Mildly foreboding yet energetic. The actual meaning is about growing up (transition from childhood to adulthood), but we can take some other interpretations that’d fit with Ranboo’s character better. This Tally Hall’s album deals with differences, black and white, and how there shouldn’t be a divide between them. In this song, there are some noteworthy lines that I’d like to mention:

- “Bend the nightmare, you control it; Artful dodger, easy does it”—lucid dreaming, you have to be careful with it so as to not lose control.

- “Shut the closet, get under the covers”—you’re afraid of something and instead of facing it and seeing whether there even is something to be afraid of, you hide.

- “Turn the lights off”—confront your fears. It can also mean that in the dark, there’s no differences between people, going back to the album’s meaning.

- “And everybody wants to get evil tonight; But all good devils masquerade under the light”—this could mean that everyone has a darker part of themselves but those who actually indulge in their dark tendencies do so in plain sight by pretending to be someone else.

“Ruler of Everything”—the main theme here is time and how it’s the “ruler of everything”; time doesn’t matter about where it goes, and it will never stop. The second verse is most interesting to me—there are two singers, man and time, but for the sake of interpretation let’s just see it as two voices. One is obsessed about being liked, fitting in, constantly asking for reaffirmation (“Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk?”), while the second criticizes the first (“You practice your mannerisms into the wall”). They argue—”I’ve been you, I know you, your facade is scam; You know you’re making me cry, this is the way that I am”. The second is calling out the first for not being honest to himself. Tone is lighthearted but with an edge of unease.

“Merry-Go-Round of Life”—from Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack. The title’s self-explanatory, I’d say.

“Killer Queen”—this one’s a harder one to interpret in regards to Ranboo lol. The song is about, based on an interview with Mercury, a high class woman that likes to indulge in her various desires (mostly sexual). I would doubt that’s what Ranboo was going for, so! Perhaps about a person that has no regards for their reputation and instead does whatever they feel like it? They have a certain image but still act however they like. Yeah, not too sure about this one :’) But that’s what I’ll go with for my later analysis.

“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”—quite straightforward. A person that performs bad deeds has reasons for them. Not excuses, but explanations, and you can sympathize with it. We all do “bad” things for one reason or the other, and, in the end, we’re all just trying to get by. Once again, plays into the theme of there not being a clear distinction between good and bad.

“The Bidding”—another harder one to interpret. On the surface, it’s about an auction where men are trying to sell themselves to women. They all present themselves in different images, and it’s remarked that the women care less about the date and more about the prospect of it, the pretty words. The date, actually, ends up being disappointing. Could be about expectations. Some men outright admit they’re assholes so whoever chooses them should know that. People can tell you what their intentions are from the start so if you end up hurt, you have no one else to blame but yourself.

“A Mask of My Own Face”—another interesting one! Unusual instruments, strong beat. They’re singing about how they have a desire to pretend to be someone else while secretly still being themselves. “I’d rob my own apartment and I wouldn’t give a damn; I’d blame it on the person that nobody knows I am”—implying they have no regard for their own livelihood and are just out to have some fun. Plus, that no one would be aware it’s all an act. “I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade; At all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate”—they take delight in the idea of upsetting others and them not knowing it’s actually the singer that they should be hissing. “And at the big finale I would tear my face away; And smile as they grip their own and try to do the same”—everyone wears masks, and this person implies that their mask and their true self is not different from each other while others’ are.

“Stardust Crusaders”—soundtrack from Jojo. Action-packed? idk never seen it sorry lol

“I Can’t Decide”—oh, this one’s a doozy! One of the ones that do not fit c!Ranboo at all, but that’s what makes it interesting. A classic, the singer is out to have fun, very lighthearted and yet they’re singing about murder. The protagonist here is clearly mentally unwell and they’re indecisive whether they should let their enemy/toy/(up to interpretation) live or not. Some curious lines:

- “It’s not easy having yourself a good time”—in the context of the song, that “good time” implies something wicked.

- “I’m not a gangster tonight, don’t wanna be the bad guy, I’m just a loner, baby, and now you’ve got in my way”—they don’t view themselves as “bad”, however, the next two lines are paradoxal—the singer says they’re alone and yet decide to “mess around” with whoever comes up in their life.

- “No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it’s hard and cold and petrified”—signifying lack of empathy.

- “It’s a bitch convincing people to like you”—they don’t actually want to do that and see it as a bother.

“Stranded Lullaby”—back to Miracle Musical, back to the theme of isolation. Super lyrical, super musical. They talk about how their memories float around aimlessly in their head, a sea, and may sometimes get lost. The protagonist, a sailor, is losing touch with reality and can’t tell apart what’s a dream anymore and what’s not. They question what they’re going through and why.

“Hidden In The Sand”—a song about longing, in my eyes. The protagonist sings about how “you” love things and how he wishes to love the same things, in the end admitting that “all I’ve wanted was you”. They don’t wish to be separated, they wish to have someone in their life that they could love.

“Now I’m Here”—euphoric. They sing about how they’re alive again, thanks to one specific person. I’m not gonna go too much into this one (partly because it’s a more difficult one for me again, partly because it’s Queen and I don’t wanna uhh talk nonsense on accident lol), but what I got from it is that when one one else saw them, someone did, and they made them “live again”, and now as a result the protagonist is devoted to them.

“&”—really highlights Tally Hall’s album’s theme of black and white and that there shouldn’t be a divide. The repetition of comparing opposites is present throughout the entire song (Weak & Strong & Wet & Dry…) and it’s heavily implied we should “say goodnight” to this mindset. But people love to choose sides, put things into good or bad categories. By the line “They took a lesson from their fathers” it’s implied that people don’t develop this mindset by themselves and are rather influenced by others around them. The whole album is titled “Good & Evil” and Tally Hall examines and criticizes this idea. If we keep dividing people into good and bad, eventually, we’ll all destroy ourselves.

“I’m Gonna Win”—a song about someone who’s struggling to get by. “Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream”—life can get really hard and the protagonist wonders “what’s really worthwhile”. In the chorus, whoever, they declare that they’re “gonna win” no matter what. They might get “bloody and bruised” but they won’t give up until they “won’t be abused” and until they’re “laughing alone”. No matter how hard life/others kick them down, they’ll keep going. By the lines “It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming; It’s hard to pretend you’re the best; It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations; It’s hard to keep up with the rest” it’s implied that they find it tiresome to keep up appearances and be liked. It’s challenging to always fit everyone’s expectations, but they’ll continue doing whatever they have to to “win”.

if ranboo ever adds more songs to his playlist, i may add them here too :) 

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: Proteus

The X-Men, those beautiful mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 125 - 128) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Fun* fact: this particular issue is the oldest comic I physically own.

* for a given value of fun

Something sinister lurks on Muir Isle…

This arc is very much set up like a horror movie. It starts out as a regular X-Men narrative, where Claremont is weaving along several plot threads. We check in with the X-Men in Westchester, we check in with Magneto who has retreated to Asteroid M and we even check in with Xavier in space, who finally learns more about the true scope of the Phoenix and its nature. Finally, we’ve got Jean stationed at Muir Isle, where Moira is investigating the sheer scope of her powers. (She has realized how strong Jean truly is; akin to a god. Her theory is that Jean’s recent power dampening is the result of her human mind trying to cope with her massive power level.) It’s about as everyday as it gets for the X-Men, but, well…

I always thought Jean molecularly restructured her own outfit into the Phoenix-costume whenever she needed to change, but here, she just… wills it away? Also, why did you need an outfit change for this, anyway? Does the costume simply appear whenever she exerts too much of her powers, like an angry forehead vein? So many questions. (X-Men 126)

Other residents at Muir are Polaris, Havok and the Multiple Man, all of them blissfully unaware that something skulks about in the shadows: the remains of an unfortunate captain, whose body has been taken over by something… other.

But someone else is skulking around in the shadows, too. Jean isn’t aware of it, but a familiar stranger is manipulating her from the sidelines.

I’ve been gaslighting a cosmic force, ask me how! (X-Men 126)

1979 marks the first appearance of the Hellfire Club, though we only meet one member for now: Jason Wyngarde. (Maybe all of this could have been avoided if he’d had a Barbie doll to dress up in black lace as a child, but alas.) ‘Jason’ is a pseudonym and though most people these days know that he’s a familiar villain from the X-Men’s past, the reveal of his true identity will follow later.

Meanwhile, Beast finally gets off his ass to check on the Xavier mansion, even though the X-Men must have been tripping intruder alarms for months now. Still, we do get this sweet moment out of it:

Of course she’s going to be surprised at the sheer amount of plot contrivances that were thrown up to keep all y’all apart for a full year. (X-Men 126)

Beast knows that Jean went to Muir, so Scott immediately goes for the phone. Lorna picks up, but during the call she starts screaming, leaning heavily into the horror genre. She fends off the withering remains of the captain, so instead, ‘Mutant X’ jumps into a duplicate of Jamie Madrox and promptly flees to the mainland on a boat.

Guuurl, that body is snatched. (X-Men 126)

The X-Men (sans Beast) hit Muir Isle, where Moira debriefs them. Moira reveals who Mutant X is: his name is Kevin MacTaggart, her son, who has the terrifying power to warp reality. Because his power is so vast, he burns through bodies at an alarming rate. He can only be contained - or killed - by inorganic metal. In an effort to contain him (and, presumably, help him at some point), Moira locked him in a metal cell. He was kept there, alone, for god knows how long, until Magneto accidentally freed him. They know he escaped the island and, because of his parasitic need for fresh host bodies, Moira posits that he’ll be heading for a big city.

Kevin - who dubs himself Proteus - racks up an impressive body count in the country side, killing 7 people in total. (6 people and 1 dupe? Eh.) He’s a terrific villain, because he’s powerful, has a well-defined weakness and, even though it’s not impossible to emphasize with him -- isolation tends to drive people mad -- the way he discards his victims is truly chilling.

The X-Men chase after him, Wolverine picking up the scent. When Proteus tries to claim him, Logan’s adamantium skeleton repels him. In response, he unspools reality.

I’ve had this trip. I think they call this strain Dragon’s Dynamite. (X-Men 126)

Storm intervenes, but Proteus leaves Nightcrawler and especially Wolverine rattled. Logan’s heightened senses root him in reality more than most, and when Proteus uses his powers, everything is just screaming wrong at him. But nobody is safe: little Kevin MacTaggart turns gravity against Ororo, taking her out as well.

He tries to claim Storm, but Moira repels him, sniping at him from afar. Proteus fears (metal) bullets, knowing they can kill him. When Cyclops realizes Moira’s shooting to kill, he intervenes - X-Men don’t kill, after all. Moira knocks him out with her gun, but Kevin escapes in the confusion. Moira finally realizes where her son is headed, while the X-Men regroup.

In Edinburgh, Moira pays Joe MacTaggart a visit - her husband, Kevin’s father.

