#(this scene is very weirdly lit. i did my best)

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

"It's history, it's art, and it's priceless."

Leverage Redemption S01E011 The Jackal Job.

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[beom1e]

love is (not) easy #14 — held you back

genre angst with fluffy undertones. warnings alcohol, details of kissing. author’s note i am so sorry for this one guys >_<

in beomgyu’s arms, you felt safe. he was so familiar — his scent and the feeling of his arms wrapped around you — something you could never get tired of. it just felt natural and normal, laying in your dorm’s bedroom with him.

‘y/n,’ he spoke up, looking down at your face. your gaze flittered up to meet his, making his heart beat crazily fast. of course, you could hear it loud and clear. ‘how did you meet soobin?’

‘well, he was yeonjun’s best friend,’ laughing softly, you went back to watching the gory scene displayed in front of you.

‘but i know you,’ he continued, ‘and i know you wouldn’t just hook up with one of yeonjun’s friends. there must be a longer story.’

‘right,’ sighing, you reached for the strings of the hoodie beomgyu was wearing and began to fiddle with them. ‘yeonjun left the night that we broke up. i encouraged him to go of course, he didn’t just run away from me. i decided to go over and get my things and there soobin was, because last year they were sharing a dorm.

‘i broke down in front of him and he tried to comfort me, very awkwardly might i add. then he offered to take me out for some coffee, even though it was really late at night. and then we ended up buying soju instead and got really drunk… the rest you don’t really need to know. he called me the next morning and wanted to get brunch together, and it just kept going on.’

‘so… not the most romantic beginning,’ beomgyu joked. you were zoning out by then, twisting the hoodie strings between your fingers and barely blinking. ‘then you and soobin lasted a whole eight months, huh?’

‘i guess,’ shrugging, you frowned. ‘i started to really like him two months in, when i realised how much better my day got after he texted or called or showed up at my dorm.’

‘you miss him,’ the sniffle you let out was enough to tell beomgyu he was right. he pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his chest and sob into his hoodie. ‘there’s still time to fix this.’

‘but i can’t,’ your voice was shaky and broken. ‘because then i have to tell yeonjun, and then i have to tell my friends that i lied to them for over seven months. i just can’t be with him.’

‘then let’s forget about him,’ he suggested, making you lift your head and look into his eyes. tears pooled in your own eyes, streaks of the salty liquid staining your face. beomgyu hated to see you in pain, he wished he could fix it all for you. ‘we’ll never mention him again, and if we ever see him in the street we’ll act clueless.’

‘i like that idea,’ your best friend looked at you with so much love in his eyes. it was even more intense than the love you saw in yeonjun’s or soobin’s, and you felt so guilty that you didn’t feel the same way about him. ‘but you’ll lose your study buddy.’

‘college is just a pastime anyways,’ a smile lit up his features. he brushed the hair out of your eyes before going back to playing with your hair. ‘i have other priorities.’

you couldn’t look away, it was impossible. now your heart was beating just as fast as beomgyu’s, breath caught in your throat and head spinning. so you leaned in, hand cupping your best friend’s face. his eyes fluttered closed when your lips met, so soft that it was barely even a kiss at all.

but then the hand he had in your hair tightened its grip, tilting your head into the kiss. your free hand gripped his hoodie as the kiss transitioned into something more passionate, tears still streaming down your cheeks. his lips and tongue tasted like strawberry ice cream and brown sugar, weirdly intoxicating.

beomgyu wasn’t stupid, despite the fact he always portrayed himself as the idiotic fun friend. he knew you were vulnerable and that your heart didn’t beat for him the way his did for you, but he couldn’t help himself. he wanted to stay glued to you, even if the kiss was a clash of ice cream and salty tears — ones that fell for another — he couldn’t stop himself. he needed to be close to you, hold onto you before you slipped away again. he’d seen you fall in and out of love with people who were never him, and this was his only chance to get an idea of how it would feel to be yours.

the two of you pulled away breathless, cheeks flushed and gazes locked. and then you wrapped your arms around him, sobs becoming muffled by his hoodie while your laptop softly played an episode you both could recite from memory.

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taglist @gyuville @siasmile @pr0dbeomgyu @eclisqc @tyunluvbot @taejinxkoya @90s-belladonna @naomi-from-paleontology @nycol-ie

[orsuliya]

The bad thing about Netflix' Witcher season 2 is that it is an unholy mess reeking of games. Am I being bitter? Yes. I grew up reading the books, I've got the right to be exactly as bitter as I want to.

The good thing about Netflix' Witcher season 2 is that it is so utterly forgettable that two hours later I can scarcely remember a quarter of it and I can quote the books verbatim and recap every episode of Wiedźmin starring Żebrowski, just try me.

What I do remember is this (spoilers ahead):

Jaskier doing break-up songs? Yes, please! Also, more Jaskier in general would do this thing good - unlike most of the other characters, he's at least entertaining.

Did Nivellen really need to be there in the present timeline? Nope. Do I mind terribly? Also nope. There's something to be said for good old Last Wish-y feel.

The Codringher&Fenn&Cat bit is absolutely amazing... and notice that I don't even mind Istredd being there or the fact that apparently Hen Gedymdeith's legacy is all but lost. (Book!Hen Gedymdeith would very much like to say something about that!) See? They can do it when they want to!

Philippa is the most gorgeous of all the sorceresses, in both human and owl forms. Perving on Dijkstra? Proceed!

This whole plotline with Fringilla deciding the Empire's pro-elven policy is a hot, hot mess. First of all, good luck to any wizard trying to pull any of that grey eminence bullshit in Nilfgaard. Secondly, for some reason the very political, clear-cut and surprisingly honest off-screen deal with Enid an Gleanna re: Scoia'tael&Dol Blathanna becomes an emotion-fueled tangle of pure idiocy and some weirdly hazy political messages. Also, why did we need the baby again? Oh, to make Nilfs evil baby-killers, right, I forgot.

THE Tissaia de Vries having tears in her eyes every other scene I could deal with. Miraculously pregnant Francesca Findabair trying to manipulate Fringilla Vigo in the clumsiest, most blatant way possible? Stop the Earth, I want to get off. Philippa, all my hopes regarding Magnificent Witchy Bitches are on you now, don't you disappoint me in season 3!

The final bit with the Council of Kings was suprisingly good. Now, why would that be...? Oh, they were using book material, how shocking! At least it gives me hope for the future politicking bits, so there's that.

For some weird reason Melitele's temple is the cleanest and the best lit location there is. Meanwhile, the Northern kings (and queen) congregate among ruins. Why not.

Nice to see you, Yarre! Bye, Yarre!

I like my Emperors cute AND smart. This one is very, very cute, but smart he is definitely not. Unless all the Nilfgaardians in Cintra are afflicted with sudden deafness or... they're going for the Empress Ending route, to which I say: NOPE. Where's my False Ciri subplot, you bastards?

It's been 8 episodes and what have they achieved? There is no bond nor even the beginning of one between Yennefer and Ciri and no real hope for one forming naturally. At the same time, the timeline being all wonky doesn't give the relationship between Ciri and Geralt any time to deepen. But at least it exists, yay!

Politically they've spent all this time on the Dol Blathanna deal and still got absolutely nowhere other than making the elves look bad. Also, the pacing is really, really slow, thanks to all those invented bits; I had been fully convinced we were going to get to Thanned or nearly so by the end of season 2. Well, we didn't.

Other than that I have no bloody idea what happened.

...and don't you dare tell me! I really, really don't want to know.

[digital-dhampirs]

vnc episode 12 thoughts

The thrilling conclusion to the Vanitas no Carte anime’s first cour is out, and I have thoughts! I’m still considering doing a full season/ fill cour review, but I have a Lot of episode 12- specific opinions, so this review / breakdown / thing will focus around e12!

A warning before we begin— review will contain spoilers for events that take place in the vnc manga and not in the anime, and will most likely spoil some sections of the anime’s next cour. With that, let’s get started!

Episode 12 of the VnC anime covers chapters 19, 21, 22, and 23 of the manga.

To begin this review in a brutally honest way, this episode was… in my opinion as a manga reader… bad. It did have some ok moments, but generally devoted a lot of its time to a plotline that (while adorable) isn’t actually super important compared to what was left on the wayside. Vanitas and Noé’s fight over blood drinking is fine, I guess, but why’d we get that minute long flashback compilation and not Dante’s conversation with Dominique, or Roland and Olivier’s complete conversation, or Astolfo’s excitement to hunt vampires, or Mikhail?

I really truly wish the show had taken some of the money and time that went into the Vanitas and Noé fight from chapter 23 and put it into the arguably much more important and interesting parts of this episode. Ruthven drinking Noé’s blood, Roland’s threat, and Chloé and Astolfo’s introductions all had some very janky stills and animations. It truly irked me to see that time and effort went into making Noé’s mouth move while he’s mentally monologuing about wanting to drink Vanitas’s blood, while Roland’s fantastic threat from Chapter 22 got… this. click on image for worse quality

The episode also decided to continue E11’s habit of chopping scenes up and mashing them together. In E11 this was a very not great decision, but was ultimately somewhat forgiveable from a tone point of view. In E12, meanwhile, it’s just all out chaos as the anime tries to string five completely separate scenes into something coherent (Noé and Vanitas in the hotel, Ruthven and Jeanne in the street, Domi and Dante on the stairs, Roland and Olivier in the chasseur compound, and a flashback to complete the Ruthven and Noé encounter from E11). Suffice it to say the anime does not succeed in this endeavor.

What really irritates me about this is that the manga already provided a framework for the anime to work these scenes together into. A frantic Vanitas reunites with Noé, Ruthven meets Jeanne in the street, Roland and Olivier speak about the beast, we see a mysterious flashback of Chloé calling for Jeanne as they talk, cut to Jeanne in the present as Dante and Ruthven’s attendants simultaneously tell Ruthven and Vanitas about the beast’s return.

I really wish the anime could’ve just given us the conclusion to the Ruthven scene at the start of the episode, done the OP, and then followed this series of events to a T. But it didn’t, and the result is a bit of a mess.

The anime’s choice to omit half of Roland and Olivier’s conversation means Dante’s announcement about the beast being back has no meaning or weight; Vanitas running to the hotel before we know what actually happened to Noé at the cafe ruins the drama and irony of the scene; Noé’s lack of memory of what happened at the cafe is muddled by the weirdly placed cafe flashback right afterwards; the anime putting Olivier’s “what that man believes in isn’t god” line seconds before the reveal of Roland’s intelligent and scheming nature doesn’t give the line enough room to breathe and stew; and the transition scene with Domi and Dante just doesn’t fit. I can honestly say I would have preferred Dante just teleporting from the streets of Paris to Vani and Noé’s windowsill than have that scene smack dab in the middle of what’s already a confusing mishmash of way too many unconnected events.

Wow. That was a long, critical paragraph. one might even say it was just as chaotic and disorganized as the episode itself. I feel like I’m really living up to my fullest potential as a bitter manga simp. So! Let’s turn things around and talk about some of the good parts of this episode!!

First and foremost I want to compliment this episode’s music..! The soundtrack of VnC is just all round fantastic no matter what— whether it’s playing during a goofy scene or a fight, it’s is bound to be fantastic. I think my favorite pieces are the ones that play at quiet, ominous moments— the music during Vanitas and Dante’s conversation about the beast is excellent, adding something truly incredible to the atmosphere created by the illustrations of the beast and the eerie green light of the scene. The way the music lines up with Olivier’s “what that man believes in…” line during that one flashback is similarly awesome.

This episode also has very nice voice acting..! Despite all of its struggles in the visual and plot department, pretty much everything to do with the VnC anime’s audio is stellar. I’ve become a big fan of Jeanne, Roland, and Olivier’s voices (I can’t wait to see how Olivier’s VA works with all his screaming in the Gévaudan arc); Astolfo’s voice is perfect for him (I am similarly excited to see his clipped, polite tone take a turn for the insane as the Gévaudan arc moves forwards); and as always our protagonists’ voices are great.

My one singular problem with the voice acting this episode is Chloé. I don’t know why, but she sounds like a catgirl from a fantasy anime rather than a multiple- centuries- old vampire. I don’t know what I was expecting from her voice, but this wasn’t it. I really hope Chloé’s voice will grow on me like Roland’s did, but there’s just something about it that feels off to me.

However! That one detriment doesn’t detract from the fact that this episode does have some very beautiful moments, especially during that one last scene with Chloé at the end. Visually, Chloé is absolutely spot on— I only hope the show has the budget to keep giving her pretty, pretty scenes like this. The scene where Vanitas and Dante discuss the beast is also very very nice to look at. The monochromatic red section of Ruthven and Noé’s scene is excellent. And, while I’m still annoyed that this scene got so much love put into it and others did not, Noé’s spotlight-lit monologue is aesthetically pleasing as well.

With that, we’ve covered all of my main thoughts on the final episode of the vnc anime’s first cour! My feelings towards this episode’s plot and pacing are overwhelmingly critical, and the episode’s visuals are a toss up (leaning on the side of bad, @/ that Roland screenshot), b u t the episode’s music and voice acting are both fantastic. And honestly? That’s kinda how I feel about this whole cour of the anime.

Episode 12 might not have been “good”, but I believe it’s a very neat representation of the best and worst of what Vanitas no Carte as an anime has to offer.

Despite all my critiques I am still legally obligated to love this anime, and can’t wait to see the Gévaudan arc in the next cour!

Fun Fact

The weirdly technological background when Noé realizes he’s hungry makes absolutely no sense for an anime set in 1889, but for some reason that just makes this scene funnier to me

[idiotic-genius]

How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

[eepypigeon]

What Should Have Been

I’m not really a writer but I can’t get the scene out of my head.

I am writing this while I have covid. it is what it is.

It’s kind of written weirdly don’t worry about it. simply I am anti- dialogue/hj

(if you enjoy it please let me know though I crave validation)

Inspired by the song “Here's a Health To The Company” by the Longest Johns. (no real reason)

TWs- drinking, corruption, curses,  coughing/sickness, fainting

714 words

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The Riptide crew all threw a small celebration one evening on the Albatross (’Millennium Chipper’). They are planning something very big and something equally stupid for the next day. Jay and Chip just about managed to convince Gillion to take the evening to drink and have fun with them instead of endless preparing. They’re as ready as they’ll ever be, they said. There's nothing else to do but wait. They’re sitting by a small fire they’ve made, the atmosphere is light despite the looming storm they’re heading into and the buried feeling that this might be the last pleasant night they’ll have for a long time.

It's not long until Chip pulls this somewhat ornate glass bottle out filled with a reddish-brown liquid; He picked it up a while ago and was waiting for a good time to try it. Seeing as they could all feasibly be dead soon, now's as good a time as ever. raising the bottle, he said a toast. One that was heartfelt, hopeful. One that was perhaps a little gushy but he can't help it, seeing the face of his closest companions sitting around the light of the fire. He had the biggest grin on his face. Arlin’s boy didn't do so bad. 

 There was a cheer of approval at his little speech, and he took the cue to pop the top of the bottle off and take a swig- his face scrunched as this burning sensation went down his throat. Thank god it tasted good, it had a bigger kick than what he was excepting. His reaction earned a bit of a chuckle from some of the others, and of course, Jay could not hold back a snarky comment at how poorly Chip seemed to handle it.