The MacTaggarts are definitely in the running for the Xavier/Marko-award for Fucked Up Family Dynamics. (X-Men 127)

There’s a calculating coldness to Moira’s character that I’ve never responded well to, but I like how Claremont fills in the blanks here. It’s part unhappiness, part a deep frustration with her inability to help her own son. I wonder how Kevin was a child, before his mutant gene activated: was he a sweet boy, or one with a cruel streak? Did she fear what he might become?

There’s a few gaps in Claremont’s narrative, but Hickman has drawn on this very well, I think: the Moira X in HoXPoX is equally calculating, equally cold. But how can she not be? How often has she raised Kevin? How often has she had to kill him? How many times has she watched these people, these X-Men, die?

Anyway, Moira’s warning is as effective as anger management therapy for Sabretooth, because Kevin comes by Joe’s office a little while later and snuffs out his dad. Phoenix hears Joe screaming telepathically across the moors, allowing the X-Men to pinpoint him. Claremont also makes sure to show that Jean’s power is steadily growing:

Polaris be like: “No, no, I’m carrying my own emotionally stunted Summers boy, thank you.” (X-Men 127)

Proteus takes Moira hostage as the X-Men confront him. They fight.

Ordinarily, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the fight scenes, because recapping those usually boils down to “Cyclops conks Magneto in the helmet” or “Wolverine snikts Pyro in the gas tank”, but this one is truly great. John Byrne delivers some excellent work, showcasing the scope of Proteus’ powers through his art, his panelling. Don’t just take my word for it:

I love how trippy all of this is. Pivoting gravity, changing an optic beam into flowers… Sure, Proteus might be a callous and cruel SoB, but he’s also one imaginative motherfucker. (X-Men 127)

One by one, Proteus manages to distract or take out the X-Men, either by endangering passers-by, encasing them in amber (Storm) or burying them alive (Banshee). One of my favorite details is how afraid they all are: especially Wolverine and Nightcrawler hesitate before jumping into the fray. For them, this villain is truly beyond their scope.

In the end, it’s Phoenix who manages to drive him back, outside of the center of Edinburg and up an old castle, where there are fewer civilians to threaten. There, on the ramparts, it’s Colossus who makes the final stand: he destroys Proteus’ physical body and realizes that right now, there’s only one thing they can do to stop him. All it will cost is Piotr’s innocence.

Showcasing an ancient Japanese truth: Psychic Pokémon are weak to Steel attacks. (X-Men 128)

Proteus scatters to the winds and the X-Men emerge victorious, though Moira has lost both her son and her husband after this ordeal. Moreover, I think this is the first villain that the X-Men explicitly kill, simply because they have no other options left. This marks the first time that their ideal of mutant rehabilitation fails. What’s worse is that Kevin MacTaggart was essentially nothing more than a supremely screwed up boy who got access to way too much power way too quickly.

I wonder if it would have turned out differently had Xavier been there. (I also wonder if it’s a coincidence that this takes place right before the Dark Phoenix saga.)

I think this might be Claremont’s best arc yet, heightened by John Byrne’s excellent art. Chris deftly mixes horror, action and his usual soap opera elements, serving one cohesive narrative that (for once) doesn’t leave much hanging. Proteus is an excellent villain whose powers work visually (pay attention, MCU) and whose entire being touches on one of the same aspects as Krakoa: can and should every mutant fit into any sort of normal society?

If you have someone who’s interested in vintage X-Men and you want to recommend something that doesn’t require a confusing explanation of all the necessary backstory (and perhaps a crude sketch of the Summers and/or Lensherr family tree), I would recommend this arc.

And the rest, as they say, is Hellfire. 1980 is gonna be a doozy.

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

masterlist 

“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.  

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

TPWP Introspective

Hey guys!! So, as you noticed, there was no update today either, like I had commented that I may try and do if possible. The reason I didn’t post today, though, is because I remembered that I wrote a little introspective thing about TPWP a few days ago that I wanted to post before the next chapter, if possible. I spent the last hour and a half intermittently touching it up (while also talking to friends, ha). I wrote this after waking up at five in the morning and not being able to go back to sleep, so I was fairly tired and rambley when writing it, ha. 

Anyway, this is pretty long discussion about something that’s bugged me about TPWP for a little while, which is why I’ve made Taka so sexual despite not really thinking he would be like that in canon. In my attempt to write about that, my exhausted self also went into another problem I have with TPWP, which is the fact that neither Taka nor Mondo are really like their canon selves anymore. And while that was a purposeful thing, I never could pinpoint why, and I think I managed to in this post, so there’s that, ha. 

Now, it’s getting late and I’m very tired, so I’ll add my introspective thingy in a read more. It’s about 5k words and goes over a lot about Taka and Mondo’s interpretation in TPWP. 

Hey all! So, I wanted to go over something that’s been bugging me for a while in TPWP, though no one else seems annoyed by it. But I kind of am, so I just wanted to… I don’t know. Discuss it in case anyone else also has problems with it, but just isn’t bringing it up in comments. And the thing that I wanted to talk about is the fact that I’ve made Taka and Mondo so sexual in this story, despite this not really striking me as something Taka, in particular, would be like. In order to discuss all that, though, I have to go through a bunch of other explanations about what my main goal in this story has always been, as a kind of backstory. So, buckle up, my friends. This is a doozy.

 See, while I didn’t have much of an idea when I started writing, the one thing I knew I wanted to play around with was the idea of dismantling Taka and everything that makes him tick. In the game, he is shown as a strict, passionate, highly motivated character, spending so much time studying and trying to better himself that he lost sight of who he is other than that. He doesn’t have friends and confesses to Makoto that he doesn’t even understand how people make friends through connecting over things like television, since he’s so detached from anything other than his goals. The writers even comment on how he is almost mad with his passion and righteousness. 

 That whole persona seems so unattainable to me. I’m someone who seeks ‘perfection,’ right? I’m a perfectionist and it burns me so much to know that no matter what I do, there will always, ALWAYS be faults in the things I create. I put myself and my creations against others and always find myself lacking. It burns me and makes me feel so… I don’t even know. Unhappy.  Upset. Things like that. And I’ve gotten much better with this over the years, right? I accept that my work will not be perfect, and that anything I can create is enough since I created it and I enjoyed creating it. But the feeling is still there. The unhappiness. The discontent. 

 So, when I saw Taka and his madness to become better, I wanted to take that and see if I could deconstruct it. If I could break Taka down to his core, expose all of the secret little things inside of him that he must be hiding to present such a ‘perfect’ front, and turn it on its side. To give Taka reasons for his madness to better himself and then take it apart. Or, in other words, the entire premise I had for this story was to take Taka and break him down. And then, then I would build him back up. Into something less ‘perfect,’ less rules oriented, but a hell of a lot happier. Because in canon… Taka didn’t really strike me as happy. Not based on the things he would say to Makoto in both free time events and the school mode. 

 In order to do that, of course, I had to completely break apart the things that made him so rule oriented in the first place. And to someone who has spent almost their entire life building up this one persona, that sort of thing can be terrifying and uncomfortable. And it can lead to a lot of confusion and scrambling afterwards. 

 Chapter 17 was where I made the biggest break for Taka. I’d been chipping away at him for the first 16 chapters, and then 17 was the one where I took my sledgehammer and went to town. That chapter was the one in which Taka realized just how unhappy and discontent he had been growing up. He’d always stuffed that down and ignored it in order to keep going, forcing himself to ignore his pain so that he could become all that he wanted to be. He wasn’t even conscious of doing this since it was so deeply engrained in him by that point. Like I said in the very first chapter, Taka would run so fast and so fervently from his insecurities growing up that he didn’t even notice that they were occurring within him. Or if he did, he ignored them until it all went away.

 In chapter 17, Taka stopped being able to run. His feelings for Mondo created a huge rift inside him and he didn’t know how to handle it. And then, after his conversion with his father, he realized that he’d been forcing everything down for all of his life, to the point that he didn’t know who he was. He wanted to be an upright, moral individual, but how could he be if he is in love with a man? How can he be when he can feel such impure, base desire for someone, a man especially? And I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with a man loving a man, not at all! Just… it went against the carefully constructed morality Taka, personally, had spent his entire life forcing himself to abide by, and that was a huge blow to him. He couldn’t comprehend it and he just… fell apart. 

 But he didn’t fall apart alone. Mondo was there to catch him as he fell, was there to help gather the pieces, and Taka latched onto that. He didn’t know what was happening or why, but he knew that Mondo was a vital component to all of it. In a way… Mondo was everything to him. 

 The main point is that I wanted to break Taka’s character apart, mostly because I cannot imagine someone being that moral and upright while not being completely miserable (or without actually being completely immoral, like all those people who preach righteousness while actually doing horrible things behind the scenes without care). There’s a sort of misery in enforced righteousness, especially considering how horrible the world can be. I liked Taka and I wanted him to be happy. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine him being the way he was portrayed in the game and also being happy. Maybe that’s just me projecting, but… I don’t know. 

 But deconstructing years of a carefully constructed persona is— like I said— terrifying. And for someone like Taka, whose entire life plan was crafted around a certain image? I can only imagine that would be like jumping off a plane into a black, inky darkness, no idea where you’re going to land. But Taka did that, because the only other option was to continue living with intense unhappiness, lying to himself to keep his sanity. But the problem with lying to yourself is that it gets so much harder once you know the truth. It can be done, of course, but it leads to even more unhappiness and pain and Taka… Taka realized that he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He… he wanted to be happy. Which is an incredibly hard thing to accept when you’ve spent years silently accepting your own unhappiness as a fact of life. 

 As such, everything that has occurred since chapter 17 has been Taka’s attempt at constructing a new personality, in a way. A personality that marries the beliefs and goals he has always had while also combining them with a new sense of happiness and contentment in his life that before now he’s never felt. And this… this is so, so hard for him to do. 

 And it gets harder when his and Mondo’s relationship shifts. When he gets a taste of something he’d previously not allowed himself to ever, ever feel. Which brings us to the questions of why, exactly, I put so much sexual content into this story, despite it not seeming like something Taka would really want to do in canon.

 Because… it’s not about pleasure. Right? It was never about pleasure or desire. It was about Taka allowing himself to feel something that every human feels (or, you know. Not every human. But a lot). It was about making Taka acknowledge that he is feeling these ‘impure,’ ‘sinful’ desires and allowing him to feel it. And, of course, this can be overwhelming. Taka has never allowed himself to feel these sorts of things before, had always pushed them so far down he couldn’t even see them. So far down he could pretend they weren’t there. 

 But they were. They always were. Taka can feel desire and attraction. He can feel them just fine. The whole point of the sexual content was to show Taka that it is okay to feel like that and that it’s not wrong or immoral. That Taka can feel attracted to someone, a man especially, and not feel ashamed. But more than that, it’s about allowing Taka to acknowledge that can be who is he in general without shame. That he doesn’t always have to be ‘perfect’ or infallible. That he can just be… Taka.