“Oh, then you give it a shot!”

With that, the bottle was passed to Jay. She kept strong eye contact with Chip as she took the bottle and went to gulp it down. as the liquid got in her mouth. There was almost a look of panic and regret as she did her best to keep the staring contest going as if she was proving something. With her eyes slightly watering, she barely managed to keep her face composed, as just as it did for Chip, it burned down her throat and into her stomach. Powerful stuff for sure.

 Chip looked on with a stunned look. Alright, weird flex, but sure. Sort of impressive. Not a second after the liquid was swallowed and people looked on in amazement did she crumble under the fiery sensation of the liquor. Laughter erupted at how quickly she broke. 

“Can I try?” Chirps in Ollie. There was an argumentative murmur between the crew for a moment but quickly people caved and Ollie ended up with the bottle in his hand. “Just a sip!” Chip asserted. He did just that, the drink barely touched his lips and he immediately recoiled in disgust “blegh!” Chip visibly lets out a ‘phew’, snatching the bottle back quickly 

Chips' eyes met Gillions. It only seemed right to let him have the next swig. It took very minimal convincing for Gillion to try it himself. “Well here it goes..!” He gave a small nervous smile before he threw back the bottle, taking a hefty gulp, very much underestimating just how strong this would be. He almost immediately erupted into coughs with comedic exclamations of his discomfort.

 As usual, everybody was laughing. until they weren’t.

Gillions coughing lingered longer than excepted. In fact, it got a little worse. His breath no longer would catch properly, spluttering and wheezing into his hand. The smiles which were lit by the campfire quickly faded into mixed looks of concern and confusion- is he choking? 

“Hey-hey-hey, buddy, You alright? Gil?” Chip had started to reach out though Jay beat him to Gillions side. She patted his back in some attempt to relieve him of whatever was wrong. 

Another cough, another splutter. and all their eyes landed on the fist which he had kept over his mouth. It shined with an inky black spray. little droplets which dripped down his blue skin.

Gillion looked up to see both his friends sharing the same alarmed expression in their faces.

“Shit-” Gillion just about heard Chip utter, before the world spun around him. His eyes rolled back, falling on the deck with a

thud.

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eyo i dont really know what this was, just an idea ig??

if you want to rewrite/add to the idea yourself go right ahead lol its free for the taking

[canmom]

of last night: Spirits Within is truly the epitome of 2000score, managing to perfectly elicit the feeling of a videogame cutscene compilation on youtube. sometimes that game is an fps on the xbox and sometimes it's the longest journey. there's a point where the black marine, woman marine and steve buscemi marine all die in quick succession.

it was interesting watching it back to back with Final Flight of the Osiris just how far their ability to render skin and cloth, not to mention skill at film direction, improved in the space of a couple of years. it would have been fascinating to see where square pictures would have gone; they live on in squeenix's pre rendered promo video/movie tie-in department, but it would be cool to see those guys get to make a non tie in movie after that experience. I'm sure it would be ridiculous and stilted in all the ways spirits within was, but that's quite endearing.

i went in to the polar express with my expectations on the floor. the opening part, when the train seems relatively menacing and various guises of tom hanks manifest to torment the children, including an elaborate dance about hot chocolate, had at least some fascination thanks to the various bizarre creative decisions to attempt to drag a very short children's book out into a full length movie. once it gets to the north pole it just gets painfully tedious at best. had it been a horror movie, with a sense of reserve about using the usual horror movie markers, and just committed to the hints of elftown as some sort of lurid fascist enclave, it might have been something. idk. pretty much what i expected but it did scratch the historical interest angle i guess. i really do hate christmas movies.

tintin was sort of interesting as an illustration of how much all the rules about making technically 'good' art are irrelevant to making something effective. by this point all the kinks in the cg process had been ironed out. the characters, despite the bizarre stylisation, can act convincingly, they're well lit (the lighting is carefully designed to draw focus and layer scenes.), etc. the setpieces are narratively clear and space out their jokes by the book. there are occasional filmmaking flexes like an intricate action sequence that spans one very long take (animation cut), or flashy effects driven transitions where scenes morph from one to another (a desert into an ocean, a character's face and thumb into rocks on a ridge, a character's glasses reflecting a scene into which the camera pulls back) which take care to remind you that spielberg is a big name movie director. the story faithfully ticks off the beats of a tintin comic: head injuries, bumbling thom(p)son antics, chloroform, seaplanes, open topped cars, franco-belgian colonial nostalgia, awkward orientalism (likely less so than hergé's original but still very present in the story structure). the only deviation from tone is tintin having a brief crisis of confidence which haddock talks him out of with a motivational speech, which I'm sure you could find suggested in some kind of screenwriting manual.

and yet the overall effect of it is just... nothing. i do not think I'll remember much of this movie in a week. despite the vast effort and expense, it evinced little more emotion than the same 'huh' when i first heard about it.

something about the film industry produces these director guys with plentiful technical skills and enough name familiarity to get bums in seats, as well as a lot of 'auteur' freedom, but they've run out of interesting things to say with their movies many years ago, and yet because of their reputation they get to do whatever they want pretty much unconstrained. so you get these lavish but weirdly empty, kind of mechanical productions: more elaborate than the movies that made their names but far less impactful. i feel like ridley scott is another example, or indeed the wachowskis (even before reports of the new matrix movie). it's not just the west though - you could say much the same of hayao miyazaki. i don't have much attachment to earlier spielberg honestly, but it definitely feels like whatever people liked about him, it doesn't pertain anymore. who now talks of tintin? i don't know what to take from that - you could say something about bourgeois art (as these guys get rich they get insulated from anything worth expressing in art), or the importance of constraints to creativity, but that's all kind of pat. perhaps instead it's something about the infrastructure of movies on this scale, the very strict design iteration process of vfx houses tending to purse their lips over any interesting individual contribution that takes any sort of risk, and pulling it back to the boring standards of the industry. whatever it is, it's sad to see that 'spark' of personal interest or passion die. I'm dreading when it catches yoko taro lol. perhaps it has already.

i definitely intend to schedule some more compelling stuff for next week to mark the end of the year. possibly some of the super depressing end of my own country's animation - i have had my eye on Plague Dogs for a while, and it might make a 'fun' companion to Pink Flloyd's The Wall. anyway, we'll see. seeing more American animation definitely underlines that concept in sakuga fandom about anime's production process tending to give more room to individual key animators to leave a mark on the final product...

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 18: A Series of Ecological Disasters

Booting up ye old Yugioh, booting up a new aesthetic playlist to type to. (today’s playlist is webcore, which would feel like such a damn fake aesthetic, if it weren’t that every single one of these -core aesthetics are pretty damn fake and everyone knows it.)

Anyway, it’s been so long that, I’ll be honest, I thought I booted up the wrong episode:

I usually skip the anime intro, but I try to watch it once each arc, cuz the intros change, and this arc was like “screw it, here’s all the other villains, just pretend this arc isn’t happening.” They had Pegasus, they had Marik, they have Bakura (who is kind of in this shot as well, you can see him phasing in there.) And like...I guess they’re hiding the villain of this arc or something because that was it. Alexander the Great got just nixed from this villain list and that’s a shame.

Just a real weird choice, but since apparently this arc didn’t air in Japan they probably had to outsource this anime intro and whatever studio in charge of it just cobbled together stuff from every other season and then a couple of shots of capsule stuff.

Speaking of capsule stuff: get a load of how many freakin lines the animators have to deal with every time they draw Grandpa.

Bro saw this and was like “oh yeah, this is a Shonen Jump” and yeah. The hair does give those vibes. We got a good look at what Vegeta would look like if he really let himself go.

(read more under the cut)

Sorry, my playlist started playing a song where every single line of the song is “Adrien Brody” and it took me like a few minutes to realize I was listening to “Brodyquest” completely seriously.

Damn it, webcore, don’t betray me like this.

Anyway, this arc does something super surprising: Yugi actually hugs somebody and doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out standing up.

It is pretty fitting that the good Yugi hug would go to Grandpa.

And, as night falls, Joey Wheeler has gotten hungry, and there is nothing to eat but his new best friend and spirit animal, baby dragon. Unfortunately he shares life points with the dragon, and I think if you eat it that just instakills you.

And directly underneath him--since this world is like 100 feet wide and things just conveniently happen--Tea has told everyone that they needed to stop worrying about Joey. Which is a lot coming from Tea, because her worrying about Yugi/Yami getting hurt is most of what occupies her headspace in this series.

But even Tea was like, screw Joey, I guess.

Who kinda just falls directly into them upside down, and shows us what Joey’s hair looks like when it’s sticking straight up.

For reals, admire how long Joey Wheeler’s hair is. If Tea were upside down, she would have the same length of hair.

Also speaking of Vegeta, I am low key concerned that Joey has what appears to be a significant amount of male pattern balding going on for a teenager.

Apparently getting set on fire many, many times did have an effect on Joey, and this massive pompadour he wears is a combover. Poor baby.

Holy crap, if this is what card stress and getting killed multiple times did to Joey Wheeler, can you imagine what’s going on under Seto’s bangs? That’s probably why his bangs ride so low, Seto likely wears a freakin toupee.

Guys, Joey’s gonna lose his hair at 25 at this rate. Those locks just aren’t long for this world. Poor baby.

After Joey rejoins the party, he immediately eats all of their food. Not sure why they can’t just have Baby Dragon eat like...whatever Baby Dragon naturally eats...and then transform that into shared Joey Wheeler life points, but it’s not clear exactly how much of a life-connection they have with their Yugioh monsters. Not like it matters because Joey Wheeler is default starving all the time anyway.

Tristan has decided we should start laying blame, I guess because Duke Devlin isn’t here anymore to be the local kill joy. This doesn’t seem to be important at any point, and most of the characters are just ignoring Tristan because like...once you’re in the haunted game in a haunted tomb in a random part of India--it’s kind of moot to argue about who’s fault that is, youknow?

Joey reminds us that he found this quest item in a treasure chest under a secret waterfall. No one says “that was convenient that you landed there after getting chased through a ravine by man-eating birds after you got your dragon from when you got your crotch injury from getting spliced by that tree.”

Which is when Tea says “Wait! We haven’t had a plot thing happen in like 4 seconds! Wait!”

Hey what degree of “I don’t trust nature” do you have to be to assume that all the flowers are trying to eat you?

Like what level of anxiety is Tea where she not only is like “pretty sure the flowers are going to destroy us?” but also...she’s correct? Like she’s not wrong.

They set the dog flowers on fire, but unlike the Jungle Book this doesn’t solve any problems (which apparently got taken off the Disney+ kid’s menu so...yet again, I make a Disney reference in these recaps that future generations will not understand because so much of the Disney library has been banned from the vault. It’s almost like Disney should let go of that copyright they held on for like a hundred years, because what they’re holding on to is only going to get more racist with time. But nah. Gotta hold on with their greedy mickey mouse gloves.)

So instead of using fire, Tristan used his monster to electrocute the air (?) and blind the dogs. Wisely, the animators quickly jumped to this other scene so we wouldn’t have to analyze why it’s suddenly daytime or why that plan would even work.

Joey and Tristan do a lot of buddy buddy stuff this arc. Usually we see a lot of Joey and Yugi’s bottomless friendship, but we don’t get this much Tristan/Joey love. So shippers rejoice, these two seem to have several coordinated dances and songs...and I’d say that teens don’t typically do that, but I went to summer camp, there are situational places where teens will sing the entire vacation and make coordinated dances.

Weirdly, since Joey and Tristan share so much time together, this also means Tea and Yugi actually sit next to eachother for a lot of this arc, almost as if they were a couple. Mind you, they’re chaperoned closely by Grandpa, but youknow...that’s a different energy than I’m used to seeing.

That and like, they can’t have Tea dance with them because last time she did a dance, it was like a DDR fight and she elbowed some guy like it was a fisticuffs situation. Like there was some sort of dance war going on behind the scenes of Yugioh’s card war, and it came up once and I guess Tea resolved it and the dance fights haven’t come back since.

Overall, if they did a dance with Tea, they would get kneed in the face, so that’s probably why they insist on doing cancans as a duet and not a trio.

After Joey and Tristan freak out over having no food, Tea decides to just start eating in front of them.

and like...didn’t Joey eat that food yesterday? Like last night? The short term memory loss on all these fools.

Immediately after this we realize something weird in the water. That’s right, it’s a massive head.

Yugi seems to have forgotten they lit this turtle on fire and electrocuted the entire sky the night before. Not that it mattered.

There were like...nesting birds on those trees on that island. What the hell? They just killed so MANY of those man-eating dogs that are flowers.

Seriously are land turtles allowed to just...dive underwater for long periods of time? How does that ecosystem even work? It’s like...That’s wild to think about.

Inside the temple, they have to fight a genie or something.

In case you were wondering, the only reason Tea and Grandpa got iced is because they were the closest to the door. The two who were actually standing out of harms way were the closest to harm the whole time.

Bro tells me this is also what will happen to you if you are in the front or the back of the party while playing Cthulu D&D

Anyway, Pharaoh decides to disclose that his big problem of feeling guilty all the time and taking all the blame, which he did all of last season...is still a huge problem he will probably never tackle.

Straight up, don’t be fooled by my caps, everyone else has completely forgotten about Alex, who is still running around that temple up there. They haven’t even asked Grandpa “hey is this your protege? Is this your mentee you never told us about?” Nah. They already forgot. 

How wild is it that Pharaoh thinks this is all his fault when he was the only one who was like “YUGI IT’S A TRAP DON’T GO IN THE- well...OK I guess we’re doing this, fine.” Is he upset he didn’t take control from Yugi and walk back to the plane? Because that’s the only way he could even be partially responsible, He was the only guy who was like “I see the end from the beginning on this y’all, and it’s the massive pyramid in India.”

Speaking of forgetting, they came across this language Pharaoh has decided to have nothing to do with.

This was actually a riddle and it was like...it was a riddle, sure, I guess.

And so Joey Wheeler does not hallucinate his dead wife from a previous incarnation and get on the back of his Baby Dragon to sail away into the sunset. Instead they’re just gonna walk.

Too bad Tea’s orb covered in wings only seems to hover a bit. Every single wing on that weird orb is absolutely useless.

And then Pharaoh’s pokemon is just a fire--which is hard to sit on--and Celtic Guardian...who would allow it, sure, but probably doesn’t fly (I think. He might fly)

And then Tristan’s Pokemon kinda seems like if you sit on it, you will get electrocuted. It can probably fly though. It’s very round. Seems like an anime thing that the more round your mascot character is, the more likely it can at least bounce a good distance.

So, next time, I’m just going to assume that we are going to do even more camping. And youknow, if you told me exactly HOW MUCH CAMPING was in this card game show with super future tech, I would not have believed you. But like...a lot of this series is set in the woods right? Like a lot a lot? I have grown to appreciate the woods.

Anyway, as always, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

See you next time!

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Criminal

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 1,528

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A follow-up drabble to my Brooklyn 99 drabble entitled The Suspenders. AKA we finally find out who Taehyung is in this BTS/B99 themed fic-verse.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

Slamming open the door to the observation room, Jungkook quickly ran in and came to a stop. Chest heaving, he scanned the walls before locating the glass panel which separated them from the next room.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “Taehyung,” he seethed.

On the other side of glass, dingily lit by fluorescent lighting and crammed into a chair much too small for his body, was Jungkook’s arch nemesis – the wily, cunning and morally ambivalent Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung wore a black hoodie and jeans, his hair artfully styled and pushed behind ears slightly too big for his frame. He didn’t look like a prodigious car thief per se, except for the continual tapping of fingers on jeans. Kim Taehyung wasn’t the type of guy who often sat still.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button.

“Kim Taehyung,” he growled.

Suddenly beaming, Taehyung’s head jerked up from his chest. “Jungkook – is that you?” Affable as ever, he shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course it’s you. I’d know that sweet, falsetto voice anywhere. Come on in, JK and give me a hug!”

When Taehyung tried to move, he was jerked back by his cuffs until his head hit the seatrest. Wincing a little, his smile remained large.

“You’re in handcuffs for a reason, Taehyung,” Jungkook said sternly. “Maybe I fell for that line once before–”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Alright, twice,” Jungkook admitted, a flush rising to his cheeks. “So, there’s not going to be a third time!”

Leaning forward as far as he could, Taehyung gave the two-way glass his best puppy-dog eyed look. You arched a brow beside Jungkook because, frankly, the look was a good one.

Ignoring Taehyung, Jungkook turned to face you instead. “Alright.” He removed his hand from the button. “What’s he in for this time?”

“The usual,” you said, handing over a binder. “Cops caught him running from a crime scene on 11th. Taehyung keeps saying he didn’t do it, but his fingerprints are all over the scene.”

“I didn’t do it, JK!” Taehyung yelled from the next room. “If that delicious detective you’re dating just handed you a binder and said I’m a criminal, don’t believe her!”

Your jaw immediately dropped. “How does he know we’re dating?” you demanded, glaring at Jungkook.

“I… um…” Jungkook reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. The action inadvertently flexed his bicep, which you tried – and failed – to ignore. “I maybe posted about it on Facebook and Taehyung maybe sent us congratulations?”

“Jungkook!” 

“What?” Jungkook said, somewhat defensive. “It’s not like I can just control who I’m friends with on Facebook.”

“That’s literally all you can do on Facebook.”

“Oh, yeah – I guess you’re right.” Jungkook flashed you a hopeful smile. “Alright, so this one’s my bad.”

Heaving a small sigh, you bent forward and pressed the talk button. 

“I do have a name, Kim,” you said.

“Damn straight you do, Y/N.” Taehyung’s grin widened. “And a damn good one at that. Did your parents name you after Y/N Korakova, the famous botanist? Pioneered the modern greenhouse, but that’s not the point. I was just trying to figure out who I’m talking to. Is Jimin here yet?”

As though on cue, Jimin burst into the room holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He frowned when he saw Jungkook empty-handed, rushing over to give him one of his steaming mugs.

“Jungkook.” Jimin shook of his head. “You ran off so fast when Y/N called, you completely missed your chance to try my new concoction – hot chocolate with ox’s milk!”

Jungkook, who’d been eagerly reaching at the sound of hot chocolate, immediately recoiled. 

“I – what milk?”

“Uh, yeah.” This was from Taehyung, who’d heard everything through the mic. Wincing, you removed your hand from the talk button. “I’m supportive of anyone who loves my best friend, JK, but that sounds nasty.”

Scowling, Jimin turned towards the window. “Number one – I’m Jungkook’s best friend. Number two, this doesn’t concern you, Kim!”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t hear any of that, man – Y/N must’ve taken her hand off the talk button – but if you’re saying you believe in my total innocence – thanks, Jimin! I always knew you’d be on my side.”

Still beaming, he settled back in his seat.

“He’s not innocent, though,” you said as Jungkook opened the binder. “There’s so much evidence pointing to Kim as the culprit. His fingerprints are all over the interior of the car, he was caught fleeing the scene and there are two witnesses who swear they saw him hotwire the vehicle.”

Jungkook frowned, flipping through pages. The more he read, the deeper his frown got – you were right. There was a lot of evidence pointing towards Kim Taehyung. This, frankly, didn’t make any sense. 

Taehyung wasn’t a sloppy criminal. He was the damn Pontiac bandit, a criminal who’d escaped Jungkook’s clutches many times and whom Jungkook had been unable to identify for years. It wasn’t like him to leave so much evidence.

Leaning forward, Jungkook slowly pushed the talk button. “Kim,” he said, looking troubled. “Two people swear they saw you hotwire the car.”

“They’re lying! Someone must have them on their payroll.”

“Right.” Jungkook paused. “And the explanation for your prints being all over the car?”

“Okay, so I was in the car, but I didn’t hotwire it!” Taehyung gave the two-way mirror a pleading expression. “An old buddy called and said he needed help, so I got in his car to talk. That’s when I noticed one of Banson’s henchmen in his side mirror.”

“Wait – Rico Banson?” you said, eyes wide. “As in, the drug lord Rico Banson?”

“That’s the one.” For the first time today, Taehyung’s smile faltered. “As it turns out I, uh... may have slept with his ex-girlfriend.”

Slowly, Jungkook lowered his head. “Shit, Kim.”

Guys like Rico Banson didn’t mess around when you went after their women. They tended to shoot first and ask questions later. Taehyung probably knew this already, but he was in some deep shit. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy.

“I didn’t know she dated him!” Taehyung protested. “We only hooked up once, but I guess he’s had it in for me ever since. I swear on the soul of my mom, I’m being set up.”

Jungkook’s head jerked upwards. “He’s telling the truth,” he said immediately. “Taehyung would never swear on the soul of his mom as a lie. Mrs. Kim is a very nice lady.” 

Removing your hand from the talk button, you glanced dubiously at your boyfriend. “I don’t know,” you said slowly. “Can we really trust the word Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said immediately.

Rolling your eyes, you looked at Jimin. “What do you think?”

“I’m torn.” Jimin chewed his lower lip. “On the one hand, I support Jungkook in everything he does and on the other hand, Kim Taehyung is a low-life criminal who continually undermines my best friendship with Jungkook.”

“Neither of those things are relevant,” you said.

“Taehyung isn’t a criminal anymore – he turned his life around!” protested Jungkook.

“I have!” agreed Taehyung, from behind the glass.

Everyone glanced at him in surprise.

His grin widened. “The fact that I’m getting no response must mean my random exclamation was timely.”

After another moment of silence, you cleared your throat. “Anyways,” you said, returning to the rest. “Everything points to Kim as the culprit, Jeon. Do you seriously think he’s telling the truth? I know you’re weirdly friendly with him, but…”

“Not that friendly,” Jimin interjected with a pout.

“Listen.” Jungkook set down the binder. “Have you ever known Kim Taehyung to be sloppy?”

“No,” you admitted. “Usually, he’s one step ahead of us.”

“And if he is telling the truth. How great would it be to finally have new intel on Rico Banson? He’s been off the grid for nearly a year now.”

“Really great,” Jimin said.

“Exactly.” Jungkook looked thoughtfully at Kim Taehyung. “I might regret saying this, but–”

“You want to drink the ox milk?”

“No, Jimin.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze. “I think... we should trust Kim Taehyung.”

Silence fell between them, with each person weighing the options and coming to the same conclusion. Banson’s name sealed the deal. The precinct hadn’t gotten new information on Banson in months and many regarded him as the lynchpin in his crime organization.

Shifting in his seat, Taehyung crossed a leg. “Damn straight you should listen to Yoongi,” he said with a nod.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button again. “No luck, bud,” he said. “Yoongi isn’t in the room.”

“Damn.” Taehyung frowned. “Oh, well. Good thing we’ve got the entire length of the case to work on our banter. Dream team!”

“Dream team!” Jungkook cheered before you reached out and removed his hand from the button.

“So.” Jimin glanced between you. “Does this mean no one wants this hot ox-late?”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[emoticonreview]

The Ram

The gray shadows are hideous, like he’s been playing in the ash of his burning farm which he lit on fire for whoever did this too him. You can see the pain in his eye, how dare they downplay those beautiful horns, my condolences my poor boi. 6/10

Wow, what a calming scene, completely destroyed but the horrific gradient on his body. He doesn’t mind though, he simply wishing to tell everyone that it’ll be okay, everything will be a-okay. 10/10

Um. Why is this ram three legged? What happened to him??? WHO DID THIS????? I don’t think Microsoft’s trademark simplistic cartoony style, it just makes his body look like it’s shaped weird. Plus are his horns jaundiced? Is he sick? 3/10 get well soon.

What. A. Good. Boi. He is very sweet and enjoys sugary cereal, specifically cheerios and lucky charms. He is also a fairly young ram judging by his baby face. I like how the shading is gray but it’s not overwhelming like apple, and his horns are just as good. I am a little concerned about his soulless eyes though. 8/10

This looks like a grade A good boi. I can see it in his eyes, he wishes to make people happy. He’s kooky to, his horns are nicely angular and I imagine he allows decorations draped between them for holidays. I like the unique more realistic colour of this ram. 13/10

He is very shy, you must approach him quietly. He’s very insecure about his shape and size, he’s always been smaller than the other rams. But... his eyes tell a different story, he doesn’t care about you, or anyone. He’s dead inside. Plus how can you trust a ram with stump legs like those, how is he supposed to climb mountains with that. 2/10

Wow, Facebook strikes again. This is beautiful, a level of realism that is not often seen in emojis. The horns especially have minute details carving them out to the point where I can almost feel the grooves. The muscles are defined nicely and I can tell he works out. He’s probably the best mountain climber out there. 100/10

This boi looks uncomfortable, and his legs are weirdly separated, like he’s about to take a pee. He is also dead inside, from all the bullying he got as a kid because of that weird spot his hind leg. The airbrushing is not pleasant and I’m disappointed to see it once again. And the horns, while curled nicely are shaded like a smeared skid mark. 1/10, points for colour

Can this even be considered an animal? Just looks like a series of lines with gray surrounding it. Look at that tail, where’s the effort here. No existent apparently, must’ve been eaten by the other, more superior of rams. There’s nothing to say because there’s barely anything there. 0/10

This is obviously a ram from hell, the gray atrocious shading is a tell tale sign. He serves The demons and hides the blood he shed in his thicc coat of wool. The demons aren’t very nice they don’t prioritize his wool maintenance. -666/10

[lilyofthestyx]

Fighting for Tomorrow

Chapter Two

AN: I changed a few minor details (ie Reiner’s age) to help with the story line. Other than that, it should be pretty close to the actual canonverse. Enjoy!

Edit: So sorry! I didn’t realize that the last couple of chunks were weirdly super condensed! I’ll keep an eye out for it next time!

Disclaimer: I do not own AOT! All rights go to the respective owner(s) :)

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 8.9k words

TW: gore/blood/violence, adult language/swearing, loss/grief, arranged marriage/misogyny, partial nudity, classism

-------

You can read parts one, three, and four! Just give the number you want a tap ;)

  It’s been two years. 

   I haven’t found Eren or Mikasa or Armin. I haven’t been able to find someone that can transfer everything left to me in Fynn’s will. I haven’t even made my way to my own family or gone back to Dauper. I’ve been going around in circles and I haven’t. Found. A single. Thing. And they had announced that 20% of the population had been chosen to go on a mission ‘in the name of the King’ to retake Wall Maria a year ago…  

   What a load of shit.

   If that winter in the fields taught me anything, it’s that they were out of food and they were scared of an uprising. So they decided to… ‘reduce’ the problem. I can only hope that they weren’t chosen. They wouldn’t have recruited children, would they? They’re just kids. They don’t eat much, they don’t take up much space… It would be even more homicidal if they decided that kids would have to fight. And what if I’m too late? What if Eren, Mikasa, Armin; what if they’re-

   I can’t think like that. Once I start down that path, it’ll be impossible to think any other way. 

   They’re still out there. Eren’s probably gotten himself into countless fights with these morons of soldiers. Mikasa’s always been there to back him up, to protect him. And Armin has managed to get them both out of trouble nearly every single time. They’re still out there. They’re still alive and living just the way they did before. 

   I can only hope that to be the case.

--.--

   Walking down an alleyway is a horrible idea- especially now. It’s past midnight, judging by how high up the moon has climbed. I’m alone and the fraying briefcase in my hand is held tightly. Nervously, I twirl the ring around my finger. 

   It’s almost too quiet.

   I continue through the alleyway, heading towards the abandoned building I made to be my home. A door opens and closes behind me. Even as I weave through the alley, I can feel their presence behind me. Two men. Tall, muscular. Instinctually, I tighten my grip on the briefcase and stop twirling my ring. I can’t take them in a fair fight. As I continue down the alleyway, my hand snakes into my coat pocket. They walk close together- they’re friends at the very least. They will fight well together, outgunning me even further. Fingers wrapping around the switchblade, I steady my breathing. 

   I dart around a corner and slam my back against the wall. I can hear them speaking to one another, getting closer. My heart’s beating in my ears. I have to get one before the other knows I’m onto them. If I alert them both, I’m done for. I can feel my grip tense around the blade as I pull it from my pocket. The men get closer, lowering their voices. 

   The first rounds the corner and I press the blade up to his neck. “Why are you following me?” I hiss, looking up at him through my eyebrows. “Who are you?”

   “Jeez, lady!” The man’s hands fly up in surrender. “We thought we knew you!”

   The other man runs around the corner, eyebrows drawn together as he looks at the scene in front of him. My eyes flick from the second man to the man before me. I press the blade even more against his neck. “Who are you?”

   The second man’s eyes soften slightly, his blond eyebrows coming undone. “...______?”

   My grip tightens on the knife again. “How do you know my name?” I ask through gritted teeth.

   “______, it’s me!” The man yells, desperate to save his friend. “It’s Eld!”

   My grip falters and the knife clatters to the ground. My eyes scan the man in the darkness. The blond hair tied up into a small bun, eyes green in the starlight. “...Eld…?” I whisper, slowly reaching out to touch him. I’m eyeing him warily- like he’ll fall away in front of me. 

   My hand dusts against his jaw, the stubble pricking my fingertips. My eyes meet with his. Small smiles graze our lips and I throw my arms around him. He does the same, lifting me off the ground slightly. “I thought you died!” I laugh incredulously. “When Maria fell, I… I thought I lost everyone.”

   Eld puts me down and gestures to the other man with him. “You remember Oluo.”

   “Oluo! It’s so nice to see you again!” I smile, opening my arms to him. 

   He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Try pulling that stunt again, brat, and you’ll be sorry.”

   I don’t remember him being this rude. But I did pull a knife on the two of them. “I am sorry already, Oluo,” I mutter, “It’s… It’s been a rough couple’a years.”

   Eld elbows Oluo in the ribs and turns back to me. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s picked up some rather annoying habits.”

--.--

   “It’s really no trouble,” Eld admits, shrugging with a smile. “You helped save some of us when Weinfeld would’ve had them die. I’m just… paying you back.”