 The biggest problem in all of this, however, is the fact that Taka is not the only character in this story. He’s not the only one going through a metamorphosis. Because Mondo? Oh, you can bet your sweet behind I was making Mondo go through his own metamorphosis, too. 

 Because everything I said about Taka up until now? I also feel about Mondo. I view Mondo’s tough guy, biker persona just like I view Taka’s upright, moral one. It’s a facade. Something that is hiding what is truly going on under the surface. It protects their soft, gooey innards, keeping them both safe whilst also providing them a sense of being. Of belonging. 

 But it’s not healthy. Hiding behind a persona, not letting your true emotions show. It’s unhealthy and leads to, you know… pain and unhappiness. And Mondo… Mondo also strikes me as a somewhat unhappy character. His disconnect in the game is less towards other people, however, and more towards himself. Makoto acknowledges many times after speaking with Mondo during free time events that he has a hidden side to him. A softer, ‘cuter’ side that he tries (and fails, ha) to keep hidden. 

 Like with Taka, I wanted to break Mondo’s carefully constructed persona and remove this hidden person inside him. I wanted to bring that person to the surface, finally allowing Mondo to stop feeling like he has to hide behind anger and rage and being ‘strong’. I wanted… I don’t know. To allow Mondo to not feel so ashamed of his weaker side, I guess. 

 This was a lot harder to do than with Taka, though, for a couple reasons. One, I was not writing from Mondo’s perspective in TPWP, which means all of his metamorphosis was being seen through the eyes of another. Which is not always easy to portray, sadly. For another, Mondo has a huge reason to keep his inner self hidden and locked away. Taka’s reason is shame and a desire to prove himself, right? This, in my eyes, is fairly simple to deconstruct. All you have to do is find a way to remove the shame and realize that it’s okay to feel what you feel. And yes, this is challenging, but… it’s not impossible. 

 Mondo, though? What’s keeping Mondo back isn’t just shame and a desire to prove himself. No. What’s holding Mondo back is guilt. Mondo feels guilty for his weakness. He feels guilty that his supposed ‘weakness’ killed his brother. He feels guilty that this same ‘weakness’ is preventing him from telling the truth, from accepting the responsibility for his supposed crime. Mondo, in many ways, hates himself. In this story, at least. And guilt is a much, much harder emotion to deconstruct than shame. There’s also the fact that I made Mondo an abuse survivor, which adds another element into this all that I won’t get into since this whole thing is already much longer than I’d initially intended, oof. 

 Anyway. The point here is that both Taka and Mondo are going through this metamorphosis at the same time. And I did this purposely since I wanted to have them help each other grow. Right? Because I view Taka and Mondo as very similar characters. They both have a need to prove themselves and a sense of inner righteousness that guides them in what they do. They just took opposite paths in their expression of these things. But ultimately, at their core, Taka and Mondo are very similar in my eyes. 

 Honestly, that’s part of why I had them hate one another in the beginning (on top of the fact that they didn’t get along in the game at first either, ha). That was each of them seeing themself in the other, and absolutely hating what they saw. Because they hate themselves. Because they cannot stand the persona they’ve created. Because it’s such a painfully false front that it’s almost offensive to them to see it on another. 

 Chapter ten was my way of letting them acknowledge a sense of self love for the first time. By accepting the other as flawed, but still fundamentally good, it allowed them to see themselves in a somewhat positive light for the first time. To accept that this person they once hated with all of their heart is… not that bad when it comes down to it. And not only are they not that bad, but they’re actually kind of amazing, really. 

 I… hm. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I am very tired and am kind of just rambling at this point. I guess I just… I wanted to acknowledge that I’ve changed both of these characters a lot from canon, Taka especially. And this change has been expressed in a great way in Taka’s increased sexuality. And that I know this, that I know this isn’t really what canon Taka would act like, but that’s kind of the point. As much as I love Taka as a character, he’s kind of one dimensional. All of the characters in Danganronpa are. I think, in a way, they’re meant to be. But when you spend time with them, during the free time events and the school mode, you begin to see a slightly more well-rounded picture. 

 But it… it still feels a little flat to me. A little hollow. So, in this story, I just… wanted to flesh out these characters that I like and see so much potential in. I wanted to take them, give them tragic backstories, and see if I could find a way to give them balance. To keep them somewhat the same as they once were, to not fully remove their canon aspects, but not have that be their sole, defining characteristic anymore. Taka is still the Ultimate Moral Compass, and Mondo is still the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. But that’s not all they are. Not by the end of the story. 

 Now, did I succeed in my plan? I… honestly, I don’t know. This entire thing was never something I consciously thought of while writing. It was more… a desire of mine, which might be why I’m having such a hard time describing it here, ha. It’s up to all of you to determine if I succeeded in writing these characters in a way that respects their canon characterization, while also adding a sense of balance within them. 

 Also— not to sound pretentious (though I know I am, oof. I always am when dead tired, sorry)— but in a way, this whole story was a metaphor for self-acceptance and self-love. And allowing yourself to find peace in who and what you are, no matter what. I made Taka and Mondo literary parallels in this story for a reason, giving them similar backstories (Taka was abused by bullies and neglected by his father; Mondo was abused by his father and neglected by his mother. Mondo’s brother died, leaving a hole in his heart; Taka’s mother died, leaving a hole in his heart. Taka watched his grandfather fall from grace and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself; Mondo watched his brother die and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself… etc.) to showcase this metaphor, in a way. 

 And it… it was to show that them helping the other grow symbolizes allowing yourself to grow, too. It symbolizes taking all the harsh and ugly parts of yourself that you hate, seeing it in another person, and realizing you actually love them, really. It symbolizes showing kindness to yourself for your faults, something I personally struggle with. By having Taka and Mondo love one another so fiercely, even without fully knowing why… it symbolizes, in my mind, letting you love yourself. 

 And, like… I know how pretentious this sounds, ha. And I don’t think I really succeeded in portraying all of this, unfortunately. But I just… I don’t know. I love the idea of Taka and Mondo and I wanted to write a story where they love one another unconditionally, while at the same time learning to love themselves too. 

 In many ways, I wish I had made this story take place over the span of a longer amount of time. Three months is just… it’s too quick to do everything I wanted to do in this story. Like I’ve said before, this story was never meant to be so long, word count wise. And a lot of what I wrote about here was not really planned when I started writing. While I wanted to deconstruct Taka, I didn’t really realize how long that would take, oof. Or what it all would entail. I thought three months would be plenty of time in universe, but then more and more things started happening, and by the time I realized it would need more time to progress naturally, I had passed the point of no return, pretty much.

 If I could do this story all over again, I think I’d make it take place over the span of a year instead. I’d start the school year in April, like it’s supposed to be in Japan, and extend the amount of time Taka and Mondo were enemies. I’d have them become friends shortly before summer break and when they come back, have them go through the beginnings of their friendship like I had it in the story, but allowing it more time to progress. Taka and Mondo would still have their fight on Halloween, since that’s kind of an important aspect of that chapter, but they’d have had a longer time to be friends before that occurred. And then, after that, they’d have their physical relationship progress a lot more naturally and less hurriedly, the relationship spanning from perhaps right before winter break begins to the end of the school year in Japan, which is March. It would give them more time to come to terms with everything and accept themselves. 

 Part of me honestly kind of does want to change around TPWP to do this, but it would change a lot of fundamental parts of the story, which would be a lot of work. And if I was planning on publishing this story, I’d definitely do it since I think it would fix a lot of the problems that I have with how this story progresses. Three months is not long enough to completely deconstruct your entire personality, really. A year is a lot better and makes more sense to me. But, as it stands, I… I like TPWP. Is it perfect? No. But… that’s kind of the point? Nothing is perfect and if I allow myself, I’ll keep digging myself into more and more holes with this story, and at some point, I just… have to acknowledge I did the best I could and move on. Also, I do think that having it take place over three months isn’t completely unrealistic. Not with how unhappy both Taka and Mondo already had been. And there are some things that would be unrealistic if it took place over a year, too, so… eh.

 I really don’t know where I’m going with this anymore, dear god. I’m going to go back to my original point real quick and hopefully finish this now hour long, rambling rant I’ve for some reason been going on. Jeez. 

 So. The purpose of the sexual content in this story. It— like a lot of other things in this story— was more meant as kind of like… a metaphor. It’s not about the sex, it’s about self-acceptance. Taka spent so many years denying himself and his sexuality, fearing it and feeling ashamed of it. By allowing himself to be sexual and intimate with Mondo, he’s accepting that aspect of himself and embracing it. But, because he spent so long denying it, he doesn’t quite know when it’s too much. He’s spent his life pushing down his discontent and discomfort to become what other people want him to be, and as such, he doesn’t quite know where his own boundaries lie. 

 And I’m going to be quite honest with y’all: Taka doesn’t enjoy the sexual acts quite as much as he thinks he does. No, I’m not saying that Mondo is taking advantage of Taka, or that Taka hates what they’re doing, not at all! Just… Taka feels uncomfortable with the things he and Mondo are doing, but because he enjoys the sensation and enjoys being close to Mondo, he pushes down the feeling of discontent, like he’s done all of his life. He just… doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he likes being close to Mondo, knows he enjoys the things they do together, but can’t quite put his finger on the fact that he doesn’t really enjoy being sexual. That he only likes the sexual acts because it’s the only way he can be close to Mondo in the way he wants, both physically and— in a way— emotionally. 

 And part of Taka does realize this, right? The deep, deep, hidden part of himself that only comes out at night when everything else is silent. I call this the ‘introspective’ part. But this is a hard part of yourself to access and acknowledge. Especially when you’re young. I, personally, am a very introspective person. It’s why I can write about emotions and feelings decently, and why I am currently writing this little introspective about TPWP. But it was a lot harder for me when I was a teen to realize what that introspection meant. It’s why I didn’t realize I had undiagnosed anxiety until I was eighteen and in college, which was ironically a lot easier for me than high school was. It took me being out of the situation I was in to look at myself and realize exactly why I felt what I felt, even though I knew I felt that stuff much earlier. 

 Taka’s still in his bad situation, though. He’s still struggling with the desire of what he wants and what he’s forcing himself to settle for. And, basically, he doesn’t understand why he’s unhappy at being sexual. He knows on a base level that he is, but he can’t quite place his finger on the why. Which is, as I’ve said, because it’s not really what he wants. He’s settling for having Mondo in whatever way he can because he thinks he has to. But it’s not what he wants, and it’s honestly killing him inside to be so close to his desired outcome, but not have it. He hates that the only way he can have Mondo is in such a shallow, debased way, but he’s forced himself to believe that this is all he will ever have, and that he must be happy with it or else he will lose it, like he’s lost every good thing in his life before that point. And the thought of losing what he and Mondo have is just… it’s too much for him. He’s still figuring himself out, still building his new personality from the ruins of the old, and he kind of needs Mondo to help prop him up as he does this. 