   Oluo scoffs again as we walk towards the compound. “Hoping you’ll get something else in return, as well.”

   “Thank you for looking out Oluo,” I say with an edge in my voice, “But I can take care of myself. Considering I got the jump on you.”

   Oluo’s eyebrow shoots up as he eyes me up and down. Slowly, his mouth opens and he licks his lips. An annoyed smile graces them before he goes silent once more. 

   “You’re sure this isn’t gonna cause issues with your superiors?” I ask quietly as Eld pushes the door open. The hallway inside is abandoned and only lit with a few swinging lights. 

   Eld shakes his head, “It shouldn’t. People are known to bring… outsiders for late-night escapades. So this shouldn’t be much of a deal in comparison.”

   I nod and step inside, letting Eld guide me down the hallways. Oluo is hot on my heels. I can feel his sunken eyes staring at me. Shudders trail up and down my skin. 

   Men freak me out.

   Eld turns a corner and opens a door, gesturing inside. Oluo quickens his pace to cut me off and darts inside before me. Eld shakes his head and rolls his eyes. I smile slightly and pat his arm as I step inside. 

   It’s nearly completely dark. The only light is from the moon that pushes between the blinds. I can make out the silhouette of a neatly organized office. “I’m sorry I can’t give you an actual bed,” Eld mutters, grabbing a blanket and pillow from a small closet. “A couch is the best-”

   Excitement bubbles inside of me and I rush to take him in my arms. Squeezing him tightly, I smile into his shoulder. “Are you kidding?” I laugh, “I’ve slept on the filthy floor of an abandoned house for nearly two whole years. This is… fantastic. Thank you.”

   Eld goes slightly pink in the moonlight as I pull away to take the blanket and put it to my face. So soft… and it smells like fresh soap. Oluo clears his throat, “I found you in that alleyway, too.”

   “Thank you, too, Oluo,” I mumble, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “I appreciate it, really.” Eld rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment before walking to Oluo and clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

   “Let’s get going,” he says, “Lady needs her sleep. And we have training tomorrow.”

   Oluo takes the hint and turns on his heel to walk out the door. Eld flashes me a crooked smile before following him. “Eld?” I call out, gripping the pillow to my chest. 

   His head pops back around the corner of the doorway. 

   “I really do appreciate it,” I say softly, “It’s been hard.”

   Eld dips his head. “...just… paying it forward.”

  And just like that, he’s gone. And I’m alone. In his office. In the dark. 

   I lay down, pulling the blanket up towards my eyes. The pillow tucked under my head smells like… Shampoo. It’s all… so tiring…

   My eyes fall closed and before I can think about anything, I’m asleep.

--.---

   “Walls above,” I mutter, sitting up. I can feel my hair sticking out every which way and my muscles are bunched together like tiny balls under my skin. Slowly, I rub my eyes and stretch. My hands run painfully through my hair, undoing the knots and tangles I had worked so hard to create while sleeping.

   “Well!”

   I spin around, fists coming up to a fighting stance. Eld stands in the doorway with a steaming cup of… something that smells amazing. I instantly relax and smile warmly. “You look well-rested,” Eld hums, handing the cup to me. “How’d you sleep?’

   Tea, I’ve determined, is what fills the cup. It’s my favorite, too- mint. “Fantastic,” I laugh, taking a sip. 

   “I’d hope so,” Eld chuckles, sitting down at his desk. “You slept for three days.”

   “You’re joking,” I mumble, stopping half-way into a sip. 

   He shakes his head, “Oluo came in here to check on you the first day and you were still out. And then by night two, I started getting worried so we had a friend of ours- Petra- check on you. And last night, I said if you didn’t wake up in the morning, I’d take you to the hospital wing.”

   I roll my eyes at myself and duck down behind my tea. Nice going, ______.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, “I didn’t mean to-”

   “Don’t apologise. You needed it- you said it yourself. These last couple years were hard.”

   I chuckle heartlessly and take another sip of tea. “...you have no idea.”

   “...if you want to talk about it…”

   My eyes meet his. They’re soft, scanning over me like I’m some sort of glass doll or lost cat. For some reason, it irritates me. I shake off the irritation and take a deep breath. He’s not looking at me like I’m helpless. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what I’ve been through. And he probably does. 

   “My fiancé died right in front of me,” I start and take another sip, the image of the watchtower falling in on us playing over in my head. “Just… died. We were hiding in a watchtower and… that… Armoured Titan? that everyone was talking about- it walked into it and the whole thing came down on us. My fiancé, Fynn, pushed me out- saved me and died in my place.”

   I take another sip, eyes glazed over as I remember Carla being lifted into the air, the skinless smile of that Titan… The crunch of her bones and the blood. Just… everywhere, the blood. 

   “And someone I considered to be a second mother… She… she was eaten. Right in front of me and her kids. The house she lived in had collapsed on top of her and-,” I stop for a moment, my grip on the cup trembling with force. “And we tried to get her out. We tried but… We couldn’t. We… we had to leave her to die.”

   “And she told me to take care of them,” my voice is shaking now as I see her eyes staring at me. Pleading and desperate and watery and fixed on me like I was the thing that would save her. “She told me to take care of them and I tried to, I tried to. I couldn’t let them pass up the ferry- they would’ve died then if I had,”

   “And I’ve been looking for them around the entirety of Wall Rose but they’re just… Gone. Disappeared. All I can think about is if they’re gone forever- if something happened and they didn’t make it-”

   “______.”

   My head snaps up to look at Eld. I can feel the heat of my tears and the shaking in my hands- how long have I been crying?

   “You’ve done everything you could,” Eld says calmly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You deserve a break.”

   “...I don’t want to give up.”

   “You’re not giving up if you’ve exhausted all your resources.”

   I open my mouth and shut it again. There it is. It was always there- I always knew it was a possibility. But now it’s out and it’s in the air and it’s in words. 

   They might not even be around anymore. 

   Tears flood down my face. Sobs wrack my body, too powerful to even make a noise. They just choke me at my lungs, at my throat. Eld takes the cup from my hands and places it on the table. I can feel him around me but it’s just… cold. Freezing cold. Numbingly cold. 

   I don’t know how long we sit there like that. It feels like hours and days and years all at the same time as feeling like it was only a few moments. All I know is that when he pulls away, the same thought has been buzzing around my head for far too long to be disregarded. 

   “I want to join the Scouts,” I whisper, eyes wide and staring at the floor.

   “______, I don’t think-” 

   My eyes flick up to meet his. “One of the little boys I used to look after, all he wanted was to join the Scouts. Every day, we would talk about joining them when he got older. See the world, retake the life that was stolen from humanity… If Eren truly is gone… The last thing I can do for him is make sure one of us gets to see the outside world without being locked in a cage.”

--.--

   The sun beats down on us as we stand in rows, all equally spaced out. It’s not hot, not cold. Just… sunny. A man paces through the rows and picks on certain rookies. It’s kind of a show- a little guessing game. Who is going to get yelled at so badly they shit bricks next? 

   It’s kind of genius, really. Forcing us to become blank slates. Easier to make us into the soldiers they want us to be. The man stops at the end of my row, facing the girl standing there. Blonde hair all done up into a neat ponytail- she can’t be more than thirteen. He screams at her, demanding her name and place of birth. ‘Christa Lentz’ is her name. She was born in Wall Maria. Poor thing. 

   He directs her into another row, telling her to run. Slowly, he makes his way down the line until he stops at me. His eyes ghost over my figure before they meet mine. He nods and continues going even further down the row. The man continues yelling at recruits and even picking one up by the head. A small smile graces my lips as I watch him chew the poor boy out for saluting backwards. When the man stops halfway- jaw dropped- I lean slightly forward to see what was going on. 

   The man drops the boy and turns to someone a few rows behind me. I can’t see exactly who. I can, however, hear the man speaking. “...what’re you doing?”

   Silence. 

   “You!” The man yells, charging through the rows to a girl. She has long brown hair that’s tied up into a ponytail- hair falling to frame her face. “I’m talking to you! Who the Hell are you?!”

   The girl freezes for a moment before going into a salute. “I’m Sasha Braus- from Dauper Village on the south side of Wall Rose!”

   The blood in my veins stills.

   ...Sasha’s… Here?

   Why the Hell would she be here? What about Mom and Dad? Are they okay? Why isn’t she taking care of them? Why isn’t she at home-?

   “...whatcha got in your right hand?”

   My skin prickles with both rage and fear. Knowing my sister, it’s probably food. And knowing me, I’ll find myself running to protect her before I even realise. 

   “A steamed potato!” 

   I knew it.

   She’s always had a thing for getting caught stealing food- even when we were kids. I had to fight off angry store-owners and upset townswomen when she came and stole their food off their stands. ‘It was her fault for putting it in the window! Made the whole forest smell like pies!’ was a regular excuse. It wasn’t entirely her fault. Food was scarce for a very, very long time. We ate what we could… And stole what we couldn’t afford. 

   Sasha was just the one always getting caught.

   The man is looking at the piece of steamed potato in his hand now, mumbling to himself. I can hear Sasha chuckling nervously. The man takes a single bite of it. The man snarls, spitting the potato at her shoes.

   I walk out of line, marching down towards him. “Commandant!” I yell, snapping into a salute. “I am ______ Braus and I am willing to accept the responsibility of my sister’s misdemeanors!”

   The Commandant’s eyes widen as they dart from me to Sasha. I can hear Sasha mumbling to herself under her breath, staring at me. The Commandant sighs and rolls his eyes, “Fine. Both of you are to run until you’re about to drop.”

   I bow my head, “Thank you, Commandant.”

   “And food privileges have been revoked for both of you for the next five days.”

   I wince as Sasha lets out a strangled scream. This isn’t going to be easy.

--.--

   Sasha collapses onto the dirt, breathing heavily. I hunch over and feel my stomach tense like it’s trying to get rid of something. “You…” I mutter, pointing a finger at her, “What the Hell are you doing here?”

   “I… I could ask you the... same thing.”

   “I asked... you first- what the Hell are you doing here?”

   The two of us go silent, only panting and staring daggers at each other. 

   “You need to get that food stealing shit... under control.” I mutter, dusting myself off. 

   “Like you didn’t use to... do it,” she huffs, rolling over onto her back. 

   “I did do it. I just… didn’t get caught.” I sit down beside her, staring up at the stars.

   The air is thick with tension as we sit in silence for a while. She’s bound to have more questions than me right now. 

   “...is he dead?”

   I look over at her. Her eyes are locked with mine. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “...yeah. He’s dead.”

   “Was he… ya know…”

   “No, he wasn’t eaten. He was… A building fell on top of us and he pushed me out before I was…”

   Sasha hums and nods, sitting up and tucking her knees to her chest. “...was he… nice… to you?”

   “Yeah,” I mumble, picking at the leather strap around my thigh. “He, um… He wasn’t even going to marry me, ya know.”

   “What?” Sasha’s head whips around to stare at me, her mouth hanging open and eyebrows drawn together. “He took you away from us for two years and he wasn’t even going to marry you?”

   “Ease up, there,” I shake my head and sigh. “...he was going to let me go back home… with the money and the land, no marriage required-”

   “______!” She snaps, grabbing my arm. “Marriage or not, he took you away when you were fifteen. He took you away from everyone- from your family, from me, from home. You were a kid and you were going to get married. It doesn’t matter if you ‘didn’t have to marry him’- that was his first plan, whether he changed his mind or not.”

   “Sasha, I never said I forgive him for what he did,” I whisper, eyebrows drawn together. “I will never be able to forgive him for that- for taking advantage of a girl with no other choice and stealing her away from her family at such a young age for two whole years… I’ll never forgive him but…,”

   “I have everything now. The money and the land- it’s finally going to be okay and this time, I’ll be with my family instead of some house in a town I only moderately liked.”

   Sasha nods and sighs, releasing her grip on my arm. “So… Ma and Pa are gonna be taken care of?”

   “If I can find someone that can transfer everything to my name, yeah… How… How are they?”

   “Pa’s getting better… And Ma’s not as tired anymore.”   “That’s good,” I smile, nudging her with my elbow. “All thanks to you, potato muncher. Thanks for takin’ such good care’a them while I was gone.”

   Sasha smiles and leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. “...I missed you,” she mumbles, “...when Shiganshina and Wall Maria fell,” Sasha mumbles, scooting closer to me. “Ma and Pa and I… we… we didn’t think you had… we didn’t think you had ...made it.”

   “There was a lot of death,” I whisper, remembering the body parts and blood scattered around the city. “I wouldn’t expect you to think I had made it.”

   “I’m glad you did.”

   A huff-like laugh leaves my lips, “I’m glad I did, too…”

   I shift around and let my head rest on top of hers. “Once everything is done with and after we get out of here… do you… wanna come live with me? I know that’s a long ways away but I have… A lot of money now and I missed out on so much stuff with you so I was thinking…”

   Sasha cackles, “What? Live with you? You’re so old and clean.” 

   “I’m only six years older but... Yeah, you’re right,” I laugh, “You’re so filthy. I’d lose my mind.”

   The two of us go quiet for a moment.

   “Yeah,” she says finally. “When we’re all old ‘nd decorated officers, I’ll live with you.” 

   I press my lips to her hair, “Fantastic. When we’re successful, famous, then... Now,” I clear my throat and get back to my feet, holding a hand out for her. “Ya up t’steal some food?”

   Sasha grins and takes my hand, jumping to her feet, “Hell yeah!”

   The cafeteria is bustling with noise. Figures slide past in the windows, carrying trays of food. The smell of bread and vegetables drift through the door and out into the darkness where Sasha and I stand. My arm is wrapped around her waist, holding her in place as she frantically tries to fling herself into the cafeteria. “Will you-” I mutter, picking her up slightly and setting her back down, “Stop! Stop, stop, stop!”

   “I can’t!” She squirms around, almost frothing at the mouth. “I can smell everything in there! It all smells so good!”

   “If we don’t do this right, we won’t have anything to eat,” I snap, pulling us away from the doorway and around the corner. Taking her by the shoulders, I turn her to face me. Her eyebrows draw together as she looks me up and down. 

   “Have you always been this short? And when did you get that scar?” She asks, prodding the skin around my left eyebrow. 

   I bat her hand away, “Focus! Do you want food or not?” She nods enthusiastically, sticking her hand into her pocket. “Good…,” I whisper, turning to look around the corner. The golden light is still pouring out onto the porch along with the laughter and chatter from inside. “Now, I’m gonna go in there and talk to some people. When I tap on that window three times,” I point to the window hovering just above us. “I’m gonna drop some food down for you. You run to the cabins and tuck it away somewhere until I get back… got it?”

   Sasha nods and leans up against the window. Her stomach lets out an abhorrent growl, causing her to wrap her arms around it tightly. “Hurry.” 

   I turn around the corner and duck into the doorway. My eyes scan across the room, flicking across the various plates left unattended. I start forward while eyeing a plate of what seems solely holding fresh bread. Until someone collides into me, knocking me into a table. “Hey!” I snap, grabbing the person by the shirt, “Watch it!” 

   The man holds up his hands, staring down at me. He’s blond, a lot taller than me, and is built like a goddamn freight train. An amused smile crosses his lips as he looks at me, “Sorry, miss- didn’t see ya there.”