 (Which is, by the way, unhealthy in a relationship. It’s very codependent and can lead to some negative outcomes in its own right. But this rant of mine has been going on for almost two hours, so I’m not going to get into this right now. Just know that I know, and that it’s not intended to be portrayed as a good thing. None of Taka’s coping mechanisms are, which is why they all fail in the end, leaving him discontent. But as of now, Taka kind of needs Mondo, so he’s overlooking the potential negative outcome and is just allowing himself to have Mondo. Make sense?) 

 In the end, the only way for Taka to fully come to terms with everything that is swirling within him is to have Mondo acknowledge the love they share for each other, since he can’t accept everything about himself until Mondo does. He needs Mondo to look at him, look at his flaws, and say ‘I love you no matter what. You are not perfect, but I still love you.’ And while Mondo has done this to some degree, it’s not the love Taka not-so-secretly desires. But, like I said earlier, Mondo is going through his own metamorphosis and isn’t quite at that stage yet. 

 All of this comes to a head in the last three chapters of TPWP. Does everything get resolved by the end? No. Of course not. There’s just not enough time for that. Discovering yourself takes years, really. And you never finish. Even if I had elongated the amount of time this story takes place to a year, there still would be things unresolved when the story ended. 

 That being said, the main problems both Taka and Mondo are going through reach a conclusion. I don’t want to go too much into this to prevent spoilers, but just know that everything I brought up here? Gets some form of acknowledgment in the last chapters and gets some manner of resolution. And everything else was initially intended to be resolved in sequels, which may or may not be written, who knows. But TPWP ends in a way that even without further writing from my part, I firmly believe that all of y’all can see where Mondo and Taka will go from here. That it won’t be easy, but that they will eventually figure themselves out. 

 So… yeah. That insanely long and complicated rant boils down to this: Taka and Mondo being sexual is not really about them being sexual but is about them understanding and accepting their love not just for one another, but for themselves, too. It’s a catalyst. And I didn’t go over Mondo’s views on this all, and I won’t since this has gone on so long (plus I’ve not written Mondo’s perspective on those chapters yet, so even I don’t fully know, though I have ideas), but believe me when I say it’s more than just sex for him, too. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t really want to categorize this story as explicit at first, since it’s never been about the sex to me. It’s… more than that. 

 I don’t know if any of this made any sense, but I think I’m going to stop now. Maybe I’ll go back when I’m less tired and expand on this (and I’ll let y’all know if I do, writing after this break if I added anything or not) (I added a little to some parts and took out a couple of parts, but mostly this is the same thing I wrote between 5 and 7 am when I couldn’t sleep, ha), but for now, I’ll leave it. 

  ~

And— final thing (that I added after trying to fall back asleep and failing, ha)— maybe I’m being more pretentious about my writing than it deserves. Maybe I’m saying all of this to try and excuse the flaws in my writing, like I always do internally. But… I don’t know. This is legitimately the sort of thing that went through my head whilst writing. I knew I wanted to put these elements in my story, even if I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, but trying to do all of that is just… hard. And I’m limited as a writer, I’ll acknowledge that. My thoughts are too big for my head and trying to write them all down is complicated for me. It’s why this little introspective is so long and rambling. It’s my way of trying to not just get you all to figure out what I mean, but also get myself to understand it. Because, while I know what I mean on an abstract, metaphysical level, I don’t really understand it all myself in a concrete, definable level. And this rambling is me trying to make sense of that. Does… does that make any sense at all? Or is this just gibberish? I don’t know. I think I understand it, but I have no idea if anyone else will. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

 Anyway. I hope this didn’t come across as too pretentious or like I’m trying to show off how ~~intellectual~~ I am. That’s not my intention at all. It’s just… it’s how I think. And it’s how I show myself to the world, in a way. My written work is always so personal to me. I put a lot of myself into my work, sometimes intentionally, but often unintentionally. And I’m not saying I went through any of what I put Mondo or Taka through. In fact, almost none of it relates to my life at all. I was never abused by anyone, nor was I bullied in school. I have a fairly good relationship with my parents and was well liked by my classmates, even when I didn’t really go to class often due to illness. I am not impoverished, nor have I ever really faced high expectations from family or the people around me. I’ve never really had to anguish over my sexuality, since I accepted myself as asexual pretty easily, though I still struggle to be open about it with everyone. And I’ve never lost a loved one.

 So… no. It’s not that I’ve gone through what the characters have gone through. But… the emotions. The feeling. All of that… it’s me. Even if it’s imagined or created, I feel everything that I write and put down. It’s why angst comes more naturally to me, since I’ve felt a lot of negative emotions in my life. And most of it is self-inflicted. Like… I mentioned that I never had high expectations from family, but I did from myself. I expected so, so much from myself, and I still do. And while I was always well liked by my peers, I still felt alienated from them, like I… I don’t know. Didn’t really belong. And I feared that if they ever got to truly know me, THEN they’d hate me, and that was just… I don’t know. Too much for me. The thought that these things could happen. That I could have good things and then, through my own personal failings, lose them. 

 These fears are where I come from when writing. My fear of being hated and isolated. My fear of never being enough. My fear of letting everyone down. My fear of always being alone and losing the people I love. I write about it in my stories and I… I find a way to fix it. To show myself that even if something like that did happen, it… it can get better. You can still be loved even if you are flawed and kind of broken inside. And maybe I don’t believe that I ever will find love, maybe I can’t believe that anyone would look at me like that if they truly got to know me, but it’s still nice to read about it. To see my fears in characters I love and have them be okay in the end. It’s why I always like to have at least somewhat happy endings in my stories. I need to see that it’s okay. That even if the worst-case scenario happened… I’d still be okay. 

 (Also, I know people are going to ask this, but please know that yes, I am okay. I get like this sometimes, where I think a lot about stuff, and it can be overwhelming, which is why I write it down. It’s funny that I’ve never had a diary or journal, since it seems like something that would help me, but writing things down for my personal perusal never made sense to me. It’s why I always post things like this. It’s really personal, but it helps me feel better. Like I’m being understood in some way. So, just… know that I’m doing alright. I just wanted to try and explain something that has been bugging me in this story for a while now that I finally found the words for. And by letting it out into the world, I can remove it from my chest, I suppose. But introspection doesn’t really upset me much. It’s cathartic more than anything. Painful and confusing while going through it but relieving once it’s done. All I ask is to be heard, that’s all. And understood if possible. If you’re willing.)

 (Also also, please know that I wrote this little introspective several days ago while very tired, and I’m over this burst of emotions by now mostly. So, again, I’m really okay. And I’m not pulling a Taka, trying to pretend I’m doing alright when I’m not. I do mean it, ha.)

 (Also also also, but y’all can see where I get my writing style from when looking at this, ha. This is basically my thought process written down, which is why TPWP is written the way it is. I write like I think, which is long, rambling, and emotive. Just a little fun fact. ^-^)

[the-great-escapist99]

It’s All in the Past - Zuko x Reader

Part 26

Summary: University is starting in less than two weeks and Y/n is in need of a new place closer to campus. Thankfully, she learns an old friend is looking for a roommate. However, this old friend and her might have a lot more in common than she anticipated, which brings up quite a few complications...

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of rape

Word Count: 4k ish?

A/N: hey lovelies!! Another part of IAITP is finally here! I’m so sorry for the wait but I had a bit of writers block and this part was a doozy. I know this is technically a smau but this chapter is written out because I didn’t feel the smau format would do it justice. Anywho, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk what u think because u kno I’m a simp for your love and support🥺🥺💕💕

Zuko left the apartment at exactly 8:50pm. It was in his best interest not to take his car, and luckily for him it wouldn’t take long to walk to the location anyway. Merchant Street was about a 7 minute walk away and he knew exactly where to find the broken building; it was an old bank, abandoned about 30 years ago, although, he’s not sure why no one’s bought the land since then. He assumed the rendezvous point was the parking lot behind the building since it was secluded: perfect for an ambush.

Zuko knew this wasn’t a perfect plan... he knew that. But, he only had so many options, and right now this was the best one. Whoever had contacted him had information on him and that meant it was his problem to handle alone. He could understand why y/n was upset with him, and he knew she was only trying to help him, but he wouldn’t put her in a situation like this if he didn’t have to. If they were looking to hurt someone then it would only be him, and he was willing to go through with that if it meant keeping her out of it. Zuko knew what kinds of information they could have found, most of them he assumed were linked to his dad and the company; another reason why Azula would be the perfect person to contact if something went awry. He trusted his friends to keep an eye out for him; they were intelligent and resourceful and he knew they could handle themselves in this situation. He just hoped they would keep their promise and follow his instructions in a worst case scenario.

He came across Merchant Street and the building was in view. Here we go, he thought.

He wasn’t aware of the person trailing him.

***

The girls knew she was going after Zuko, but y/n didn’t tell Sokka or Aang. She couldn’t exactly trust them to keep their mouths shut if they knew she was leaving, or not to follow along as well, for that matter. Zuko was stubborn, of course, but she was too, and she wasn’t going to let him steal the title of being the strong, brave one of the group. That was her job! Toph could fight her on that title, sure, but she wouldn’t let Zuko have it, no sir! It was hers and that meant she had to follow him. Not because she cared about him obviously, it was about the glory! Okay, no it was because she cared about him. She’d admitted that to the girls and to him earlier anyway so she couldn’t lie to herself. She was worried for him.

Y/n crept out her window about a minute or two after Zuko had left, just to be sure he wouldn’t notice her. After that it was a trek to Merchant Street and to the broken building a few paces after. The night air was chilly so she was glad she’d grabbed her hoodie before climbing outside. It was October now, and even in the dying light she could see the trees start to change colours. It would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Maybe she’d ask Zuko to see it with her when this was all over.

The scenery reminded her a little of autumn with Zuko when they were kids. They’d spend the day with each other at school and then they’d go home and play games in y/n’s backyard. It was always at y/n’s house because Ursa never allowed them to play near her own. Y/n can understand why now, although she didn’t at the time; it’s probably better that she’d stayed away from Ozai as long as she did.

Zuko was a troublemaker when they were younger. But, there was one day in particular that she remembers where Zuko got himself into pretty deep shit, and he almost brought y/n down with him. The school bully had been messing around with the other kids more than usual that day. Usually, he didn’t bother with Zuko or her since Zuko was known for his fiery spirit and could easily take down anyone who tried to mess with him, and because y/n spent so much time with him no one dared to come for her out of fear of what Zuko might do. But, that day the bully was feeling particularly bold...

***

Zuko reached the back of the building. Across the lot he could make out four figures. As soon as they saw him approach they made their way over to meet him halfway. Once their faces became clearer, Zuko couldn’t believe what he was seeing; or rather who.

“Jet,” Zuko sneered.

“Hey pal. Long time no see.”

“What do you want?” Zuko eyed the other three cautiously. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Jet wouldn’t have brought backup if he wasn’t planning something. Though, Zuko was confident he could take them in a fight if need be.

“Touchy touchy, so eager to get to the point. That’s fine, I figured you would be,” Jet smirked. “Where’re your friends?”

“Not here.”

“Too bad. I was hoping I’d have an audience when I beat the shit out of you,” Zuko stiffened. “Well, not me exactly. My friends here were happy to take up the offer instead.”

“Why’s that? Scared I’ll break your nose a second time?”

At that, Jet growled. He looked like he was about ready to rush in a take a swing at Zuko, but stopped himself.

“Don’t you wanna know what I found?”

“I figured this meet up was more than just a friendly hello, so yeah,” Zuko never let his guard down as they spoke.

“It’s pretty well known that your dad went to prison, I’m not surprised about that. He was a bastard after all, seems to run in the family,” even though he hated his dad, the comment still made Zuko’s blood boil. There were plenty of people in his family who he loved and respected, and he wouldn’t tolerate insults toward them from anybody, let alone this asshole. “But, it looks like there was some pretty illegal shit that went down in the company before he left. The same company you recently took over, am I right?”

“Get to the point, Jet.”

“I don’t think the public would much appreciate it if they knew the kinds of things your company did while your dad was in charge.”

“Like you said, it was when my dad was in charge. Things are different now.”

“It doesn’t make any difference. People don’t care who was in charge when scandals happen, they just care that they happened, and they’ll blame you for it. It’ll ruin you, Zuko.”

“You’re insane.”

Jet laughed, “That’s true.”

“I’ll ask again, then: what do you want?”

“I want my pride back. That night you took y/n away from me hurt, pal. It’s your turn.”

***

Y/n reached the front of the broken building. She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn’t realize she was already there. The place already felt foreboding, and she was hoping whatever she saw behind the building wouldn’t scare her. Not that she was scared; in fact, she was gearing up to tackle anyone who would dare to hurt her man. Yes, her man. Y/n crept around the side of the building, making sure to keep her body pressed against the brick walls. She could hear the commotion before she saw it, and she poked her head around the corner to watch what was happening.

Zuko, in all his glory, was taking on three guys in a fight while a fourth stood back and watched. Most people didn’t know this about Zuko, but he’d been taking different forms of combat classes since he was little, they both had. The difference was that y/n was much more open about it. So, y/n wasn’t surprised to see Zuko handling the three men with ease, though she was still worried. One thing she had learned was that it didn’t matter how well trained you were... one slip up could be fatal. In this case, she was more angry with him than anything else. She knew it would be dangerous and she had told him that, but he didn’t listen. She just wished she had gotten here earlier so she could understand what their motive was. That’s when she began to analyze who exactly these people were to Zuko, but she immediately regretted that decision when she really looked at the face of the fourth person.

Her heart stopped and her blood ran cold when she recognized him. It was Jet. That slimy bastard was the one behind this whole thing. Of course he was! Zuko must have humiliated Jet more than he let on that night, and while that put a bit of a smile on her face, she wasn’t any more relieved about the situation. Then, her heart stopped a second time, but for a different reason.

Zuko had made a mistake.

A small stone had caught underneath Zuko’s shoe in the darkening space making him stumble just slightly, but it was enough for the other three men to take the advantage. Jet laughed loudly as his ‘friends’ began to pummel Zuko. There was a sickening gleam in his eyes and y/n almost panicked remembering it as the same look he gave her the night of his party. Zuko fell harshly to the ground as the largest of the three men struck him on the side of the head.

No, she thought, fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey!” Y/n yelled running out of her place behind the wall of the building and into the open parking lot. “Stop it!” The men stopped their assault momentarily.

“I thought you’d said none of your friends were coming, Zuko,” Jet sneered. “I’m not mad about this particular friend showing up, though. Makes things more exciting, if you know what I mean.”

Zuko didn’t move much from his position on the ground, but he flicked his eyes up to y/n’s own when he’d heard her voice. At first, there was anger in his expression, and honestly y/n wasn’t surprised to see that, but slowly it turned to worry and regret.

“Y/n what are you doing?!” Zuko’s voice gave a hint of something almost desperate, like he wanted her to leave, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Even now, she was looking for ways to frustrate the shit out of him; this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

“Well, listen, I know you said not to come with, but honestly it was a little boring without you at home so... here I am!” She gave him a half smirk, Zuko just glared back. “Besides, if I’d known it was Jet who called you here I definitely wouldn’t have let you go by yourself.”

“Trust me, if I’d known it was Jet I wouldn’t have come myself at all.”

“Awe sugar,” Jet interrupted then, directing his words toward y/n, “I love that you’re still thinking about me. Although, I’m a little hurt you chose Zuko here over me, especially considering his history.”

“I told you! I wasn’t even in charge at the ti- argh!” Zuko’s sentence was cut off by a boot to his chest. He began coughing harshly. Y/n looked menacingly at the man responsible, striding forward a few steps.

“I told you to stop,” she growled.

“Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?” the man spoke to her with a chuckle. He was quite large, broad in the shoulders, and his voice was deep. Y/n wasn’t very intimidated, if she was being honest. She was more focused on Jet than the other three; he was unpredictable.

“I don’t think you wanna find out what I’m gonna do, so I’ll tell you one last time to lay off!”

The man drew his head back in a loud laugh, his friends snickering behind him.

“Jet, do you believe this bitch?” facing Jet, who didn’t speak, but stared blankly at y/n. The man then turned back to face her himself. “Your boyfriend didn’t stand a chance against us, what makes you think you could do anything?”

Y/n didn’t say anything further to the man. She stared him down, but with a relaxed form. This somehow made him incredibly angry. With one last shove to Zuko’s side, he stalked over to y/n with his chest puffed out. Still, y/n didn’t flinch or move from her position. When he was within arms distance he reached out to grab her, only for y/n to move out of the way just slightly, taking his outstretched arm and tossing him over her shoulder. Although he was much larger than she was, it wasn’t hard to shift herself into a position where he would be at her mercy. As his body flung forward and crashed onto the ground, he stared up at her in shock. He only registered his pain when she took his arm and yanked it to the side. At this point, the other two men had taken their focus off of Zuko to help their struggling comrade. Y/n took care of them just as easily.

Although Zuko had seen y/n fight before, he didn’t realize how much she’d improved since then. It was like watching a dance; a beautifully coordinated and mesmerizing dance. Her movements flowing and graceful, despite the fact that she was taking on three men twice her size. But, Zuko still felt the need to protect her with everything he had, even if she could take these men with her eyes closed. So, he tried to stand. The first thing he noticed was the pain in his chest like a sharp knife was gnawing at his insides; he must have broken a rib or two. Not the first time it’s happened, so Zuko shook off his discomfort and deemed it unimportant for the time being. His priority was y/n.

The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head once he got himself upright. This made it difficult for him to focus properly, which is why when a figure came up from behind him he wasn’t quick enough to react. Jet pushed Zuko back down to the ground, Zuko landing flat on his stomach, his face pressed into the cement. Jet’s foot landed squarely on Zuko’s back, eliciting a painful groan from the pressure put on his ribs. His foot stayed there, pinning Zuko to the ground and ever so slightly increasing the pressure to his chest. At some point the pressure became too much and Zuko cried out unintentionally.

Y/n whipped her head around at the sound of Zuko’s cry. The fight was basically over and it didn’t seem like these men had much else to offer her, so she knew she could take her eyes off of them for now to focus on the real problem: Jet. As it so happened, he was the cause of Zuko’s shout, his foot pressed into the center of his back keeping him pinned to the rock-hard ground.

“Jet, get off him. Now.”

“Or what, sugar-tits? You gonna punish me?”

Zuko squirmed underneath Jet’s hold, fury emitting from him at the way Jet was speaking to y/n. He would not hesitate to beat the man again if he got the chance. Y/n just rolled her eyes, she knew what Jet was trying to do.

“You sure you wanna try that? Did you even see what I just did to your friends?”

As if in response, the three men groaned from the ground behind her.

“You know,” Jet spoke, “you’re a lot more capable of handling yourself than I thought you’d be. Guess it was a good thing I’d made sure you had a little extra to drink that night. Or maybe not. Could’a been more exciting if I didn’t.”

“Shut up!” Y/n screamed, her fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t want to react, she knew Jet was trying to rile her up so she couldn’t think as clearly. But, he’d hit a nerve bringing up the night he’d almost raped her. It was a topic she was trying to avoid at this moment.

“Awe. Sorry, we’re a little touchy on that subject, huh?”

“I said SHUT UP!”

Y/n went to move toward Jet, ready for a fight, but he had other plans. His foot pressed harder into Zuko’s back, making him cry out a second time, his fingernails scraping into the ground from the pain. Y/n stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at Zuko’s slight whimper.

“Okay, okay, stop. Please. Just-“ she hesitated for a second. “What do you want?”

Jet smiled. “It’s funny since I didn’t really expect you to show up. But since you’re here now, I guess it means something. This prick isn’t worth your time, y/n. He’s weak and he doesn’t deserve you. Why don’t you come back to me? I can take care of you, we can start over. And, I’d never hurt you, not like he has.”

Y/n stopped short at his last comment. How did he know about their past? How did he know Zuko had hurt her before? Jet must have noticed her expression because he continued...

“I know a lot about Zuko here, especially about the things he’s done to people he supposedly ‘loves’. There’s a lot he hasn’t told you. His sister isn’t the only one capable of doing a little research.” At that, he glared down at Zuko, increasing the pressure to his back ever so slightly.

Zuko gasped. So, he knew. He knew about everything; about how he’d asked Azula to look into his history, about his shared past with y/n... everything.

“I’m sorry about what I did to you earlier. But, I’m willing to make it up to you if you come back to me,” Jet spoke calmly to y/n. It was almost too much. Y/n looked down at her feet, unsure of how to go on. Zuko was only watching her with pleading eyes, hoping to god she wouldn’t believe what Jet was telling her.

After a brief moment, y/n looked up determined. She’d made up her mind. She walked calmly toward the two, stopping only inches away and looked straight into Jet’s eyes. Then, she offered her hand to him.

“You’re right Jet. I’ll give you another chance.”

Zuko’s heart sunk. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Just like that she’d left him to suffer at her feet. He was heartbroken, yes, but he supposed he deserved it. It wasn’t like he expected this to last - nothing ever did. He had hurt her too much to ever deserve her love, and y/n knew that. She could never be with him after everything he had done to her. She deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn’t weak like him, someone who could protect her. Zuko was a failure, and he should have known y/n could never love someone like him. His own father didn’t.