   My eyes narrow as I stare up at him, “What’re you gettin' at?”

   The man shrugs, pink lips downturning as he glances to the side. “Just didn’t see ya.”

   I scoff, letting go of him and waving him off. “I don’t have time for you anyways.”

   “Would you be willing to make time?” He asks, following after me as I sit down at a bench. My eyebrow quirks up and I look him over. 

   He’s… not bad-looking. At all.

   Wide jaw, a little stubble gracing it, cocky grin, green eyes, broad shoulders… 

   “Name?” I ask. At the very least, I can get some food out of him. 

   “Reiner. Braun,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Yours?”

   “______,” I smile, “Braus.”

   Reiner smiles and leans back, “That’s how I know you- you’re that girl’s sister.”

   “The very same.”

   “...have you been able to meet anyone yet?” Reiner asks, getting up from his seat. “You were, uh… busy with…” he gestures outside, “...so I wasn’t sure.”

   “Nope,” I get to my feet, “Why? You know people already?”

   Reiner shrugs, “A few. Bertholdt was from my village and then we were talking with some others when I, um… Saw you walk in.”

   My eyes flick to him as we walk across the room. Pink is dusting his cheeks as a thick hand rubs the back of his neck. I laugh softly, elbowing him in the ribs, “Is that blush I see on you, Braun?”

   Reiner shakes his head, very obviously turning another shade of red darker. There’s a group gathered around a table, chattering excitedly. Reiner taps on a few people’s shoulders, pushing others out of the way. “Hey,” he says, only needing to lift his voice a little in order for it to overtake the chatter. “Found someone else- her name’s ______.”

   I push through into the center of the group, waving slightly at the faces. “Hey, I’m-”

   “______?”

   My eyes dart to the voice. It’s so painfully like his voice. But… It’s not.

   Right?

   I place a hand on Reiner’s arm and push him back to see the end of the table. 

   Holy shit.

   “Armin?” I whisper, staring at him. He’s older now- still young and still the same blue eyes, blond hair but… so different. 

   We stand there staring at each other for what seems like ages before my name is whispered again. All breathy, like I’d fly away if it were said too loud. My eyes flit down to the seat beside me. “...Eren? Mikasa?”

   They’re here. They’re all here- my sisters, my brothers… They’re here and they’re alive. Holy shit, they’re alive.

   Eren’s the one that moves first, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me into him and Mikasa. Armin hurries around the corner of the table and all I can do is laugh and wrap my arms around them as tears stream down my face. 

   “I thought I lost you,” I laugh, pulling away for just a second to look into Eren’s eyes, into Mikasa’s, into Armin’s. My hands lay against their faces, turning them slightly so I can see every nearly-forgotten inch of them. “I’ve been looking for you ever since that goddamn ferry- look at you!” I laugh again, “You guys look…” I trail off, staring at each of them. 

   Armin’s in tears, Eren looking about the same. Even Mikasa’s eyes prick with tears. “Where were you?” Eren asks, eyes searching my face.

   “Everywhere,” I sigh, “Everywhere but the one place you were apparently… I even went to the Underground for you three.”

   I stare at each of them for what seems like ages, only stopping when a soft tap on my shoulder brings me back to the present. Turning around, I catch a glimpse of the happy- albeit slightly confused- faces surrounding us. Reiner’s eyebrow shoots up, gesturing to the kids. “Guess you knew some people, huh?”

   “How is it you three know each other?” A boy with a near-shaved head asks. 

   “I worked for this one’s father,” I explain, ruffling Eren’s head. “Mikasa lived with them and Armin was their best friend so...”

   “She was like our older sister, really,” Eren explains, flashing me a smile. “Got us out of a lot of trouble.”

   “And into some,” Mikasa adds.

   “I moved to Shiganshina when…” I trail off, remembering that night of goodbyes to my family in the starlight. Shaking my head slightly, I force a smile. “When a... When I bought a house out there.”

   The group starts back up again, asking us questions- about Titans, about the Armoured Titan, the Colossal Titan, the fall of Shiganshina… I elbow Mikasa and gesture to Eren’s plate, left neglected as Eren tells an extremely self-inflating version of the one of the times he chewed Hannes out. She knows exactly what I want. Silently, she slides her hand over and tugs the plate over towards me. 

   “Thank you,” I whisper into her hair as I slide off the bench and to the window. I knock three times and open the window just a crack, sliding the plate into Sasha’s hands. I can hear her malicious giggle on the other side.

   Mikasa and I continue the song and dance- stealing plates while people are captivated by Eren and Armin’s storytelling. Finally, after the third trip, I can hear Sasha hissing at me. “Jeez, ______! I can’t carry all this!”

   “Then open your skull- there’s a ton of empty space in there!”

   She goes quiet for a moment before something pinches my back. I jump, causing her to burst into laughter on the other side. “That’s what you get!”

   “Whatever,” I mutter, “Go ahead and start eating when you get to the cabin- just save me some!”

   I can hear her sprinting away from the window, giggling insanely. I roll my eyes and walk back to the group, sitting back down between Reiner and Mikasa. Armin and Eren are bickering about something- some detail from a story that Armin had told incorrectly. 

   It’s just good to have my kids back- all of them. 

--.--

   “Always the hothead, I see,” I mumble as Eren and Mikasa walk out of the cafeteria. “You haven’t changed that much, have you, Eren?”

   Mikasa nods, siding up next to me as we walk towards the cabins. “Not much has changed.”   “Not another lecture,” Eren groans, rolling his eyes. “I already had Mikasa on my tail- now you’re back and already you’re scolding me.”

   “Ha!” I laugh, “I’ve got a whole two years to make up for- I’m not letting anything slip past.”

   Eren sighs and gestures to Mikasa and I, “Never mind me. Worry about your hair- it’s too long. It might get caught in the ODM gear and cause an accident.”

   Mikasa and I each look at our hair. It’s true- the length of mine runs down my back, ending just short of my waist. I hadn’t cut my hair in a very long time before the fall of Shiganshina and these past two years were too chaotic to do it myself then. It was usually thrown up into a loose bun but that might not be an option anymore. 

   “Well then,” I mumble, running my fingers through the length of my hair. “Look at that… I guess I’ll cut mine. It’s a bit too long for my taste, anyways. I prefer my hair short… Do you want me to do yours, Mikasa?”

   Mikasa’s still fiddling with the ends of her hair, studying the length. Finally, she nods, “Thank you.”

   Our footsteps crunch in the dirt as we come to our cabins. Eren hurries up the steps of the cabin on the right while Mikasa and I go to the cabin on the left. “‘night, Eren!” I hum, smiling at him as he opens his door. 

   “‘night, ______. ‘night, Mikasa.”

   The two of us head into the cabin and I can already smell the food. “Sasha!” I hiss, peering into the darkness. “You save any for me?”

   It’s silent. 

   I look to Mikasa, who eyes me warily before taking another step into the room. I do the same, trailing my fingers along the wall. “...potato-muncher, you in here?”

   “______!” Sasha screeches, lunging at me from the darkness. I fall backwards as she climbs on top of me, gripping my shoulders and shaking me. “God has visited me! I have been blessed by God herself!”

   “What?”

   “Christa!” She screams, shaking me so violently my head snaps back and forth. “She brought us bread!”

   So like my sister to relate food to godliness.

   I sit up and push her off of me, getting to my feet as she runs back into the darkness. “Look!” She screams, holding out two whole pieces of bread. 

   They look… So good.

   I snatch one out of her hands, taking a bite. Using the bread, I point at Mikasa and swallow. “This is Mikasa- you remember me telling you about her in my letters?”

   Sasha, bread held in her mouth, turns to look at Mikasa. A blush crosses her cheeks and she stands up straighter, waving slightly. A muffled ‘hello’ is mumbled through the bread. 

   “Mikasa, this is my little sister, Sasha,” I explain, taking another bite and sitting down on one of the bunks. Mikasa dips her head, smiling gently. My eyes widen as I remember what I was going to do. “Sasha, you know where I can find any scissors?”

   Sasha nods, heading back into the darkness. Rustling and the sound of things falling to the floor fill the room as I tie my hair back. She hurries back out, licking her fingers as she hands me a pair of scissors. “Mikasa, grab that dresser and pull it over here,” I mumble, finishing off my bread. 

   Mikasa drags the wooden dresser from the corner over and sits down on top of it. “How short do you want it?” I ask, running my fingers through her hair as I get up to stand behind her.

   Her hand comes up and levels off towards the middle of her neck. “Do you think it’ll be good here?” she asks quietly, turning her head slightly to look at me. 

   I nod, eyeing the length of her hair, “Should be…” 

   Sasha appears at my side and hands me a hairbrush, “It’s not so much for Mikasa as it is for you.” She winces, eyeing my hair. 

   “Gee, thanks,” I mutter, starting to brush Mikasa’s hair out. 

--.--

   Mikasa has fallen asleep, face buried in Eren’s old scarf. Sasha’s passed out, too, surrounded by plates and crumbs. It’s just me as I hold the scissors in the moonlight. My eyes flick up to the moon- full and bright and lonely in the sky. 

   But it’s not lonely. Surrounded by stars and clouds, it breathes and relaxes above the earth. 

   I take the scissors, admiring the way I look in the reflection on the metal blades. Sasha’s right- I didn’t have this scar when I saw her last. It was from Shiganshina, when that building fell. A piece of wood or stone or something sliced my skin deep enough to leave a curving scar from my temple down to my eyelid. 

   Reaching back, I undo the bun I had tucked my hair into and feel the weight of my hair cascade down my back. It’s thick and heavy- and so irritating. 

   Enough theatrics.

   I grab a section of hair, looking in my faint reflection in the glass window. The scissors find their mark and…

   The first section is done. A length of hair falls to the wood floor, curling slightly. More and more lengths join it and mix the black with ______ on the floor. Just above my shoulders- like Armin’s. I laugh a bit, continuing to feather the edges as I picture the two of us standing beside each other with nearly-matching haircuts.

   My head feels so much lighter and so much more free. I’ll never let it get that long ever again. I place the scissors down on the windowsill and look down at my feet. Mounds of ______ and black hair blanket the space between bunks. There’s bound to be a broom somewhere around here, right? I peek outside, watching for anyone passing by outside. It’s late… I should be able to sneak in and out without anyone noticing. 

--.--

   The leather straps around my chest, waist, hips, and thighs keep me suspended in mid-air. I can feel the toes of my shoes barely scrape the ground as my body twitches here and there. Slowly, I breathe in and out. My eyes focus on the ground as my back straightens. My abs and legs tense slightly when I straighten up completely- but I don’t swing. 

   I’m balanced. 

   My eyes flick up from the dirt below me to the other cadets waiting to try their luck on the ODM gear. A cocky smile stretches my lips and I look to the left of me to see how the others are doing. Armin has both arms held up at his sides, lip in-between his teeth as he shakily hangs in the harness. Further down, I see Mikasa nearly perfectly balanced, a focused yet impassive look in her eyes. 

   And then I see Eren. 

   Upside-down and flustered, all red and wriggling around like a worm. His legs are bent at the knees, his feet up in the air. His hair is grazing the dirt as he tries to pull himself upright. Some recruits are laughing, gesturing to him. 

   He is not going to like this at all. 

   Groaning, I look over to my right. Sasha is leaning slightly forward, her lips forced into a thin, hard line. A bead of sweat slips past her temple, tracing the grooves in her skin as her eyebrows weave together. “How ya doin’, ‘tato-muncher?” I call out to her teasingly. 

   Her eyes flick over to me and then back to the same spot she was focusing on before. “...great!” She says quickly, like her balance was based solely on her not speaking. 

   I laugh a bit, eyes flicking around the crowd. The boy with a shaved head- what was his name…? It was Carl… Cole? Con… Connie. Connie stands right in front of me, standing beside that tall horse-faced boy that got in Eren’s face a few nights ago. Jean, if I remember right. 

   My eyes continue bouncing around the crowd, picking out names and faces. Tall and blond- Reiner. Even taller and brunet- Bertholdt. Freckles- Marco. Pigtails- Mina. Short and blonde- Christa. Angry- Ymir. Bored- Annie. Glasses…?

   A taller person with rectangular glasses stands towards the back of the crowd, hands clasped together over their chest. Their mouth hangs open in an amused smile and I can almost hear their giddy laughter from here. Their longer brown hair is tied back into a bun with pieces jutting out from the base. I can see them turn to face someone else beside them, taking them by the shoulders and gesturing manically to us recruits. My eyes trail down their long arms to the person they’re shaking. 

   Who is that?

   The man they’re shaking is much shorter than they are but just the look he has in his eyes… It’s so intimidating it’s almost painful. Grey like steel, they peer out from beneath his jet-black hair at us. His jaw is strong and sharp- contrasting the softness of his lips. 

   He looks familiar.

   “Hey,” I mutter, turning to the soldier manning the ODM trainer. “Who’s that?” I ask, pointing to the two in the back. 

   The soldier’s eyes land on the two and he chuckles, “You live under a rock ‘r something? That’s Doctor Hange Zoë and Captain Levi- Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. They’re probably here doing some scouting for their squads.”

   I nod slowly, eyeing the two of them. 

   Captain Levi’s eyes are glazed as they trail down the line of trainers. I freeze completely when they land on me. They remain locked on me for a moment before he continues down the line. 

   ...? 

--.--

   “You three are a lot,” I mutter, wrapping bandages around Eren’s head as he blankly stares at the floor. “What the Hell were you even doing?!”

   “Eren was struggling with the ODM trainer,” Armin explains, “And… we said we would help him. We got him strapped in and when we lifted him up, he…” Armin trails off, looking at Eren worriedly. 

   “He what?” I snap, continuing to wrap Eren’s head. 

   “He fell forward and hit his head,” Mikasa answers from the doorway. I can tell she’s just as upset about this as I am. But there’s also something else in her eyes… Relief, maybe? That doesn’t make much sense. Maybe it’s because it could’ve been much worse than it is or maybe I’m just reading into her too much, I don’t know. 

   These past couple years have really messed up my ability to read them. 

   Eren groans, rubbing his head with his hand. I bat his hand away, tucking the bandage so that it’ll stay put. “Listen to me,” I say, taking Eren’s face and turning it towards me. “You’re gonna get yourself killed before you even see a Titan again. You need to be more careful-”

   “If I can’t get this down, I won’t be able to become a Scout and kill the bastards!” Eren snaps, knocking my hand off his face.

   “You also won’t be able to become a Scout if you’re dead!” I yell back, eyebrows furrowing together. “You need to be more careful- ‘nd not just now, either! Careful in the field, too. I’m not going to just let you do whatever you wish and watch you die because of it!” 

   The room goes silent as we stare at each other. Slowly, I let my muscles unravel. I take a step forward, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his face to mine. “...listen… I’m only trying to keep you safe. If you aren’t a little cautious, you’ll die out there- and I… I made a promise. To your mother and to myself that I’m not going to let you die,” I turn to Armin and Mikasa, “That I’m not going to let any of you die- so this goes for all of you. Sasha’d be hearing this, too, if she were here,”

   “Be more careful or I’ll beat your asses, idiots… Have I made myself clear?” I ask, eyes flicking to each face. Each of them nod and I sigh, ruffling Eren’s hair and rolling my eyes. “Now, go eat. No more training.”