Jet smiled broadly, taking his foot off of Zuko’s back and grasping y/n outstretched hand. He walked a couple steps toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist, one hand travelling towards her ass.

“I knew you’d make the right choice, baby. You’re mine.”

Y/n looked him in the eyes, a small smile gracing her lips. Just as Jet was about to lean down for a kiss, y/n took that moment to strike, ramming her knee into Jet’s groin. He doubled over, wheezing, giving y/n the chance to strike his head, making him drop to the ground, his nose spurting blood down to his chin. Zuko was shocked, but immensely relieved. He felt like he could breathe again as y/n rushed over to his side.

“Are you alright? Where does it hurt?” She began asking him once she’d knelt by his side. Zuko just lay there captivated by her.

“You didn’t go with him,” he said finally.

“What? No, of course not! Zuko, I would never choose him over you... did you think I would?” She asked sadly.

“Well... yeah. I mean, kinda? I don’t know, I-“

“Zuko,” she interrupted him, “Look at me. I will always choose you. You’re important to me.”

Zuko watched her as she helped him to get on his feet, a small smile creeping onto his face. He was important to her.

The moment was interrupted by a glint in the corner of his eye just behind y/n. Without thinking, Zuko rushed to pull her behind him, shielding her from the impact of the knife which had just imbedded itself into his shoulder. Zuko yelled in pain, gripping onto y/n’s shirt while blood flowed freely down his back. Y/n was screaming. Jet backed away slowly, after having recovered from y/n’s attack and retaliating with the pocketknife he kept hidden in his shoe. He hadn’t meant for it to hit Zuko, and frankly he was surprised when it did, not fully registering the weight of his actions. He immediately turned and ran in the opposite direction leaving his comrades, as well as y/n and Zuko, on their own.

“Zuko,” y/n cried, “hey, look at me. Zuko, please-“

“Y/n, I’m fine,” Zuko forced out. “Just give me a second.”

“You’re not fine! You-“

“There they are! Guys over here!” A voice shouted suddenly. It was Sokka.

Behind Sokka was the whole group: Aang, Katara, Suki, and Toph. They all rushed to the couple, at which point Zuko began leaning heavily on y/n for support. Y/n immediately lowered the both of them to the ground, looking to her friends in desperation and placing her palm firmly over the wound. Zuko hissed. She maneuvered him into a position where his uninjured shoulder was leaning against her while they both sat on the pavement.

“What happened?” Katara questioned once they were close enough to see the damage.

Y/n looked to Zuko’s injury with regret, “Jet happened.”

“What?!” Toph yelled from behind the group.

“Guys?” Zuko spoke roughly, “What the hell? I thought I told you all not to come!”

“Zuko, I swear to god, now is not the time for this,” y/n looked to him deeply unimpressed. He glared back at her.

“So,” Suki jumped in, “is someone gonna call an ambulance or...? You know, for Zuko’s shoulder?”

“Wait, what’s wrong with his shoulder?” Toph asked, confused.

“It’s got a fucking hole in it,” Sokka put it frankly.

“What the fuck, Zuko?!”

“It’s not that bad! Seriously, it’s just my shoulder, I’ll live,” he glared at them, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.

“You need stitches,” Katara glared back. “It won’t heal properly if you leave it.”

“Katara’s in nursing, you gotta trust her, Zuko,” Aang spoke for the first time since getting there.

Zuko looked to the ground, as if it would give him an answer to his problems. He never liked the hospital. It brought back too many memories from when he was younger. Then again, his friends were right. He needed proper care, and they weren’t even aware of the possible fractures to his rib cage.

“Fine,” Zuko relented. “But, you’re not calling an ambulance. We can just drive there.”

“Zuko-“

“Y/n, I’m serious. I just need something to bandage it and I’ll be fine until we get there.”

She said nothing, but nodded reluctantly. She looked to the rest of the group and they all seemed to be in agreement: they would drive. Y/n moved to stand, careful not to move Zuko’s shoulder the wrong way, and helped him to his feet as well. Once standing, Zuko seemed to sway a bit so y/n put her arm around his waist to steady him. She looked to him concerned, his eyes seemed unfocused and all his concentration went to making sure he didn’t fall over. Obviously, he was in a worse state than he was letting on, but he’d never tell them that. Instead, he leaned slightly onto y/n as they took a few steps forward. About a five steps in, however, his knees buckled and y/n had to jump in to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Zuko!” Y/n screeched. Sokka jumped in to help as y/n held Zuko in her arms. His eyes were shut tight, fists trembling. “Damnit, I knew it!”

“I’m fin-“

“Don’t.”

Y/n was at the end of her rope. She turned determinedly to the rest of the group, but before she could get a word out she realized she didn’t have to say much for them to get the message. Sokka and Suki were already running to grab Sokka’s car that was parked just down the road while Katara, Aang, and Toph helped in making a makeshift bandage for Zuko’s shoulder. Y/n turned back to him. His eyes were drifting and he felt limp in her hold. So much for being fine, she thought. In reality she was freaking out. She didn’t know what else to do, she wasn’t a doctor!

“Zuko...” she spoke softly but stern, cradling his cheek in her palm. He drifted his focus to her eyes, searching them, but it seemed like he was struggling. “You gotta keep your eyes open for me, ‘kay?”

“Y/n,” his words were almost like a whisper, “sorry...”

“Hey, no, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault.”

He stared into her eyes, contemplating on something. Then he spoke.

“You’re important to me too...”

“I’m- what do you mean?”

“Earlier you said I was important to you... you’re important to me too.”

He lightly grasped the hand cupping his face in his own, squeezing gently in hopes of conveying what he meant. Y/n got the message loud and clear.

“Zuko-“

“Y/n I need you to lift him up a bit for me while I wrap his shoulder,” Katara chimed in, unintentionally breaking their moment. Y/n did as she was told, lifting Zuko as much as she could while Katara fit the makeshift bandage around his shoulder and torso. Zuko groaned lightly in pain, his features twisted to try and hide how much it really hurt. Y/n did everything she could to help, even if it wasn’t much. Soon, Sokka pulled the car up next to them, Suki in the passenger seat.

“We won’t be able to fit everyone, so you guys are gonna have to decide who’s going first and I’ll pick the others up later,” Sokka stated.

“Y/n,” Aang turned to her, “you should be the one to go with him. I can stay behind.”

“I’ll stay too,” Toph said. “Katara should be in the car with you guys since she’s got the most experience medical-wise.”

Everyone nodded, Aang helping to lift Zuko into the back seat while y/n climbed in after, holding his body as close to hers as she possibly could. Katara got in on the other side of the car and they were off. Y/n never let go of Zuko the whole car ride, thinking of what he’d said to her just before. Of course he was important to her, she loved him and she would do anything for him.

Wait.

She loved him.

Oh god.

They pulled up to the emergency room, rushing to get Zuko help, and the whole way, from the car, to finding help, and finally to the whole gang sitting in the guest area waiting for some sort of update on Zuko’s condition, all she could think about was that... she loved him.

***

AHH Okok so finally finished and I’m sorry if the chapter kinda dropped off at the end🤭😬😬 but I hope you guys enjoyed, I know it’s been a whole long ass time so this was something I was looking forward too! Again, love you guys and I’ll see you at the next chapter💕✨💖🥰

Part 25 | Part 27

Tag List:

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[kenmasgameboy]

【ｒｅａｃｈｉｎｇ】

an oikawa x seijoh president!reader

oikawa toru has so many girls falling at his feet, but it wasn’t always like this. when y/n met him there was no one yet to inflate his ego, when he was pure to himself, the person he is when it isn’t performative. she fell in love. after forcing a rejection from him, where he says he never saw her as a girl, she’s determined to become the absolute perfect girl for every one except him.

profiles: [ student council ] [ on the block ]

masterlist

listen to the mixtape while you read

↬ entry #1: age 6 ➺ chapter 1: age 18  ➺ next

age 18:

𝕚. different now

MAKE SURE TO READ THE WRITTEN PORTION BELOW THE CUT

Your hands felt like they were surely going to fall off at any moment. You never really did get used to being in front of big crowds like this. Even last year when you had to give your first speech as a presidential candidate to the school you wanted to burst into flames. Your hands always did this thing when you were nervous, ever since you were little they’d become so gross and clammy. You hated that about yourself. What a weak give away.

The principal was just beginning the ceremony, and you waited outside in the hallway until it was closer to your turn to speak, pacing back and forth you stared out the window. The mid day yellow light peaking through the large trees in front of Seijoh’s campus. You really loved these trees, they would always shake and rustle in new ways everyday, reminding you of ways that you could stand your ground but continue to change in your own way. Some seasons shedding yourself completely bare and growing a new color, or a new branch, breaking them off as you went.

Today, even the trees that normally would be there to offer you a quiet calmness didn’t help you today. Your body still succumbing to its stage fright. This was your first appearance as Aoba Johsai School President to your student body that you represented, you needed a perfect impression. You needed to be perfect. The more you thought about it the jitters in your hands only increased, you tried to loosen the tightness, shaking them from your wrist downwards in hopes they would just fall off. You always did this before volleyball games and it never failed you. You only stopped your nasty habit when you heard rapid footsteps coming in your direction.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Sora’s voice carried down the hallway. Your vice president had been looking for you. His chest heaved in breaths to try to regulate his body after running around.

“Sorry. I’ll be inside in a second, I just—” You said, pulling your hands behind your back to hide them. But it was too late.

“Are you nervous? Why? Everyone already loves you it’s not like they’ll change their minds now.” Sora said it lightheartedly, but there was a pressure that sat on your shoulders when he said it. An extra weight of expectation.

“Don’t say that.” You shrugged off the compliment, thinking about one face in particular. You groaned at the way he still had an effect on you. You thought of Toru’s eyes, “Not everyone.”

“Maybe not. You’re right, I can’t speak for everyone.” Sora smiled softly, “But as your Vice, I can speak for you. And I know you’ll be perfectly fine up there. I have full confidence. If you start stuttering, just take a second and keep going. We practiced this morning, right?”

“Right.” You nodded, your throat suddenly becoming overwhelmingly dry. “I know, I just have a lot on my plate today, there’s too much I’m not looking forward to.”

“Then let’s check one thing off, right? Let’s go out there.” Sora said, he grabbed your hand in his tugging you along. You weren’t ready, he wasn’t listening to you yet. But maybe he was right, you did need to be out there sooner than later. Still, you needed a few moments to collect yourself, to dampen your hands, something.

“Then let’s check one thing off, right? Let’s go out there.” Sora said, he grabbed your hand in his tugging you along. You weren’t ready, he wasn’t listening to you yet. But maybe he was right, you did need to be out there sooner than later. Still, you needed a few moments to collect yourself, to dampen your hands, something.