   Eren’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open a bit, “But-!”

   “You can train after, when I’m there with you,” I interrupt, “Eat something first.” 

   Eren sighs and follows after Mikasa and Armin before stopping in the doorway. “...are you coming?”

   I nod and gesture to the medical supplies sprawled out on my bunk, “I’m putting these away first- I don’t want Ymir stealing them and putting them somewhere I can’t reach.”

   Eren nods and closes the door. I listen to his footsteps crunching in the gravel as he walks away. Putting everything back into the container and closing it, I slide the little white box under my bunk. I get to my feet and walk out into the darkened sky. Stars prick the skyline and tease the moon. I wonder what it’s like up there- what it’s like outside the walls. 

   In a few years, I should be able to find out.

--.--

   My knuckles rap against the window, “Armin!” I whisper, looking around the corner. Soldiers with lanterns are looking around, talking amongst themselves and asking if they saw ‘which way she went’. They’re too close to the girl’s cabin- I’d get caught before I could sneak in.    “Armin! Eren!” I hiss, staring up at the window. Of all days I had to get caught showering after hours, it just had to be the one time it was for an actual, good reason. I went to dinner and that horse-faced moron Jean ran into me, spilling food all over my clothes. I didn’t have time to shower then so I quickly changed and went to supervise Armin, Eren, and Mikasa with Sasha. 

   I growl, tightening my grip on the towel around me. It’s freezing. Goosebumps litter my bare skin as I clutch the wad of clothes in my hands. Shivering slightly, I knock again on the window. “Armin! It’s ______, dammit- open the window!”

   The window shudders slightly and I can hear it squeak open. “Hey!” I hiss, pulling the towel tighter. “Down here.”

   Someone sticks their head out of the window. Marco turns a slight shade of pink staring at me. “Are Eren and Armin in there?” I ask, peeking around the corner to check on the guards.

   Marco nods, “...um… did… did you-?”

   “Listen, Freckles, I need in there,” I mutter, adjusting the towel once more and digging the sole of my foot into the wall. “Gimme your hand.” Marco stays still, eyes wide as he stares down at me. “Today, Freckles, c’mon!”

   Marco sticks his hand out to me and I take it, using it to pull myself up and into the boys’ cabin window. The quiet murmur inside stops and I can feel the eyes collected on me. Adjusting the towel again, I turn to face them. “Armin, Eren!” I call, head up and shoulders back like I’m not completely naked with only a towel on in a dorm filled with horny boys. 

   I can see them pushing through the others. Eren snaps at each of the boys he thinks take too long to blink as Armin helps me down from the window. “Can you do two me a favor?” I ask, unwadding my clothes. “Hold a blanket up or something for a moment?”

   Armin nods and grabs a blanket off of a bunk, holding it up around me as the towel drops. I can see his ears turn a light shade of pink as he turns his head away from me. Eren stands at his side, glaring at the other boys and silently daring them to say or do something. I smirk, pushing my legs into a pair of leggings. “You okay, there, Armin?” I hum.

   He nods frantically. “All good here, ______.”

   “What are you doing here?” Eren asks, not taking his eyes off the other boys.

   “Got caught,” I mutter, “I was taking a shower and some idiot stumbled in. I only had time to grab my clothes, wrap myself in a towel and run. They got to the girl’s cabin before me- I can’t sneak in without getting caught.”

  “What about the windows?” Armin manages to ask as he blushes even more. 

   “Mina’s a real safety freak- always locks up the windows before she goes to sleep… Okay, you can drop the blanket now.” I stand up straight, now warmly dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. Armin drops the blanket, wadding it up and throwing it back on the bunk. 

   Eren visibly relaxes and turns to face me. “You gonna keep sneaking out for showers?”

   “Let’s just say this,” I gesture to the window and the cabin as a whole, “May become a regular thing.” Eren groans and rolls his eyes. “Aw… c’mon, Eren… Ya know I don’t sleep.”

   “Yeah, fine. Just don’t get caught.”

   “Aw, c’mon, Rei- teach the kid how to balance on the gear.”

   “I’m telling you, I can’t explain it,” he huffs, pointing to his temple. “It’s something you gotta do in here. You can’t be taught.”

   I roll my eyes and sigh. “Fine then. Bert, how ‘bout you?” I ask, looking at Bertholdt. 

   Bertholdt shrugs, “If I could, I would.”

   “Please guys, I’m begging you!” Eren pleads, gripping the sheets of the bed we all sit on. 

   Bertholdt and Reiner look to each other before they turn to face us again. “Sorry, Eren.”

   “Tch,” I click my tongue and get to my feet, grabbing Eren’s shoulder and massaging it gently. “It’s alright, Eren. It’ll come to you tomorrow, alright?”

   “Just give it your all,” Armin adds, standing with me. Eren hangs back for just a moment, head hanging. Slowly, he gets to his feet and we get ready to hop off the upper bunk. 

   “You’re… all from Shiganshina, right?” Bertholdt asks. 

   “I lived there for a couple of years,” I shrug and sit back down. “But I wasn’t born there- they were.” I tilt my head towards the boys as they sit on either side of me. 

   “But… you were… there. When it happened,” Bertholdt says quietly. “Right?”

   “...yeah.” I mumble, staring down at the sheets I have pinched between my fingers. “I was there.”

   “So then you know how horrible the Titans are. Why would any of you want to become soldiers?”

   “Unlike Eren and ______,” Armin starts, “I didn’t see the Titans right up close. But I can’t stand the thought that we have a monarchy that forced its people to go on that horrible reclamation mission- I couldn’t stand by.”

   “...and you two?” Reiner asks, eyes flicking between Eren and I. 

   “I, uh… When I was working for Eren’s father, we would have conversations about the walls,” I explain, rubbing the sheets between my fingers. “Mostly about how much we hate them. They’re meant to keep those things out but… They’re also meant to keep us in and keep us separated. The interior- they’re rich and fat off the blood and sweat from our people, from the people in the outer walls. We die in the streets to be picked apart like rats while they host... banquets,”

  I chuckle coldly and roll my eyes, dropping the fabric. “And honestly? I really want to see what’s out there. That… ‘ocean’ thing Armin was telling me about sounds like one hell of a blast- and that’s just one thing. I can only imagine what else is out there.”

   “...what about you,” Armin asks, “Where are you two from?”

   The two go quiet, eyes dropping to the mattress. “We’re both from the same village, deep in the mountains,” Bertholdt says, “On the southeast side of Wall Maria.”

   My stomach drops slightly, “...oh…”

   “That’s…” Armin trails off, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. Eren’s mouth is parted slightly as he stares at Bertholdt. 

   “Yeah… Unlike towns with waterways, we didn’t get word right away- more like the Titans came before the news,” Bertholdt’s head drops, his soft green eyes cast down into shadow. “...it was just around dawn. The livestock were restless. Then I felt tremors that got stronger and stronger. Pretty soon… I realised they were footsteps. And I rushed to the window…”

   He stops, his eyes still wide and unblinking.    “I… I, um… Don’t remember much after that. There was so much chaos.”

   I crawl over to the other side of the bed, wrapping my hand around one of theirs. “You don’t need to remember,” I mumble. “You’ve been through enough- remembering won’t do either of you any good.”

   “Oi,” Reiner says, looking at Bertholdt. “Why’re you bringing this up all of a sudden?”

   Bertholdt shifts in his place, snaking his hand out from under mine. “Sorry… What I wanted to say was- you guys are different from the others. The ones that don’t know what the Titans are like... Most of them are here because it’s the ‘politically correct’ thing to do- if you choose working in the fields when you turn twelve, you’re branded a coward.”

--.--

   “...so I went along and enlisted in the Cadet Corps,” Bertholdt continues as we sneak out of the dorm. “Still… I’m no different from them. I chose to work for the military police so I can work in the safety of the interior. If that doesn’t work out, I might just quit.” He chuckles and shakes his head, leading us through the woods alongside Reiner. 

   Eren and Armin are at my sides, weaving through branches and bushes. My eyes are focused ahead. A poorly-kept path through the woods up the mountain seems to lead up to a clearing. My eyes then drift from the road to Reiner as he helps pick Armin up after tripping over a rock.   His eyes meet mine for a moment. I smile gently, turning away and thanking the moon for hiding behind a cloud. Eren and Armin hurry to Bertholdt’s side, leaving behind Reiner and I in the rear. We walk together silently, the air still managing to be thick.

   “So…’ Reiner drawls, pushing a branch out of the way. “How… how old… are you?”

   I laugh, ducking under a branch and listening to him struggle to break it. “Is that how all you mountain men talk to women? Or are you just bad at it?”

   “I, um… I-”

   “It’s fine, Rei,” I laugh softly as he comes up to my right. “I’m nineteen. You?”

   Reiner nods, “Nineteen.”

   The two of us go silent again as the three ahead of us are chatting amongst themselves. I guess it’s only fair I try to start a conversation, since Reiner-

   My foot slips on a gnarled root and I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me back. I let out a quick laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Thank you.”

   “Is that a forest girl thing? Slipping in the woods?” Reiner asks, chuckling slightly as his hand releases my wrist. “Or are you just bad at walking?”

-------

You can read parts one, three, and four! Just give the number you want a tap ;)

[crimsonheart01]

Make the Season Bright (Fred Weasley x Female!Reader)

A/N: FRED DESERVED TO LIVE! We were all robbed and I will spend my days making sure that fanon supersedes canon! To my lovely Nonny who requested this, here is the wintery fluff Fred Weasley we all need! 

Prompt: 24. “I’m watching the Barbie Nutcracker.”

Word Count: 2.2K words

Playlist: The Christmas Song - Nat King Cole [YouTube] [Spotify]

Warnings: None! 

“They know that Santa’s on his way He’s loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh And every mother’s child is gonna spy To see if reindeers really know how to fly.” The Christmas Song – Nat King Cole

He apparated into the alleyway behind her apartment complex and peered around the corner to ensure that no muggles caught him. The snow was falling in thick flakes, the silence of it crossing over everything. He could see the busy street of muggle cars zooming by, but their sound muffled by the weather. An experience not everyone got to experience. It was hard to explain, but it was one of his favourite things about winter, the hols aside. He thoroughly enjoyed a serene snowfall.

He scanned up and down the parking lot before making a clear beeline for the double low-rise apartments in front of him. His booted feet crunching with each step. He murmured a quick charm to brush away his footprints from the alley behind him. It was unlikely that anyone would notice the one-way prints, but he didn’t want to compromise himself or her.

A flurry of snowflakes floated past him in the breeze, and he hunched his shoulders forward while shoving his mittened hands into his pockets. He really should’ve worn a thicker jumper. There was no way she was going to believe he hoofed it on the underground all the way here in what he was wearing. He briefly thought about transfiguring it into a peacoat but knew it was putting too much at risk. He’d find a way to distract her from asking too many questions.

He hopped up the few steps into the courtyard, heading to his left to come up to the building doors. He paused before pressing on her buzzer and looked up into the second-floor window. He could see that her curtains were pulled closed, but he could still make out her shadow on the couch. He could see the flicker of light from her TV.

He was called out of his thoughts by the sound of someone approaching. Fred had become a keen ear on all things around him ever since the war. He figured it was overcompensation for George losing one of his. He spent more time reading body language and listening to everything around him. He could catch the smallest scrape from across the busy shop. In tonight’s quiet, it wasn’t hard at all for him to hear as the door was unlocked and then the hesitation of the other person before stepping through.

“Hey, buddy,” The stranger next to him called out, “You coming in or not?”

Fred whipped around, always surprised at the cold politeness of muggles. It made him chuckle. They were still offering to hold doors open or letting people pass, but it was always coated with distinct antipathy. He guessed that it wasn’t too much different from the way that the old purebloods of the wizarding world looked down on everyone else. That forced civility with the lower class always present in the way they held themselves.

He smirked to himself. The thought that purebloods and muggles had something in common made him want to taunt and tease a few specific people, but the war was over, and people were trying their best to move on and, in some cases, change. However, he knew that if others were making attempts to adjust to a new society, he couldn’t continue to treat them as unkindly as he’d done in the past. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present and turned fully towards the door.

With a broad smile to the other man, he nodded, “Yes sir, thanks!”

He bustled through the opened door behind him, and they parted ways as Fred skipped up the stairs two at a time. He was fascinated by the layout of muggle apartment buildings. Everyone in the wizarding world, or at least everyone he knew, lived in houses—most similar to the Burrow but some as grand as a Manor.

Reaching the second floor, he turned to his right to the first door and knocked lightly while trying the handle. The latch popped open, and the door opened easily under his touch. He raised his eyebrows in concerned shock but then remembered that they made this arrangement a few days ago. She was expecting him.

He poked his head through the door, looking straight and then to his right to where she was curled up on the sofa. He grinned at how comfortable she looked. There was a mug in her hand while her feet were curled next to her on the cushion with a blanket thrown over her lower half. He admired her small grin as she watched whatever was on the screen, but he found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He sent a silent prayer out to Granger, the smartest muggleborn out there. She’d given him a crash course in all things muggle that had helped him woo this fine woman. He was still trying to find the courage to tell her who and what he really was, but it was always hard. Every time he found himself on the verge of uttering that infamous phrase, he always chickened out. Oh, if George could see him now.

Pushing the door open, he extended his arms out with a flourish, “Honey, I’m home!”

He did a bit of a spin while she looked over at him and chuckled at his entrance. The sound of her laughter sent his heart into a flurry, and his stomach filled with butterflies. He realized at that moment that tonight was going to be the night that he finally told her. Stopping in his twirl, he leaned over her sectional couch and sent her his signature wink. She clutched at the mug in her hands as she tipped her head to the side and laughed out loud at his antics.

He quickly toed off his shoes and shed his jumper, hat and gloves. He hopped over the back of her sofa, ignoring her protests as she stepped all over the cushions until he was cuddled up against her. He leaned in as close as he could get, only her cup stopping him from making it all the way. He gauged the scowl on her face, finding the mirth laying unhidden in her expression. He lit up into a bright smile before smashing his lips against hers.

She sighed at the greeting, letting her shoulders relax and her hands holding the mug settled into her lap. She lifted one hand away from the item to lay it against his cheek, sneakily threading her fingers up into his hair. He broke the kiss with a fake but content growl. She laughed again, quietly, only for the two of them.

Taking a liberty, he lifted her cup and leaned forward onto the table while taking a moment to watch the movie playing. He furrowed his brows at the scene before him, utterly confused. She’d shown him animated movies before, but this one looked very strange. Almost as if they were plastic dolls or something. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

He snuggled back into her, ducking under one of her arms and wrapping both of his around her.

“What’re we watching?” He asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

She smiled, “I’m watching Barbie Nutcracker.” There was a bit of pause where she shifted to get more comfortable before continuing, “I always watch it at least once around this time of year. To satisfy my younger self.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, having no idea what a Barbie was, so all he did was nod in agreement. Together, they hunkered down and finished the entire film, Fred weirdly fascinated with the storyline. He recognized a few tidbits from wizarding traditions, but so much had been dumbed down by, or even for, muggles. He wondered if this was the only version there was out there or if they had multiple ones.

It didn’t take long for the movie to end, and he found himself wanting to ask her a thousand questions, but as the credits rolled up the screen, she shuffled out from under him. He pouted at the loss of her warmth, but when she bent to pick up her mug, he understood.

She walked around the coffee table, calling over her shoulder, “Do you want a hot chocolate?”

He watched her as she went, wondering again how he managed to get her to give him any time of day. Instead of spending too much time stuck on the how, he focused on the now.

“Yes, please, my dear.” He shouted out to her.

He heard her tinkling laughter at his response before there was the sound of her moving about her minuscule kitchen. He continued to stare at the direction she’d gone in, resolving to figure out a way in how to announce his truth. He wondered if he could apparate quickly over to Granger’s flat and get her opinion on the matter, but he figured that was stomping over boundaries and chose not to do it that way. Or perhaps a Patronus to his twin and give him a double surprise.

Letting out an aggravated groan, he stood up and wiped his suddenly clammy hands down his jeans. Why couldn’t this be any easier? He strolled around the sofa to pick up his effects and hang them up properly. As he was walking over to the coat rack, he dropped a mitten, and as he bent to pick it up, a small WWW box fell out of his pocket. He eyed it warily, knowing he hadn’t put it there, and before he could figure out who or what it was, it was exploding into the room around him.

There was a loud bang as their signature product burst to life in her tiny living room. He heard the clank of cups onto the counter and heard her footsteps as they came running. He swallowed, panicking and tried to yell for her to stay put, but it was too late. She was standing in the entryway of her kitchen, staring directly at him and the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes fireworks popping off around him.

He glanced over at her sheepishly. This was quite a stitch and one he was completely inept at talking himself out of. How did he explain magic to a muggle?

“Oh, Merlin,” She whispered, more to herself than anyone.

Fred floundered for an explanation, but once he registered her exclamation, he stopped.

“You’re a – are you a witch?” He blurted out.

She licked her lips, staring at the bright W now illuminating her entire flat.

“Are you one of the Weasley twins?” She countered.

They both stared at each other, astonished at the turn of events. Then simultaneously, they registered the other’s question and answered at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Merlin.”

Then they both dissolved into shocked laughter. She leaned heavily on the wall behind her before sinking down to the floor, giggles continuing to fall out, to the point that she was wiping tears from her eyes. Fred followed suit, finding himself sitting cross-legged in the middle of her living room. With a quick wave of his hand, he snuffed out the fireworks and left them sitting there with nothing but the smell of gunpowder and fresh hot chocolate between them.

“You lied!” She exclaimed, pointing a finger over at him, “You told me your last name was Weekes!”

His mouth fell open at the accusation, and he tried to feel ashamed, but he was in the same boat as her.

He pointed back, “You lied to me too! You let me think you were a muggle this whole time!”

She laughed incredulously, “Only because I thought you were one!”

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

A long moment passed where neither one said anything. They were both processing the events that had transpired. Then Fred looked up and regarded her questioningly.

“Do you really live here?” He asked.

She grinned and let out a huff, “Yes, I prefer it.”

Then he had another thought, “How come you didn’t recognize me?”

“I had my suspicions at the beginning, but after a while and all the hints I kept dropping, I figured I was making a baseless assumption on the red hair.” She shrugged.

He let out a loud guffaw, “I wish George were here to see this. He’d be in stitches over all of this.”

She smiled over at him, realizing belatedly that she’d been dating one of the most eligible bachelors this side of the Atlantic. She blinked a few times, the shock of that setting in. She wondered if she should mention it, but he didn’t seem phased by it when he thought she was a muggle, so maybe it wasn’t worth worrying about.

“So, where do we go from here?” She finally asked.

He gave her a wicked grin, “You wanna see the shop after hours?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah, I happen to know the bloke who runs the place,” He nodded conspiratorially.

She let out an amused and slightly exasperated sigh, his classic mischievousness and devilish personality connecting a lot of dots. She nodded at him before crawling over the short distance between them and taking his face in her hands. She kissed him soundly, rendering him speechless.

“No more secrets.” She murmured, and he nodded in full agreement.

[norestwithoutlove]

Hi, I just finished reading to build a home (quite literally just then) and it was one of the best stories I’ve ever read. everything was so cohesive and beautifully done and has inspired me to do some writing of my own. How did you manage to keep track of minor details and plots throughout the book continuity wise, with such a large word count, thats something most authours cant do and it made it feel so much more personal and immersive. this fic was a wild ride, sorry if this sounds weird btw i dont usually do this.

Hey !! sorry this one took me a while to reply to ! thanks so much for this message it made me beam - i’m glad the fic made you want to use your own voice as well! writing is such a balm especially in times like these, so i hope you’re loving it.

holy shit i’ve just gone over this and this is a LONG answer so i’m very sorry for the essay in advance. regarding continuity and minor details:

from like very early days (essentially day one of writing) i had a very clear vision of where i wanted the fic to go, and what the major plot points were (the night of the fight aged 18 and everything which caused it, even that it would take place on the roof, sam’s overdose happening in the middle of dean’s drunk love confession, the chapter 59 love confession which leads to them FINALLY getting together happening in front of the fire and cas giving dean his poetry book, the dedication saying ‘to dean, i still do, and always will’. all of that was just sitting rotting all other thoughts in my mind and so i had to type it all out at the bottom of the word document to get it down and make sure i didn’t forget. here’s an excerpt of that very early days plan (the scene where dean comes out to sam in the hospital!!! one of my absolute favourites):

other things came later, like the wedding + concussion scene, and the scene where dean waits out in the treehouse all night, which honestly was SO cruel of me and really added to the tragedy of the chapter 38, 40, 42 arc. but yeah as with the above they sat in my brain just waiting for me to reach the appropriate part of the fic to type them up from VERY early days of the fic. opinions on this vary but i don’t like typing out the scenes that i really want to type out if i haven’t actually reached them in the fic’s construction, (does that make sense?  i’ve phrased it badly) because knowing i’m gonna get to write those scenes is what motivates me to actually write the scenes inbetween. i should probably switch this up a bit as everyone advises against this form of writing but also yeah changing routine is effort.

other things plotted in the fic came about in light of the events of the show. mary wasn’t originally gonna be such a distant mother but, as spn pushed that narrative of distance and withdrawal, i thought it would be weird for readers to read a fic which pushed the deified mary mother figure like early seasons spn. especially weird for the readers to read a deified mary fic when the mary they were watching on screen seemed to differ so drastically from the one in the story. so the mary-dean relationship (which was fortunately pretty ambiguous and stilted because of dean’s grief-brain in early chapters) had to change in tbah into the really complicated entity it became. honestly the formulation of that relationship is one of the things i was most proud of in the fic because it was so thorny and hard and felt tragically real for that reason. 

other things the progression of the show impacted: dean’s relationship with jack. obviously he couldnt be a nephilim in the tbah universe(!) so i had to consider another angle which would stilt his relationship with dean in the fic. considering the fact that in the show dean’s aversion to him came from a knot of grief, anger and dean’s own upbringing, i transplanted that idea onto the fic and said okay, but here it’s not about cas, it’s about john. dean untangles much of his own trauma with john through his relationship with jack in the symbols of his father he can find in his life: driving, fishing, and building. but also in the symbols of jimmy: cooking, talking, teaching. dean gets to choose between being a john or a jimmy to his son, but the question isn’t so simple, because people aren’t just symbols, and actually dean ends up being a dean to jack, which is perfect.

weirdly, i also think music helped with continuity. i had a few songs in my head at the beginning of the fic and they became like thematic seeds which could grow and make threads to be picked up throughout. i’d listen to these as i wrote, especially as i wrote the scenes i deemed the most significant. same thing with literature.

also thinking about the fic just became really comforting to me ! so i’d play major plot points in my head like a movie before i went to sleep, which meant by the time i got to writing them they’d had a lot of time to develop and pick up earlier themes of the fic. essentially all of the fic was written in light of the future of the fic, which really helped continuity and direction but also the weird tangled traumatised nature of time in the story. this figuring of time became really important because i think tangled traumatised time is essentially just the reality of grief-time. 

subconsciously i’m sure a lot of stuff bled through which was unintentional, the framing of events which repeat location (dean waiting in the treehouse all night as a teenager to say goodbye to cas before he leaves for university vs dean and cas going to the treehouse as adults and finding teens there who are saying goodbye to each other before leaving for university. confession 3 takes place a literal 10 years after confession 1. confession 1 comes from cas and happens on the roof just before he leaves for the uk, confession 2 comes from dean and happens drunken in the living room after dean has had an intense and ambiguous conversation/fight with his mother, confession 3 happens in the living room after dean has come out to his mother, confession 4 happens on the roof as castiel returns from the uk and repairing every sense of the rift confession 1 caused because this last confession ends in their engagement.)

once i realised this was happening i went back and combed through those scenes for lines to be repeated. an easy example of this is chapter 38//chapter 59. here’s a scene from chapter 38 as they enter the big white house:

and here’s them entering the house in chapter 59: 

i think it’s about trauma and repetition (freud has a theory about this, see Remembering, Repeating, and Working Through) in that we return to sites of trauma; trauma is reiterated in memory and in the material, but in every reiteration, we grow and heal and understand the trauma and ourselves better. it’s like an upward spiral: the first confession goes so badly, the second goes better but not good, the third good, the fourth goes wonderfully (dean’s narrative frames it as paradise: “maybe this is the sound of the trumpets on the other side”). so yeah, part of the ‘continuity’ of tbah is just a traumatised cycle of reiteration, and i say this in the nicest possible way, because these cycles of repetition are how we heal. deep down, i think that’s what the fic is all about.

tl;dr: i had a scrawl of a plan at the bottom of the word document i wrote tbah on, i thought about it a lot because it made me happy, i had a pretty clear vision of where things were going from the very opening chapter, and i was a very gay english lit student.

anyway thanks for the ask lovely i am SO sorry it resulted in the borderline novel of an answer.

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

Eddie Redmayne on ‘Red,’ the Tonys, and Color Blindness

By BlackBook Published: June 3, 2010

At 28, Eddie Redmayne has perfected a look of fresh-faced innocence masking inner commotion. He’s invoked the expression for various roles, as the chilling young murderer Alex Forbes in Like Minds and as a downward-spiraling, matricide-committing homosexual opposite Julianne Moore in Savage Grace. On stage, he’s played the emotionally charged boy whose architect father falls in love with a goat in Edward Albee’s The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia? Redmayne keeps a copy of the play with him in his current dressing room at the Golden Theater, where he’s starring in the Tony Award-nominated play Red alongside Alfred Molina. Redmayne, who nabbed one of those noms himself (for Best Performance by a Featured Actor), plays another permutation of the plotting innocent—not a murderer, but no less intense as the fictional assistant to abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko (Molina). We caught up with the actor to discuss the fate of Rothko’s famous murals, his own color blindness, and what he’s wearing to the Tonys.

I saw the play last night and am still recovering. It was intense! How do you do it night after night? Well, last night I had some friends in so I ended up going for some drinks after and I woke up this morning with a slightly filthy hangover. So I punished myself by doing tax receipts.

What drew you to the play? I assume it had something to do with your background studying art in college. Well, the theater in [London’s] Donmar Warehouse where the play started is one of the great gems of theaters in the world, and Michael Grandage, who runs it, is a wonderful man. I’ve seen a lot of his work for many years, and I’ve worked at the Donmar before, but never under him. So when the idea of a two-handed play specifically about art—the idea that the arts matters—came up, it was one of those rare moments where everything that I was interested in and engaged in kind of collided, a wonderful little moment of fate. 

The play focuses on the murals Rothko painted for the Seagram building before he changed his mind about giving them up. A few ended up in the Tate Modern. Isn’t the museum naturally lit, which would seem to go against Rothko’s wishes? The story is that once he withdrew the commissions he had—I think it was 35 canvases— all the museums in the world wanted to get their hands them. So obviously, Rothko was very tentative about who he would give them to. And one of the guys was Sir Norman Reed, who was the curator of the Tate, and for ten years Norman Reed would swear to Rothko that they would build or create special rooms specifically for them at the Tate Britain—this was before the Tate Modern existed. The wall color would be as prescribed by Rothko, the lighting would be exactly as he wanted, and eventually Rothko agreed to that. So ten years after the end of the play, the same day that the Seagram murals arrived off the boat in London, Sir Norman Reed got a call that Rothko had been found by his assistant with his wrists slit. So the answer is that some of these murals, which were originally in the Tate Britain, are now in the Tate Modern in a room that is lit properly. 

Alfred Molina had source material to draw on as Rothko, but your character Ken is fictitious. Where did you find your inspiration? What’s interesting is subsequent to doing the play in America, I got a letter from a woman called Virginia Foster, who is the widow of a guy called Dan Rice, and he was Rothko’s assistant during the Seagram murals. And whilst the character is not based on him, Virginia sent me this transcript of him talking about working for Rothko. And weirdly, even though I’ve done the play in London and done it here, reading the transcript reinforced some of the character. But I approached it the way I approach any character—I see what’s in the text and flesh it out with references from life. And certainly, I’ve had experiences with elder actors and bosses in the past who I’ve had complex and tricky relationships with. 

There’s a scene where Ken is talking to someone on the phone, trying to decide whether to show Rothko his own paintings. Who was he talking to? That’s a very good question. I think it’s his girlfriend, and John Logan (the writer) thinks it’s his boyfriend. It remains a bone of contention between the two of us. 

You did your college dissertation on Yves Klein, who was a big advocate of blue. [Laughs] So this is the sequel.

As an art lover, do you have a color preference? The color that Yves Klein does. Wet paint has a luminosity that dies when it dries and it loses the gloss. So Yves created this color scientifically that retains that luminosity. He was a big showman, so he got it copyrighted. The color is called IKB—International Klein Blue. And it sounds all bullshit-y and ridiculous, but when you stand in front of those canvases, the color is sublime and dumbfounding. So that specific color is my favorite color in the world. Are you going to follow this up with a colorblind question?

No, wasn’t planning on it, but if you want to discuss it. No, I talk passionately about that color and then people go “but you’re colorblind.” And I go, “I know. I don’t know what I see but I see it and I like it.” 

You must have some confidence because you already have the Olivier award for this role. Are you nervous about the Tonys? Do you know what? It’s amazing how many award ceremonies there are in America. Am I nervous about the Tonys? Genuinely, the nomination was completely beyond anything I’ve ever thought about.

 You’re being so diplomatic. I wanted to ask who you consider to be your biggest competition. Frustratingly, one problem with doing plays here is that you don’t get to see anything because your schedule doesn’t allow it. But I’ve met all the guys and I’ve heard extraordinary things about Stephen in Fences and Stephen Kunken in Enron is meant to be wonderful. Do you have your outfit picked out? I do. A couple of years ago I did some work with Christopher Bailey who runs Burberry. I’m a huge fan of his so I’m going to be cut out in British Burberry. 