You couldn’t say anything, You became paralyzed in place as you looked at the back of Sora’s head. Your legs felt numb as they carried you in stride behind him down the hallway. His hand holding yours, it reminded you of someone again. Seeing him again this morning in class must’ve resurged these memories you pushed away as nothing. This was different, this wasn’t him. The back of Sora’s head was shiny and straight. His blond hair didn’t bounce, and he didn’t look back to smile at you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, it didn’t feel like nerves or anything like that. It felt like a settlement.

Your eyes ended up drifting off to the right, only slightly enough to catch the eyes that were more familiar than you remembered. His hair looking darker than when you were young, but it shined all the same. He still shined, even when he wasn’t smiling at you. Your eyes followed each other. The moment slowing down to make your first dose of eye contact in 2 years a dangerous and addictive cocktail.

Your hands were still sweaty, still nervous and shaking. It broke away from the confines of Sora’s palm. You need to grip them tighter when she’s nervous. The boy who stood innocently by the restroom found himself offering silent advice in his head. Toru couldn’t take his eyes away from the light that poured between the gap of You and Sora’s palms. It’s like he saw an opening, illuminating his opportunity and his body.

For the first time in ages, he felt the nostalgic need to grab those familiar sweaty palms. For a second he thought you’d stay with him, stay back and ask what he was doing in the hallway by the boys bathroom and not by your side? Why did he waste so much time? Did he think you were more beautiful today than every day he’s seen you before? He needed you to ask him those questions. 

His daydream was over in a second, once your face contorted from the hopeful surprise of someone who used to calm you into a disappointed grimace of remembering the hurt he had caused you that erased everything from before. You kept jogging behind Sora, no words were exchanged. You didn’t need to say anything to Toru, he heard you loud and clear.

“I hope you regret it. I hope you regret everything. I’ll never trust you like that again, not really.”

To him, this was a challenge worthy of taking. The time to change it all was now.

***

       【ｆｕｎ　ｆａｃｔｓ】

➺ Michi was late to the student arrival because she was slipping a love letter in Oikawa’s shoe locker. He didn’t even see it that day.

➺ Ito has really never spoken to y/n except she held the door open for him one day, he took that as she’s in love with him and too scared to tell him.

➺ Ito approached Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa when all four were together. It was actually Oikawa who told Ito he had no chance in hell with y/n. the exact words he used was “she’s not just going to fall in love with someone who’s never cared enough to get to know her first before saying something like that. theres no way in hell you’d have a chance with a girl like her.”

➺ the other three just kind of stood there agreeing but also like “.__, tough talk coming from you, Oikawa”

➺ y/n has been starting libero since her first year, despite debating dropping volleyball in high school she decided this would look great to universities that she was involved with more than just student council. she still was invited to girls Japan youth camp for her achievements as an athlete. regardless, she still knew her real reasons were that it was the last piece of something he gave her.

➺ unlike oikawa, y/n hasn’t even thought about dating anyone in high school. she’s been single her whole life despite getting a fair amount of confessions in her time.

➺ y/n also follows oikawa on a fake account.

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reply with a comment or send an ask to be aded to the taglist!! if your name is crossed off it’s because i couldn’t tag you, let me know if you’ve changed your username!

a/n: wOW what a doOZY of a long first chapter, they all won’t be this long but i felt like i had a lot to set up. Let me know what you guys thought!!! i hope this guys got you a bit more hyped for this story! more to come!

[neoyi]

More Kingdom Hearts II talk, more light and dark, and more Disney shilling. This covers my trip to Halloween Town, Pride Lands, and TRON. Sora gets terribly Too Whimsical For His Own Good during these portions.

*I like the new Christmas costumes and music for the Final Mix add on, but Sora essentially dressed as Goth Santa Claus is an experience. On the other side, Donald’s alternate costume is probably the least cursed out of all his alternate costume.

*While I find it darling that Sora is ecstatic to meet Santa Claus, his enthusiasm sometimes borders on exaggeration. I’ve heard Sora gets more and more whimsical in each new iteration and I’m not saying the kid wouldn’t be squealing to meet Santa Claus, I’m just saying I don’t think KH1 Sora was anywhere near as cheerful as this Sora is.

*This reoccurs again during his trip to the Pride Lands where he decides he wants to be their King and that’s that. No thoughts on getting back to Destiny’s Island where Kairi is. No thoughts on Riku. He only drops this mentality when Rafiki shuts him down and just goes on as normal.

It’s just oddly detached and ratchets up both Sora’s flakiness. He wasn’t a smart cookie, but a lot of his reactions to events and characters in the first game felt realistic or appropriate for his age. Sora sometimes feels like a cookie with extra frosty on top in KHII.

*So Sora is in Santa Claus’ list, implying this particular Santa accounts for any kids who believes in him in Sora’s World. Does this mean Nightmare Before Christmas Santa Claus exists in Sora’s world? Does that mean Halloween Town does as well?  Or does Santa’s work transcend the multidimensional? How does this Santa keep up with multiple dimensional Christmas trips if we’re to assume he’s in charge of ALL worlds that believe in him? What kind of Christmas magic are you pulling out of your ass, old man?

*The game seem to imply the events of The Nightmare Before Christmas already took place (least, some of the dialogue indicate familiarity between Jack and Santa Claus), yet Jack is up to his shenanigans again to accidentally fuck up Christmas and all I can think about is this Spongebob meme:

*I remember Maleficent was woefully underused in this game and had me asking what even was the point of her rejuvenation, but I never realized how under-cooked her plans are. She doesn’t seem to have an overreaching goal. One minute she’s trying to secure a new castle for herself, the next she’s gung-ho after Sora and pals. I think the implication is that she’s trying to regain her foothold after Sora and friends thoroughly trashed her Disney Villain Club back in KH1, but with bigger fish to fry and little sign of any advances from her end, she just feels like a useless sock hung off to dry.

*Look man, I know Sora’s not the brightest bulb on the island, but he can’t be that dumb to mistake hyenas for Heartless. Can he?

*The sound effect whenever the Oathkeeper strikes is kind of ear-piercing for me. I do not like it.

*Pride Lands recaps the latter half of The Lion King, but in a twist I really liked, most of it was from Nala’s perspective. It’s Nala who meets Sora and friends first and it’s Nala’s journey to find Simba and defeat Scar that we are privy to. While there isn’t anything revolutionary with the narrative or Nala’s character, it’s really nice to see things from her viewpoint before Sora meets Simba proper.

*Square Enix had to cut the “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” sequence because Disney told them Simba is a hero and they can’t have him do that or otherwise they won’t be able to sell toys.

*Christ, I forgot Mufasa’s ghost is the conduit for Sora to unlock the next gate from the Pride Lands.

*You know, props for including the TRON mainframe. Like the movie (and its sequel/spin-offs) is decently out there to the public now, but it was still a cult classic only a select few really gave a shit about back in 2005 ("Did anyone see the movie TRON?"). I won’t even pretend for a second KHII didn’t introduce TRON to a lot of folks growing up with this game.

*But my god, Sora’s TRON helmet is really doofy. Look at how his hair is sticking out. It’s like he got bald and the helmet is covering up that portion.

*Sora and pals: no idea what terms like “Users”, “mainframe”, and “processing data” means. Somehow figures out “derezzed” - literally the only made up word here - means they’re done for. ...Sure, okay.

*Really cool they went out of their way to make sure every single keyblade also glows neon blue.

*Sad the TRON bike level is...kind of lame.

*It’s not a competition given Disney’s mandate strictly forbids most Disney Worlds to interact anymore than they’re allowed to within the central plot, but TRON bucks that trend. It’s pretty neat their world (once originally part of ENCOM) has since become Ansem’s primary computer mainframe to which he used to rule and build his kingdom with, the titular character serving as his chief programmer.

Tron goes through the whole “I am data, human logic does not compute, but I wish to learn” exploration, but he already show signs of understanding that we humans are pretty contradictory creatures and that we’re just as capable of throwing the curtain back - for good or ill. (This also neatly allows him to function as his own being instead of motivating his goodwill through sheer programming.) His relationship with Ansem both function as a benevolent tool and a limiter. He believed Ansem was capable of good and was thus programmed to preserve and save Hollow Bastion, but Ansem also brought in their main culprit - the MCP - to its system, something Tron is puzzled with since he isn’t aware of Ansem’s fate.

Since we already knew Ansem was once a King who eventually succumbed to the Darkness, this is honestly, pretty neat worldbuilding (Course, the wool will be pulled over again when we find out Ansem isn’t Ansem and...I’ll deal with that particular plot point later on because yeah, doozy.)

[prorevenge]

Mess with minors and my job? Lose your job and your boyfriend.

Tl;dr at the end because this is a doozy.

Alright circa 2014 I worked for a large movie theatre chain in a small Midwestern city. Job was pretty awesome outside of the shit pay and essentially no way to move up. I like to think I am good at my job and I try my hardest no matter where I work. In this particular situation I was one the most tenured employees at the theatre save for two other folks who had worked there part time on the side, and had full time jobs elsewhere.

So for the sake of this story I need to tell you about Jane (not actual name). Jane started working for the theatre 2 months before me. They worked elsewhere as a supervisor and was looking to move up at the theatre. Right after I started one of the managers left to work at a different theatre and the supervisor moved up. We had two managers, one general manager (basically the highest level at the theatre), and a supervisor which is a manager in training. (This is important.) Jane somehow got the supervisor position even though there was another person who essentially was promised the position due to their continued service at the theatre for almost 8 years. There were rumors about Jane sleeping with the GM when she started and this situation got them going again. I didn’t care too much because why would I, I am but a lowly peon in the corporate machine. Anyways Jane moved up and the tenured crew member left the company because they got screwed over.

Once Jane moved up we had a whole meeting about her moving up and how the theatre focuses on professionalism and ensuring no favoritism was happening. Specifically referencing how normal crew members shouldn’t fraternize outside of work with management.

Jane didn’t really listen to that though. She continued to hang out with the crew members who were mostly underage and would do various things like go drinking with minors, taking them to bars and buying them drinks or simply buying alcohol at a store and letting them drink at her house, I honestly have no issue with the drinking at home deal, just adding context, as well smoke weed with them and post pictures on Instagram. Oh yeah I forgot to mention Jane had a secret Instagram where they would post pictures of themselves with their friends from the theatre. They chose Instagram because none of their family or their boyfriend used Instagram and no one would know right?

Even more damning was her relationship with a 19 year old that worked at the theatre. She had a boyfriend who had been with her for years and honestly supported her for all intensive purposes. Not only did she have a 19 year old side piece, but also was messing around with a 17 year old. I even caught them messing around in the break room one time. She essentially threatened me with my job if I told anyone. Honestly she could’ve just told me to please be quiet and I would have just judged her silently.

Fast forward about a year or so and another one of the managers left for a new job. Jane obviously moved up and someone else took the supervisor position. Now I won’t go into too much detail, but despite my tenure and performance I was looked over for the promotion. A newer crew member who was really good friends with Jane got the position over me. This was confirmed by the other manager who let me know that Jane was definitely in good with the GM, who ultimately made the final decision. That being said I was beginning to sour and making minimum wage for years at a job that couldn’t give a shit about my efforts and continued performance. That being said I was preparing for an exit.