So what’s next? I see there’s something called The Pillars of the Earth? I’m actually really excited about it. It’s a huge epic medieval story that was a book by Ken Follett and it was one of Oprah’s favorite books and was subsequently a massive international bestseller. It’s being aired on the Starz network in July. It’s an 8-hour miniseries and I play this young boy who is mute and has grown up in the forest and who, over eight hours, becomes a master builder. So it’s about apprenticeship and craft and it’s also set in a historical time, with monarchs changing and war. What I’ve seen looks spectacular.

https://blackbookmag.com/archive/eddie-redmayne-on-red-the-tonys-and-color-blindness/

[anachilles]

» somewhere in the crowd, there’s you  ♪  julie/luke [ juke ]

If they weren’t already dead Julie swore she would kill them. Luke especially.

Actually no, that wasn’t fair. This time she couldn’t completely blame them for what was admittedly a dumb decision on her own part. But see it from her perspective - the boys hadn’t seen the Mamma Mia movies. They didn’t even know of their existence. That had to be remedied.

TL;DR - The boys are introduced to the Mamma Mia Cinematic Universe. Alex spectates, Julie sings ABBA, Luke falls further in love, and Reggie ends up reliving the horror of high school math class. Also BROT4 couch cuddles.

link to read on AO3: [x]

taglist: @wokealex @blueruby31

If they weren’t already dead Julie swore she would kill them. Luke especially.

Actually, no, that wasn’t fair. This time she couldn’t completely blame them for what was admittedly a dumb decision on her own part.

But see it from her perspective - the boys hadn’t seen the Mamma Mia movies. Didn’t even know of their existence. They had just been finishing up a group jam session when she’d made some off-hand joke about them hitting the big-time and having their music turned into a movie-musical series “like ABBA”. Reggie’s face had lit up and he immediately jumped on it, “Wait, they made a movie out of ABBA music?”

“Multiple movies?!” Alex had cut in, looking disbelieving but nonetheless delightfully intrigued.

Luke snorted with laughter, throwing his hands up as he turned to look at Julie. “That’s it - I know what we’re doing tonight” he exclaimed, and pointed at her “Do you have them on ta-”

He catches himself before he can finish the word ‘tape’, but Julie’s eyes still narrow, her own smile now challenging. The boys really weren’t that bad at picking up the basics of modern technology, but slip-of-the-tongues still happened and Julie loved to tease them about it. Luke most of all just because he always dogged the other two the most about it when they did it. Also, perhaps a little bit, because he was kind of cute when he got all defensive.

“On what, now?”

Luke floundered for a second, and Alex and Reggie traded a look between them. Suddenly though, a lightbulb dinged above his head and his expression turned smug.

“DVD! Do you have them on DVD”

Julie laughed, making what was meant to be a loud ‘buzzer’ sound. “Wrong answer! Not the most up-to-date form of media storage, but nonetheless thank-you for playing”. Her expression softened though when she heard Alex and Reggie hound him a little behind her, “However, we do have them on DVD because my dad likes having physical copies of stuff”.

She was about to leave to go grab them from the house, only the time on her phone caught her attention and her heart sank.

“Hey guys, I can go get them for you but I don’t think I can stay the whole way through both. I’ve got school tomorrow.”

All three boys erupted in protestations, Luke’s notably the loudest of all, though on Alex’s suggestion she conceded to stay for at least the first one, then they’d pick up the second one tomorrow or something. 

Honestly, it hadn’t taken nearly as much convincing as it should have. 

She just really needed to physically be there to witness the three of them watching Meryl Streep jump off a pier to the tune of ‘Dancing Queen’ and Pierce Brosnan absolutely butcher ‘The Winner Takes it All’ for the very first time. Also, talking to them about the movies had made her realise it had been way too long since she’d last watched them herself, and they always made her feel so light and happy. As silly as it may sound, the care-free, sunshiney tone but with genuine moments in them had helped carry her through some really dark days. Since then, they’d always been comforting to return to.

So that’s how she ended up squished on the beat-up old studio couch with three ghost boys from the 90’s, having the absolute pleasure of seeing them react to ‘Mamma Mia’ for the very first time. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, and required Reggie to be sitting with one leg straddled over the arm of the couch and the rest of him pretty much glued to Luke’s side, but they made it work.

Although just as she was getting herself comfy in her spot between Alex and Luke, something niggled at the back of her mind. Something she forgot to do? Maybe? She wracked her brain for a couple of minutes, but her attention quickly and all-too-easily drifted to the screen as the opening chords of ‘Honey, Honey’ sounded, like some sort of siren call, and she couldn’t help but mouth along to the words. She knew them pretty much by heart.

What certainly didn’t help with her cognitive functioning however, is when during ‘Money, Money, Money…’ she felt Luke shift where he was pretty much flush against her side and his arm stretch out behind her neck. His hand settled somewhere near her shoulder; teasingly close but not quite touching it. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, but she was determined to keep her eyes on the screen in front of her, daring not to look his way or even let on that she noticed.

The boys were touchy-feely and generally very physically affectionate with each other, she knew that just from generally being around them these past couple of months. Julie had always found it really sweet and endearing, how unashamedly tactile they were with each other, but at the same time couldn’t help but feel left out as her own friendships with all of them got deeper and she grew closer to them all. Now that they were corporeal, at least to her, suddenly she’d become privy to all that as well.

Now she couldn’t imagine not being able to do stuff like hold their hands during band circles, or not knowing the utter warmth of Alex’s hugs (it was undisputed that he gives the best ones) when he noticed she’d had a tough day at school, or even what it felt like to not have Reggie gleefully grab her hands, or arm, or shoulders when he got super excited about something.

She’d already been falling hard for Luke before when she couldn’t physically feel him under her fingertips. For all intents and purposes wasn’t fully there there, but now? When she’d felt the brush of his body behind her when he’d lean over her shoulder to look at sheet music, or his thigh press up against her leg as they shared a piano stool during their little lyric brainstorming sessions? When they could high-five, lean into each other’s side, playfully shove each other when one thinks the other is being annoying, grab each other’s hands and dance around the room in celebration when they manage to book another gig? All those little moments they could have now added layers to what she already felt.

However, even if she felt something between them, that spark,  and her gut told her Luke possibly felt so too, Julie also couldn’t deny that that kind of affection wasn’t any different to the kind he showed towards Alex and Reggie too. Plus, she didn’t really know how ghosts felt about having relationships, especially with the living, or if Luke would even want to go there. So she tried not to read too much into what kind of felt like Luke pulling that old “arm around shoulder whilst distracted by the movie” move.

So although she never really could forget how close he was, Julie let herself become immersed back in the movie. Her life was generally good, labels and certainty or not, she was happy. The happiness of the movie fed into that. The boys seemed to be having a hoot with it as well, if how much Alex especially was grooving in his seat was any indication.

Julie’s not quite sure what possessed her to say it in the moment, or what she expected to transpire when she did, but when they got to the ‘Super Trouper’ scene coming straight off of the, uh, heaviness of ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’ (during which Luke went weirdly quiet for some reason, prompting Alex and Reggie to share a fleeting look over the top of both his and Julie’s heads) and the opening chords sounded she blurted out 

“Oh, this used to be my karaoke song when I was a kid”. 

Luke’s eyes immediately went wide and she knew she was in trouble. He quickly urged Reggie to grab the remote and pause the movie, ignoring Alex’s soft “Hey, I was watching that!”, before turning his attention fully towards her.

“Well now you have to do the routine; get on up there and show us what you’re made of!”

Julie’s jaw hung open a little and she wasn’t sure whether she could really be annoyed at anyone but herself for practically handing this to him on a silver platter.

“No! I really don’t…” she tried to argue, though his mischievous smile was infectious and damn her lips threatened to twitch into a smile too. “It’s been years! And anyway, I only bust it out for audiences that are deserving of it”.

Luke met her with a challenging gaze. “Bet it’s cause you don’t know the words” he said, turning to Reggie, his tone dripping in antagonism. “Hey, did you hear that the great Julie Molina won’t perform because she doesn’t know all of the words to Super Trouper by ABBA?”. Reggie’s eyebrows shot up and he immediately played along. “Y’know what? I actually did hear that somewhere. Huh…”.

Julie shot a withering look at Alex, a wordless “Can you do anything?” shining in her eyes, but he has the nerve to just shrug (!) with a silent, smiling “I’ll allow it”.

She could’ve got them to drop it if she really had wanted them to, she knew that. Maybe Julie from three months ago would have. Actually, no, that version of herself definitely would have made them drop it; the darkness shrouding her life day-in, day-out smothering any semblance of silly, carefree happiness and convincing her that simply having fun just wasn’t for her.

But she didn’t feel like that anymore.

Julie pulled herself to her feet, eyes fixed with new determination. She crossed the room to the open space, taking a stance mirroring that of the one they’d paused Meryl Streep in and fixed Luke with a playful glare, even though she was addressing Reggie.

“Unpause the movie”.

The performance was one for the history books, if she did say so herself. The boys watched on in amazement as she remembered every word, near enough every step and dance move (the big sleeve shimmy was an interesting one though with sweater sleeves nowhere near dramatic enough to match Donna’s) and personally she thought she sold it.

About halfway through Alex snuck a glance at Luke by his side, and realised karma must be having a slow night given how fast it was paying the other boy back, because he was undeniably staring at Julie with what was clearly pure, open adoration.

“‘Cause somewhere in the crowd, there’s yooooou” she finished with a flourish, heart thumping, and lowered her arm to point at all three of them in turn, but finishing ultimately on Luke even though he was sat in the middle. His face scrunched up with a cheesy smile and he let out a loud whoop of appreciation, kicking off the round of applause before the other boys joined in, Reggie coming in clutch with the standing ovation and everything.

Julie felt breathless but joyful as she flung herself back into her seat, and Luke leaned forward to grab her soda, handing it to her with what looked like contrition.

“I guess I stand corrected, huh?” he said, defeated, but not entirely sorry to be so.

She shrugged, taking a sip of the drink. “I guess you are. It’s a good look on you”.

Luke snorted with laughter and they laughed together for a brief second, an apparent blush rising to sit on his cheeks (Could ghosts blush? How did that even work?).

Before the situation could get weird or questionable though, he turned back towards the movie, but slowly. Like he wasn’t quite ready to leave this moment just yet; like he wanted to stay looking at her just a bit longer. Julie just nudged him and settled back in, trying to go about it in such a way that would implore him to put his arm back around her like he had before.

It didn’t come until the scene where Bill confesses to Sophie that he thinks he’s her father, but eventually that now familiar weight settled behind her head again, setting off a whole herd of butterflies in her stomach.

The first movie came to an end, and things wouldn’t have been awful if she’d just called it a night there and gone to bed. But she was having so much fun and they were all so comfy, and the boys seemed very excited for the prospect of a half-prequel-half-sequel.

“Surely they’ve already used all the good ABBA songs in the first one though, right?” Reggie argued, causing Alex to swing round to look at him, scandalised.

“Are you insinuating that there’s a bad ABBA song?”

While they hashed it out in the background, Luke backing Reggie up just to get a rise out of Alex, Julie acted on impulse and jumped up, running towards the garage window. All the lights in the house were out, meaning her dad was already in bed and everything. As long as she was super quiet sneaking back in and remembered to bypass that squeaky floorboard on the stairs, he never had to know.

“Alright; Here We Go Again - let’s do this”.

Turns out Julie had kind of underestimated how late it was and how long the day had been. She could feel herself getting tired around the ‘Waterloo’ mark, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as she gradually sunk lower and relaxed deeper into the couch. By the time young Donna makes it to the Kalokairi her head had come to rest in the crook Luke’s neck, his flannel soft under her cheek as his cheek leans against the top of her head. Maybe it was a testament to how sleepy she was, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away. The posture felt natural.

She was so comfortable, surrounded by warmth and the soothing hum of the old second-hand TV they’d bought at a garage sale and moved into the garage, she was right on the verge of dozing off… when a realisation crashed into her mind, seemingly out of nowhere.

Julie shot up poker-straight, suddenly very awake. “Oh, crap!”

The three boys startled, most of all Luke when her movement meant he almost fell face-first into the couch cushion.

“What is it?!”

She groaned and fell forward into her hands. “I have a math test tomorrow. And I was going to study for it before bed tonight.”

So that’s how she ends up with Reggie hanging uselessly over her shoulder in the middle of math class, the exchange that came after the realisation still ringing in her ears.

“Hey, hey! It’s fine. Take Reggie - believe it or not, he was good at math” Luke offered up hurriedly.

Reggie himself looked a little stricken. “Yeah, 25 years ago, dude!”.

“Do the rules of math go out-of-date, or…?” Alex teased, though still placed a comforting hand on Julie’s back.

“No, Alex, they don’t - so relax, you’ll be fine, man! You can’t make the situation any worse by trying”

“Don’t give him that challenge, Luke”.

Though admittedly she loved him just for actually turning up and trying, he was staring down at the test with as much confusion as she was. Apparently math had changed over the course of 25 years. They exchange a mutually panicked look. Clearly, neither of them knew shit. Instead, Reggie just runs up to the front of the room and peeps on Mrs Ford’s answer sheet, Julie’s hopeful eyes following him as he dodges around desks and backpacks lying on the floor.

“Are you sure?” she mumbles to him under her breath when he gets back. Apparently not quite low enough though, when the guy next to her turns to give her a funny look, and she has to make a show of furrowing her eyebrows and counting on her fingers, muttering appropriately as she goes.

Julie can feel Flynn’s discerning gaze from across the room and she knows she knows there’s some ghost-like foolery happening. It’s a mess. She’s a mess.

Eventually the bell sounds and signals an end to the ordeal, and Julie takes out her (locked) phone to genuinely thank Reggie for his help all the same.

“Ehhh I’m not sure how much help I was, but you’re welcome” he says, laughter coloured with self-deprecation.

Julie smiles genuinely, and she would’ve nudged him if she wouldn’t have been nudging thin air in public. “Hey, I think we got about three quarters of those answers down and that’s 75% more than I would’ve gotten without you”.

Reggie looks pleased, and stands up a little straighter as he walks alongside her. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while, by the way?”

Julie’s a little taken aback. “I mean, sure, but why would you want to? It’s just school”.

Reggie shrugs, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. It’s weird for him; he’s generally such an open book. “I don’t know. I never graduated, we were still going when we… y’know…” he trails off, eyes scanning the halls and the throngs of students laughing and chatting together at their lockers, going about their normal day. “Kind of miss it”.

“Well, you obviously have free reign to look around wherever you want. If you want me to show you anywhere in particular, just let me know. I’m meeting Flynn for lunch now though, so that might not be as fun for you...”

The way he says it makes something ache in Julie’s chest, and she wishes she could give him a hug. With the boys so real now, and so immersed and predominant in her life, it was getting easier and easier to somewhat forget that they were actually dead and had both led and left lives behind. Being reminded of that was starting to hit her that little bit harder.

Reggie nods sincerely, mirroring her slight chuckle. “Thanks, Julie”.

Approaching the cafeteria, Julie sees Flynn in the distance, and is about to put her phone away when she suddenly stops in her tracks, and keeps it held to her face.

“By the way…” she smirks. “If Alex or Luke ask, I scored a 95 and it was all down to you”.