Before I get into my exit, it is important to note that Jane had and most likely still has a problem with me. I have talked about some issues I had with her, but I never escalated or even confronted her about anything she did to me up to this point. I honestly left it be. But I didn’t like her and the fact I didn’t like her or play along with her bullshit infuriated her. So much to the point where she made my life hell at the theatre. When she was a supervisor she didn’t have much power but when she became manager she began giving me shit shifts, convincing people that I was weird and to avoid me (I mean I am weird but not like avoid me weird), threatening me physically, threatening my job, her and her gang of misfit assholes also slashed my tires (I have no solid proof, but my car was parked in the employee lot and ya know only employees can get in), beyond that she also made fun of my girlfriend (my now wife) for having an invisible illness (MS), she would make her life hell because she had a disability and had some minor limitations. Add together all of this, plus my GF went off to college, plus getting looked over for the promotion, suffice it to say I found a new job.

I had a few close friends at the theatre including my now wife who I met while working there (silver lining right.) I had let a few of them know about the new job, but told them to keep it on the DL since it was still two weeks away. I had put my two weeks in with the GM and asked that he also keep it on the DL since Jane and her posse would fuck with me. I told him that I wanted to tell everyone myself so it kept him quiet.

Now the important thing about my new job is that it essentially paid me double my wages from the theatre. All of my friends were stoked for me, I was taking a job that would also have me making more than the managers at the theatre but also a job that put me on a better track in life. That being said with Jane and I butting heads on multiple occasions and her track record of messing with me, she decided to get one last attack on me. She started a rumor that I was just going to call out on all of my shifts the two weeks before my new job started.

With her last act of revenge in motion, the GM approached me and let me know that he wouldn’t be scheduling me the last two weeks. I tried to explain to him that the rumors were bullshit that I needed to work because it would be my only source of income. I told him that Jane started the rumor and I started to tell him all of the other stuff as well. He of course didn’t believe me and told me that Jane wouldn’t do what I was saying she would do. So it was her word vs mine. I contacted my new job who let me know that my start date was firm and that their budget wouldn’t allow me to start until two weeks later as originally planned. Now here I am essentially jobless for two weeks. Now I was upset, but I was also lucky. I was still living with family and didn’t have to pay rent, so I sucked it up and essentially told myself that I would just take a forced two week vacation. But Jane didn’t stop there. She escalated again by having one of her cronies call my new job and tell them that I got fired. I was luckily able to talk down my new boss by letting him know that this wasn’t the case that I put my two weeks in and everything else, but that was the last straw.

I left my last day at the theatre and while it was sad and I was upset that I wouldn’t be able to work out the last two weeks of my job that I had for years, I was focused and determined on revenge. Rule #1 of living a secret life and having a secret Instagram is not add every body and their mother to the page. I had a friend of a friend who also didn’t care for Jane let’s call them Joe. Joe and I had gone to high school together and briefly worked at the theatre together. He and Jane were part of the same group at the theatre until they had a small falling out. Nothing crazy but he wasn’t exactly happy with her. I talked to Joe and we discussed my issues with Jane over some lunch that I bought for him. (Food is the key to all revenge plots.) Once we ate and discussed my problems with Jane I asked for his help. I needed access to her Instagram. Ya know the secret one, showing her hanging out with underage employees, drinking alcohol and smoking weed with them, and also some mushy posts about her 19 year old boyfriend, as well as some moderately racy photos with her 17 year old fling. With very little discussion he gave me full access.

I took screenshots of essentially everything. We are talking 2-3 years worth of illicit and moderately illegal activity. More than enough to get her fired and to raise some questions in her relationship. I took the screenshots and I printed them on the most high quality paper/material that CVS had to offer. I also copied them too a few flash drives for good measure. I purchased two yellow padded envelopes (can never be too safe), and I filled them both with copies of all of the posts as well as a flash drive with additional copies. As well I included a note in each one for the appropriate parties.

One of the envelopes was taped to the back door of the theatre. There was somewhat of a blind spot so pulled into the parking lot from the rear and snuck around the corner mission impossible style to tape the envelope to the back door. On it was the GM’s name, as well in the letter I merely stated that one of their managers had a secret Instagram with a lot of damning evidence of not only favoritism, but also fraternizing with underage employees amongst other wrong doings. In the letter I also requested her immediate termination or the information would be provided to the district manager as well as our corporate office. I made sure to put it somewhere the GM would see on his morning sweep when he opened the theatre. The second folder and letter was delivered to her home by Joe. Joe agreed to this as I knew Jane’s schedule and had a good idea of when she would be gone and he knew where she lived from previous hang outs.

With both folders delivered it was only a matter of time. Before I knew it I was receiving death threats from Jane’s gang. All of them saying that they knew it was me and that Jane was going to come after me, that she never did anything to deserve this. It didn’t matter to me of course, I no longer worked there and would hopefully never have to deal with them again. From what I heard she was taken into the main office of the theatre and the GM let her have it. He ultimately had to fire her because there was very clear proof that she was in direct violation of many of the rules and conditions of her employment. As well her boyfriend with proof in hand kicked her out of his home.

Last I heard she moved farther north and hasn’t held down a solid job since. Her family didn’t want much to do with her once everything came out with her cheating on her boyfriend. Also the part about fooling around with a 17 year old tends not to sit well. In the end I started my new job without fail and moved on from that place. Haven’t see much of anyone from there since.

Tl;dr: Manager makes my life hell, continues to hang out and fool around with underage crew members, lives to regret it. Enjoy losing your job and your boyfriend.

(source) story by (/u/Ike09161995)

[suilinbride]

I'm glad to hear that you are resilient and here to stay my friend, you are truly inspiring. Also I noticed you are doing free readings for Lokispeople and the deadline has been extended, may I join in as well? I don't have a specific question but I feel like there is a message that I trust will come through. I've never had a Lenormand reading done for me before, so that sounds interesting. But if your intuition tells you to pick another method, feel free to go with that Birthdate is 12/18/89.

How's it going Sithi? I hope you're doing great my friend, and I'll go ahead and apologize for how long it took me to do this reading for you. The past eight or nine months (I've lost count, obviously) has been downright insane for me, and I'm only just now getting back to doing the readings I owe people from last year's Autumn Equinox.

I actually meant to ask you if you still want me to do this reading, still find out if or what Loki's message for you is with Lenormand, but Tumblr apparently kept devouring the asks I sent you to make sure that this reading was still the one you wanted, but Loki all but gathered me up this evening and told me to just finally do it already, and that he would supply the rest. So, with that being said, I hope this helps you in some way! And, I am willing to do a follow up reading to try and obtain more details or read for any follow up question you may have.

Alright, let's see what we got here for you Sithi!

Sun, Man, Rider, Bear, Whip

The middle card, card three, the core of the reading, is Rider. This is interesting, and gives me a fairly good idea on the kind of message Loki is wanting to get across to you with this reading.

But I'll go ahead and read the individual cards first before I dive right into the meat and potatoes of this reading.

Sun: Happiness, victory, success, joy.

Man: Man, Male, Masculine energy or effort or presence.

Rider: Arrival, delivery,approaching, etc.

Bear: Strength, power, energy, force, effort.

Whip: struggle, pain, hardship.

Like I said, Rider is the middle card, card three, the core of the reading, and the overall theme of what's going on, or in this case at least, what Loki is trying to get across to you. There's either something on it's way my friend, either approaching you very soon, or maybe it's already there to some extent? Maybe it's sitting under your nose, without you noticing, and simply waiting for you to engage with it.

To get the summary of this reading, I'll go ahead and read cards two and three, and cards three and four.

Man and Rider: A man is arriving, a male presence or energy will be delivered soon enough.

Rider and Bear: Strength is arriving, power has been delivered, some intense energy is coming your way.

I don't know the nitty gritty details of your relationship with Loki, especially regarding the past few months, but I would say that this reading is saying very much something to the effect that Loki is coming back in your life very soon, if he's been gone for a while now, or, if you work mostly with a particular aspect of Loki, that a different and more rugged and intense form of his presence will be showing up shortly.

If the second one turns out to be the most likely case, my money would most likely be on Loki as The Worldbreaker or Loki as Breaker of Chains, or something to that effect. The small taste of Loki's energy that I'm picking up on while doing this reading for you very much reminds me as Loki when he's absolutely mad or is about to start breaking things complete and fucking things up on a general yet epic level.

This is the heart of the reading and the essence of what is going on , and furthermore, what Loki is trying to tell you.

Next, I'll mirror the cards surrounding the center card Rider to see what issues will be showing up due to the situation unfolding at hand.

Sun and Whip: Struggling with success, hardship to find happiness.

Man and Bear: Strong or powerful male presence.

Because of the sheer force of Loki coming back into the picture, either fullsale, or a particular aspect of his energy, this may get a little crazy for a bit. You might end up struggling to succeed with things while the onslaught rages on for a bit, but you'll work through it and find your way out onto the other side, regardless of what may come from the wildfire that is Loki. The disruption, the storm if you will, isn't so much intentional or part of Loki's will, but is a by product of how strongly he's going to reappear or ramp up things here in a bit.

Alright, I'll see what further details I can gather for you from this reading by reading the cards as pairs.

Sun and Man: Loki is successful in returning to you, or, showing up in either a new, or a rare form of himself.

Man and Rider: An approaching Loki is coming your way, either returning or showing up in a way or form that is not as usual as the ones he normally wears?

Rider and Bear: Loki's arrival shall be extremely intense, as he's not playing around. Going to break the door down if he has to.

Bear and Whip: The intensity is very forceful, and will not be pleasant to go through or deal with for the time being.

Last, yet certainly not least, I'll read all the cards in rows to gain even more detail, or more likely the case, zoom on things a bit further.

Sun and Man: Loki is victorious.

Sun and Rider: Loki's arrival or return is successful.

Sun and Bear: Loki's success is intense as hell. Watch that first step, or even the second one for that matter, as it's a fucking doozy!

Sun and Whip: The success, however, isn't all that pleasant, either for you or Loki for that matter.

Man and Rider: An arriving Loki.

Man and Bear: Loki has some fire under his ass, giving his presence a stronger kick than usual.

Man and Whip: Both of you will feel the struggle of his walking into your life in this way. The fire burns both of us in it's own way.

Rider and Bear: Loki is packing more of a kick than usual.

Rider and Whip: Loki struggles to come to you, and part of that is felt in the storm of his presence. Both of you will struggle to burn as least as possible from the wildfire he brings with him.

Bear and Whip: Loki struggles with intensity he brings with him this time.

Whip and Sun: Both of you will be successful to get through it and come out the other end of things when it dies down.